Emily's breath quickened.

"Only a few words," Charlie said.

"With who," The private said, c.o.c.king an eye at him.

"The Chewak."

The private spat. "Who?"

"The Chewak."

"Why," the sergeant said, "You looking to buy one of their women?"

"No," Charlie said.

Seeing Emily, the sergeant said, "She for sale?"

"Of course not," Charlie snapped.

"Oh s.h.i.t," Jack said.

The private cracked Charlie in the chest with the b.u.t.t of his carbine. Charlie stepped back and wheezed, but didn't fall.

"Do something," Emily whispered to Jack.

"Like what?" Jack whispered back.

"Now you keep a civil tongue," the private said. "No mixer talks to the sergeant like that."

"It's all right, Gary," the sergeant said casually. "Let's not make a ruckus for the Colonel." He licked his lips. "You go on and talk to them, mix, but make it quick."

Charlie rubbed his chest and coughed. "Thank you," he said.

The soldiers stepped aside, but the private chuckled and muttered something to his sergeant. Jack didn't like the look on his face. He looked eager.

Charlie approached an old man. He spoke in Chewak, but the old man simply shook his head and kept moving. Next, he tried a woman with deep scratches on her neck, but she didn't even look at him. Last, he tried a tall, muscular man with a wound to the stomach. Charlie only managed a few words before the man shoved him. Charlie stumbled back and fell. The Chewak shouted at him and signaled with his hands.

The private squealed with delight. "Do it again, mixer, do it again!"

The procession stopped. At the front, the Colonel turned his horse to watch.

"Now you done it," the sergeant said. "Colonel's got our faces."

The private's smile vanished. "It was your idea," he said.

Emily clutched Jack's hand. "He needs to get out of there," she said. "Now."

"But-"

She squeezed. "Go!"

Jack shook the blood back into his fingers and moved toward the procession. He kept his eyes on Charlie and tried not to look at the soldiers or Indians. His heart felt as if it were cramming up his throat. He was going to vomit. He was going to faint. He was going to faint and then vomit. Almost there, he thought. Just concentrate on Charlie.

So he concentrated on Charlie, and was doing such a good job concentrating that he'd crossed more than half the distance before remembering the shotgun in his hand.

"Halt!" the sergeant shouted, raising his carbine. "Stop-stay put!"

Jack did his best put.

"Drop the gun!"

Jack laid the gun down and then lifted his hands. "I'm not coming to make a fuss," he said. "I just need to-to-retrieve my Indian."

The sergeant squinted at him. "He yours?"

"Yes," Jack said. "He's my odd jobs man."

"This your ranch?"

"Yes."

Lowering his gun, the sergeant said, "Well d.a.m.n mister, you better come collect him or he's liable to never hammer a nail again."

When Jack reached Charlie, he was still staring up at the Chewak warrior, saying, "Chen eta Sewak, ne che!"

The warrior shook his head and looked away.

"Charlie," Jack said, tugging on his shoulder. "Come on, we have to go."

"I just wanted a few words," Charlie said.

"Looks like they don't want your words."

"But they're my people."

"You got your own people," Jack said. "Me and your sister." He helped Charlie to his feet. "Come on." Together, they headed back toward Emily.

"What did that fella say to you?" Jack asked.

Charlie seemed to struggle with the words. He said, "We are dead. Go be white."

Jack looked back at the procession as it started moving again. "Maybe he's on to something," he said. "They're headed to a reservation, but you're walking on your own land."

"But I'm not white," Charlie said. "Half breed or not, I'm still a Chewak."

"So be Charlie the Chewak," Jack said. "h.e.l.l, that's how I see you. Expecting you to scalp me and eat my bones any day now."

Charlie smiled despite himself. "Or maybe I'm just a fool, thinking G.o.d sent this as a sign."

Jack shrugged. "Maybe it is a sign."

"How do you figure?"

"One of your people just told you to go be white. Well, you don't have to be white, but you can live free and work your land. Maybe that's what G.o.d wants you to do."

"But I can't work this land by myself."

"Yeah, I know that," Jack said. He looked at the corral, the house, the barn. Then he looked at Emily. Before he could stop the words, he said, "That's why I'm staying."

Charlie stopped. "You are? I mean-you will?"

"Until the farm is up and working, yes I will, Charlie."

"You'll stay!" Charlie exclaimed. Shaking Jack's hand, he said, "This is wonderful news. You won't be sorry. I'll make you rich off this land, I promise."

