"She got the last one," Kate protested. The wedding was coming up the first week of September, over the Labor Day weekend, after fishing season and before hunting season. It was going to be a fly-in affair since Bobby had friends from Metlakatla to Nome who had expressed a firm desire to witness the event. While everyone in the Park hoped that the ceremony would precede the birth of Dinah and Bobby's first child, Dinah was already the general size and shape of a Babylonian fertility goddess. Already on tap as best man and maid of honor, Kate figured she might as well add godmother to her list of wedding day duties.

But she stuck to the point. "Dinah already got a quilt, she said, trying not to pout and whining instead.

"Then we save to give to someone else." Edna pointed a needle at her. "You get married up, you get a quilt. That's the rule."

Kate grumbled something beneath her breath.

Auntie Joy chuckled. She had discovered a patch of early salmonberries, and was sitting over a pot full of them which she had flooded with water to float the trash away, picking out leaves and twigs and berry worms. Auntie Vi was sitting across from her, helping, and as they skimmed bits of twig and tin worms from the surface they gossiped in soft Aleut gutturals They paused once, looking Kate's way, and not for the first time did she regret her father's insistence that she learn English and only English as she was growing up. The most schooling; he had gotten was the short boot camp required of Castners Cutthroats, and he had always felt at a disadvantage in the English tongue, something he was determined would not be experienced by his daughter. And Abel, of course, had known of his wishes and had brought Kate up accordingly, not that he spoke anything but English all his life. Her grandmother might have rectified the situation, if she hadn't been so much like her granddaughter in character, strong-willed and stubborn, that they fought incessantly from the time Kate was a child. Kate had not been inclined to take instruction from Ekaterina. She smiled at the thought.

Johnny was practicing the fine art of net mending on a square of ragged gear. The green plastic needle swooped through the mesh, hesitated and came back up. Auntie Vi raised an eyebrow at the resultant tangle, took the needle and in a few deft moves had the section of mesh hanging evenly. Johnny sighed heavily, but he took the needle back and tried again. Not a quitter, Johnny Morgan.

Like his father. He was sitting across the fire, looking at Kate with love in his eyes. He jerked his head toward the creek. She gave a tiny nod and got to her feet. Mutt, sprawled next to her, raised her head. "Stay," she said in a low voice, and with a voluptuous sigh Mutt stretched out again.