The Hell's Angel watched laconically, until another man stopped by the booth. They spoke briefly, and something changed hands, followed by something else. The Hell's Angel gave a casual look around the room. His eyes met Liam's. Even more casually he turned back to the table and said something to Moccasin Man, whose hands stopped moving. The Flirt pouted in protest. Moccasin Man held her still, and with an elaborate show of nonchalance looked around the bar, eyes coming to rest finally on Liam's face. Liam didn't move. A hand slid up to cup one of the Flirt's full breasts, and the Flirt gave a voluptuous wriggle and pressed against him for just a moment before moving the hand back down to her waist with a playful slap and a promising glance from beneath her lashes. Over her head Moccasin Man smiled at Liam, revealing a mouthful of small white pointed teeth.
Liam didn't smile back.
"I don't know why Tiffany bothers owning a house with a bedroom in it," Bill said disapprovingly at Liam's elbow. "What'll it be, whiskey or beer?"
"Tiffany?" Liam said. "That's the Flirt's name, Tiffany?"
"The what?"
"The woman sitting in Moccasin Man's lap."
"Who?"
He jerked his head in the direction of the booth.
"Oh, you mean Evan. Yeah, that's Tiffany Saunders. How do you know her?"
"We flew in on the same plane, along with Moccasin Man and the Hell's Angel."
"Hell's-oh. Oscar. Right." A slow smile spread across Bill's face. "I guess he does look sort of like a Hell's Angel."
Laura returned to the bar, reloaded her tray with a wooden expression, and departed again.
"Never mind her for now-you can't help someone who won't accept it," Moses said at his elbow, causing Liam to start. "Bill! I need another beer! What!"
This to a young man and woman standing a few feet away. The young man looked a little disdainful, the young woman painfully respectful. Both were Yupik in appearance: short, stocky, golden of skin, raven of hair, brown eyes tilted upward in the fashion of their Asian ancestors. "Uncle," she said, bowing her head.
She nudged the young man. "Uncle," he repeated. He didn't bow his head.
"What?" Moses said, climbing back on his stool.
The young woman screwed up her courage. "We will marry next week. We want your blessing."
"No you don't," Moses snapped, and gulped at the beer Bill brought him. "You want to know if you'll live happily ever after. You shoulda asked me that before you went and popped the question, now shouldn't you, Amelia?" He drained his glass and fixed her with a steely stare. He spoke two words, and two words only, in what Liam assumed was Yupik.
The young woman's face turned dead white and her body swayed as if receiving a blow.
Moses turned his back on them. The young man muttered something beneath his breath, grabbed her arm, and hustled her out of the bar.
Liam watched the door shut behind them, and turned to Moses. "What did you say to her?"
Moses was staring at his hands. They were powerful hands: brown, seamed, with large knuckles and thick, well-kept fingernails. "I told her his father's name," he said, and the sorrow and foreboding in his voice stopped Liam in his tracks.
Confused, Liam said, "She didn't know it before?"
"Oh yeah, she knew it," Moses said glumly. "She just didn't know it."
Bill came down the bar. "You okay?"
Moses dredged up a smile. "I will be." The smile turned lecherous. "I know I will be later."
She allowed herself to be sidetracked, and leaned across the bar for a kiss. Again, Liam was awed and a little embarrassed by the display of passion, the obvious appetite, the frank lust.
Moses pulled back and saw the look on Liam's face. "What, you think people over sixty can't have sex or what? Just because you ain't been getting any lately don't mean it's over for the rest of us! Now get the hell out of here! She's waiting on you, God knows why."
"Who is?"
"Who is-don't get cute with me, you dumb bastard, I'm your sifu. Her house is out on the bluff. Go south on Main, turn left on the river road, go three miles, and turn right just after the pavement ends." Moses turned away, and then turned back. "And if you have the strength of will to haul your sorry ass out of a bed with Wy Chouinard in it, stand post for at least twenty minutes tonight." He leveled a finger at Liam, the same finger he had leveled at Wolfe. "You don't use it, you lose it."
The glint in his eye told Liam that Moses wasn't referring solely to tai chi.
NINE
The Blazer was the property of the state and as such should only have been driven on official business, but since Liam didn't have a car yet, along with an apartment or an iron, he decided to risk the wrath of observant citizens and drive it anyway.
Like DeCreft's, Wy's house was on the river bluff. The road in was, again, almost but not quite lost in a tangle of brush and trees. When he had bumped his way to the end of it, he found a surprisingly neat clapboard cottage painted white, with a detached garage and shop, also painted white. Both buildings were old but well kept.
Wy's truck was in the garage. Good. There was a battered white Isuzu pickup parked behind it. Wy had visitors. Not so good. He climbed the steps to the door and raised his hand to knock. The door opened before he could.
"Liam!" Wy said brightly.
There were two people standing behind her in the act of shrugging into their jackets. A tall man with white hair, and a stocky woman with intent green eyes. He recognized them at once from the plane: the other Alaskan Old Fart, with Daughter.
"I don't think you've met Dan and Jo, have you?" Wy said, still in the bright, artificial voice. "Daniel Dunaway, Joan Dunaway, this is Liam Campbell. Liam, this is Daniel and his daughter, Jo. Dan is a friend of my parents. Jo and I went to high school and college together."
"How do you do?" Liam said, holding out his hand.
After a moment of hesitation, Daniel Dunaway took it. His grip was dry, callused, and hard. When Liam turned to Jo, she had her arms folded across her chest and was staring at him out of narrowed eyes. Liam thought better of holding out his hand to her.
Daniel settled one big hand on Wy's shoulder. "It was great seeing you, girl. I'll call your folks when we get back, let them know you're all right."
"Thanks, Dan."
Jo broke off staring at Liam long enough to give Wy a fierce hug. "Anything you need, you call, you hear? And I'm coming out over Labor Day for a week or ten days, okay?"
"Okay."
Daniel Dunaway put one large hand on Wy's shoulder and bent a forbidding stare on Liam. "Wy's one of the family."
"Yes, sir," Liam said.
"She's like blood to us. To me."
"Yes, sir."
The older man gave a curt nod. "So long as you know."
His daughter was a hair less subtle. As she brushed by him on her way out, she said in a low voice, "You hurt her again and you're toast, asshole."
"Yes, ma'am," Liam said. It seemed the most politic response.
The Dunaways climbed into the rental, waved good-bye, and were off.
"Friends of yours?" Liam said neutrally.
"The best," Wy agreed. "Come on in."
"What do they do?" Liam said, following her inside.