"I don't need riches," Jack said. "Maybe a horse when it's time."

"A dozen horses," Charlie said, still pumping his hand. "A hundred! Come on, let's go tell my sister. I reckon she'll be thrilled."

Up ahead, Emily waited for them, hands on her hips.

"You might want to apologize first," Jack said. "A dozen apologies. Maybe a hundred."

Charlie laughed and clapped him on the back. Then, stepping away from Jack, he bent over and lifted the shotgun out of the gra.s.s- BANG!.

Charlie's forehead exploded, and he fell.

Emily screamed.

The procession scattered into madness and chaos. The Chewak women cried out. Two warriors ran and were shot down. An old man was cracked across the chin. Soldiers waved their carbines around wildly as their superiors barked orders. And in the middle of the fray, one private's carbine smoked, the barrel still pointing at the spot where Charlie had stood.

Lowering it, he smiled.

The ground rumbled as the Colonel charged toward them. Closing the distance, he reined in his horse, shouting, "Just what in the G.o.d d.a.m.ned h.e.l.l is going on here! Sergeant Bilkes, Private Owen, explain yourselves!"

"He shot him!" Emily screamed, cradling Charlie's head in her lap. Blood spurted from the wound and soaked into her dress.

The Colonel dismounted, looking from Charlie to his soldiers. "Which one of you p.i.s.s pots shot this Indian!"

Private Owen stood at attention. "I did sir."

The Colonel s.n.a.t.c.hed him by the tunic. "Explain yourself, private, before I blow your b.a.l.l.s off."

"He had a gun," the private said.

"He aim it at you?"

"Yes. Well, not exactly sir, but-"

"G.o.d dammit," the Colonel growled. He marched over to Charlie and nudged him with his boot. "Does this look like injun cloth? He wasn't one of ours. He's dressed like a white man."

Private Owen smirked. "He's still got a dirty face."

The Colonel placed his fists on his hips. He said, "You slowed down my G.o.d d.a.m.ned line to shoot yourself a G.o.d d.a.m.ned farm hand? I oughta hang you."

"Sorry sir."

"Yeah, you'll be sorry. If we don't deliver these Indians to Fort Tig by Sunday, I'll be knee deep in s.h.i.t. And if I'm knee deep in s.h.i.t, you'll drown, you understand?"

"Yes sir!" Private Owen shouted. He stood stiff and still, but his eyes shivered.

"My apologies, sir," the Colonel said to Jack. "I'll bury your Indian, no charge."

Jack watched the blood gush out of Charlie's skull like a fountain. He watched the blood splash onto Emily's ap.r.o.n. He watched her tears flow down her neck. He looked at the Colonel.

The Colonel waited for a response. Not getting one, he removed his hat and scratched his head. "Must all be inbred," he muttered. Turning to the private, he said, "Owen, because of your negligence, you'll bury it."

The private opened his mouth to protest, but one look from his superior officer and he shut it again.

"Let's move!" the Colonel ordered. He mounted his horse and returned to the head of the procession.

Private Owen swore and stomped his boot. "Of all the luck," he said, marching over to Emily. "All right you b.i.t.c.h, move aside. I need that body."

Emily stopped sobbing. She looked up at him. She c.o.c.ked her head slowly, almost as if she hadn't understood him.

And then she lunged.

In seconds, she had him on the ground, straddling him and ramming her fists into his face: Right, Left, Right, Left.

"Get this red b.i.t.c.h offa me!" howled Owen. He waved his hands in front of his face in a pathetic attempt to defend himself.

She clobbered both eyes.

She smashed his nose with an audible crunch.

"Hey, you!"

Jack tore his gaze from Emily. Sergeant Bilkes and a dozen other soldiers had their carbines aimed and ready to shoot. "I'll not deny the girl's anger," Bilkes said. "But if she doesn't stop, I will give the order to fire."

Emily tore into Private Owen like a wildcat, slashing his face to ribbons. She wouldn't stop. She'd peel him down to his skull.

Bracing himself, Jack swept his arms around her waist and tore her free from the private. He lifted her up, her arms flailing wildly, her hands curled into b.l.o.o.d.y claws. On the ground, Private Owen whimpered like a pup.

"I did what you want, now get off our land," Jack shouted. "Go! I'll bury my friend."

Up ahead, the Colonel broke rank again and turned toward them. "What's happening now?" he shouted. "If I have to come down there, someone's getting shot!"

"They want to bury their Indian, sir!" Bilkes yelled.