Gideon leaned against the doorframe. His head tilted a little as he listened in. It sounded like a business meeting to him, or at least what he thought a business meeting should sound like—minutes, old business.

He idly picked up his food and opened it while keeping his ears open. The Club had quieted significantly as those who were congregated outside in the bar were doing the same. He opened up his dishes, picked up the chopsticks, and started going after the sushi with them.

Whitney came over from behind the bar. “Do you want a fork?” she asked.

Gideon blinked and brought his attention back to the main room. He looked down at his hands. “I’ve got chopsticks,” he said and he knew how to use them, a military buddy of his had shown him how and took him to enough Eastern restaurants that he’d gotten really good with them.

Whitney eyed them. “But, they’re sticks,” she said.

Gideon opened and closed the chopsticks several times. “I always have something to eat with, any old twig will do.”

Whitney shut one eye and peered at him. “Are you serious?” she asked. “You sure you don’t want a fork?”

Gideon made the same face back at her. “Do I look like I need a fork?”

Whitney rolled her eyes, tossed her hair and went back to the bar. “Shout if you change your mind.”

Gideon went back to listening and eating his sushi with his chopsticks, without really looking at it. His brow furrowed as Brand divvied out reports to the other members to read. How many pies did this Club have their fingers in? Hope was at the hospital. He knew that. She had her own comfortable wing. Josiah, who had introduced himself briefly as he’d passed, was the Deputy Chief of Jasper PD. If Savannah hadn’t already told him that, the service revolver on his hip and the small Jasper PD badge on his vest—no, kutte, he had to get used to the right name—the pin on Josiah’s kutte would have given it away.

Padre was the head of one of the local churches, the church most of the Club officers attended and the one Gideon planned on attending. The guy, Knox, who’d read what actually sounded like he knew what was happening on the town board on a personal level, Gideon figured he was on it. He wondered how that worked out. A report from the school board, well, Morgan and Flint had six children. He supposed that was smart to have someone know what was going on in the school district. There were plenty of parents.

Charities? Businesses? Tents and booths at festivals? And why did they not want development? Gideon liked the town the way it was, given he’d got here, but most towns he’d ever visited and gotten to know at all, always had a board or committee for ‘business’ or ‘housing’ or something development. It was a big thing. There was a lot of money involved. He chalked it up to something he didn’t understand yet.

---

Ted reached for the cake. “Who wants to be the guinea pig?”

“She’s your daughter,” Eberron said.

Ash rolled her eyes. “You came for cake.”

“Whelp.” Ted opened it up and cut off a small corner. “Eb volunteered.”

Eberron sighed and passed his plate down.

“No unnecessary theatrics,” Ted said, and set the corner on Eberron’s plate and passed it back.

Eberron used his fork to cut the piece in half, took a bite, chewed. He frowned. “Tastes like a cake mix.” He ate the other half. “Definitely cake mix.”

Ted stared at it. “Hard to screw that up,” he said and used his knife to cut the cake up into sixteen squares.

Brand said, “We have a run coming up this month. Meet up with the Denver Charter for a barbeque and such and such at the old Guernsey Reservoir Lake, about a three-hour ride, bring the kids and in support of the St. Nicholas Children’s Wing Fund. It isn’t mandatory. Any suggestions on who should go?”

“Prospects need mileage time,” Savannah said.

“I’ll go,” Eberron said.

“We should put up a volunteer list,” Ted said.

“Then we’ll have over half the Club.”

“So?”

Brand looked between the offending parties. This was the argument every time. He wanted names. Ted suggested making up a signup sheet. Names did eventually get mentioned and the signup sheet still magically appeared.

“Christie and the girls have been wanting to get out of Jasper,” Josiah said. “I’ll go.”

Ted grunted.

“Trying to rotate here,” Brand said. If he didn’t try to rotate who went on the runs and who didn’t, he’d have the same people riding every time and others in the Club never riding at all.

Ted looked at Spike. “Go through the last six months of runs and find out who has gone out and who hasn’t.”

Spike narrowed her eyes at him, made a face and shook her head. “Fine. I’ll do that.”

“Next month there is a mandatory run,” Brand said. “I want everyone reminded. And the Clarks’ roof?”

Savannah wrinkled her nose. “It’s a total wash. The roof is going to have to be done from the rafters up. I told them that the Club would work for free and they would owe us the cost of materials. I expect that it should take about two weeks to complete. The house is one of those almost pre-fab types, things are nominally square and there shouldn’t be any surprises except the occasional rat skeleton in between the roof boards or something.”

Brand nodded. “That’s fair,” he said, approving of the way Savannah had handled things. “Are they doing all right otherwise?”

