Durler looked blank and shook his head. Rain Crow frowned and said, “I have heard the name. The old ones say his white father rode with us long ago, in the Shining Times of the beaver trade.”
“Real Bear reported that he’d come back to the reservation. You’re a reservation peace officer, so you likely know a lot of folks hereabouts.”
“I know many people, many. But this man you speak of is a half-breed.”
Longarm nodded. “Yep, somewhere in his mid-thirties. What’s his being a breed have to do with it? You have breeds living among you, don’t you?”
“Of course, but not many, and they are known to everyone. Real Bear’s daughter in the other room is half white. There is the Collins family and the Blood woman called Cat Eyes. Then there is Burning Nose and-“
“In other words, breeds are rare enough for everyone on the reservation to take note, or likely gossip some about ‘em?”
The Indian smiled. “The old women like to tell dirty stories and everyone knows how breeds come into the world. Yes, if there was a half-white Blackfoot called Johnny, I would have heard about him.”
“You think Real Bear was lying, then?”
“No. He was a good person. If he said this man was among us, it must be so. Yet it is not so. I don’t have an answer for this.”
“Try it another way. Could a breed be passing himself off as a full-blooded Blackfoot?”
“This is more possible than that Real Bear lied, but he would have to look like a full-blood and he would have to act like a full-blood. You know how it is with breeds.”
“No, Rain Crow, I don’t know any such thing. You don’t like breeds, do you?”
The Indian looked uncomfortable. Longarm said, “They have the same troubles on our side of the fence, Rain Crow. Most white folks suspicion breeds of all sorts of things.”
“You think they’re bad people, too?”
“No, I think they’ve got a hard row to hoe. Whites don’t trust ‘em because they’re part Indian. Indians likely wonder if they can fully trust a man who is half white. I reckon a breed gets looked at sort of closer than the rest of us. Though, when you think on it, the best chief the Comanche ever had was a breed named Quanna Parker and the worst renegade who ever scalped a white man was a lily-white bastard named Simon Girty. So I’d say breeds are likely no better or worse than most folks, but I’ll go along with you on Johnny Hunts Alone having a hard time passing himself off as a full-blood. Not just because he’s a breed, but because he was raised mostly white. He’d have to be clever as old Coyote to pass muster here on the reservation.”
“Heya! You have heard the tales of Coyote?”
“Sure. You ain’t the first Indian lawman I’ve worked with. Let’s study more on where this jasper might be hiding. You know the layout, Rain Crow. Where would you be if you were a white-raised Blackfoot?”
“The reservation is very big. It has five towns and much open range. How do you know he didn’t leave when Real Bear recognized him?”
“Come on, Rain Crow, you ain’t going to play cigar store Indian on me, are you?” Longarm prodded gently.
The young Blackfoot looked away and said, “You don’t think Wendigo killed Real Bear. You think he was killed by a real person.”
“There you go. And Real Bear was a good man with a good heart, so if he was killed by a real person-“
“Heya! The only one who’d want him dead would be someone who was afraid he’d been recognized! Someone who didn’t want Real Bear to tell on him!”
“Now you’re talking like a lawman, old son. So do you reckon we should look for spooks, or-“
“I will start asking the old ones about the Shining Days when the man called Johnny Hunts Alone lived among us,” said Rain Crow, getting to his feet and leaving without ceremony.
As soon as the policeman was gone, Longarm grinned at the agent and his wife and said, “I’d purely like some of that brandy, now.”
Durler laughed and poured each of the three of them a shot, saying, “You sure have a way with Indians. I swear to God, I haven’t been able to get much cooperation from any of my charges.”
“I noticed. Maybe you could start by talking to them.”
Durler protested, “Nan and I have been doing our best to make friends with our charges and-“
“That’s the second time you’ve called them your charges,” Longarm cut in. “Before the army whipped ‘em down and fenced ‘em in, they thought of themselves as men.”
“I see how you played on Rain Crow’s pride, Longarm, but I’ve got responsibilities here, and damn it, they act like children around most white men.”
“Sure they do. That’s probably because every time they haven’t acted like children, lately, somebody’s shot at them! You take away my gun and smack me alongside the head every time I try to think for myself and I’ll act childish, too. But I wasn’t sent up here to tell you how to do your job for the B.I.A. I ain’t buttering up your, uh, charges, to steal your job, neither. You see, I ain’t about to track down a renegade hidden out amidst all these folks unless I get some of ‘em on my side.”
“You think you can talk the Blackfoot into turning the renegade in?”
“Well, one Indian did it. Now that I’m here, it’ll only take one more.”
“In other words,” Durler said, “you think some of the Indians are hiding him from us?”
“He has to be hiding somewhere. What else are the Blackfoot hiding from you?”
“Hiding from me? I don’t know. What would they be keeping from me?”
Longarm shrugged and said, “A reservation’s like a jail in some ways. There’re always things the cooped-up folks don’t want the warden, or the Indian agent, to know. If Real Bear was working for our side, Johnny Hunts Alone would be on the other.”
Durler nodded and said, “You mean the troublemakers might be hiding him from you. If only we knew who the troublemakers were.”
Longarm’s eyebrows rose a notch, then he frowned and asked, “Don’t you know which Indians are bucking you, Cal?”
“Not really. All of them seem a little sullen and none of ‘em come right out and say they aim to scalp me. I think some of ‘em might be drinking when I ain’t looking.”
“I smelled firewater when a couple passed me to windward, but you always have drinking on a reservation. It’s as natural as small boys smoking corn silk behind the hen house. How about Dream Singing? Gloria Two Women made mention of some Ghost Dancing her daddy was worried about.”
Durler laughed and shook his head, saying, “Oh, I’m not worried about that crazy new religion of Wovoka and his raggedy Paiutes. We got a notice about it from headquarters. The army says it’s not serious.”
Longarm looked disgusted and said, “Army didn’t think much of Red Cloud’s brag over in the Black Hills, either. ‘Fess up, Cal. Do you know if there are any Ghost Dancers on this reservation?”
Durler shot a sheepish glance at his wife, who seemed very interested in her fingernails at the moment. Then, seeing she wasn’t going to help or hinder, he sighed and said, “Damnation, Longarm, I’ve got over fifteen thousand sections of damn near empty prairie to cover!”
“I know. How much of it have you ever really looked at?”
“Not one hell of a lot, as you likely suspicion. But it ain’t as if I haven’t been trying to do my job! I’ve got six villages, a model farm, and more damn paper work than ten Philadelphia lawyers could handle! I’m putting in a sixteen-hour day and I’m still swamped, as Nan can tell you!”
His wife looked up to nod grimly as she muttered, “He’s up past midnight, every night, with those infernal books of his!”