Mary McGraw is a woman with a heart of gold. The kind who wouldn't even harm a flea. But, she is also a new mother and her baby son is her whole life.

Don't mind the tattoos that cover Mary's arms. She rides a Harley and belongs to a motorcycle gang. And, your point is Amigo?

She is also a peaceful woman, to a point. But, don't piss her off. Especially where her new son, the one she calls Hunter, is concerned.

Mary's divorce was especially nasty. Chalk that up to the moron she was married to.

What an absolute L-O-S-E-R he was. I know, he once rode with us. Mary will tell you she fell more in love with his bike than she ever cared about him.

Hunter was just ten weeks old when this little incident happened, and Mary has custody of him. She gives that baby everything he needs, and then a whole lot more. Food, diapers, love. And, she had a bad feeling about having to allow her ex to take him for the weekend. Believe me, she only did it because of a court order.

This was the first time he would have Mary's son without supervision, and she had been having a very uneasy feeling something bad was going to happen. Needless to say, it did.

Now it was Monday morning after that weekend and Mary's baby had not been safely returned to her. Her ex-old man had quietly skipped town. He wasn't supposed to leave with Hunter to go anywhere.

Mary was royally pissed off and was understandably on the warpath. They say there is nothing worse than a woman scorned and all out war had been declared to get Hunter back.

Rumor had it the dipstick had ferreted the baby across the state line to California. Somewhere out in the desert. And, all kinds of red flags were waving in Mary's mind. See, he had done time for doing things to little boys he shouldn't have.

That was long before Mary hooked up with him. He had ridden with her one night under the stars, and I guess she got rocks in her head. One thing led to another, and spreading her legs just felt so right. Or, so that's how her story goes. And, into lust she did give. Now, Mary freely admits that was the biggest mistake of her life.

Mary informed us two things were going to happen. First, she was going to grab her Glock and then she was going to call the boys. All for one and one for all is the creed of our gang. When one of us needs help, no doubt about it, we're there. In spades.

For Mary's sake, us boys wanted blood about as much as she did. The law of the jungle says the fittest survives. And, as the gang's leader no one questioned Mary's call. We just mounted our rides and headed west.

It wouldn't take but about three hours to reach our destination. Then all Hell would break loose. Still, Mary remained as calm, cool, and collected as a she-wolf in heat on the prowl could be.

What Mary planned to put her ex through ran rampantly through her mind on our excursion, and we all knew it. Oh, he would definitely rue the day he was born. That would be all the pleasure he would ever know again.

The sun blasted down as we made our way into the desert. Mary raised her clenched fist and we all circled our bikes around her, waiting for her instructions. They were simple. Reportedly, the small hole-in-the-wall known as Mojave was our destination. Mary had been told this before we began our trek.

She told us to ride in, and ask around, in the only saloon she saw on the dusty dirt road that ran through the town. She also informed us that if we don't get the details she wanted to tear the joint up till we did.

We liked the sound of those words. We wanted some action, and with Mary's baby on the line, she wasn't going to deny us our privileges.

We rode into town, with a cloud of dust trailing behind our bikes. Arriving at the two-bit joint, Mary dismounted first, us boys in tow. Then, she made her way into the bar, slowly looked around, and found the bartender.

Reckon our presence made the few patrons in the place awfully nervous. We watched as they hurriedly slinked out of the bar as fast as they could. Then, Mary got right up in the bartender's face. She could smell his whiskey breath.

She demanded what she wanted to know in a voice that told the bartender his response had better be immediate, if he knew what was good for him.

Wiping the top of the bar down with a damp cloth, he told her, "Ma'am, I don't want no troubles."

Ma'am. Mary liked his manners. She indicated to him that he still had a slight chance to live to see the sun come up again tomorrow.

"That's your call," she told him, "all I want is my son back. Seen him?" she demanded.

"Was here an hour back," the bartender replied without hesitation. He looked at Mary's boys milling around her just waiting her word to tear him and the place apart.

The bartender told Mary, "There's an old shack half mile outside of town. He had a few. Said he was going to sell the kid to some people. Something 'bout ten big ones."

Mary patted the bartender on the shoulder and said, "Good boy. That's all I wanted to know. Now, here's your ticket to breathing air. GET! Before one of my boys grows a little antsy and starts a little carving project I won't be able to stop."

I have never seen a 70 year old man run so fast in my life. Hysterical! Mary grabbed a bottle of his best from off the counter. She sauntered out the door giving us a two-finger salute. While we had our fun destroying the place, Mary waited outside.

The shack the bartender told Mary about seemed deserted as we rode up. Then she spotted her ex's bike half concealed behind it. It was just like him to be too stupid to even conceal it so it could not be seen.

Ever wanted to shove a motorcycle over with a loud crash? Know you have. And, that is what I did. He wouldn't be needing his ride no more. But, the sound made him crawl out of his hole.

"You got one half split second to give me Hunter!" was all Mary told him," the loaded Glock in her hand, "then, I blow your brains out where you stand!"

He froze in place, "I can explain," he tried to tell her knowing she had the bead on him.

"Here's all the explaining that's going to happen," Mary snapped back at him. She then told me to "grab your chains. I see a little dragging party in your immediate future."

Mary's comment terrified her ex. And, it should have. Being dragged behind a roaring bike, at about ninety miles an hour, doesn't leave much of a body behind. However, the thought brought a sudden ear-to-ear, mile-wide grin to my face. I couldn't wait. Bastard had it coming!

When I pulled a ten foot long chain out of the saddlebag on my bike her ex stood there knowing his life was over.

"Let me grab Hunter first," Mary instructed me. "Then, we'll meet you back in Nevada."

And, that is how the deal went down. Mary is one Mama Bear whose cub you don't mess with.

We still ride, and we are all still our peaceful, loving selves. Nothing's changed.

And, Hunter? Gotta say that little monster's getting bigger every day. Soon Mary will have him riding his own hog.

Can't wait.

What a happy family we will be.