We followed Devil’s River. This far west, what was found in the stream could only be considered water because it was too runny to be dirt. Timp’s poor hooves as we trudged through. The surrounding trail was peppered with scrub brush and the occasional dried-out husk of a tree—a far cry from the snow-covered mountains.

  I’d gone weeks without seeing Rosa, hiding behind the protection of a trinket consigned to me by the one Heaven called the Betrayer.

  If you’d have told me years ago, when I was a boy cleaning pews in Father Osgood’s church, that all this Bible stuff was real, I’d have labeled you a fool and asked for a sip of your laudanum. Except, here I was, a former Hand of God trying to save a woman’s life with a magic flower.

  Mutt must have heard me laugh because, in his dog form, he stopped and looked up at me.

  I shook my head. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

  He barked and we continued on our way. Out here in no man’s land, there was little life to be seen apart from the occasional raven or hawk. Vultures circled above something surely dead and rotting, and all I could think about was what killed the thing to begin with.

  Something that belonged, or something that didn’t.

  It wasn’t far from here that I’d been reunited with Rosa. Dead Acre was a mere few days’ walk. That felt like a lifetime ago.

  Timperina slipped on the muddy embankment, causing me to lean hard to the left to keep from tumbling in myself. She scrambled a bit, righting herself before any further calamity ensued.

  “You’re alright, girl,” I said. “Just a bit more.”

  I felt bad, making her go so long without respite. Felt like I’d been saying it for years, but she wasn’t the young mare she’d once been. She had an unhealthy dip in her back, making her slower and stiffer than she used to be. I could see it in her face too, eyes cloudy and lacking the spark, lips just not as tight. Gray hair had begun to fill in around her muzzle, and her coat didn’t shine anymore.

  She’d been my closest companion all these years, and it pained my heart to see her getting so on in age. I tried not to think about that inevitable day. I had enough on my mind with Rosa.

  To her credit, we trekked along without any more hassle, and soon we heard the telltale sign of Mutt’s village: a waterfall burbling in the midst of this lifeless region. Fog had started rolling in, obscuring my view. That was alright. I had a guide, even if I had been here plenty of times before.

  “You know this place. Remember?” I hoped the question would keep Timp calm as we waded through the mist. “We’re safe here.”

  She puffed out some air and kept hoofing while Mutt bounded forward into the thick veil. The waterfall was so loud now, I could barely hear Timp’s hooves against the wet dirt. She started whipping her head when the drizzle came.

  Though I couldn’t feel it on my skin, I had to admit I was a bit glad to finally have an excuse to wash off. We’d waded through some waters on the way back, but I hadn’t wasted much time removing the accumulated dirt and dried bolter snot.

  As we passed beneath the cascading waters, through a short tunnel that was the only entry into Mutt’s home, I pulled Timp to stop long enough to make myself presentable for Mukwooru and the others. Once satisfied, I let my horse have her way and we trod through.

  Clear blue skies awaited us. No more fog. All around, thick vines crawled up healthy-looking tree trunks and covered the hills. Flowers blossomed, birds chirped. It was as close to Heaven as I’ll ever be—and that’s saying something.

  The Garden—as I’ve always called this village—was a place separated from time itself. I didn’t know how it worked, wasn’t even sure I was correct in my supposition. Only thing I knew for certain was in the midst of arid badlands, this place stood, always hidden away by fog and within a crater with only one passage. Mutt’s people had a certain magic about them, or a blessing from some god or goddess or nature itself.

  In the middle of it all, Huupi Sokobi—the Life Tree—rose a hundred feet above its roots. Its branches were filled with aliveness—birds, squirrels, chipmunks. You name it.

  I’d told Mutt peace was overrated. He knew better. This place was serenity itself.

  Men and women strode by us, dressed in bright, beautifully colored clothing. Though many of them had their breasts exposed—no shame at all amongst them—they appeared pure, innocent… holy even. Part of me always felt if I could somehow escape Heaven and Hell’s grasps, I’d settle down here, if they’d let me. Now, with the prospect of possibility before me, I felt… unworthy.

