July 16. Kyle, SD to Rapid City, SD. The next morning I got up and headed out of Ed's trailer before the other two woke up. I needed to be alone. My comfort when I lived on the Rez came from walking into the prairie, sitting down until I felt still. When I had learned to pray in Lakota I added that. Saying some simple prayers in an ancient and foreign tongue that belonged to the place where I was. I've never felt more connected to the world than I did out in the middle of that prairie. Maybe it was the juxtaposition of teaching teenagers and then being in that still eternal place. Maybe it's something I'll never feel again. I walked up the hill in back of Ed's trailer and then followed the high ground up to a lookout point about a mile and a half away.

It was a huge relief to hop back on the bike and point out of town. I followed Lyle's Explorer again. Going out of Kyle to the west you come out on top of a huge hill that runs down across a long valley oriented north south. My relief and comfort at getting back on the road again vanished instantly on the other side of the hillcrest. The bike went up and over and as I came around the curve on the opposite side, the wind, even heavier than the day before, pushed me three feet sideways.

I started singing the sundance songs and pretty soon I'd stopped noticing the wind. I was imagining Jason, sweating and sunburnt, leaning against the piercings in his chest, his face tipped to the sun. The wind was still bouncing me around but it became almost pleasant, like rising and falling on ocean waves. That feeling lasted for almost thirty miles, enough to get me through the undulating prairie and onto the flat approach to the Black Hills, where the big beef cattle ranches are. By that time I was so tired that I was just hanging on, tailing Lyle closely. 

The day got worse. At the first intersection, across from the dirt race track, a man lay in the street. His motorcycle rested on its side on the shoulder. A truck was parked behind it. Ten or twelve people stood around the man, their faces sheet white with fear. The wail of an ambulance siren came from the direction of the clouds ahead of us. The man in the street looked dead. I felt sick. 

The problem with our talks is neither of us really knows what we're looking for. Or we both know we're looking for something that doesn't exist. Lyle doesn't drink much. We each had one more and ate some nachos. They were good nachos and I realized as I beat them up that I was hungry. We went over to a steak house that inhabits an old firehouse in old town Rapid. Before we went in Lyle said, "She don't like drinking cause she's Mormon."