“Like the Cheyenne and Arapahoe, they were allied with the Dakota Confederacy, if that’s what you mean. Since you’re so interested in the history of my father’s people, you probably know the survivors have been penned like sheep in one small corner of Montana.”
“I read about it. Did this Johnny Hunts Alone take part in the Great Sioux Uprising of ‘76?”
“of course not. Do you think my father would inform on a fellow warrior?”
“There you go. So why is your daddy so anxious for us to arrest one of his people?”
“Honestly, don’t you know anything about Indians? The renegade is not a Blackfoot to my father and others like him. Johnny Hunts Alone ran away before he was ever initiated into any of the warrior lodges. When our people were fighting for their lives against the Seventh Cavalry he was off some place robbing banks.”
“So your dad and the other chiefs don’t owe him much, huh?”
“Not only that, but the man’s a known thief and a troublemaker. Thanks partly to my mother, Real Bear speaks English and can read and write, so perhaps he’s more aware than the others of what a wanted fugitive on our reservation could mean to us.”
“What’s that, ma’am?”
“Trouble, of course. Our tribe is … well, frankly, licked. Most of us are resigned to making the best of a bad situation. But there are hotheads among my father’s people who’d like another try at the old ways. Some of the Dream Singers have been having visions, and meetings have been held in the warrior lodges of which I don’t feel free to tell you the details. My father is one of the more progressive chiefs. He’s trying to cooperate with the B.I.A. He’s trying to lead his people into the future; he’s man enough to face it. An outlaw hiding among the young men, boasting of how many whites he’s killed.”
“That makes sense, ma’am. As you were talking just now, it came to me I’d heard your daddy’s name before. Real Bear was one of them who voted with Red Cloud against the big uprising. Though, the way I hear tell, he did his share of fighting once his folks declared war. You mind if I ask you some personal questions, ma’am?”
Vail cut in to point at the clock above Gloria’s head as he snapped, “She might not mind, but I do, dang it! You folks have a train to catch, Longarm! You can jaw about the details along the way. Right now I want you to get cracking. I’ll expect you back here about this time next week, with Johnny Hunts Alone, John Hunter, or whomsoever, dead or alive!”
It wasn’t until he’d escorted Gloria Two-Women aboard the northbound Burlington that Longarm gave serious consideration to her race. Under most circumstances, he wouldn’t have given it much thought, for she was a pretty little thing and his mind was on the job ahead.
As the conductor nodded down at the railroad pass they were traveling on, Longarm asked, “What time are we due in Billings? I make it about twelve hours before we have to change trains, don’t you?”
“We’ll be getting into Billings around ten this evening, Marshal. Uh, you mind if I have a word with you in private?”
Longarm glanced at the girl seated across from him, gazing stone-faced out the window at the passing confusion of the Denver yards, and got to his feet to follow the conductor with a puzzled frown. The older man led him a few seats down, out of the girl’s earshot, before he asked in a low whisper, “Is that a lady of color you’re traveling with, Marshal?”
“You’re wrong on both counts. I’m only a deputy marshal and she’s half white. What’s your problem, friend?”
“Look, it ain’t my problem. Some of the other passengers has, uh, sort of been talking about the two of YOU.”
“Do tell? Well, I’m a peaceable man. Long as they don’t talk about us where we can hear it, it don’t mean all that much, does it?”
“Look, I was wondering if the gal might not be more comfortable up front in the baggage car.”
Longarm smiled wolfishly, and took the front of the trainman’s coat in one big fist as he purred, “She ain’t a gal, friend. Anything in skirts traveling with me as her escort is a lady, till I say she’s something else. You got that?”
“Loud and clear, Marshal. This ain’t my notion!”
“All right. Whose notion might it be, then?”
“Look, I don’t want no trouble, mister.”
“Old son, you’ve already got your trouble. You just point out who the big mouth belongs to and then maybe you’d best go up and ride in that baggage car!”
“I’m just doing my job. Forget I mentioned it.”
“I’d like to, but I got a twelve-hour ride ahead of me and I don’t aim to spend it fretting about my future. I’m going to ask you one more time, polite. Then I’m likely to start by busting your arm.”
“Hey, take it easy. I don’t care who rides this durned old train. It’s them two cowhands up near the front of the car. I heard ‘em say some things ‘bout niggers and such and thought I’d best head things off.”
Longarm didn’t turn his head to look at the two Young men he’d already marked down as possible annoyances. He’d spotted them boarding the train. They looked to be drovers and one was packing a Patterson .44 and a bellyful of something stronger than beer.
Longarm let go the conductor’s lapel and said, “You go up to the next car. I’ll take care of it.”
“I got tickets to punch.”
“All right. Go on back to the next cars.”
The conductor started to protest further. Then he saw the look in Longarm’s cold blue-gray eyes, gulped, and did as he was told.
As Longarm sauntered back the way he’d come, Gloria looked up at him with a bemused expression. He nodded
