Rather than answer, Samson fell into a trot.
The monument was a twenty-foot granite obelisk set on a ten-foot base at the top of a hill that overlooked the entire Little Bighorn basin.
"Let's do it," Samson said, heaving in breaths. The hill had been longer and steeper than he'd thought.
Billy unzipped his pants and stood beside Samson, who had already bared his weapon. "You know," Billy said, "it would have been easier to gang up on Eli and beat the shit out of him."
"I think I hear the jeep coming back," Samson said. A long yellow stream arced out of Billy and splashed the side of the monument. "Then you better get going." Samson strained. "I can't."
Billy grunted, trying to force his urine to run faster. "Go, man. That's headlights."
"I can't."
Billy finished and zipped up, then turned to face Samson. "Think rivers, think waterfalls."
"It won't come."
"Come on, Samson. He's coming. Relax."
"Relax? How can-"
"Okay, relax in a hurry."
Samson pushed until his eyes bugged. He felt a trickle, then a stream coming.
"Push it, Samson. He's coming." Billy began to back down the hill. "Push it, man."
The jeep's headlights broke over the hill and descended toward the monument. "Duck!" Billy said.
Samson squatted by the base of the monument and managed to stream urine down both pant legs before he got himself reaimed. Billy dove for cover next to Samson.
"Did you say 'Duck'?" Samson whispered.
"Shut up," Billy snapped.
Despite his fear, the adrenaline had made Samson giddy. He grinned at Billy. "I thought you were saying 'Truck, which would have made more sense, but-"
"Would you shut up?" Billy risked a peek at the road. The jeep was coming toward them, rather than returning to the visitor center where it had started. As the jeep approached the monument, they worked their way around its base, keeping the obelisk between themselves and the guard. "He won't stop, will he?" Billy said.
Samson could hear the jeep slowing as it passed the monument on the other side of them, not twenty feet away. They held their crouch until the jeep descended the hill and stopped halfway to the gate.
"He sees footprints," Billy said.
"On asphalt?"
"He saw us. I'm going to end up in jail like my brother."
"No, look, it's the fucking snake. He's waiting for it to get out of the road."
Indeed, the guard was inching the jeep forward slowly enough for the rattler to slither off into the grass. When the snake was gone the jeep revved up and continued down the hill, by the iron gate, and back around to the back of the visitor center.
"Let's go," Billy said. They ran down the road, Samson almost falling while trying to zip his pants and run at the same time. As they reached the gate Samson grabbed Billy's shoulder and pulled him back.
"What the fuck?" Billy said. Samson pointed to the chain. Billy nodded in understanding. The clanging.
Samson went to the center of the gate and grasped it. "Go," he said. "When you get over, hold it for me."
Without hesitation Billy leapt to the gate and climbed over, sliding down the opposite side instead of dropping as before. He held the gate and Samson started over.
As Samson reached the top of the gate and was working his feet between the spearpoints, he heard Eli's laughing from down the road and he looked up. A second later he heard a metal fire door slam at the visitor center. The quick turn took his balance and he tried to jump, but one of the spearpoints caught his jeans leg and he was slammed upside down into the gate. Billy held the chain, but there was a dull clank as Samson's forehead hit the bars.
It took Samson a second to realize that he was still hanging from the gate, his head still eight feet off the ground. "Unhook your leg," Billy said. "I'll catch you."
In this position Samson was facing the visitor center. He could see some lights going on inside. He struggled to push himself up on the bar, but the spearpoint was barbed. "I can't get it."
"Shit," Billy said. He held the gate with one hand and drew a flick knife from his back pocket with the other. "I'll come up and cut you down."
"No, don't let go of the gate," Samson said.
"Fuck it," Billy said. He let go of the gate and it clanged with Samson's swinging weight. Billy jumped on the bars and as he climbed Samson could hear the fire door open and slam again, then footsteps. Billy stood at the top of the stone pillar and put the knife to Samson's pant leg. "When I cut, keep hold of the bars."
Billy pulled the knife blade through the denim and Samson flipped over and slammed the bars again, this time right side up. The gate clanged again. Samson heard the jeep starting and saw the beams of the headlights come out from behind the visitor center. He looked to Billy. "Jump!"
Billy leapt from the fifteen-foot pillar. As he hit the pavement he yowled and crumpled. "My ankle."
Samson looked to the visitor center, where the jeep was pulling out. He grabbed Billy under the armpits and dragged him down into the ditch. They waited, breathlessly, as the jeep stopped and the guard, gun drawn, checked the lock and chain once again.
After the guard left they crawled down the ditch toward Eli. When he came into view, Samson helped Billy to his feet and supported him while he limped up to the big Cheyenne, who was taking a deep hit on a joint.
"Want a hit?" he croaked, holding the joint out to Billy.
Billy took the joint, sat down in the grass, and took a hit.
Eli let out a cloud of smoke and laughed. "That was the funniest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life." Then he spotted the wet streaks on Samson's pants. "What happened, Hunts Alone? I thought you were going to piss on Custer's grave. You get so scared you wet yourself?" He threw back his head to laugh and Samson wound up and tagged him on the jaw with a vicious roundhouse punch. Eli dropped to the ground and didn't move. Samson looked at his damaged fist, then at Eli, then at Billy Two Irons. He grinned.
Billy said, "You couldn't have done that twenty minutes ago and saved us all this trouble, could you?"
"You're right," Samson said. "I couldn't have done that twenty minutes ago. Let's get out of here before he comes to."
Samson helped Billy to his feet, then out of the ditch onto the road. As they headed toward Crow Agency it seemed to get darker as they walked, then darker still, until there was no light at all and Sam was in his bedroom staring at the back of a black buckskin shirt trimmed with red woodpecker feathers.
"It was a stupid thing to do," Sam said.
"It was brave," Coyote said. "It would have been stupid if you had failed."
"We found out later that Custer wasn't even buried there. His body was taken to West Point, so it was all for nothing."
"And what about the night on the dam? Was that all for nothing?"
"How do you know about that?"
Coyote turned and stared at Sam with his arms crossed, his golden eyes shining with delight.
"That was nothing but trouble," Sam said finally.
"Would you do it again?"
"Yes," Sam said without thinking.
"And the girl is nothing but trouble?" Coyote said.
Sam heard the words echoing in his mind. Going after the girl was the right thing to do. After all the years of doing the safe thing, it was time to do the right thing. He said, "You really piss me off sometimes, you know that?"
"Anger is the gods' way of letting you know you are alive."
Sam got up and stood face-to-face with the trickster, trying to read something in his eyes. He moved forward until their noses almost touched. "All you know is that she's going to Las Vegas? No address or anything?"
"Not so far. But if she misses them there, the biker is going on to South Dakota. She'll follow. I'll tell you the rest on the way."