The Shadow fired. McGregor saw DeArmant knocked off his feet. The shadow fired again and a nameless man on another rooftop toppled over.
“Standing-in-the-West!”
Bill blinked and knuckled his eyes. Fallen Star stood beside the forge, right in the shadow man’s line of fire. His gnarled arms were raised towards the heavens. The pipe still burned in his hand.
Standing-in-the-West held his fire. “Out of my way!”
“You will not win the war with the White Men this way!” Fallen Star’s voice carried clearly over the rage of men and gunshot and fire. Bill shook his head hard. He knew the old man spoke Cheyenne, but he could understand him clearly. “You only make a slave of yourself to your anger and their Devil! Will you fight and die as a slave or a free man?”
Standing-in-the-West aimed his gun at the old man. “Is your medicine strong enough to stop my bullet, Fallen Star? Or do you use too much to keep the riot away from you? The White Men will leave our land!”
“Our land!” retorted Fallen Star. “We do not own this place! It is not a dog or a slave! You talk like the White Men!”
“And I will kill you with their gun if you do not leave me now!”
Fallen Star dropped his hands. “I would have wished another kind of trail for you, my son.” He said. And despite the noise of fire and riot, Bill heard Standing-in-the-West cock the rifle’s hammer.
Fallen Star walked away towards the edge of town. Standing-in-the-West took fresh aim towards the center of the riot and fired again. Another man fell. Shots buzzed towards the Cheyenne. None found the mark.
McGregor’s stomach knotted itself up. He dropped his gaze to search the forge. Ned was nowhere in sight. Bill turned to run back the way he came.
Reality became a blur of noise and fading color as he stumbled towards the Summner House. Something heavy caught the toes of his boots and Bill measured his length in the dust. He came up, spitting and swearing, looked at what tripped him up and saw Ned.
What was left of Ned’s blood oozed out of the bullet hole in his back. McGregor’s strength gave out and he sat down hard next to his friend’s body, unable to think, let alone move. Vaguely, slowly, he noticed that Ned’s money belt was still around his waist and that his hand clutched some leather strips. McGregor touched them. Horses’ reins. He thought of Standing-in-the-West’s knife and his fist bunched up and pressed against his forehead.
“See the great gambler sitting in the dirt!” cried a voice.
McGregor looked up. The world had receded silently into a solid curtain of fog. The only things left were Ned’s corpse and a one-handed red man with a huge nose and wrinkled skin. His eyes glittered brightly under a sagging hat hung with strings of feathers and animal tails.
“Who?” Bill heard his voice without feeling his mouth move.
“Many.” The man smiled. “Napi,” and he was a half-naked indian brave. “Nana Bosho,” and he was a scrawny scavenger with three legs. “But for you, I’m Wihio,” and the one-handed man was back. “Come with me.”
McGregor was on his feet without standing. He followed wrinkled Wihio without walking. “I’m dreaming.”
“So you are,” grinned Wihio. He pointed with the stump of his wrist. “Look that way. You will learn something.”
McGregor saw Standing-in-the-West sitting naked in a dark lodge full of smoke, or maybe steam. His skin was slick with sweat. His eyes were shut tight and he called out.
“Medicine Arrows! Arrows, I know you were captured from us long ago, but I know that you have helped the People many times even from afar! Medicine Arrows, help me now! Help me kill these White Men so that no more may come to harm us!”
A voice from nowhere answered him. “We cannot help you kill the White Men. Guns and horses have made us weak and scattered us. Go out to the People, Standing-in-the-West. Look for ways to live, not to kill. Maybe then we can help you.”
Standing-in-the-West called out. “Wihio! Wihio! You are strong in tricks and mischief! Help me work mischief on these White Men!”
Wihio spoke. “I cannot help you work mischief on these White Men. They thrive on challenge and danger. Go out to the People, Standing-in-the-West. Look for ways to strengthen yourselves, not weaken others. Maybe then I can help you.”
The world shifted. Now Standing-in-the-West waited on a hillside where autumn’s colors touched the trees. His