Sudden Country by Loren D. Estleman Page A

who is not thinking in the language in which he is speaking. "You come to this place with many questions but no answers."
    "We are prospectors," said Mr. Knox. "I am Henry Knox. These gentlemen are Philo Hecate and Ben Wedlock. The boy is David Grayle."
    The Indian regarded me. "He is old enough for manhood." To Wedlock: "Go back, False Eye, or leave your bones. The gold is gone from this place."
    "Are you threatening us?" Hecate pointed his chin. " 'Am I a dog, that thou comest to me with staves?' "
    Now the expression on Panther's lips was a smile indeed, albeit a sad one. "The words of Goliath. The Philistine. I am the son of Gray Fox, who laid your fire winter mornings. You grow old, Deacon, that you forget those whom you taught your Bible."
    Hecate seemed only slightly taken aback by this revelation. "Not well, or you would not speak of it as mine."
    " 'Thy belly is like a heap of wheat.' " He was still smiling. "My wife's is the color of clay. I think that it does not speak to us."
    "Where is Lives Again?" demanded the Deacon a second time.
    "Not far. I found a pile of manure with the steam rising from it this morning. He has twenty braves with him. They have sworn to murder every white man they find in the Black Hills. It is not my business. My business is to die. I have sung my song." He gathered his reins. "You would do well to sing yours, or else leave this place." And before any of us could address him again, he spun and galloped back the way he had come. The hill swallowed horse and rider.
    "They will not all come to Jesus," said the Deacon sadly. "Get back into line."
    "Should we arm the men?" Mr. Knox asked.
    "There will be time for that. If young Panther has not just been' smoking up dreams."
    "What did he mean about singing?" I asked Wedlock, when the formation was regained.
    "His Death Song." The saloonkeeper knocked out his pipe and put it away in his clothes. "When an injun gets ready to die he sings to the Great Spirit for courage and goes out."
    "To die?"
    "Be kind of foolish to sing the Death Song and then go out for a beer."
    "Will Panther die?"
    "If he goes up against twenty renegades I don't see he's got a choice."
    "That is the most heroic thing I have ever heard."
    "That's the idea."
    "Ben?"
    He grunted.
    "Would you ever do it?"
    "I already did once."
    He involved himself with the traces then, putting an end to the conversation. But I was burning to know the story.
    We saw no more Indians nor anyone else that day. At evening, Mr. Knox, Judge Blod, and the Deacon gathered at the rear of Mr. Knox's wagon to discuss the route through the Black Hills. Bored by this geography lesson, I set out to find Wedlock, who was relaxing after supper with the Amarillo party. Mr. Knox called me back.
    "David, see to Cassiopeia, will you?" He had brought the mare from home to serve as a saddle horse.
    "That is Eli Freedman's duty," I pointed out.
    "She is off her feed. I don't trust him to keep after her until she eats."
    "Can it wait until later? I was going–"
    "I would deem it a favor."
    I could not refuse, although I knew the request was but a design to prevent me from spending more time with Ben Wedlock than Mr. Knox considered necessary. Ruminating upon the difficulty with which old conflicts died, I took myself under a naked three-quarter moon to the ridge where the horses were picketed. The Black Hills loomed darker than night beyond: ancient, feral, sinister in their crouched attitude.
    Eli Freedman was absent–availing himself, I supposed, of a late supper now that the mounts were fed and made ready for the night. He seldom dined with the others. I had been told that this was his way going back to the time he was burned trying to rescue plantation horses from a blazing stable during the siege of Atlanta. Thus unobserved, I determined that Cassiopeia was indeed content, and turned to leave. Something white caught my eye.
    At first I thought it was a patch of moonlight on the forehead of Wedlock's