"You're a regular Johnny Appleseed in your way, aren't you, Remo?"
"I need to hide her," Remo said anxiously.
"For how long?"
"Don't know."
Sunny Joe hesitated.
Chiun spoke up, his voice grave. "She has endured things best left unsaid."
Sunny Joe looked at the girl with the deep brown eyes and at Remo. "Tell you what," he said at last, "I'm getting along in my years. You fix that flat for me and it's a deal."
They shook hands on it.
And while Remo changed the flat, Sunny Joe bent over his granddaughter. "What's your name, golden hair?"
She looked up at him with growing wonder. "Freya."
"What the heck kind of name is that?"
"Her mother named her," said Remo.
"Where is she?"
"Wrapped in a sheet in the trunk."
"Well, I guess we're about to have us a family reunion and a funeral all in one."
Turning to Chiun, Sunny Joe asked, "Should I be asking what all this is about?"
His eye going to Remo, busy at the tire, Chiun said quietly, "No. Do not ask. Do not ask ever."
THE BURIAL WAS SIMPLE. Words were spoken over a sandy grave in the shadow of Red Ghost Butte, and it was done. No marker was erected. No tears shed. There was too much shock for tears. Tears would come later. The sun went down on a profound silence of their souls, making the candelabra cactus cast long, streaky shadows of surrender.
After it was over, Remo went out into the red sandstone desert alone, and everyone understood they were not to follow.
THREE DAYS LATER, Remo returned, his face burned redder than Chiun had ever seen it.
Freya was letting her older brother, Winner, show her how to Indian-wrestle. Winner was burned red, and his hair was a paler, sun-faded version of Freya's golden locks. Otherwise they looked nothing alike.
"He's only half trying," Remo said to Chiun.
Chiun nodded.
A moment later Freya had Winner on his back and cursing the open sky.
Remo cracked a grin that was half amusement and half satisfaction. "I knew they'd get along."
"Only you, Remo Williams, would sire a son even a slip of a girl can best," Chiun sniffed.
"Maybe I had a daughter that just can't be beat. Looks to me like there's more Sun On Jo blood in her than him."
Chiun made a disapproving face, but his hazel eyes shone with veiled pride.
"Any sign of Kali while I was away?"
"No. The demon's spirit has found another vessel, from there to torment us another hour in a distant day."
"Been in touch with Smith?"
Chiun nodded. "The godless Canadians have sued for peace."
Remo looked away from the sight of Freya bending Winner's thumb out of joint. Winner howled. His ostrich-skin boot heels were beating the desert floor in agony.
"How'd that happen?"
"I informed Emperor Smith of the fates of the Copt and his fishmongering Canadian confederate. Smith informed the Eagle Throne, and the President shared this with the Lord of Canada. This was sufficient to chill Canadian lusts for war and fish. The seas are quiet once more now that good fishermen are not being hectored into greed."
"Good. I plan on staying here a little while and catching up on my kids."
"And I will dwell on my errors, which have wounded you deeply, my son," Chiun said dispiritedly.
"I buried the past out in the desert, Chiun. It's behind me. Forget about it. I loved Jilda a long time ago, but it wasn't supposed to be. Our lives didn't fit together. That's why she must have taken Freya to Canada. She thought it would be safer there and we'd probably never cross paths."
A warm desert breeze caught the wispy beard at the Master of Sinanju's chin. He nodded. "We will speak of this no more, then," he whispered.
And Remo went off to disentangle his children before one of them got his cocky bones bent into pretzels.