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eye and she picked it up, swiping at a thin layer of dust over the glass. Jeter was much younger. Izzy would guess about 10 or 12. At least she assumed it was him. He had the same dark hair. His arm was crooked around the neck of a boy about the same age —a boy with sandy blond hair.
    “He seems happy,” Izzy said, holding up the photo.
    Mrs. Paul wiped her eyes and nodded. “That’s Jason. His cousin. Greg took him up for a visit every summer, to see his brother. Jason’s his boy. Thick as thieves, those two always were.”
    “Jason,” Izzy repeated. “Paul?”
    Mrs. Paul nodded.
    Izzy looked down at the photo and swiped her thumb across the glass. Two young boys smiled back at her against the backdrop of a bright blue sky. And a sign that read “Badlands National Park.”

Chapter 6
    Caleb pulled his sleek, black and chrome Harley into his former lieutenant’s circular driveway. Chris “Shooter” Sullivan had purchased the two-story log cabin for his wife, and they were slowly filling it up with kids. As he entered the house through the front door, he saw Shooter’s wife , Sarah, standing in the living room, the first of their brood perched on her hip.
    “Hey, Slick,” he said, leaning down to kiss Sarah on top of her head. He ruffled baby Hope’s short, wispy hair. “Hey, kiddo.”
    She looked up at him with her mama’s dark brown eyes and smiled. He grinned back at her. He nodded to Mark “Tex” Marsten who sat on the couch nursing a beer. Next to him, his girlfriend , Abby, had a martini. Caleb followed the squeals of what was certainly Daisy into the kitchen to snag a brew of his own. He wasn’t surprised to find Jimmy “Easy” Turnbull pressing the tiny, tattooed blonde against the counter and nuzzling her neck. Daisy gasped when she saw Caleb and tried to push her boyfriend away.
    “At ease, Easy,” he said with a smirk and reached for the handle of the fridge. “What are you doing, anyway?”
    Daisy giggled and Easy swung her around so that he faced the slightly older man.
    “Body shots,” he replied.
    Caleb snorted. “There’s no tequila.”
    “Don’t need any,” Easy said and licked Daisy’s neck again. She squealed.
    Caleb shook his head at the two of them and headed back to the living room. He flopped down into a chair—his chair—and waited for Slick to tell him to set the table. Thursday night was poker night. Slick fed them all first, and, if she was in the mood, beat them at cards afterward. She’d graciously taken to playing only occasionally these days so that everyone could pay their bills.
    Shooter came down the stairs, fresh from a shower it appeared , while the front door opened. Caleb didn’t have to turn to know that Hawk and his wife, Tildy, had arrived. They’d taken the truck, for obvious reasons. Slick’s fluffy white attack cat bypassed the very pregnant Tildy and launched herself at the giant Sioux. Hawk scooped her up and cradled her to his chest. Tildy made her way to the loveseat, where she and Hawk always sat, while Abby and Sarah fussed over her. Sarah was something of a mother hen, and had been ever since she came to Rapid City. She’d had no name, no past, but was a hell of a cook and had started making dinner for the boys when she’d lived next door to Shooter. Now she was busy nurturing Tildy through her first pregnancy, not that Tildy really needed it. For a thin, wisp of a woman, she was holding up fairly well being married to a man more than twice her size.
    Shooter sat in the other chair, across from Caleb. “They’re so busy with each other, they might leave us alone,” he remarked, glancing at the women.
    Caleb took a sip of his beer and grinned. “Good. I could use the money.”
    Shooter lifted an eyebrow at him. “Plan this weekend?” he asked casually.
    Caleb nodded.
    “One weekend a month,” Easy replied as he entered from the kitchen, referring to Caleb’s monthly excursion to Sioux Falls on the other side of the state.