He reached out and settled me with a hand on my shoulder. “She just came in on a turbulence-ridden airplane, Walt, perhaps she would like to be held still.”

He had a point. I placed two fingers on the edge of the blanket and pulled it down so that I could see her chocolate-brown eyes, an anomaly in my family. She was sweating from exertion, but I tipped her up a bit more and brought her a little closer.

They tell you about how your life changes in ways you’d never suspect when you have children, but I think it might be even worse with grandchildren. Maybe because it’s parenting one step removed, or maybe it’s the novelty of it being a part-time job, but whatever it was, it hit me like a tsunami when I looked at her. “You’re upsetting your mother.”

Instantly, she stopped crying and stared at me.

“I don’t mind. You can scream all you like as far as I’m concerned, but you also have to stop when we get to the truck because you’ll scare Dog.”

She blinked her eyes, and a bubble of drool collected at the corner of her tiny mouth.

“You need to be on your best behavior, especially since you haven’t met Dog yet.”

She continued to stare at me, her mouth moving just a little as if chewing my words.

I glanced at the Cheyenne Nation. “See, we are simpatico.”

He studied the two of us like specimens. “Um hmm.”

The phone in my pocket began vibrating and suddenly started playing some sort of hip-hop song. I handed Lola to Henry and began fishing the thing out. “I better get that and let him know that his family is here safe, if pissed.”

Looking at the screen, which did, indeed, read PHILADELPHIA POLICE DEPARTMENT, even I was able to discern the green ANSWER button. “Hey, is this about those unpaid parking tickets?”

There was a long pause, and then an unfamiliar voice responded. “Hello? This is Chaplain Anthony Keen, and I’d like to speak with Cady Moretti, if I could, please?”

A chaplain.

“I’m afraid she’s indisposed at the moment. I’m her father, Absaroka County Sheriff Walt Longmire. Can I help you?”

“I need to speak with Mrs. Moretti, if I could, please?”

“Look, she’ll be back in just a minute . . . What’s going on?”

“You say you’re her father?”

“I am.”

The pause was longer this time. “There’s been an incident involving her husband, Patrolman Michael Moretti.”

“What kind of incident, Chaplain?”

“You’re her father, his father-in-law?”

“Yes, damn it.”

“He’s been shot in the line of duty.”

I felt that quarter shift in all points of reference as I formed the next words carefully. “How bad?”

This was the longest pause so far, and I had time to look over and see Cady standing an arm’s length away, staring at me as she reached for the phone. “Sheriff Longmire, I’m very sorry.”

8

Dog lay on the sofa while the Bear and I sat on the floor on either side of the Pack ’n Play and watched Lola chew on the corner of a blanket Saizarbitoria had been kind enough to provide. “How is the family?”

“I don’t know.” I glanced toward the bedroom, where I could barely hear Cady. “She’s talking to Michael’s mother right now.”

“Lena?”

I was having a hard time concentrating and forgot that the two had met in Philadelphia what seemed a century ago but was actually just a couple of years. “Yep.”

“How did it happen?”

I thought about what Cady had told me after she had spoken with the chaplain. “Routine traffic stop at Fifth and Lombard. He pulled a guy over for a broken headlight, walked up to the window . . .”

“So, it was a random incident.”

“Yep, at least . . .” I looked at him. “Why do you ask that?”

Lola made a noise, and the Cheyenne Nation reached out and gave her a stuffed horse rattle that looked as if it belonged in a museum. “Do they have the assailant in custody?”

“I don’t know.” I leaned against Dog’s sofa and, with my hands in my lap, sat there thinking about the late nights Martha had suffered through when I was being patched up by EMTs, in emergency rooms, or worse, not hearing anything. It’s part of the contract, and those who serve are not the ones who receive the worst of it; those who stand and wait for that phone call or the knock on the door that tells you that the other half of you won’t be coming home, ever—those are the ones who live through a kind of pain that most will never know.

“I made chicken tomatillo soup while the two of you were talking. I will put it in the refrigerator if no one is hungry.”

I focused my eyes on him. “You should go home—you’ve done so much.”

“I will wait until she gets off the phone.”

I glanced at the door leading to my bedroom. “That could be half the night.”

“I have nothing but time.”

I couldn’t hear her voice any more. “Maybe I should go in there.”

“I do not think so.”

I stared at my hands, finally reaching up and petting Dog so that they had something to do. “I’m kind of at a loss, Henry.”

“I can tell.” He waited for a moment. “Do you suppose anyone has told Vic?”

I was jarred by the thought. “I don’t know . . .”

“Would you like me to drive into town and tell her?”

I thought about it. “No, she’s probably asleep—she’s been through so much already today, and I wouldn’t be surprised if her phone was turned off. She tends to do that when she’s drinking a bottle of wine.” I smiled. “I think she gets into trouble when she has a little too much and the phone is available—I’ve been the recipient of some of those calls.”

“Hmm.” He grunted, picked up the rattle, and wriggled it, further entrancing my granddaughter. Lola giggled with delight, which made the scenario all the worse.

“I’ll go over there first thing in the morning—she usually sleeps late when she’s not on duty—after we get everything settled here.” I looked back at him. “If things are ever settled here again.”

The floor creaked, and I looked up to see Cady, standing with the phone in her hand. I struggled to a standing position and stood there looking at her like an archway with the keystone missing. “Is she okay?”

She leaned against the bathroom door and wrapped her arms around herself. “No, she’s not.”

We watched as Dog, sensing that someone needed comforting, slipped off the sofa and approached her, burying his head between her legs and standing there threatening to lift her off the ground if she didn’t pet him. She finally brought a hand down and scratched his head with her lacquered fingernails, tears falling onto his nose.

Henry saved me with a response. “Is there anything we can do?”

She looked at the wall. “Lena’s been trying to get hold of Vic, but she’s got her phones turned off. Could someone go over there in the morning and tell her what’s going on?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Henry spoke softly. “How are you?”

“How do you think I am?”

He nodded and stood, my granddaughter crying out at the loss of him and the horse rattle. The Cheyenne Nation reached down and scooped her up, tucking her on his hip and putting the toy on the kitchen table.

Cady collapsed into herself, taking a step toward him. “Henry, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Do not be silly.” He stepped toward her and tucked her into his other hip, holding my little family, a family that was even smaller as of today. “We are all here for you, at the beck and call of your slightest wish.” He pulled her in even closer and kissed the top of her head. “Because we love you.”