Did I imagine it, or was there a brief intake of air coming from this modest young lady? I slipped on a sweat suit and socks and turned around.

Veronica looked stricken. And maybe a little excited. I couldn’t tell. It made me wonder if she had sex very often. Now, why did that pop into my head?

She accepted the tea gratefully and drank. “This is good. I was afraid you would give me more vodka. Or…what did they call it?”

“Arikh. You’ll only see that in the cities and at festivals. For the most part, we will be drinking airag.”

“What’s that?”

“Fermented mare’s milk.”

She blanched. “Thank God you have tea.”

“And that’s another thing I should warn you about. They drink their tea with salt and animal fat.” I watched with amusement as she grimaced. “But I have the good stuff.”

She shook her head. “I never thought I’d hear tea called ‘the good stuff.’”

I smiled. “There’s a lot you will have to get used to here. We eat a lot of mutton and goat cheese. Just remember to stay away from tarvag.”

“Why?”

“It’s marmot. And they still carry the black plague.”

Ronnie’s eyes widened. “I guess I really am immersed in Mongolian culture now. What do we do during the day?”

“We aren’t expected to help out, but I think you should. It will give you a little more experience. And Odgerel speaks some English. I’ll be training. You are always welcome to watch Yalta kick my ass.”

This made her smile. “I’d like that.”

I nodded. “I knew you would.” Exhaustion pulled at me, begging me to sleep. Veronica put the guinea pig back in her cage and slid between the blankets on her cot. I turned out the lantern.

“Good night, Ronnie,” I said quietly as I climbed into my bed.

“Cy?” she replied in the darkness. “Thank you for bringing me here, and for explaining and translating and everything.”

“You are very welcome.” And I meant it. Veronica Gale was getting under my skin, and I enjoyed it. In fact, I wondered, as I heard her breathe across the ger, whether I would actually get any sleep at all.

Chapter Eleven

I decided to let Ronnie sleep in. She looked so comfortable snuggled beneath the wool blankets. Actually, I wanted to get in there with her warm, sleeping body. Wrap myself around her soft flesh…

Shaking my head to clear it, I shrugged on the rest of my clothes and, after chugging some tea and eating a couple of protein bars, went outside to meet Yalta at the stream.

“Pop says you did real good yesterday,” Chudruk said with a grin.

“I could’ve done better,” I replied.

He nodded. “Yes, you could have. But you were distracted.”

I could feel my face warming in the cool morning breeze. Was I actually blushing? I didn’t think I had it in me.

Yalta put his hand on my shoulder. He looked me in the eyes and spoke slowly so I would understand. Yeah, that made me feel better.

“You are good. You will do well at the Naadam Festival,” was all he said. At least, that was how I interpreted him. For all I know he called me an idiot unworthy of castrating sheep.

“Tand bayarlaa,” I thanked him, but wasn’t so sure I deserved the praise.

We trained for a few hours. This time, Yalta stressed technique more than strength training. I felt honored. He was showing me that I’d gone beyond his expectations. I was a Westerner who had made a good showing at the local naadam. We had another one in a few days, and Yalta told me he thought I could win at least one match.

I worked very hard. His faith in me was a great honor, and I wanted him to understand that I knew that. This was what I came here for: to test myself and learn. Maybe I wasn’t too different from Veronica after all.

As we made our way back to camp at midday, I noticed that my fair and lovely roommate was sitting on the grass with Odgerel, making cheese. The Mongolian was speaking English slowly, and Ronnie seemed to understand.

“There is your man now.” Odgerel pointed at me with a smile.

Veronica blushed a bright scarlet. “Oh! Um, he’s not…Well, we’re not…” She stumbled, at a loss for how to explain our situation.

“Sain bainuu!” I greeted the women, plopping down in the grass next to Ronnie. It was then that I noticed she had Sartre with her. The gluttonous pig was between the women, chowing down on the cool, damp grass.

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought her out here…” Veronica bit her lip.

I scooped up the pig. “Not at all. And you had her between you so the falcons wouldn’t get her.”

She nodded. “I was worried about that.”

Sartre squealed, struggling to get out of my grip and back to the juicy grasses. I returned her to her place between the women and she regally ignored me.

I stood. “I’d better get back to the ger. I want to have some tea during my break.”

Veronica looked at her hostess, then looked at me. She nodded and I took it to mean she was okay with that idea. Once in the tent, I stripped off the sweatsoaked shirt and replaced it with a dry one. After creating a fire on the stove and setting the kettle on, I lay on my cot to await the kettle’s whistle.

Every inch of my body ached. And I was extremely proud of that. Being here and working toward my goal gave me a sense of peace. Funny, isn’t it, how training for violence can make one feel that way? I stretched my legs out, kicking something with my foot. Odd. Everything should have been stowed in the trunks.

I sat up and saw that there was a suitcase with wheels and a briefcase sitting next to my bed. Must have been Ronnie’s. Sansar-Huu made good on his promise and brought back her things from the city. I chuckled, thinking of Veronica trying to roll a suitcase on the steppes. My laughter came harder when I thought of her trying to plug in her laptop.

“Is something funny?” The source of my amusement entered the ger. She was smiling. I loved it when she smiled.

“Sorry. I just noticed you got your things.” I pointed at the cases on the floor.

She rushed forward. “Oh! That’s great!” I watched as she opened the case and began sifting through it. I was hoping she might pull out a slinky negligee or thong. But not Veronica. All of her clothes were plain and practical.

“I guess I won’t need my laptop.” She frowned as she held the plug.

“Paper and pen will have to do.”

“I brought some, but not much.” She pulled four large notepads out of her bag, and I wondered what she considered a lot.

“How much do you actually need?”

Veronica sat on the bed, looking thoughtfully at the hole in the roof where the stovepipe went. “I need to make notes, and I have to do that interview…” She pulled a digital recorder out and checked the batteries.

I leaned back on the cot and closed my eyes. “If you need any help from me, I’ll be right here.”

There was no response.

The next two days were a blur of training. I noticed Ronnie watching me a couple of times but tried not to let her distract me. Most of the time I made it back to the ger I passed out before she showed up. This bothered me because I wanted to enjoy my time with her. And that bothered me because I was supposed to be focusing on training. Sartre spent most of her time in Veronica’s pocket. I woke up at one point to find her sleeping next to my neck, but that was the most attention I got from her.

The day of the naadam, I found my uniform washed and waiting on my trunk. I wasn’t sure whom to thank for that. After wrestling myself into it and putting on sweatpants and my deel, I headed outside to find everyone in the truck, waiting for me.

Veronica patted the front seat in the truck next to her. Yalta ’s grandsons sat in the back with him and the rest of the family. Sansar-Huu was driving. I spent the trip chewing on protein bars while my friend told my alleged girlfriend about the scenery. My thoughts drifted to my training and the techniques Yalta had taught me in the last few days. I was so focused, I almost missed the conversation going on next to me.