Coyote blue

Lynyrd Skynyrd from a boom box. They followed the road around a long, gradual curve that descended into a valley, stepping carefully to avoid the deep puddles. The trees were thinning out now and Sam could make out the light of a huge bonfire below them in the valley, and figures moving around the fire, a lot of them. Someone fired a pistol into the air and the report echoed around the valley.
    "Do they have sentries or something?" Sam whispered to Calliope.
    "I don't remember. I was pretty drunk when I was here before."
    "Well, we can't just walk in."
    "This way," Coyote said, pointing to a path that led away from the road. They followed the trickster up the path, through thick undergrowth, and up onto a ridge that looked down on the clearing.
    From the top of the ridge they could see the entire camp. The fire was burning in the center of the camp with perhaps a hundred bikers and women gathered around it, drinking and dancing. The bikes were parked by the road leading in. There was a stand of tents and smaller campfires on the opposite side of the camp, with two pickup trucks parked nearby. Lynyrd Skynyrd sang "Gimme Back My Bullets."
    "I don't see Grubb," Calliope said.
    "Or the woman," Coyote said.
    "Wait," Calliope said. "Listen." Amid the din of rock and roll, laughter, shouts, screams, and gunfire, they heard the sound of a baby crying.
    "It's coming from the tents," Coyote said. "Follow me."
    Coyote led them further down the ridge until they were about fifty yards from the tents and could see four women sitting around a campfire drinking and talking. One of them was holding Grubb.
    "There he is," Calliope said. She started down the ridge and Sam caught her arm.
    "If you go down there that woman will call for Lonnie and the others."
    "What can I do? We have to get him."
    "Take off your clothes," Coyote said.
    Sam sneered at the trickster, "I don't think so."
    "Here, take this," Coyote said, handing something to Sam. Sam couldn't make out what it was in the dark, but it felt warm and soft. He recoiled and dropped it.
    "Ouch," Coyote said, his voice soft now, feminine. "Is that any way to treat a lady?"
    Sam looked, moved closer to the trickster, and saw that he was no longer a he. Still in his black buckskins, he had changed into a woman.
    "I don't believe it," Sam said.
    "You're lovely," Calliope said.
    "Thanks," Coyote said. "Give me your clothes. These don't fit me now." He started undressing.
    In the dim moonlight that filtered through the trees, Sam watched the women undress. Calliope was right, the trickster was gorgeous, a perfect female mirror of the male Coyote, an Indian goddess. Sam felt a little sick at the thought and looked away.
    Coyote said, "I'll go down and get the child. Be ready to run. And pick that up, I'll need it." He pointed to the ground where Sam had dropped his penis. Sam picked up the member in two fingers and held it out as if it would bite him.
    "I'm not comfortable with this."
    "I'll hold it," Calliope said, now dressed in the black buckskins.
    "No you won't!" Sam said.
    "Well." She cocked a hip and waited for him to make a decision.
    Sam put the penis in his jacket pocket. "I'm not comfortable with this, I want you to know."
    "Men are such babies," Coyote said. He hugged Calliope, girl to girl, and made his way down the hill.
    Sam watched the trickster move away from them toward the fire. Unable to look away, he became nervous with his own thoughts. Calliope patted his shoulder. "It's okay," she said. "In my jeans he really does have a great ass."
    ~* * *~
    Tinker lay in the bed of the pickup sulking, listening to the nearby women going on about how badly they were treated by their men and how cute the baby was. The little bastard had been crying for an hour. What the fuck had Lonnie been thinking, bringing a crumb-snatcher to a rally? From time to time Tinker sat up and looked over the edge of the pickup to pick out which of the women he would fantasize about getting a blow job from. Fat chance, stuck here in the truck. Fucking Bonner and his military discipline.
    "This is a business trip," Bonner had said. "A business trip we wouldn't be taking if Tinker would have taken care of business. So Tink, you guard the truck. No partying."
    What was the point rallying with your bros if you couldn't get fucked up and start a few fights? Fuck this action. At least it had stopped raining.
    Tinker peeked over the edge of the truck to see a new chick coming up to the fire. What a piece