  Eyes here and there drifted my way. Lips whispered “taibo.” I may have been accepted by the tribe, but that didn’t make me one of them. More than a few elders were hesitant to let me stay long when I’d first showed up with Rosa, hoping that Mukwooru, in her wisdom, might know a way to wake her. Who could blame them?

  Timp shook off her water, spraying me and others passing by. They didn’t seem to care in the least. Kind folks. Not like me. A man whose ‘companion is Death.’

  I knew where I’d find Rosa as long as she was still where I’d left her. Unless she’d experienced a miracle or… well, I didn’t wanna entertain the alternative.

  “Go, taibo,” Mutt said, pointing off in the direction of Mukwooru’s medicine lodge.

  Sliding from Timp’s back, I gave her wet coat a squelching pat, then let her roam free. She’d have plenty to eat and shade to lie in. I wasn’t worried about her at all here. A rare thing in the West. Leave a horse unhitched or far from sight in most places, you’d wake up without a mount.

  “Thanks for everything, friend,” I told Mutt.

  “Go,” was his only reply.

  I took off at a fast clip, slowing when I reached Mukwooru’s place. One didn’t simply barge into the hut of a nation’s leader, or whatever she was. I cleared my throat, removed my bullet hole-riddled Stetson, and respectfully stuck my head inside.

  Sage smoke filled the place as always. My sense of smell was muted but not entirely gone. Even to me, it was strong. The walls were lined with row after row of dried herbs and other elements for which I knew not their purpose.

  From the screen of smoke, a gray-haired woman came into view, bent over at the waist by time. Her skin looked like leather that had gone too long without a good oiling. She wore the same buffalo skin cap over the top of her head, and a long crimson dress embellished with beads. The feathers of birds that must’ve been massive dangled from her sleeves, and she looked up at me, smiling.

  When I’d first met her, I’d been bound by their customs. Strangers were to offer a gift in exchange for a meeting. Those traditions had dwindled, and she now admitted me as a true ally.

  I stepped inside, where she was in conversation with one of those aforementioned elders who didn’t enjoy me sticking around. I recognized him, though didn’t know his name. He was tall—taller even than me, which was uncommon. Words I didn’t understand passed between them, then came a polite bow of their heads.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Howdy,” I said as he went by. To say he didn’t acknowledge my existence would be an understatement. “What’s in his stew?”

  “It matters not, taibo,” Mukwooru said. She spoke in my language, something I could tell she’d been working hard at.

  Placing my hat back on, I took another step. “How is she?”

  “Alive.”

  I released a mouthful of air. What a load off my back, knowing everything that had happened wasn’t completely pointless. Mukwooru let me bask in the knowledge, giving me the time I needed. Her patience, in my experience, was the stuff of folklore.

  Eventually, I rummaged around in my pocket and pulled out the clump of dirt holding the okchaya na pakanli. It wasn’t the first time I’d ensured the flower was still in one piece, but was relieved to see that, unlike one of its natural cousins, the petals hadn’t even started to wilt.

  “Hell of a time fetching this thing,” I said, admiring its purity of color.

  “As it is with all things worth having,” Mukwooru said, holding out her palm.

  I hesitated. “Did you know?”

  “Know of what?”

  “The trade.”

  “Trade?” Her brow furrowed. “I offer help with no trade.”

  “Not you. It. That thing up there, unlike any monster I’ve ever seen. What’d it go by again… Wendigo?”

  “Ah. That which lives in all worlds and none. Protector and destroyer. Life and death. Many legends have been passed down.”

  I shook my head. “That thing wasn’t no legend. The boy, he—”

  She held a wrinkled finger to her lips to silence me. “Perhaps I used the word wrong. We know of it, but none who greets Wendigo speaks of it. What is given, is given. What is received, is received.”

