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“I bet you don’t get into much trouble though, do you?”
    “No, not really.”
    Big Brown Eyes tilted his head at me and grinned. A shiver snaked through my insides.
    That was new for me. The thrill of the unknown, of temptation, of something wicked perhaps. A thrill, not fear. I let that sensation dissipate in the air between us.
    “Too bad.” He jerked his chin up at me. “See you.”
    Big Brown Eyes and his brothers left us and got on their Harleys. They revved up their bikes and thundered off one by one.
    My father went over to the One-Eyed Jack’s compound first thing the next morning. He shook each and every one of the members’ hands, looked them in the eye and expressed his sincere gratitude for standing up for his girls. He told them that he had struck a deal with Tim’s father. Dad wouldn’t press charges against Tim and his pals, if they didn’t press charges against the club members who beat up the boys. Outlaw justice had been served, and that was good enough for Dad.
    The men appreciated his show of respect and gratitude. All of this left me speechless. Ruby only laughed, even though it hurt her broken rib. It was probably the nicest thing Dad ever did for us. Then he went back to tuning us out.
    Our father was a long-distance trucker who was gone most of the time. One day, the week after my eighteenth birthday, he just didn’t come home. The divorce papers arrived in the mailbox soon after. Our mother decided to celebrate her newfound liberty from “the pig,” as she fondly called him, by going on a three-day bender at the nearest Native American casino with her girlfriends. Yet she returned home more bitter than ever.
    She calmed down somewhat over time, but the rancor remained. Almost two years after the divorce was finalized, she got killed driving drunk on the interstate. She had lost control of the car, drifted into oncoming traffic, and crashed into a truck. It was a startling sight, and one that Ruby and I had insisted on seeing, much to the policemen’s horror. We needed to see it in order to believe it.
    Ruby had tucked my hand in hers as we stood on the edge of that streak-marred asphalt. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks, my chest was bursting. A sudden primal need for my mommy, the mommy I hadn’t had in years, ripped through me. Ruby squeezed my cold fingers.
    “That’s it then, little sister. It’s just you and me now,” she whispered in a choked voice. I hiccupped in air and glanced up at her. Her eyes were glued to the crumpled mass of twisted metal, her face stony. I looked down at the scuffed and worn tips of my only pair of leather cowboy boots, and my vision blurred all over again. She silently led me back to her car, and we took off.
    I was twenty at the time and Ruby twenty-three. Ruby moved back in to the house with me after having deserted boyfriend number who-knows-what. Thankfully, the house had no mortgage, as it had been our father’s parents’ house. With basic expenses covered by our procession of odd jobs, we got by.
    Ruby’s immediate life plan of course was to have lots of parties. And we did. I would often get stuck with the nightmarish cleanup while Ruby took off with her friends or some new guy and disappear for days. Eventually she’d come back, usually more strung out than the last time.
    This went on for a couple of years. In the meantime, I stuck to my life plan, and after saving a bit of money, I had registered at Western Dakota Tech in Rapid City to study business management. I also worked nights at Pete’s Tavern, a local bar in town that Ruby had frequented since she was fifteen. Naturally, she had gotten me the job.
    One look at me, and Pete knew I was more dependable than my sister. At first I cleaned up in the kitchen, and within two weeks graduated to wiping down tables and clearing empties. Finally, Pete put me out on the floor one night when one of his regular waitresses didn’t show. I got to serve drinks and rake in real