Charlie slumped on Eddie’s couch, staring forward into space. Everyone else was away at work and school, but he—he was finished. How could he work without a vehicle? Eddie said he knew a guy, but there was no way to fix a truck that had dropped from a height of ten feet, even if he had insurance.

Eddie had saved his ass, coming up the mountain in the dark to get him. He cringed inwardly, remembering the look on Eddie’s face when he saw the cracked up vehicle, and him all scratched up and reeking of beer. If he had it to do over again, he’d sooner carry that truck home on his back than have to see that look on Eddie’s face again.

“You’re a lucky son of a bitch,” Eddie had told him on the way home. Must be luck. There was no other way a sane man could explain it, was there? But no truck, no job, just a shitload of shame. He was having a hard time feeling lucky.

There was a knock on the door. Charlie shuffled toward the entrance, his muscles sore from the accident. Pain shot down his arm when he lifted it to pull open the door.

A native boy in his early teens stood on the stoop, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jean jacket. “You’re Charlie Meninick, right?” the boy asked. “I heard you was here. Can I talk to you?”

Charlie blinked in the bright light. “Who are you?” He glanced around the boy up and down the street. Kid was there by himself.

“I’m Louis Greyfox. That was my brother in the forest. In the accident.” The muscles working at his jawline belied his stoic expression.

Charlie’s mind flashed back to the carnage in the woods. The boy’s brother was the one crushed under the tree. “I’m sorry,” he said.

The young man lowered his eyes.

“Want to come in?” Charlie wasn’t sure why he’d said that. He didn’t want to talk about that day anymore. But the boy nodded, and Charlie brought him into the living room.

The young man declined his offer of refreshments—which was fortunate, thought Charlie, because they weren’t really his to offer. The boy sat down quietly on the edge of a wooden chair. Charlie eyed the young man: slim, dark and shy; jean jacket stained with the signs of outdoor chores. He looked about fifteen or so, just a hair older than Charlie had been when he’d left for Seattle.

“I’m real sorry about your brother,” said Charlie.

“Thank you.”

Charlie waited. He didn’t want to be an asshole; he just wanted to get this over with—whatever it was the boy wanted from him. He cleared his throat and asked, “How can I help you?” He liked the utility of this white person’s phrase for “hurry up and tell me what you want.”

“My brother.” The boy swallowed. “Did you see him before . . . the accident?”

Charlie released his breath, not realizing he’d been holding it. “No, I didn’t.”

“Did you hear him? Was he sayin’ anything?”

Charlie shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I heard voices, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying.”

“Well, did it maybe sound like they were fighting?” asked the boy.

Charlie shrugged and shook his head again. “I don’t know. Didn’t sound like it.” He wondered if he was even supposed to be talking to this boy, with the investigation still going on.

“But it could’ve been, right? He could’ve been fightin’ the white guy, tryin’ to stop him?”

Poor kid. “I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose, maybe.”

The boy’s eyes brightened and he sat up a little straighter. “Do you think maybe you could tell the Council—”

“No!” barked Charlie. “I already told them everything, I can’t go changin’ my story now.”

“Please, everybody says he was stealing trees!”

Charlie shook his head. “No way, sorry. I can’t go making up stories. I gave my statement and I’m done.”

“But my family . . .” The boy’s voice faltered.

Charlie clenched his jaw and wiped his palms on his legs. “Look, kid, I said I’m sorry.” And that was the truth, he really did feel sorry for the boy, but he couldn’t risk it. Drunks go changing their stories all the time. He couldn’t afford to, not now. Damn this whole thing.

The boy tightened his lips to suppress a tremble, and Charlie cursed himself for letting yet another person down, a kid no less.

But then the boy’s tawny face reddened and his eyes narrowed. “My people aren’t the only ones got to worry about this.”

Charlie opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“You tell Eddie I was here,” Louis spat. He jumped up from his chair and stomped out of the room.

“What the hell?” Charlie’s bewilderment bloomed into anger as he tailed the boy to the front door. “You get back here!” he bellowed.

Louis stormed out and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Hey!” Charlie yanked open the door and stepped onto the porch. He spotted the boy running and launched down the stairs after him. The boy looked back and put on an extra burst of speed, flying by an elderly woman wearing a fringed shawl. She tottered on unsteady feet, and Charlie managed to reach her before she fell. He held the old woman and could only watch the boy run around a corner, out of sight.

“Thank you, young one,” said the woman, gathering her shawl back around her.

“It’s all right, Grandmother.” She wasn’t related by blood, but as a native elder, she was Grandmother. And the warm look on her face did settle his nerves a bit.

The old woman clucked her tongue. “That boy. Runs like a thief.”

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up.

“I know his people,” she said, pointing a wrinkled hand. “And yours. You are from good people. Don’t mix yourself up with that boy.”

Charlie couldn’t think what to say.

The old woman patted his hand. “Until next time,” she said. She released his hand and headed on her way. Charlie looked after her for a moment before turning around and walking back to Eddie’s house. He supposed it was the privilege of the elders to speak their minds.

