with no hope for cautious footprints.”
LongArm shrugged and said, “This was a low cut, anyway. If we could find something in the way of a higher jump-off point, not too far to walk on foot, hell, it’s too damn dark to look for sign, serious. What say we ride back to the agency and study my map some more?”
Rain Crow called, “You go and we’ll join you later. We know this range. As the moon rises the light may shift and tell us something.”
Longarm saw no harm in letting them have their head. So he climbed back aboard the chestnut and headed for the agency.
When he got there he found the Durlers and their guest, Prudence Lee, seated on the porch. He noticed that Calvin had his Henry across his knees as he sat on the steps, as if guarding the two women behind him in the porch rockers. Longarm tethered his mount to the rail in front and walked over to put a foot up on the steps as he filled them in on the little he knew.
The Durlers listened thoughtfully. Miss Lee said, “I’ve been talking to my converts. These heathens have Zoroastrian notions. According to Indian legend, the world’s a battleground between Good and Evil and this Wendigo is like our Satan.”
“We know that already, ma’am,” Longarm said. He turned toward the young agent. “Cal, the old ones were already jawing about a reservation jump afore this happened. We’d best wire Fort MacLeod and let the Canadian Mounties know they might have visitors.”
“I’m trying to hold off, Longarm,” Durler responded. “Some soldiers were by a while ago, asking about our troubles out here. I got the notion they wouldn’t be all that put out to chase some Indians and maybe earn some citations. Alerting the Canadian authorities would likely have to be cleared by Washington, who’d alert the army, and-“
Longarm cut in, “I know a Mountie at Fort MacLeod personally, I could send him a wire as one old drinking pal to another, wording it soft.”
“Do you really think you have to? Nobody’s jumped the reservation yet.”
“And when they do they’ll be headed for the Peace River country, scared and on the prod. Wouldn’t be neighborly of us to let Queen Victoria’s own Assiniboine get hit by U.S. Indians they weren’t expecting. Them old ways the elders are jawing about includes bad blood between Blackfoot and Assiniboine going back before Columbus. Even if your folks came In peace, there’d likely be some fur flying along the Peace River.”
“But if the army heard about it in time to try and head them off on this side of the border …”
The lawman nodded. “That’s why I aim to word my telegram to Fort MacLeod careful. I’ll say something about that breed I’m after being spotted in Canada or something. The Mounties will likely send out some patrols and they’ll have at least a sporting chance of heading off such trouble as might be headed their way.”
“I hope so. When did you figure to send the wire?”
“Later tonight, at the railroad station in Switchback. The wire I’ve been using at the land office is patched in to Washington, but the railroad wire’s private. I wish Western Union was in business hereabouts. Makes life Complicated, with either Washington or the Great Northern reading my mail.”
“You don’t suppose it’s possible the railroad’s behind this trouble, do you?” Durler asked.
“I’ve studied on that. Can’t see how running Off Your Blackfoot could benefit the stockholders all that much. They’ve got their right-of-way over federal lands. Washington’s stopped handing out big land grants for building new lines, and from the map, there’s no place hereabouts to want a new line built. I’ve asked about the train crews, too. There’s nobody riding through here regular with any reason to kill Blackfoot, unless he was crazy, and since there’s at least a five-man crew on every train, odds are he’d have to be crazy with at least four sane men covering up for him.” He shifted his weight and added, “I’ve considered someone hopping off and on from empty box cars, too. But that last kid was killed in broad daylight. I know folks doze off from time to time in the caboose, but a man would be taking a big chance counting on grabbing for the side of a boxcar on the open prairie with the sun shining. And who knows when a brakeman’s going to come walking along the top of the cars between the engine and caboose? Besides, there was only one train through this afternoon, and it passed before the boy was last seen alive.”
Longarm took a deep breath. He wasn’t accustomed to soliloquizing at such great length, and it tended to make him feel lighthearted.
Prudence Lee said, “The Indians think the Wendigo walks through the sky.”
“Yes, ma’am. At night. I’m going inside for a spell, Cal. I want to study my map some more before I run over to Switchback. And, by the by, I think Miss Lee, here, should bunk with you folks in my old room.”
Durler said, “Oh, I hardly think he’d hit this close …” and then his voice trailed off.
Longarm nodded and said, “That’s right. Real Bear was killed in the same house Miss Lees using for … whatever.”
Then he mounted the steps, went inside, and back to the kitchen, where he lighted a lamp and spread his survey map on the table. He marked the latest killing and put question marks on every railroad cut he could find on the small-scale map. There were a few contour lines, but the scale was too small to show every rise high enough for anyone to hide behind. He himself had once hidden from Apache behind a one-foot bump in the ground. A man in buckskins, lying flat behind a clump of soapweed, could be nearly invisible from as close as a quarter mile on what seemed featureless prairie.
The reservation was as big as some Eastern states, when you studied on it. He wasn’t ready to buy a flying spook yet. Except for that hot-air balloon he’d seen at the Omaha State Fair, he’d never seen a man up there in the sky, either!
Prudence Lee came in and sat down across from him, saying, “That Indian policeman, Rain Crow, just rode in. Mister Durler is talking to him. I don’t think he found anything.”
Longarm started folding the map as the mousy little girl added, “I have a personal problem, if you have the time to listen.”
“I’ll listen, ma’am, but if it’s about converting Indians I don’t suspicion I know how.”
“I face a moral dilemma. This is a privileged conversation, isn’t it?”