“The cupboard seemed a bit lean. It’s a good thing Esme is providing the meals. I’ve added them to the list and will work on getting buffer tomorrow. Donations in clothes for the baby and for them would be appreciated.” Savannah raked a hand through her hair.

“Outlaw doesn’t have the temperament for security work and the job he’s got right now will start paying out better in maybe five years. With the baby, their finances are going to be tight enough without having to worry about unexpected expenses such as roof repair, plumbing, and auto and motorcycle repairs. I’d suggest another job, except with the way his field works, it’d be a start from the bottom again, and they can’t afford that.”

“And he’s too good at what he does to suggest doing something completely different.” Brand nodded.

“Right.” Savannah bit her lip. “I was thinking of suggesting Clara come and help out Poppy. I know Poppy loves the pups, and she does need help that’s more permanent. Not us dropping in on our spare hours, as much as we all love to drop in. The Moonbeams’ office could use a good sorting out, and Poppy can’t do that and watch rambunctious werewolf puppies at the same time.” Savannah glanced at Spike. “If it is all right with you Ted, I’d like to borrow Spike to get that done.”

“If it’s all right with Spike, it’s all right with me.” Ted waved his hands.

Savannah looked at Spike.

“I’ll start on it tomorrow,” Spike said.

Savannah smiled at her in thanks.

Brand nodded. “All right. I’ll have Esme talk to Poppy about Clara and then Esme talk to Clara. We don’t spring anything on Poppy.”

Savannah flushed and winced. “All right. Agreed.”

Eberron took a sip of his beer. “Spike is a good neighbor helping out.”

“That’s right,” Brand said and changed topics. “The last hunt got that sick elk up near the spring. There haven’t been any reports of any other dangerous and sick animals, and the wolf pack on the preservation has done a good job of thinning the younger herd animals.

“According to the human made numbers and my wolf instinct, animal conservation is going well.” Brand finished in a dry tone.

The rest grinned.

Brand looked around. “Any other old business?” he asked.

The officers looked at each other. There was silence.

---

Someone approached the door. Gideon set his plate down quickly on the arm of Quinn’s couch and moved over. “Sorry, the meeting has already started.” He almost called the guy sir and managed to bite his tongue last minute. Will hadn’t taken offense, but this guy looked younger and might.

The guy cracked a grin. It went well with his tan and sun bleached curly brown hair. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to get in.” He held out a hand. “I’m Reese.”

Gideon blinked. Oh. He took Reese’s hand. “Gideon,” he said. They shook once.

A woman walked up behind Reese, her steps almost dainty in her motorcycle boots. Gideon didn’t know how she managed that. She had a round pleasant face, long light curly golden brunette hair, and enough curves to make any man happy. She looked him up and down.

Reese grabbed her hand. “And this is my girlfriend, Dakota.” He paused. “She made the patches for your kutte,” he said.

Dakota’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t remind me.”

Gideon shifted on his feet, evening his balance out. He wasn’t sure if he should be fighting or taking cover. He could be really good at taking cover.

“Brand paid you!” Reese said. “You said—” He eyed his girlfriend. He thought she’d calmed down about the whole affair.

“Yes, he paid me. After he gave me four hours’ notice to get them done in the first place, and he owes me a new phone.”

“To be fair, honey, you broke that—”

“Reese.” Her voice was low.

Reese shut his mouth.

Quinn snickered.

Dakota reached out and straightened Gideon’s kutte. She tilted her head and nodded sharply. “At least they are on straight,” she said. She leaned over and kissed Reese’s cheek and walked away towards the bar.

Reese sighed. He was going to have to go through the whole routine again to get her calmed down—flowers, dinner, wine, fancy dessert, candles, back rubs. He looked down at Quinn. “What are you grinning at?” he asked.

Quinn’s foot bounced up and down to the time of the thought of ‘baby, baby, baby’ repeating over and over in his head. He looked back at Reese. “Possibilities,” he said. “Look, I’m not positive yet, and I don’t want to say anything until I know for sure.”

“Strange,” Reese muttered. He returned his attention to Gideon. “Is that your auto out front?”

“Does anyone else own an auto with New York plates?” Gideon asked.

“Stupid question,” Reese muttered. “It’s nice.”

“It runs.” Gideon shrugged.

Reese’s eyebrows rose. “Oh boy,” he said.

Gideon paused. “What?”

“You met Eberron.”

“Yeah, Africa, doctor in distress, roof fixing,” Gideon muttered and picked up his food again.

“You were on that Africa run?” Reese’s eyes widened. “Brand sent you to Africa on your first day?”

“Umm, yeah,” Gideon ate sushi. “I think it was middle Africa due to the plants but,” he shrugged again, “can’t be sure. It wasn’t four months in the middle of the rainy season this time. Mildew. Everywhere.”

“Four months?”

