“A lot of the time I’m afraid they are, yes.”

I glanced at the ER doctor, who seemed to be enjoying the conversation. “Dr. Dave, is your accomplice in billing around?” He looked at me blankly. “Isaac?”

“Oh, he’s taking a nap in his office.”

“Could you go get him? I’ve got a few questions I need to ask.”

He was disappointed to leave.

I turned back to the Bear. “So what’s your basis for thinking the figure was living?”

He shrugged. “Two different species seeing the same apparition at the same time is rather unlikely.”

“But not impossible.”

“No.” He started to push his hair back but was impaired by the stitches, so he reached down and placed his hands on the railing of the gurney instead. “But there is a more important question here.”

“Who would benefit from Danny Lone Elk still being alive?”

He smiled the paper-cut-thin signature smile. “More important, who would benefit from you believing Danny Lone Elk is still alive?”

“Was Enic at the house when you stopped?”

He thought about it. “Why Enic?”

“Because he’s physically the closest to Danny; he lives there, and in that he might now be part owner of the ranch, he might have a hand in this.”

“That’s quite a leap. Enic, like Danny, went through a period where he drank heavily, but to my knowledge he has never done anything illegal.”

“Randy mentioned something about him having a drinking problem in his past.”

He nodded. “A long time ago—that is what led him to the path he walks now. He was drunk up in Billings and got into a fight with a group of men who beat him senseless. He was able to drag himself to an abandoned car where he slept that night . . .” He paused. “. . . in January, when the temperature dropped to minus twenty-seven degrees.” He exhaled strongly, as if trying to get the smell of the story from his nostrils. “And in answer to your question, no, I did not see Enic when I was there. The only ones I spoke to were Randy and Eva.”

“Well, in his defense, he was supposedly in the calving shed when we left, which makes it hard to believe that he could’ve gotten down to the site and positioned himself in the time it took us to get there.”

Vic was petting Dog and glancing between the two of us.

“Hey, Henry, you ever heard of a doctor up on the Rez by the name of Joseph Free Bird?”

Covering his face with his good hand, he croaked, “Oh, no.” He peered at us through his fingers. “How is he involved with this?”

“He was Danny Lone Elk’s doctor.”

“Not Indian—he is a nutcase drug dealer, a plastic medicine man, and a charlatan at that.”

“Evidently he’s doctor enough to have a license to write prescriptions.”

The Cheyenne Nation shook his head. “He lives in Hardin and has what he calls a clinic there. He pretends to care for people who are Traditional and has a mail-order business where he sells bags of buffalo shit and other assorted items as medicinal. There’s also a rumor that he traffics in drugs with the Tre Tre Nomads.”

I glanced at Vic. “Maybe we can get a second opinion on your ankle.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ve attempted to reach him by phone four times now, Walter, but he doesn’t appear to want to talk to me, or maybe it’s because you are involved?” Isaac had entered the room and continued around Henry to look at the patient as I handed him the bag of prescription drugs. “This isn’t buffalo dung, is it?”

“Danny’s medications.”

The doc opened the bag as Nickerson reappeared at the door. “Did we get a confirmation on whether dogs can see ghosts when we can’t?”

I shot a look at him.

He raised a hand. “Just wondering.” He retreated through the door. “I’ve got some rye whiskey to go test.”

Isaac looked through the bag of medications, adjusted his thick glasses, and made a face. “I’m not sure what half of these are, let alone if they should be prescribed in combination with each other.”

Vic poked me with one of her crutches. “We’re going to Hardin, aren’t we, aren’t we?”

I sighed. “Try not to be so excited about it.”

 • • •

When we got back to the office, it was easier to just carry Vic from the truck than let her manage in the rain, and when we approached the door, both Robert Hall and Bob Delude held it wide for the four of us.

Robert shook his head, stepping aside as Bob ushered us in. “Is this the kind of service you get in this outfit, ’cause I’m signing up.”

“I thought Mr. Trost gave you guys your walking papers.”

Robert shut the door after Henry, who was carrying the crutches and was rewarded with having Dog shake off on him. “The commandant says to hang, so we’re hanging.” He shrugged toward the courthouse lawn. “The rain appears to have cut down on the protesters.”

“Which of you guys pissed Trost off?”

They each pointed at the other.

I continued up the stairs with Vic, Dog in tow, and paused at the top to call down to them, “Well, come on up, we’ve got coffee.”

The troopers trooped up the steps as I deposited Vic on the wooden bench, and, turning to face the power-that-is, nodded to Ruby.

“I heard you almost drowned.”

I gestured toward Henry as he gave Vic back her crutches. “Wasn’t my idea, but thanks for sending the cavalry.”

The HPs helped themselves to some of my dispatcher’s coffee, Bob pouring for the two of them.

“Speaking of, where are Eliot Ness and the rest of the Untouchables, anyway?”

Ruby shook her head in disgust. “They’re in the back with more stuff.”

“More? We don’t have any room for more.”

“That’s what I told them, but they came in with more and put it in the rest of the holding cells.”

I shook my head. “Well, that’s it then, we might as well close up shop because we can’t arrest anybody—we don’t have anywhere to put them.”

Vic pulled herself up, and Henry helped her with the crutches. “I’m going home and nurse my ankle with a bottle of wine. If anybody wants me, tell them to fuck off.”

I spoke after her as she crutched down the hall, “You’re not going to the airport with me?”

She called back, gesturing toward the HPs, “I figure you can handle it yourself. Hell, take the Dudley Do-Rights with you.”

When we got back to the holding cells, there was nowhere to stand, so we stood in the doorway and watched as McGroder and his men continued to catalogue, list, and take pictures of everything they had confiscated from the High Plains Dinosaur Museum. “You guys are putting me out of business. I don’t have any place for the bad guys.”

The agent in charge stood, stretching his back, and I noticed that now they were wearing their polo shirts and rainproof windbreakers with the three-letter insignia on the back. “What about the jail downstairs?”

“That’s for serious customers. I try and keep the hoi polloi up here.”

McGroder’s smile grew as he noticed my companion, struggled his way through some boxes, and stuck out his hand to the Cheyenne Nation. “Mr. Standing Bear, sir, good to see you.”

Henry shook his hand. “Agent.”

He gestured toward me. “I understand you had to save his life again?”

The Bear nodded. “It is becoming something of a habit.”

“Sheriff.” The voice rang from somewhere within one of the cells, but I couldn’t see him.

“Deputy U.S. Attorney.”

“Can I have a word with you?”

I looked around for some sort of path. “Certainly, but you’ll have to come out here, since I can’t get in there.”

After a moment, he appeared around the corner, and I noticed that today he wasn’t wearing makeup. “I’d like to speak with you in private.”

I glanced around at the boxes. “Doesn’t seem possible.”

“Now.”

I thought I might’ve misheard him. “Excuse me?”

He emphasized each word. “Right. Now.”

I stood there looking at him, aware that nobody else in the room was moving. “Well, go ahead then.”