Free Reason To Believe by Kathleen Eagle Page A

be notified, and I would want one or preferably both of them to accompany you." The probation officer gave a self-satisfied smile as she closed the file on her desk. "It sounds like quite a trip. I'd love to go with you if they were doing it in the summer."
    "Trouble is, it's a memorial ride." Ben looked the woman right in the eye and affected a charming smile in a halfhearted attempt to sweeten the sarcasm. "The army didn't chase the Sioux down to Wounded Knee Creek and shoot them in the summer. You're gonna do something like that, you do it in the winter, right?"
    "I guess so," Turnbull allowed gingerly. "But is it safe? What happens if the weather gets bad?"
    "Then the Indians stay put, and the massacre gets put off a few days." Shifting in his chair, he caught Clara stifling a chuckle. But Turnbull clearly didn't know how to take it, so he just shrugged. "I don't do the ride myself. It was started by a group of guys from down on Cheyenne River Reservation, younger guys, and my dad can't get it through his head that he's not as young as he used to be."
    "That's why I'm going with him," Anna declared.
    "Let me know what you decide. Anna's going to need to check in with me." Officer Turnbull rose from her chair. "You have four more months, Anna. You want to get through this, get it behind you, and get back on track. I do think a visit with your grandfather would be good for you." She bestowed a smile on her charge's parents. "Family is so important."
    "I agree," Clara said tightly.
    "How do you feel about that, Mr. Pipestone?"
    "I'm all for family," Ben said, extending his hand. "You've got my vote, Officer."
    "How come nobody told her what I did last night?" Anna wondered aloud when they were finally back in the car and on their way home.
    Ben knew why he hadn't mentioned it. Paying a visit to the police station was unappealing enough, but being there on his daughter's behalf was like leading her through a jungle without a map. He wanted to put her in a steel crate and carry her on his back, but he figured that wasn't the way these things were supposed to be handled by the conscientious mainstream parent. Annie had gotten herself into this mess. He wasn't sure how much of a mess it was, or what was expected of him, which left him watching for clues, trying to follow Clara's lead. She was the epitome of the conscientious mainstream parent.
    "You told her you'd skipped school, and I thought that was enough for now," Clara said. "I thought we should talk privately about the other part."
    "So how about the three of us going out for lunch and hashing it over?" Anna suggested, cheerful now that she had her parents right where she wanted them—together, for the moment, anyway.
    "I'd rather hash it over at home," Ben said. Basically he was with Annie on this. He wanted to stretch the moment out as long as he could, and since he'd moved out of the house, he and his daughter had discovered that when they hadn't seen each other in a while and they didn't know how long it would be before they'd share another meal out of fast-food boxes, it could take an hour to consume an extra-large order of French fries.
    But today he was trying to satisfy everybody. He slid Clara a quick glance. "I'd rather go... like Mom said, someplace private."
    "Yeah, but..." Anna's tone readily took a downturn toward the child side. "Can't we just glide past a drive-through window?"
    Can't we just buy a little more time?
    Clara heard the plea in Anna's voice.
    It was the same plea she saw in Ben's eyes. They looked at each other, kept looking at each other, as though neither one remembered how to make a decision. She was tired of saying no, couldn't remember how to give a simple yes. Yes was the happy answer, the one people wanted to hear. But it was an answer that required stipulations these days. Parameters. Safety nets. Only if you behave, be careful, be trustworthy. Suddenly Anna couldn't manage any of those things. And Clara was very much afraid that she