Born to burn, Danny thought to himself, but he felt hollow and terrified and thought again, now they’re all after me. And there was this surprise that kept pushing up from inside, this dismay, that he had killed Coyote and Donnelly and that woman; if he thought a lot about it he’d hate himself. Later for that, he’d get crazy at some motel out in the desert when he was safe and cry and shout it out and find a way to live with himself.

Next to him, Mikey thought he caught something and in his excitement, tangled the line on a log. They spent a long time disengaging the line and getting him set up again. Danny took the opportunity to mentally talk himself down.

“I don’t think there are any fish in this stream,” Mikey complained.

“Well, we won’t know if we don’t give it time, will we?” Danny asked, proud of how patient he acted with these two pains in the ass.

They moved downstream and Mikey started fishing again. Now Danny was jumping out of his skin with boredom. He hated waiting, but waiting was what was called for right now, and his patience would be rewarded, he was sure of that. He would sneak out later that night and make some calls… get things arranged, finish with the kids, and be on his way to the Big Sky Country. Lots of Natives there. He’d go to powwows and get with the People: he was half Washoe, he would be accepted.

Callie chose that moment to return, both grubby little hands holding bouquets. “Smell this,” she said, shoving some yellow flowers under Mikey’s nose.

“Coconut,” Mikey said, eyes closed. “Tropical.”

“They look like some primroses Grandma planted,” Callie said. “They aren’t open yet. Maybe they open at night like jasmine?”

“I’m hungry,” Mikey observed.

“You didn’t catch any fish?” asked Callie.

“No problem,” Danny said, reeling his line in. “We’ve got other food.”

“I thought you said you knew how to fish,” Callie said.

“The fish just don’t know how to get caught,” Danny said, and Mikey laughed, but Callie just stared steadily at him, and he could see she had a little of her no-nonsense grandma in there, which scared him into giving her a big smile.

Callie, sticking the flowers one by one into an empty Gatorade bottle full of stream water, kept up an incessant, nervous chat that had everybody edgy while Danny and Mikey put the fishing tackle away.

“What’s for lunch?” Mikey asked.

“You can’t be hungry. We just ate. You had two sandwiches.”

“I am. I have to eat now. What have you got for us?”

“Hey, I’m the scout leader here.” Danny grabbed the fishing pole from him and picked up the tackle box. He walked back toward the tent, feeling anger popping like boils all over his body. Damn kids. Who was the boss here anyway? Well, he guessed they would find out soon enough who called the shots.

The kids trailed behind him. When he could speak, he said, as calmly as he could manage, “We’ve got canned Vienna sausage, bread, mustard, Chips Ahoys. A real feast.”

Callie looked interested. “What’s a Vienna sausage?”

“Camp food,” Danny said. “I promise, you’re gonna love it.”

“Do we have to stay here all night?” she asked.

“Yeah, but it’ll go fast.”

“I’m not used to sleeping without my blanky.”

“You’re too old for a blanky,” said Mikey disapprovingly.

“I know, but Grandma says whatever gets you through the night,” Callie said.

“If you’ll just shut up for one second,” Danny promised, “I’ve got a plan for after lunch, an activity we’re going to do together. Then, a little later on, when it gets dark, we’re gonna have some real fun.” He jumped up and put his Nikes on.

“I’m gonna teach you how to build a fire.”

37

P AUL SHIFTED THE BRONCO INTO FOUR- wheel drive and turned left at the jeep road.

“There’s a gate,” Nina said.

“That’s why I have an assistant.”

She got out, wrestled the gate out of the way, and got back in. They bumped slowly along the mogul-strewn dirt road for a few minutes. Going around the first wide bend, they saw an amazing vista of Lake Tahoe swept with wind like a heavenly vision, as insubstantial as an enormous blue cloud below them. “How far do we go? We don’t want him to hear any engine noise.”

“Not far,” Paul said. “He would get far enough from the highway so that the kids couldn’t easily find their way back, but the road isn’t that long.”

They rode a little farther, until, at a spot offering one of the few level borders beside the road, Paul pulled off the road. He drove the Bronco over small logs and up a slight incline, then down into a gully. He got out and opened the trunk. Nina followed him.

“You insist on coming along?” Paul asked.

Nina didn’t bother to answer.

“In that case, we leave the Bronco behind, instead of having one person drive it out. If he comes back up this road, we don’t want him to see there are any other people around. Don’t want to scare him. People like Danny are full of fear. You know that? Full of bravado, not bravery.”

“But…” Nina said, puzzled, “he sets fires. That’s dangerous. If he’s so scared…”

“Scared he’ll get caught. Scared he’ll get hurt. Scared he won’t be respected. We’re going to do nothing that will set him off. Your pack,” Paul said, handing it to her.

She put it on her back.

“Hope we don’t have to go too far,” he said, handing her a jacket, which she tied around her waist. They sat on the bumper lacing their hiking boots. “Prisons are full of Dannys. Some of these guys are terrified of heights. Some are scared of water. Some won’t go on airplanes. They’re superstitious and they’re skittish. That’s why we don’t want to get near him. We scare him, he reacts. Problem is, we can’t predict how.” He finished, stood up, and adjusted the pack on his back.

“We have got to find him,” Nina said. “Paul, we have to be so careful. Those kids…”

“Right. So we sneak. We’ve got to be very quiet, and we have to travel pretty slowly because we’re going to be listening. And he is too. If he’s here, which is a long shot.”

Nina nodded.

They locked up the car and hiked back to the road. The road narrowed and switched back and forth. Before every curve, they held back until they were certain they weren’t going to run into any nasty surprise around the bend. Progress was very, very slow, because they wanted to travel in silence, and afternoon faded into dusk.

Callie would not allow them to toss the trash or even bury it. “We have to hike it out. I saw this show at school.”

The kids had eaten very little. They weren’t really hungry. They just needed their routines.

“Go ahead and bag it,” Danny said, feeling magnanimous. He went into the tent and came out again with a tiny recorder. Mikey, who had been looking unfriendly ever since refusing a second cookie, got curious and came over to see what he had. “That’s old,” he judged. “I had one of those years and years ago.”

“It’ll do the job,” Danny said. “Now, here’s what we’re gonna do. Instead of writing letters, we’re going to talk to them.”

“To Grandma?” asked Callie skeptically.

“Yep.”

Mikey looked even less sure. “What do I say?”

“Say, hey, Mom, Dad, I’m here, all’s cool. That kind of thing.”

“I thought they’re coming tomorrow,” Mikey asked. “Why can’t I talk to my dad?”

“This stupid phone is almost out of juice is why. Just say you can’t wait,” Danny said. “Tell ’em about fishing. Tell ’em you miss them. I’ll play your messages real fast so we get it all in.”

“I do miss them,” Callie said stoutly.

“Well, then say so.”

“Why didn’t you charge it on the car charger?” Mikey said suddenly.

“My friend’s charger won’t fit my phone.” He glared at Mikey.

Callie was first to take hold of the microphone. “Grandma,” she said formally, “it’s awful pretty up here in the mountains today and camping’s great but I miss you.”