“Special Forces, if I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Gideon paused. “Former,” he said, and his chest hurt. He set his chopsticks down and reached up to touch his tags. Damn, that was hard to remember sometimes.

Reese stared at him. His respect for Gideon went up a notch. No wonder Brand had wanted him badly and to send him on a rescue run his first day to Africa, Special Forces. Reese restrained a whistle. He decided it was best to get back to Eberron. “I take it you and Eberron haven’t discussed autos yet.”

Gideon picked up his chopsticks again and set them around sushi. He shook his head. “Nope. Haven’t mentioned it. Didn’t know Eberron had an auto,” he said.

Reese grinned. “Oh, we’ve got autos. We like our motorcycles better.”

“Need to get one of those,” Gideon muttered. “Savannah’s keeping me busy.” He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with that.

Reese snickered. She would. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “They’re onto new business,” he said.

Gideon blinked and went back to listening. They had been discussing the businesses. He must have missed part of it talking to Reese.

---

“No. Okay, onto new business. On the subject of hunting,” Brand took a sip of coffee, “I’d like to suspend all hunts for a little while, let the prey population rest and the wolf pack do their job. We can focus on territory jaunts right now, maybe have howls instead.”

“Get them in friend groups and gender segregated.” Ted nodded. “Signup sheets for the gender jaunts.”

“More signup sheets,” someone muttered.

Ted glared at them.

“Otherwise, the territory is open for anyone who wants to use it in the Club,” Brand said. “The usual, tell someone where you’re going applies as always. Ted, come up with good days for the group jaunts.”

Ted nodded and scratched down a note. He tapped his glasses. “There are new events being advertised in the news feed,” he said.

“Anything of interest?”

“Someone is looking for artists to try and start an art show every week,” Ted rumbled.

Knox nodded. He hadn’t thought it was important and had stayed off that committee. “They hope to draw in tourists from Rapid City and advance our reputation as an ‘artsy’ and ‘educated’ town or some such.”

Ted snorted.

“Just art? Not crafts,” Savannah asked. That would exclude a lot of the Club if it was just ‘art,’ including herself.

Ted scanned it again. “Excuse me, arts and crafts.”

“Well, I should hope so,” Savannah muttered.

“And the firemen are having a beef barbeque as a benefit to the department,” Ted said. “Has anyone heard anything about when they’re having Firemen Field Days?”

Spike spoke up, “It’s on the calendar. Dana and Merle haven’t said anything specific about it.”

Ted grunted.

One of the members, Zane, a man who looked in his later thirties, his shaved head going prematurely gray, who hadn’t spoke up, leaned forward. “Some of the pups want to form a garage band, Brand.”

Brand raised an eyebrow. “And what does this have to do with us?”

“They want your permission.”

“They don’t need my permission to form a band,” Brand said. His brow furrowed. “Didn’t we have a pup created band?”

“That was at least a decade ago.” Ted slouched in his chair. “Didn’t have the knack for it I guess.”

“They have pups of their own now or are nomads,” Padre said.

Brand sighed. He officially felt old. “They can form a band and make all the racket they want.”

Zane leaned back. “I’ll tell them.”

Brand looked at his coffee. “I expect I’ll be mobbed.”

“I expect you will.”

“Any talent?”

“I don’t know, right now I think it’s mostly enthusiasm.”

Brand rubbed his temples. “Right.”

Padre cleared his throat. “The church youth group is going to have one of those marathon style benefits for charity.”

“Tell me it’s not the starving thing. I hate the starving thing,” Ted rumbled.

“It’s a rock-a-thon,” Padre said mildly. “Sit in rocking chairs all day and rock for a good cause.”

“Sounds,” Ted paused. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“They’re taking pledges for donations.”

Ted was still stuck on the whole event. “Can’t they have a spaghetti dinner? I like spaghetti. Or a bake sale? Bake sales are good. Hell, I’ll support an auto wash.”

Padre looked at him levelly. “It is their event, Ted.”

“What charity?” Brand asked.

Padre folded his hands together. “The shelter for battered women attached to the soup kitchen. They would appreciate the support.”

“Then they’ll have the support of the Club. I’ll have it put in the newsletter.” Brand made a note.

“Thank you,” Padre said.

“Rock-a-thon,” Ted muttered. “Kirby, you’d do well in a rock-a-thon.”

“I’ve got more important things to do with my time.” Kirby slapped the table. “Rockin’ chairs are for old fellers.”

Brand changed the subject again. “Do we have any plans for the Harvest Fair?”

“Not outside of the normal booth and food tent. We haven’t heard anything from the organizers about what type of events are going on.”

Brand nodded. “All right, keep it in mind.” He looked around the table. Before he could discuss the next thing that Esme wanted, he needed to get what everyone was here for out of the way. “Now, about the prospect.”