going to have to deal with coffee brewed in an electric pot.”
“The price of modern living,” Zane Grey replied. He looked back toward the car. “I have someone with me. It’s an old friend of yours.”
“By all means, invite him in as well,” Falcon said.
“It isn’t a him, it’s a her.”
Falcon looked surprised. “And you say she is an old friend of mine?”
“Come, we’ll help her out of the car,” Zane Grey said.
Falcon followed the author back to the car, then stood to one side as Grey opened the door and stuck his hand in to help his passenger exit.
The small, gray-haired woman stepped out of the car, adjusted her hat, and looked at Falcon.
“Hello, Colonel MacCallister,” she said. “It has been a very long time.”
“Libbie Custer,” Falcon said, gasping in surprise.
“Big Grandpa, I baked some cookies this morning as soon as I learned that Mr. Grey was coming,” Rosie said after they all moved inside. “Would you like me to serve them?”
“Mr. Grey, Mrs. Custer, this is my great-granddaughter, Rosanna,” Falcon said.
“What a lovely thing you are,” Libbie said.
“Thank you,” Rosie said, blushing at the compliment.
“Rosanna, is it?”
“Yes, ma’am. Well, that’s my real name, but everyone calls me Rosie…I’m named after my great-great-aunt. She was a famous actress,” Rosanna said.
“Oh, indeed she was,” Libbie said. “Autie and I saw her and her brother on stage in New York. And they even came to Ft. Lincoln to perform for us there…You look just like her, by the way.”
Rosie frowned. “She is very old.”
Libbie laughed. “I mean you look just like her when she was very young and very beautiful.”
“Oh,” Rosie said.
“Some cookies would be nice, darlin’,” Falcon said.
“All right Big Grandpa, I’ll go get them,” Rosie said, starting back to the kitchen.
Falcon, Zane Grey, and Libbie Custer were sitting in the parlor. This was the same house that Falcon’s father, Jamie, had lived in—it was the same house where his mother had died, shot down on the front porch. And the room that Falcon was using as a parlor had been used for the same purpose when his parents lived here.
There were some major changes, of course. Instead of candles and kerosene lanterns, the parlor, indeed the entire house, was now illuminated by electricity. Some of the furnishings were the same—a rocking chair and a couple of armchairs, for example. The rug on the hardwood floor was the same also, but the sofa was new, and the record player and radio were also new. A telephone hung on the wall near the door.
“Falcon, Mrs. Custer told me something that I had never heard before,” Zane Grey said. “She told me that you were with her husband when he was killed.”
“I wasn’t with him at the exact time he was killed,” Falcon said. “I was with Benteen and Reno when the general was killed.”
“Falcon, anyone who had anything at all to do with that last scout has written a book or an article about their experiences—some have done quite well and made a good deal of money out of it. Why haven’t I heard this about you before?”
“Because my being there was an accident of sorts,” Falcon said. “A lot of good men gave their last full measure of devotion on that day. I’ve never felt it was right to detract from their honor by interjecting myself.”
“And I have respected you for that,” Libbie said.
“As you know, it has been fifty-one years today since that terrible event. I wonder, Falcon, would you share the story with me now?” Grey asked.
“So you can write a book about it?” Falcon replied.
“I would love to write about it,” Grey said.
Falcon shook his head. “In that case, no. I won’t share my story with you.”
Zane Grey sighed, then picked up his coffee cup and took a swallow. At that moment, Rosie came back into the room carrying a tray of cookies. She offered them to Libbie first.
“Oh, thank you,” Libbie said, smiling at the young girl “Oh, these look simply heavenly. And you baked them yourself?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You are not only a beautiful young lady, you are also very clever,” Libbie said.
Rosie served Grey and her great-grandfather as well; then she withdrew from the room. Zane Grey had not spoken since Falcon told him he would not share his story.
“All right,” Grey said. “I will make a deal with you.”
“What kind of deal?”