  “That’s horseshit!” I barked before I could think better of it. Didn’t matter at any rate; I meant it. I was tired of people telling me that things just had to be as things were. In my days with Ace, if we wanted something different, we made it that way.

  For her part, Mukwooru’s eyes went wide, like she wasn’t used to being spoken to in that tone or manner. Probably wasn’t.

  “Sorry,” I said, though I wasn’t. “I just… I wouldn’t have let him come if I knew. He’s just a kid. Got a whole lifetime ahead of him, and now—”

  She cut me off again. Almost like she didn’t wanna know. Smart thinking on her part. A remedy for all ills at the cost of an eternal soul. Who could willingly send anyone to that fate?

  “Chaska does nothing he does not wish to do,” she said.

  I blinked. It was the first time I’d ever heard the boy’s true name. Something inside of me, dead or alive, swelled with joy at the thought that I’d become familiar enough with Mukwooru for her to share something so personal to her people. In the past, she’d allowed me to call him Mutt without correction.

  “Chaska,” I said, voice low. “So that’s the boy’s name?”

  She shook her head. “Chaska is… how is your word… son.”

  I’d had my suspicions from day one. They had the same chin, similar eyes even. But this was my first confirmation.

  As if she hadn’t revealed anything particularly interesting, she continued, “He can barely be kept home. Some of us are not born for sanctuary, taibo. Whatever he did, he did by his own will.”

  “But if he wasn’t there,” I started to protest.

  She raised a silencing hand. “Yet he was. As were you. You have spent so long controlled by others, you mistake freedom. It is not living freely. It is choosing freely. Do not dishonor him with pity.”

  I rolled my shoulders. “You, Shar—is it so wrong to want the best for people here and there?”

  A warm, motherly smile spread across her wrinkled face as she placed her palm over her chest. Fingers gnarled with age clutched the fabric there. “Best is in his heart, not yours.”

  “Don’t go acting wise on me now. I’m too damn tired for anything ’cept pity.”

  She muttered something in her language, looking amused. Then she took my open hand and pulled it closer to examine the flower.

  “I am only glad your mind thinks elsewhere,” she said. “It does no good to worry your thoughts only on her.”

  She was right. Now my guilt shifted as I realized, for those few minutes, I’d delayed handing over the okchaya na pakanli. Mutt’s sacrifice couldn’t be for nothing, that was for damn sure.

  “Trust me, I got plenty of space in my mind for worries.” I smiled.

  She gently brushed a clump of dirt aside with one fingernail, until the glowing, milky flower lay alone with only dark crumbs stuck in the grooves of my palm. I pressed my hand toward her.

  “Go on,” I urged. “Take it.”

  Once again, her patience shined. She cleaned it off a bit more before finally plucking the thing and holding it in her own shaky palm as if it were a stick of live dynamite.

  “Come. Come,” she said, waving me inside to follow her through a flap in the back of her wigwam toward another adjoining tent.

  If I’d had a working heart, it would have stopped when I entered.

  Rosa looked like Christ crucified. Her skin was wan, her limbs skinny. Her recumbent form was motionless, with nothing between her and the ground but a fur pelt.

  I rushed by Mukwooru to Rosa’s side, where I knelt and pressed my hand to her cheek. I couldn’t tell if she was warm with sickness or cold with death. Saints and elders, what I wouldn’t give to feel her flesh against mine.

  “It is good you have returned,” Mukwooru said. “I fear she is nearer now to death than life.”

  “I thought you said she was fine?” I replied.

  “I said alive. Her spirit wavers. She is lost within her mind.”

  “You know this?”

  “I feel it.” The old woman skirted around us to Rosa’s other flank.

  “In my world, we call that a hunch.”

  I put my ear to her bare chest, able to hear the low, rhythmic beating of a restful heart. It was gentle. Hardly a patter. A man with lesser perception might have missed it.

  “Her heart is strong, of that I have no doubt,” Mukwooru said.

