“One of your Indians said something about another Wendigo killing. Has anything like this happened before?”
“Not here at the center. Some of the old folks have been jawing about spirits out on the prairie, but I don’t seem to be missing anybody. To tell you the truth, I didn’t take it too seriously. I’m shorthanded here, and I’ve been having trouble with the damned army again, and-“
“I know people in the B.I.A. Anybody think to look for sign?”
One of the Indian policemen looked up to say, “No sign. No footprint. Nobody see Wendigo come. Nobody see Wendigo go. We find only … this.”
Longarm touched a finger to a blood spatter on the wall and said, “Dry. Must have been done last night in the dark.”
The agent snorted and said, “Tell me something I haven’t figured out an hour ago! Of course he was killed at night! Who in hell’s going to walk out of here covered with blood and carrying a man’s skin, in broad daylight?”
Then, before Longarm could answer, the agent suddenly ran to the window, leaned out, and threw up.
Neither Longarm nor the Indian police said anything as he recovered, turned wanly from the window, and said, “Sorry. Thought I got it all the first time. I, uh, never saw a thing like this before.”
Longarm’s voice was gentle as he said, “It ain’t a thing you see every day. Maybe we’d best go outside to talk about it.”
“I have a duty to investigate,” the young man said.
“Sure you do. So have I. But this U keep. If these other peace officers can’t find sign to read in here, the two of us ain’t likely to. I see our next best bet as some solid jawboning on the whys and wherefores.”
“Well, we’d best take the chief’s daughter over to our place and put something strong in her. Right now I could use a drink myself!”
“Let’s go, then. Which one of these peace officers is the ranking lawman, hereabouts?”
Both Indians and the agent looked surprised. Then the agent nodded at the taller of the two and said, “I guess Rain Crow, here, has the most seniority.”
Longarm nodded at the Blackfoot and said, “Glad to know you, Rain Crow. You can call me Longarm. I reckon you’d best come along while we put some twos and twos together.”
Rain Crow asked, “You want me to come with you, in the agency?”
“You’re a lawman, ain’t you?” Longarm shot a quizzical glance at the agent, who said, “Of course. I’m assigning you to help the marshal, Rain Crow. He’ll need a guide around the reservation and help with his horses and-“
“I’ll get a boy from you to wrangle for us,” Longarm cut in, adding, “I’m going to need men like Rain Crow as my deputies.”
To his credit, the young agent caught on and nodded as the Indian followed them out of the blood-spattered bedroom.
Out in the other room, they found the couch empty. The agent nodded again and said, “Good. I see Nan and old Deer Foot managed to get poor Gloria out of this god-awful place. We’ll likely find ‘em in our kitchen.”
“Nan would be your wife, Mr. …”
“Durler. Calvin Durler. My wife Nan and I have been out here about a year. I’m afraid we’re still pretty green.”
“You talk like a farming man, Calvin. I was born in West Virginia, myself.”
“I’m afraid we’re from farther east. Our home was in Maryland.”
“Tidewater Maryland or the Cumberland?”
“Cumberland, by God. I’m not that much of a dude!”
“There you go. I suspicioned you had hair on your chest, Calvin.”
The youth laughed and said, “I’m still ashamed of throwing up like a baby, but I thank you for the neighborly way you took it.”
“Hell, you never threw up on me, Calvin. Maybe if more folks got sick to their stomachs when folks they knew got killed, we’d live in a more peaceable world.”
The three men went outside and elbowed their way through the upset, questioning Indians to the larger agency residence. Calvin Durler led his guests to the side door and they went in to find Nan Durler brewing coffee in her sparsely furnished, whitewashed kitchen. Her husband asked, “Where’s Gloria?” and the blonde woman replied, “In the bedroom. I made her lie down. Deer Foot’s with her.”
“Deer Foot’s our housemaid,” offered Durler to Longarm, who’d figured as much.
The agent took a brandy snifter from a sideboard and poured two glasses, holding one out to Longarm. The deputy held it out to the Indian, saying, “Where’s mine, Calvin?”
The agent and his wife exchanged glances. Then Durler said, “I didn’t make up the regulation, Longarm, but it’s against the law to give an Indian a drink.”
“Yeah, I heard,” said Longarm, placing the glass, untasted, on the sideboard.
The Indian said, “I know what is in your heart, but it is all right. I will not be offended if you white men drink without me.”
“You may not be, but I would,” said Longarm. “When my deputies can’t drink, I can’t drink. Maybe we’d best all have some coffee.” Durler nodded eagerly and said, “That’s just what I need, a hot cup of coffee. I’ll pour it, Nan.”