A sinking feeling came over him as soon as he stepped onto the porch, and it was confirmed when he tried the handle.

“Fuck!” The door was locked and his keys were inside. His hand went to his pocket, searching for his phone.

“Fuuuuuck!” He’d forgotten he didn’t have a phone anymore. He rubbed his hands together, noticing just then how cool the fall mornings had become. It had been a month now since the accident—the first one, with the poachers—and he was stuck out here in just a T-shirt and jeans. Eddie didn’t believe in hiding spare keys under the mat. Nothing but to go into town and get a set from him.

First the dead guys, then the truck, now I lock myself out. But it was the trees that occupied his mind all the way to town. If those had been normal trees his truck had hit, he’d be dead. He couldn’t believe all their strange movements were just chance. But who could he ask about it? Not Eddie. His cousin would just tell him to stay out of the bottle.

It was the middle of the day, people were at work and kids were at school. Delivery vans trundled up and down the street. Everyone had something important to do. Everyone but him. He hunched his shoulders up toward his ears and kept on walking.

He passed the county elementary school that he and Eddie had attended. Kids squealed and laughed, lining up at the door to go back inside after recess. The building had always seemed so huge when he was one of those kids walking through its doors, as big as castle gates, and heading down long, cavernous hallways to class. He pictured the proud little man he was at six years old, chest all puffed out, making sure his little sister got to school safe. Lilly. She would have been all grown by now. Probably would have gone to college, maybe been the lawyer or politician Uncle Virgil wanted for the people. Maybe she would have gotten married and had some kids too. Charlie could have been an uncle by now.

A couple of teachers stood at the door of the school building, eyeing him. He nodded at them and continued on his way to Eddie’s office.

Just keep moving, he told himself. Lilly’s gone. Dad is—he didn’t know what to call it—cold, like he blamed Charlie for everything he wanted that never happened. And Charlie’s mother had left town while he was up in Seattle. No one knew where she was anymore. He cursed all those years he was too wrapped up in himself to notice her hurt, realize she was drifting away. Maybe if he’d paid more attention. Been sober enough.

Past is past. Just keep moving.

Head down against the chill, he jogged across the highway separating downtown from the Tribal offices. He found Eddie’s building and asked the way to his office.

“Hey, Eddie,” he said, knocking on his open door.

“Hey, Cuz, come on in. You here about that job with the Cultural Center?”

“No, I don’t think you want me up there talkin’ to tourists.” Charlie stepped up to Eddie’s desk. “I, uh, I locked myself out.” His face flushed as Eddie had a good belly-laugh. Haw, haw, haw! Crow Butt was back for a minute before the laugh subsided to a chuckle.

“Here you go.” Eddie handed over his set of keys. “Don’t lock these in too.”

“Thanks,” Charlie mumbled, stuffing the keys into his pocket. “You know what, Eddie? Some kid came around to the house today. Louis Greyfox.”

Eddie frowned. “Greyfox? What’d he want?”

“You know him?”

“I know his people. Everybody knows everybody out here. Ain’t that kinda why you left?” Eddie’s lips twisted into a wry smile.

Charlie couldn’t help but smile a little himself. Eddie always was a good shot. “Anyway, this Greyfox kid—”

“Shut the door, would you?” asked Eddie.

Charlie closed the door and sat down in front of his cousin’s heavy wooden desk. “So the kid was upset about his older brother. He was one of those poachers, the one who wound up underneath the tree that day.”

“Okay.”

“Well, this kid’s worried about people calling his brother a thief. Wanted me to make up some story about how he was trying to stop the other guy from cutting down the tree before it fell on him.”

“Oh?”

Charlie found the wary look in Eddie’s eye a little unsettling. “Yeah, but don’t worry, Eddie. I’m not gonna stir that whole mess up again. I said my piece and I’m done with the whole damn thing.”

Eddie nodded. “Did he say anything else?”

“Yeah. He said to tell you he came by. Said something about his family wasn’t the only one should be worried.”

Eddie’s face clouded over.

“Worried about what, Eddie? Is something going on?”

“Don’t pay no attention to him,” Eddie finally said. “That boy don’t know what he’s sayin’. He’s just hurtin’.”

There was a knock at the door. Eddie’s face morphed into a welcoming smile as he called for the person to come in. A colleague entered and, seeing Charlie, asked if he should come back later.

“No, no, come on in, have a seat. Joe, this is my cousin Charlie.” Charlie stood up and they shook hands. Eddie came around his desk and patted his cousin’s shoulder jovially. “We were just sittin’ here flappin’ our jaws. But he was about to head out.”

Charlie felt Eddie’s hand on his shoulder subtly steer him toward the door. He stepped out into the hallway and turned around to face his cousin.

“Don’t you worry about nothing, Cuz,” said Eddie. “You just concentrate on gettin’ yourself back together. See you at home.”

And for the second time that morning, a door closed in Charlie’s face.