With the kids in bed, a little after 8:40 PM, Dan and I sit in the living room. He’s reading a summary report Tina left us. I read it from front-to-back in detail while the kids had lunch. But I suppose Dan doesn’t want the summary version given as to how I tend to overdo it on the laconic side of things.

“She’s very happy with how fast they’ve learned English.” He looks up. “She’s dead on right there. They didn’t speak a lick of English when we got them—well, the little their prior foster parents taught them, which was nothing.” He pauses to sharpen his eyes at me. “You’ve done a fantastic job.”

“Hmm. Still working on the past tense thing.”

“Give yourself a break. They get their points across, don’t they?”

“Yeah. If the dog training thing don’t pan out, I’ll become an English as a Second Language teacher. God help America.”

Dan laugh-snorts, and I know which joke is coming, because he likes to zing and fling some variation thereof at least once a week. “Well, your English is definitely improving, since you don’t want them to pick up too many of your bad habits.” He looks down at the report. “We should redline this report to note that.”

“Yeah, yeah. Nice and clever. Stick to investigating. At the comedy club they’ll toss way too many beer bottles in your direction.”

“As long as they got something left in ‘em, I’ll be more than glad to catch ‘em.”

I roll my eyes and grin back at him, then feel my facial features drop into a serious expression. “You brought up my visit up north.”

“Yeah,” he sighs more than says.

“Something wrong with it all of the sudden? You seemed OK with it until now.”

I say that because Dan ain’t too keen on my brother Billy. Which doesn’t provide much disagreement between us, seeing as to how I’m not terribly keen on him either. We don’t talk much. Which explains why his wife Regina called me. Something or other about Billy and I needing to talk about settling some outstanding matters with Daddy’s estate. I had thought that had drifted well into our rearview mirror, thank God, as it caused all manner of angst between Billy and me. But I guess there’s more. Don’t put it past me to have missed something, as I wasn’t terribly sharp on all estate matters after Daddy died. Had plenty on my hands to understand how to hold on to the ranch Daddy left me here in Fort Collins.

That adds up to a lot of complicating factors, not to mention all the tension between Billy and me, which translates to Billy and Dan, when I decided to get married.

“You’re thinking I shouldn’t go now?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Just because you don’t care for my brother—”

He puts his hand up. “It’s not that. Not me, I mean.” He pauses. “Something I heard.”

“Oh?”

“Some sort of serial rapist case going up there. Some racial tension around the reservation.” He gives it another pause. “Sounds messy.”

“You got that from the news?”

“Some. Most from a buddy.” Yet another pause. “FBI’s involved.”

“Asking for your help?”

He rubs his chin. “Only if there’s a terrorist angle.”

“Terrorism? At the rez?”

He shrugs, like all of the sudden, it ain’t nothing to get ruffled about.

“Well?”

Another shrug. “Hard to tell.”

I pause. On the one hand I don’t know why I should much consider canceling the trip. We’re planning to spend the time at my brother’s ranch. There I hope to expose the kids to cattle ranching and let them get a feel for rural life in general, more so than they’re getting with me. Along the way, I’m angling to reconnect with my brother’s side of the family. To heal some of that angst between us. And oh, yeah, the estate thing. Gotta face that and get it behind us once and for all.

I’ve tacked on more, though. Mom, now deceased, was half Arapaho. That makes me one fourth of the same. Given Elsa’s and Paco’s south of the border indigenous heritage, I thought it might suit us well for me to reconnect with mine, and for them to be there when I did. I feel uneasy about that, queasy, even.

Part of me wonders if I’m taking Paco and Elsa to show my racial sensitivity, to gain an in. I don’t want to think I angle things that way, but when it comes to touchy subjects like this, I tend to double-clutch my way of thinking an awful lot.

Though I tend to ignore my cellphone, this time I mind it when it buzzes. Why? It lets me take a break from whatever Dan’s after.

“Text from Candice,” I throw out, as to not come across as rude. Then I’m shaking my head, adding, “Still after me about that Schutzhund thing.”

When I look up, Dan gives me a shrug. “Your call.” A pause, then, “It might be fun.”

I fight the urge to repeat myself, but I let it fly all the same. “Working dogs work. I don’t let mine go a’prancing through obstacle courses for the sake of testing thing that may have little to do with real life.” I leave the rest unsaid, how I doubt any of them champion dogs would do a thing when bullets are flying and IEDs are blowing up.

With a huff-sigh, I turn off the phone and drop it on the table. So much for a diversion from Dan’s plea.

“You don’t think it’ll be safe for us up in Wyoming,” I say.

He shrugs. “It’ll probably be alright. I don’t know.”

I take his hand. “It’s nice that you worry. About me and the kids.”

“Nice?” He smirks. “I thought it was required.”

“We can make it work,” I say. “We’ll be careful and adjust plans as needed.”

Dan nods. By now he’s learned. Opposing my plans won’t achieve anything of merit. Given my apprehension about my strained relationship with my brother, and the uncertainty of what, if anything, I’ll accomplish in retracing my Native American roots, part of me wishes he balked a little harder.

“You taking the dogs?” he says.

“Was planning on at least Shady.”

“Take Tahoe, too.” One more pause. “And the Winchester.”

I hope you’ve enjoyed this short sample from the start of my latest novel, Heart Track. This latest episode of the Tracking Jane series came out yesterday! If you’ve been reading along, pick it up to get up to speed on the latest happenings in Jane’s saga.