*

The house is cool and quiet as they enter. The trees outside the windows cast moving shadows across the opposite wall like the outspread arms of dancers swaying to a beat only they can hear. The sound of nails clicking across the polished floor heralds the entrance of Asi, who comes over to greet them, taking healthy sniffs of their clothing before presenting his head and body to be scratched.

Koda notices a folded sheet of paper ruffling in the breeze and walks over to the kitchen table, sliding it out from under the salt-shaker-cum-paperweight and bringing it closer to her face in deference to the swiftly fading light. The page is covered with Maggie’s bold, flowing script.

Dakota, Kirsten:

I’m gathering up some of my men and setting up a census-taking crew for the base. I think it’s about time we figure out who and what we have here, and what skills we might be able to use both in the short and long term.

I’d like to do the same thing with the outlying cities, just to see where we stand. Kirsten, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have you accompany me to Rapid City tomorrow so we can get a first-hand look at what we’ve got left—resource and humanity wise. Finding a judge is one of our first priorities. If we can’t find one, any half-way competent lawyer will have to do. I’m not optimistic about either of those chances, but it’s a pressing need we have to fill.

Don’t expect me home tonight. I’ll bunk in the barracks and see you at 0800.

Maggie

“Looks like you’ve got a full day tomorrow,” Koda remarks, handing the note over. Kirsten’s quick eyes scan the writing and she frowns.

“Well, it wasn’t something I was planning on, but I suppose….” Her voice trails off as she scans the note again. She knows the value and desperate need of the census; it was she, in fact, who had suggested it to Maggie in the first place. But she had hoped, truly and dearly, that she would be allowed to play ‘grunt’ and sit behind a table with pencil and pad in hand, taking names.

The subtext of the note she holds dashes those hopes like bone china beneath a bull’s hoof. “Crap,” she half-whispers as she crumples the note into a ball and tosses it into the trash. “Just…crap. I hate being used as a figurehead.”

“You could always say no,” is Koda’s practical advice, delivered with a faint smirk and a lift of her eyebrow.

Kirsten thinks about it for a moment, then shakes her head. “No,” she sighs, “Maggie’s right. If we want to get this done the right way, and that takes me marching at the head of this little parade, than I’ll just have to suck it up and get it done. Hopefully, it won’t take very long.”

“Mm.”

“So,” Kirsten says in a deliberately bright tone, needing the subject turned away for now, “are you hungry?”

“Not really.” In truth, since Wa Uspewicakiyapi’s death, grief has placed a leaden ball in her belly; a ball that does not share its space with food well at all.

Kirsten catches the dimming of those brilliant eyes and holds back a sigh. “There’s some soup left over from last night,” she continues as if Koda had answered in the affirmative. “If you’ll do me the favor of taking Asi out, I’ll heat it up.”

A quick glance from Koda lets Kirsten know her plan has been discovered, but, with a shrug of her broad shoulders, the vet signals Asi and crosses the kitchen, opening the door as the large dog bolts outside, bellowing like a calf over his sudden, and welcome, freedom.

As she puts the pot on to simmer, Kirsten’s eyes are drawn to the scene outside the small kitchen window. Asi, sides heaving with exertion, trots back to Dakota, bringing back a ‘stick’ the size of a tree branch and dropping it at her feet. He then sits, his body shaking in canine ecstasy, eyes rolling, jaws quivering, and tail wagging so rapidly that the tall grass around him all but leaps out of the way.

Kirsten can’t help but smile, hearing the delightful sound of Koda’s laughter as she picks up the slimy stick and flings it far across the lawn, farther than Kirsten could ever throw, even on her best day. Asi bolts after it as if his tail’s aflame, barking joyfully all the while. The setting sun glints sparks of red from Koda’s glossy black hair in a way that Kirsten finds extremely appealing.

As if sensing the attention, Koda turns, and their eyes lock for a timeless moment. Which is, unfortunately, broken much too soon by an insistent German Shepard and his stick. Shaking her head ruefully, Kirsten turns back to her task, taking a wooden spoon from the drawer and stirring the soup as Asi’s yaps and barks soothe the air around her.

*

Koda looks up from her book as Kirsten rounds the couch and sets down a tray holding two steaming bowls and a loaf of French bread down on the coffee table. The fire is blazing cheerfully, chasing off the evening chill, and Asi jumps up from his place beside it, sniffing with great interest. His ears and tail soon droop, however, as he is banished to Kirsten’s bedroom with a pointed look from his Mistress.

