He turned the key and pointed his truck toward the ranch, but found himself instead on the Res. David Ridges's funeral pyre was still in place and his mind's eye could see his own blood on the ground beneath it. He'd felt his life ebbing, each heartbeat one closer to being his last. He remembered the White Warrior standing over him, and, in his green-tasting dream, had flashed through every time he'd been a disappointment to Barlow, which were many, according to his father. Now, standing in this place where his life nearly ended-should have ended?-the voices of Ridges and Barlow came to him on the wind, swirling and howling around him, pushing him toward-

"You lost, Connally?" The reservation cop leaned slightly out of the window of his official SUV.

Branch Connally blinked against the wind, pulling his coat closer against the icy rain. "Matthias, you have no idea just how lost I am."

"And how does that explain why you're trespassing on my Res and on . . ."

"Sacred burial ground," Branch mocked. "If this is sacred, then I must be Indian since I'm the only one whose life ended here."

"Indian you ain't. And you seem awful substantial for a dead guy."

"More than one way to die." He squared himself. "Doesn't your Indian spirituality account for people whose souls are dead but their body isn't?"

"Sure, but so does your world; they're called zombies." Matthias turned his heater higher. "Just what are you looking for, cowboy?"

"I don't know."

"How do you know it's here?"

"I don't, but this is where it all went wrong."

"And you think by going back to where it all went wrong, you'll somehow figure out how to make it right?" Matthias rubbed the back of his neck. "Are you high?"

"If I am, I've got a prescription for it."

"Is there anything I can do to keep you away from here?"

Branch just stared at him.

Matthias stared at the ruined pyre. "Don't let his war paint and moon dancing bullshit fool you, cowboy. David Ridges conspired to kill a dying woman for money, murdered a co-conspirator, then shot you to cover up his fake suicide." He sniffed. "He's just a criminal."

The former deputy chuckled to choke back an surprising feeling of relief. "Finally, somebody believes me."

The reservation cop warily examined the intruder. "So, you leaving?"

"You gonna make me?"

"And risk shooting you? Oh, no. Hell, no. Way too much paperwork if I accidentally killed you." He shifted in his seat. "Are you planning to kill yourself on my Res?"

Branch Connally stared across the plain, turning over Matthias's words before exhaling a long sigh. "Not today."