“Look, Cuz,” she replied, “I try not to judge because I live in the white world too, but the elders still follow the old ways. Huttsi calls you her apple child, red only on the outside but all white on the inside. You first came out here because you said you wanted to be one of us, but then you left, proving that deep down you aren’t. So why did you come back?”
Keith dropped back onto his elbows to gaze up at the fast-moving clouds. “Because I had nowhere else to go.” Only a couple of years ago, there were thousands of people who’d treated him like some kind of rock star, but those relationships were as shallow as a creek in drought. Now that he needed a home, some place to lick his wounds, he had no home. Huttsi and Kenu, who had once embraced their half-blood grandchild with open arms, now rejected him. They hadn’t exactly told him to leave, but they hadn’t welcomed him either.
After a long silence, he murmured half to himself, “They won’t take me back, because I fed the wrong wolf.”
Tonya’s forehead wrinkled. “What? I don’t understand you.”
“Didn’t I ever tell you how I got my Shoshone name?”
“No. You didn’t.” Tonya dropped down beside him, offering a beer that he waved away.
“When I first came to the rez, Kenu said he’d had a vision the night before I arrived of a black wolf and a white wolf fighting.”
“So that’s why he called you Two Wolves?”
“Yes, but there’s more. He said the white wolf represented all of the good things I desired, and the black wolf represented all of the bad. When I asked him which of the wolves would win the fight, he said to me, ‘The one you feed.’ That’s why he won’t see me now, Ton,” he said woodenly. “Because I fed the black wolf.”
“They still love you, Keith,” Tonya said. “They’re just deeply disappointed. Until you find some way to make amends, you are as good as dead to them.”
“But how am I supposed to do that?” he asked. “I’ve come back like a beaten dog. I work hard. I keep my nose to the ground and bring no attention to myself. I even cut off my hair! What more can I do? I feel like I have a gaping hole”—he brought his hand to his left breast—“right here.”
“I don’t know the answer. I wish I did, but until you figure it out, I think you should leave the rez. Take the job and get away for a while. Find what you’ve lost.”
“And what’s that?”
“Yourself, Cuz. You don’t even know who you are anymore, and you won’t belong anywhere until you do.”
Chapter 4
Los Angeles, California
“You’re back already?” Miranda remarked in surprise. After several nonspeaking parts in low-budget horror flicks, Lexi had finally scored her first big role in a film called Zombie Cheerleaders from Mars.
“Yup. Low budget always means a lightning-fast shoot.” Lexi dropped her bags on the kitchen floor and then reached into the fridge for a Dr. Pepper. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.” Miranda hated even the smell of the sickly sweet stuff, but Texas-born Lexi had practically been bottle-fed on it. “So how was it?” she asked.
“Omigod,” Lexi groaned. “Have you ever been to the Black Rock Desert? There is absolutely no sign of civilization for hundreds of miles. It’s like being on the surface of the moon! On top of that, it was blistering during the day and freezing at night. There was only one motel for fifty miles and only one place to eat. Most of us had to camp out in tents and cook our own food, an experience I never want to repeat.”
Miranda shuddered at the thought. Lexi’s cooking skills were atrocious, even in the best of circumstances. The girl burned holes in boiled eggs.
“The only highlight was meeting this smoking-hot camera guy named Kent,” Lexi said.
“Oh yeah? Did he cook?” Miranda asked.
“No.” Lexi grinned. “But food was last on our minds.”
“Oh.” Miranda flushed.
“How was your week?” Lexi asked.
“I filmed a hemorrhoid commercial,” Miranda replied dryly, dismayed that it was her greatest claim to fame since graduating film school.
“We all have to pay our dues,” Lexi replied.
“I know.” Miranda sighed. “But I came to L.A. to make films. I just wish Bibi would give me a chance.”
“What about that horse-whisperer gig you did?” Lexi asked.
“You mean the one she took all the credit for?” The innovative camera work Miranda contributed to the short production had even garnered an award.
“I never dreamed I’d still be waiting tables after all this time, either, but the fact is, most of us never do get a break. If you could only bring yourself to compromise your ideals a little, maybe you could get more freelance work.”
“But I hate all the commercial crap.”
“Randa, honey, until we make it big, my tips and your commercial crap pays our bills.”
“I know you’re right,” Miranda replied. “I just want a tiny bit of creative freedom. Maybe I should make a documentary. They don’t cost much to produce. I’d just need to find the right subject.”
Lexi chewed her lip pensively. “You know, if that’s what you’re looking for, I just might have a lead for you.”