I let her think for a while, soaking up her interest with affection. I loved learning. I missed the ivory tower a bit. Watching her think was somewhat erotic for me.

“I have an idea,” I said after a while. “Why don’t you come with us? Stay with me and my friends. You’ll experience the culture and observe the training. And in my downtime, I can try to give you some insight into the…” I paused. “How did you put it? Violent interests of men?”

“Oh.” She looked uncertain. “I don’t know…”

“Where are you staying now?” I asked.

“In Ulaanbaatar.” She pointed to a rickety truck that made Sansar-Huu’s beat-up Chevy look like a Rolls-Royce. “The driver brought me out here just for the day.”

“I can’t think of a better way for you to do what your committee wanted you to do than by joining us. And instead of feeling completely alienated back at the HoJo or whatever, you can learn about these people and their nomadic culture and have a built-in translator.”

She considered this for a moment, much to my delight. I wanted her to stay. Wanted to be with her. Veronica Gale brought out something in me that had been dormant a long, long time. And I knew I could help her. And maybe there would be sex. I liked sex.

“But my things are in the hotel room,” she protested weakly.

“I’ll see if my friends can pick them up.”

We sat for a moment, looking at each other.

“Okay,” she replied, and I felt a wave of relief. “I’ll do it.”

I stood and took her hand, hauling her to her feet. “Let’s go take care of the details. And then your education begins.”

Chapter Ten

Sansar-Huu immediately volunteered to let Ronnie stay with his family. I was a little surprised until I remembered that the Mongols are famous for their hospitality. Veronica became somewhat shy around them. She was definitely out of her comfort zone. Odgerel patted a spot beside her on the blanket, indicating that Ronnie should join her. I nodded in encouragement. With one last look up at me, Ronnie sat down and was immediately handed vodka. She sipped it carefully and smiled when she recognized it. Oh, this was going to be fun. I couldn’t wait for the family to slaughter a sheep and divvy up the carcass for us to eat right there on the floor.

Zolbin, Yalta’s other grandson, had done quite well and was in the finals. Part of his success was luck. He had managed to draw competitors much smaller than he was. Tall like his brother, Zolbin was heavier, hewn with a great deal of muscle. He was much more outgoing than his sibling and took to wrestling very naturally. I was curious to see him go up against an athlete closer to his level.

I’d managed to get into my sweatpants and deel. Sitting in my uniform felt awkward. Others did it, but I wasn’t them. And it took the comedic wind out of Ronnie’s sails. When Zolbin was called up to wrestle, she joined me in front, slipping her hand into mine. I looked at her more closely as she observed the field. Her short hair blew in the wind. She wore a T-shirt and sweater with jeans and hiking boots. Watching the curiosity on her face inspired me. I remembered when I couldn’t wait to learn everything and anything.

Zolbin was going through the motions of his eagle dance, and I noticed with surprise that his competitor was none other than the man who had bested me and Zerleg. This was going to get interesting.

“His name is Sukhbaatar.” Chudruk appeared at my side. “It means ‘Ax Hero.’”

Veronica looked at my friend with interest. “That’s a tough name.”

He nodded. “He is favored to do well at nationals.”

The combatants slapped their thighs and we turned our attention to the field. Both men were matched for height and weight. The only difference was experience, as Chudruk whispered. Zolbin was a bit newer to the sport.

Unlike his cautious brother, Zolbin dove immediately for Sukhbaatar’s hips. His opponent broke free and grabbed Zolbin’s ankle. Zolbin spun on his heel and slipped from his grasp. Apparently, this match was going to be quite different. Sukhbaatar had to fight for every inch, and it became clear immediately that Zolbin’s very aggressive and active fighting style was a problem for him. I noticed Zerleg cheering for his brother on the other side of Chudruk.

Sukhbaatar charged Zolbin’s hips, but Zolbin stepped just out of reach. He spun behind Sukhbaatar and from behind managed to throw him to the ground. The crowd roared, and I noticed with some pleasure that Zerleg was pumping his fist in the air in celebration. Yalta even sported a slight grin.

Zolbin did not grandstand. He merely nodded modestly at the crowd, then walked over to his opponent, extending his hand. Sukhbaatar’s face was bright red as he slapped Zolbin’s hand away. The crowd jeered. No one, no matter what culture, thought bad sportsmanship was acceptable.

The families celebrated the win with cooked mutton bought from a vendor. More vodka was passed around, and we all got pleasantly drunk as the day drew to a close and the competition ended. By besting his opponent, Zolbin achieved the coveted rank of zaan, or elephant. Both families, Sansar-Huu’s and Chudruk’s, celebrated the win as if they were all related. This was the way of the steppes. They now had a connection, and I was more than a little touched that I was the catalyst.

I insisted that Yalta and Zolbin ride in the cab of the truck while Veronica and I climbed into the back with the others. The darkening sky brought a chill to the windy road as we drove along. I was warm in my fur-lined deel, but Ronnie began to shiver. I put my arm around her and pulled her close. She resisted at first, then relaxed against me. The alcohol buzzed warmly in my veins and I felt good.

Our friends chattered around us and I translated a bit for Ronnie. She laughed at the jokes a few moments later than they were told-and at many mangled translations I attempted-but I could tell she was starting to feel comfortable. That convinced me I had been right to invite her. In the sterile environment of a hotel in the big city, she wouldn’t learn anything.

Eventually we arrived at the camp. Ogderel invited Ronnie to share their ger, but I insisted she be put up in mine. Too much cultural overload was not a good thing. It would be better if she was with someone she knew. Someone who spoke English. Someone who wanted to have sex with her. Yalta sent the boys over with an extra cot and blankets. Ronnie watched nervously as I set her up on the other side of the tent.

She sat quietly on her cot, cuddling Sartre while I made some tea. It was warm in the ger. The felt walls kept in the heat put out by the small cookstove.

“What are you doing?” she asked sharply.

I kept unbuttoning my deel. “Getting undressed.”

Ronnie’s face had a look of sheer panic. “Surely you aren’t going to strip right here in front of me!”

“You’ve seen me in nothing but a towel. Get over it.”

“I’ll…I’ll go outside and wait.”

“Why?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

“Can’t you just sleep in that?” Patches of red spread over her cheeks.

I shook my head. “It chafes and isn’t very warm.” I found it hilarious that, in spite of her modesty, she didn’t look away as I peeled off my zodag, leaving nothing but my shuudag. In fact, she looked a little frozen with fear.

“Well, since you can’t take your eyes off of me, I’ll turn around.” I smiled. With my back to her, I pulled off the briefs, leaving myself completely naked. For a moment I entertained the thought of turning around…just for the fun of it. But the fact that she was nervous about being here changed my mind.