  “Won’t get an argument from me.” I lingered there, letting the small amount of air filling her lungs make my head rise and fall. Her mouth released a soft, rattled wheeze every time.

  “So now what?” I asked.

  “Now, you wait.”

  “I’m done waiting. What do we do—feed her the flower or something? Put it in a soup?” When Mukwooru didn’t answer, I finally pulled myself away from Rosa and glanced up. Her features remained stern. “What?”

  “You must put faith in my people now. The ceremony of okchaya na pakanli is not for your eyes, taibo.”

  I shook my head hard enough to turn my Stetson. “I’m not leaving her side again.”

  “Then you damn her.”

  Although the warning didn’t go unmissed, I wasn’t here to play games. If Rosa was on death’s stoop, I intended to sit there with her. “You do whatever mumbo jumbo it takes, I will not leave her alone.”

  “Taibo!” Mukwooru whisper-shouted. Her stern yet calming demeanor faded momentarily, replaced by the fiery passion of a leader. “You have been given privileges with us few other outsiders have ever known. But you are not us. I do not ask.”

  I sucked on my teeth. “So, you’re saying no exceptions?”

  Her features softened and she moved in to put a consoling hand upon my shoulder. “I know it is difficult, but the way is this. We have arranged space for you. You must wait there. If it is a success, you will be told.”

  “And if it isn’t?” I asked, grateful for once that I couldn’t feel my own heart.

  “You will be told.”

  I swallowed and regarded Rosa’s placid face. I’d been through so much for her… I could endure a little longer. She was worth that. To see her smiling again and spouting witty retorts.

  I had one more question, though wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. “Has it ever not worked?”

  Mukwooru shook her head, and I felt whatever form of relief I was capable of. “Not in any stories I have heard. But yours is a strange life, James Crowley. I do not know exactly what is wrong with her, just as I do not know exactly what you are. Only that you are…”

  “Weird?” I finished for her, smirking.

  “More than taibo. More than outsider,” she said. “Both here and out there.”

  “Kinder words than I’d use, but I already told you, if I knew exactly what happened to her, you’d know. I want to blame a demon, just… like you said, I think she might simply be lost in there.”

  I ran my hand through Rosa’s hair, rolling the long, straight locks between my fingertips, then letting them fall to the animal pelt upon which she lay.

  “I believe it will work,” Mukwooru said. “Just as I knew Chaska had to be with you. The Great Spirit wills it.”

  “I don’t care if Lucifer himself wills it. Don’t let what Mutt did be in vain. Bring her back, Mukwooru,” I said, terse. “You hear me? Bring her back.”

  Mukwooru met my gaze and nodded. Then she moved to the exit and turned sideways, like a door beckoning me through. “It is time, taibo. Preparations for ceremony must begin. Please, try—get rest.”

  “I don’t rest.”

  She tilted her head. “Then pray.”

  “Probably not the smartest thing these days.”

  “Taibo,” she muttered as she playfully shook her head. “Wait in silence, then. Sometimes, it is only then we hear the Great Spirit’s voice.”

  I shrugged. “Can’t hurt to try.” I tried to stand, but my legs didn’t seem to wanna listen. Rosa’s gentle rasp snared me like a lasso. “Could I have a few minutes first at least? While you get ready. Alone?”

  Mukwooru bowed her head and stepped out.

  I was wasting valuable time; I just couldn’t pull myself away so quickly after being so long apart. Besides, if there was even a chance this wouldn’t work, the time I had with her was more precious than anything I could imagine.

  Timp stood on her own, but I’d had a few human friends over the years—Big Davey and the other Scuttlers. Mutt, Picklefinger, Bram, Irish, Harker even. I’d never felt for any of them like I did Rosa.

  Now, I wouldn’t say it was love or anything juvenile like that. She was so much younger than me, and I was old and dead, even if I barely appeared a day past her on the outside. Still, seeing her like this tore at me.

  I took her hand in mine and didn’t say a word, letting silence fill the gaps between us.

  Nothing needed to be said.