Shit. Shit. Shit. What the hell?! My head started to throb. “Good Lord.” I sighed and shoved the coffee across the table tojoin the pie. “What are you going to do with them? You’re not going to arrest them.”
“No, Dodge, no, I’m not arresting ten-year-olds. Juveniles are not going to face any charges for graffiti. The parents will be held responsible for paying restitution to the township for cleaning and restoring the statue to its previous state.”
“God damn it all. Can I talk to him?”
“Of course. Dahn, your father wishes to speak to you,” I heard Ollie say, and then the phone was passed to my boy. I could hear his shaky breathing before he even got the phone close to his ear. God. Damn. It. To. Hell. What on earth had prompted him to take part in something like this? He knows better.
“Dad, I’m…s…s…sorry.”
My heart nearly shattered into a thousand bits right there at the steakhouse. “Dahn, what on earth were youthinking?”
He sputtered some, then sniffled, and then coughed. The poor child. “I don’t know, I just…they said if…if…if I did it, then it would…it would show them I was…cool even if I was a chunk.”
I tensed so tightly hearing that, even if the slur was misheard, thank God, that I was close to cracking a filling.
“Okay, you need to calm down,” I said softly, lowering my tone not to upset him even more.
“Am I going to jail with the bad men?”
“No, no, you arenotgoing to jail.”
“Okay.” He snorted and hacked. “Sheriff Ollie said not, but then…then they made us sit by the door to the jail…and Kevin Jr. said that Indians are liars and take back what they say.”
It was probably a good thing I wasn’t in that sheriff’s office or I would have been coming unglued on some boys who were, sadly, parroting what they heard at home.
“You’re not going to be put in jail. I’ll come get you. Sit tight, okay?”
“Okay. Can you hurry, Dad? I’m sorry I did it.”
“I know you are, son. Can you put the sheriff back on the phone?”
A moment passed before Ollie’s deep voice floated into my ear. “He says you’re coming to get him?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Dodge, why don’t you sit tight and let me take him to the ranch?”
I wanted to instantly fight that idea. My son needed me right now. But, as I reflected on it for a moment, it did make sense. I was hours away. Ollie was right there. And perhaps the sheriff taking him home would put the fear of God into him, although I didn’t want him to be scared of Ollie. Just the opposite. Ugh. My head was a mess. I closed my eyes to gather myself.
“Let’s just let Ford come back and get him as was planned. I’ll get my mother and aunt and then head home. Once we’re all back at the ranch, we’ll talk this all out,” I said.
“Okay, that’s fine. He can wait it out here with us. Dodge, he’s a good kid deep down, he’s just trying to fit in. Trust me, as a red kid going to school with a bunch of white kids, I feel where he is coming from. Don’t be too hard on him. I think being hauled in to the station may have taught him a valuable lesson.”
“I’m sure you’re right. I will have to punish him, Ollie. I mean…”
“Oh yeah, some punishment is definitely in order, but the kid looked like he saw his life flashing before his eyes when Easton marched them all in here.”
That poor lad. “I bet you’re very intimidating. Thank you for calling me. I need to text Ford and let him know what is going on so he can stop dawdling at the feed mill with that dog and get Dahn picked up. The conversation over dinner tonight should be interesting.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go. I still have to call the Learys. See you tonight.”
“Yes, you will. Thank you again. For being firm but kind to him.”
“Of course. See you around nine.”
He hung up. I did the same. Then I scrubbed my eyes with the tips of my fingers until they grew watery. Parenting was the single hardest job in the history of hardest jobs, and I would fight anyone who said otherwise.
12
