The Collection

Moon on Death Row.'

I knew I didn't want to feature a literal full moon or a literal death row. That would've been too easy. And too corny. As luck would have it, Dances with Wolves was on television, and I thought, Aha! I'll make 'Full Moon' a Native American man's name. I got the idea for making 'Death Row' the name of a street from the song 'Sonora's Death Row,' which ap­pears on the great Robert Earl Keen Jr.'s album West Textures.

Unfortunately, the anthology never came to pass, the editor disappeared, and I shelved the story. This is its first appearance.

***

He saw the man in the casino.

Full Moon thought at first that he was mistaken, that it was only someone with a cowboy hat and dirty blond mus­tache who looked like the man from Death Row. But then the man turned to face him, staring from across the crowded gaming room, and smiled.

A chill passed through him. It wasn't possible, it couldn't be.

But it was.

It had been thirty-five years, and he himself had grown f from a frightened boy into the middle-aged manager of the tribe's gambling enterprises, but the man with the mustache had not aged a day and looked exactly as he had all those years before, the eyes staring at him from across the noisy smoky room, the same eyes that had haunted his nightmares for the past three decades.

And the man recognized him.

That was the scary part. The cowboy knew who he was. Amidst the turmoil of the room, the people walking from slot machine to roulette wheel to card table, the man stood still, unmoving, staring.

Smiling.

Full Moon looked away. He was sweating, and his legs felt weak. He knew as surely as he knew his own name that the man had not come here to gamble or drink or meet with friends or sightsee or hang out.

He had come for him.

Full Moon looked up, glanced across the room to where the man had been standing.

He was gone.

He saw the other two playing bingo.

Like their compadre, they had not aged a day. Both the man with the patch over his eye and the fat man with the beard looked exactly as they had over three decades ago.

When they'd killed his father.

Full Moon looked around for help, caught the eye of Tom Two-Feathers. He was breathing hard, his heart pounding, but he forced himself to smile at the customers and act as though nothing was wrong while he made his way to the side of the bingo board where Tom was standing.

'What is it?' Tom asked, frowning.

Full Moon gestured toward the left side of the third bingo table. 'Do you see—?' he began.

But they were no longer there.

He met that evening with the council, calling them to­gether in a special meeting at his house. Rosalie made sand­wiches, John brought beer. The atmosphere was supposed to be informal, relaxed. But Full Moon felt anything except re­laxed. He had told no one of what he had seen, had spent the better part of the afternoon wondering what he should do, whether he should ignore it, forget it, tell no one, or an­nounce it to everyone, and he had finally decided that the best course of action would be to lay it out before the coun­cil and let them decide what, if anything, was to be done.

By the time the men of the council pulled up in front of his house in two cars and a pickup, he was already starting to wonder if he had made the right decision. Maybe he should have kept it to himself. Maybe he should have dis­cussed it with Lone Cloud first. But it was too late to change his mind now, and he had John get the door while he told Rosalie to either go into the bedroom or stay in the kitchen. 'What?' She looked at him as if he had just asked her to strip in public.

'There's something private I have to discuss with the council.'

'Private? What do you mean 'private'? There's some­thing you can say to them that you can't say in front of me?'

'I'll tell you about it later,' he promised.

'You'll tell me now.'

He grabbed her shoulders, held her. 'I don't want to fight in front of them. You know what they're like. And you know they don't like women to—'

'You could've told me earlier.' She pulled away from I him. 'What's with you tonight? Why are you so secretive? What's going on?'

'I'll tell you later.'

'So I should just smile and bring in the sandwiches and | keep my mouth shut and leave.'

'Exactly,' he said.

'I was being sarcastic.'

The front door opened. He heard John greeting the coun­cil members. 'I know you were,' he said, dropping his voice. 'But please? Just this once? For me?'

She looked into his eyes, licked her lips. 'It's bad, isn't it? Whatever it is, it's bad.'

He nodded.

She took a deep breath.

'Please?' he asked.

She sighed, not looking at him. 'Okay.'

He smiled at her, gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. 'I know you're going to listen in,' he said. 'But at least don't let them see you. Keep the kitchen door closed.'

She nodded, kissed him back on the lips. 'Don't worry.'

He walked out of the kitchen and shook hands with Gra­ham, Ronnie, and Small Raven before nodding to Black Hawk and offering the council leader a seat on the recliner. The old man sat down slowly and awkwardly, and the other council members waited until he was settled before sitting on the couch.

Full Moon was silent until John left the room, then came straight to the point.

'I've seen the men who killed my father,' he said. 'The men from Death Row.'

Silence greeted his announcement. 'They were in the casino.'

Black Hawk shifted uncomfortably on the chair. 'Mus­tache, Beard, and Patch-Eye?' 'Yes.'

Black Hawk and the others nodded, and Full Moon no­ticed immediately that none of them seemed shocked or sur­prised at the news. None of them seemed even skeptical.

'They looked exactly the same,' he told them. 'They have-not grown old.'

Again the members of the council nodded, as though murderers who never aged were an everyday occurrence. He looked from Graham to Ronnie to Small Raven to Black Hawk. Something was going on here. Something he didn't understand. He could feel it in the air, a subtext to the si­lence. He glanced toward the closed kitchen door where he knew—he hoped—Rosalie was listening.

He cleared his throat. 'Has anyone else seen them?' The others looked at each other, shook their heads. 'It is only you,' Black Hawk said. 'You are the one.' 'Lone Cloud's father was killed there also—' 'Have you spoken to Lone Cloud?' 'No,' Full Moon admitted. 'Do not.' 'Why?'

'This is a council matter. You did the right thing in com­ing to us.' Black Hawk leaned forward. 'You have told no

one else?'

'No. But I'm going to tell Lone Cloud.'

'You cannot. The council—'

'They killed his father, too. He has a right to know.'

'What do you expect to accomplish by telling him?' Ronnie asked. 'What do you think he can do?'

'It will only bring pain,' Graham said.

'Well, what are you going to do?' Full Moon asked.

 'What's the council going to do about this?'