Dakota lays aside the book she’s been reading just in time to receive the warm bowl that is thrust into her hands.

Ignoring the look she’s receiving, Kirsten digs into her soup with gusto, enjoying both the warmth and the hearty flavor. A moment later, and with a sigh, Koda does the same, grudgingly admitting, if only to herself, that this simple meal does indeed hit the spot.

They are both quickly done, sopping the last of the soup with the thick, crusty bread and laying their bowls down on the table. Asi has wormed his way back into the room and lies once again next to the fire, head on his massive paws, snoring away.

Kirsten and Koda sit in companionable silence, looking into the cheery flames as if messages can be divined there. After a moment, Kirsten speaks, “It’s so quiet, you know? I mean, yeah, we’re in the middle of God’s Country and all that, but even so, I keep expecting to hear car horns and televisions and telephones and things that we all took for granted. And now….” She slumps back into the couch’s warm comfort, still staring into the flames.

“Do you miss those things?” Koda asks softly.

“Sometimes,” Kirsten answers honestly. “Technology was a big part of who I was…who I am. Sometimes I wonder how I’ll cope without it. How we’ll all cope.”

“We’ll be fine.” Dakota’s voice is filled with a certainty that Kirsten envies. “Technology, or at least bits and pieces of it, will be around for a long time to come. I just think we’ll come to rely on it a good deal less than we once did.”

“Considering the fact that technology did all this, I suppose that won’t really be a bad thing.”

The two exchange smiles.

Kirsten yawns, then blushes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s been a long day. And an even longer one tomorrow.”

“Don’t remind me,” Kirsten groans.

Laughing softly, Koda rises from the couch and holds out a hand. Kirsten grasps it willingly and allows herself to be pulled gently to her feet. She looks toward the dirty dishes.

“Leave ‘em. I’ll take care of washing tonight. I need to go back to the clinic and check on Mama Wolf and her pup anyway.”

“But—.”

“Go to sleep.”

With a small sigh, Kirsten gives in, nodding. “Goodnight, then.”

Koda smiles. “Goodnight.”

Their eyes meet again, and this time, there is no hesitation. Both step forward. Kirsten’s chin raises and Koda’s lowers and their lips meet softly, gently. The kiss lingers, then deepens, and Kirsten can’t help the soft moan that sounds as Koda’s tongue brushes tenderly against her lips before withdrawing.

Both are breathing heavily as they part. They stand there with shining eyes and goofy grins on their faces. Reaching up, Koda trails the back of her knuckles against Kirsten’s soft cheek, then steps back, her expression one of quiet joy. “Goodnight, Kirsten.”

With that, Koda gathers up the bowls, sets them on the tray, turns, and heads for the kitchen, leaving Kirsten to, once again, stare after her, fingers to her lips and a look of absolute wonder on her face.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

THE MOTORCYCLE COMES to a purring halt just outside of a well maintained house set well back in the woods. The windows facing the gravel driveway are opened to their fullest and the warm breeze causes the homely checked curtains to rustle pleasantly. Jeans-clad legs come down to rest easily on either side of the bike, balancing it comfortably as the engine is turned off.

A male voice, elderly but still strong, floats out from the house. “I suppose I should warn you that at this very moment there are seven weapons of various gauges pointed directly at you, and wired to all go off at once. If you’re an android, that might not kill you, but I believe it would make your job just a bit harder. And if you’re a human….”

Long, strong hands reach up and remove the black helmet, causing equally black hair to come cascading down in shining waves. “Nice welcome you’ve got there, Judge,” the sultry voice intones. “You have it in needlepoint hanging over your mantelpiece too?”

A moment of shocked silence. Then, “Is it time to get my prescription changed, or is that really Dakota Rivers darkening my doorstep?”

Koda laughs as she hooks her helmet over the motorcycle’s handlebar. “I dunno. Which answer won’t get me ventilated?”

“Ahh,” comes the dry reply. “Your wit, like a poor vintage, goes to vinegar with age, Ms. Rivers.”

“So do your manners, you old curmudgeon,” Dakota mutters, not-quite under her breath.

“I heard that!”

“You were meant to.”

A moment later, “Well? Don’t just stand there propping up that two-wheeled death machine! I haven’t seen a human face in a goodly number of weeks. Yours will, I suppose, be suitable enough.”