Disclaimer: As ever, only one or two of the characters are mine. I make no money from this writing.

(Apologies for the delay. I had to re-think this chapter, then a small boy wandered in and started telling me this long rambling story. Which I shall try to continue soon.)

Something woke him, to a place and a time he could not grasp immediately. He opened his eyes and remembered. The stable. The Way family. He was laid up here for a couple of days, and he had prayed for peace. Someone hadn't heard because something had awoken him suddenly.

Sunlight cut a bright bar across his legs, but apart from that the hot room was shadowy. He pulled himself upright, pulling on muscles that were sore and tired, then swung his legs out from under the sheet. One was bandaged from knee to mid-calf and he remembered the operation to take out the wood and sew him back together. He felt his forehead. Cool. He was going to be fine.

He smelt coffee and gingerly took his weight on both legs, only to find he was too unsteady to get anywhere under his own steam. But there, just in reach, was a crutch, so on stockinged feet and still in his nightshirt, he hopped awkwardly out of the room and straight into the living space.

"Morning, Mr.Hopkins," said Jimmy, who was frying something at the stove. Smelled good, too.

"Jimmy. You still having breakfast here?"

"Making it for you. I knew you'd wake up soon as we got those fool horses in the corral."

"You did? What fool horses?"

"They got scattered from here to the horizon yesterday. My brother's rounding them up and tending them if they need it. Some horses from town, some from your show, I reckon. Maybe you'd like to watch him work with them then," Jimmy said, putting a plate of bacon and biscuits, and a good strong cup of coffee on the table. The pride in his brother was a pleasure to see.

Frank sat down and began to eat, feeling better with each mouthful.

"I gotta go help Jake now, sir. He's found four horses so far and I reckon there's gonna be more before midday."

"Sure, son. You go ahead. I'll just finish this then see if I can help out. I know a couple of things about horses myself."

There was something he was not getting, something important he had not thought to ask, but the meal was good and the coffee better, so he concentrated on that and on thanking whoever needed thanking for the fact that he was in reasonable health that morning.

He was just putting his washed plate on the drainer when he heard the squeal of a frightened horse. He made his way over to the window and looked out over the working part of the livery, where two small corrals lay in the deep morning shadows. They were both alive with horseflesh, animals milling and unhappy. Jake was driving three more into the further corral, Jimmy helping by holding the gate and waving his hat to keep them moving. Even through the dirty window, Frank could see they had a whole world of trouble brewing if they didn't know what they were doing.

He hurried to dress in the old shirt and a pair of dungarees that were clearly Sam's and made him look like a scarecrow. Grimacing at the way the material flapped round him, he found some string and cinched it round his waist. He didn't care what he looked like but he'd need new clothes so that he could work with the horses more easily. Problems came when he tried to pull on his boots. He had to leave the stitched leg unbooted. He couldn't touch it to the floor anyhow.

Gettting the feel of the crutch slowly, he eased himself down two steep steps to the ground and immediately began to run his eye over the sweating horses.

They were in a sorry state, most of them, dirty, cut and ill-at-ease. One or two were downright miserable and in the first corral he saw one limping so badly he wanted to get it out of the crush of other horses before it was further injured.

Jake gave him a cheery wave and jumped down from the horse he was riding. Frank realised with a start that the young man had been on Hidalgo's back.

"Hey there, Mr.Hopkins. I hope you don't mind about me riding your horse!" Jake shouted, clearly excited by the movement around him. "He's a fine animal! Saw him doing those tricks like a real fancy horse but he can go right on however long you want him to!"

"I don't mind if he don't!" Frank shouted back. "He'll buck off anyone he doesn't like!"

Jake walked over to him, trailing Hidalgo behind him.

"Hey, Little Brother," Frank said softly. "You find yourself a new rider?"

Hidalgo came to him and nuzzled his hand. A great sense of well-being took Frank by surprise and he smiled at the two happy boys.

"You need any help there? You got, what, nine horses now. You done well," he said, and the two boys grinned back.

"Thanks, Mr.Hopkins. Maybe you could see which ones I need to tend first? Point them out, maybe?" Jake said, shading his eyes against the sun which was just beginning to show over the livery stable roof. "Then Jimmy can bring them into the stable and I can treat them."

"Sure thing," Frank said, easing the crutch into his armpit and hobbling over to the corral fence. Look them over he did, then got Jake to rope each one separately and walk, then trot them back and forwards a couple of times. It wasn't an easy job but the boys managed it between them, even with the horses nervous and edgy.

Frank paid special attention to a black that was lame in his near hind leg, a slight twisting of his gait giving the soreness away. He ran a calming hand down his leg and felt the burn of strained tendons and muscles there.

"Take this one through to the stable, boys. I'll work some liniment into that in a minute or so."

When they came back, he was studying the last horse in the corral which stood, head down, misery in its stillness. He had tied Hidalgo to the fence and his horse was studying the other horses too, interested in their movements and nickering gently to them.

"They talking to you, or you talking to them?" Frank asked, looking at Hidalgo with a grin. "What about the brown? You think she's too sick to mend?"

Hidalgo made no comment.

"I'll go round and look at the brown," he called to Jake, who was filling up the water trough. Jake nodded and sent Jimmy for some feed for the horses, which had quietened down at last. Frank hopped slowly round the outside of the corral, well aware that he was in no fit state to be mixing with horses in the corral itself.

"Ho, there, Brownie. Ho there," he soothed, looking at the miserable animal. "How'd you get this far in a state like that?" He could see the damage the animal had sustained, a huge gash in her chest and three great tears across her front legs.

Something in her eyes told him she had given up. There was only one thing he could do.

"Jake," he called. "This one needs us to help on her way." He reached across and tried to get her to come and have her nose scratched but she couldn't even do that. His heart went out to her but this was no time for sentiment.

Jake came to stand next to him. "Maybe if we sutured her she could make it?" Jake asked. The young man's hope was touching but misplaced.

"No," Frank said kindly. "We need to move her away from here if we can. It'll be hard on her but better for the others."

He got her going with some soft words and treats Jake passed him, and they made their way to the back of the livery and out a little way into the pasture.

It was all done efficiently but in the end, Frank gave way to the boys' sad looks and checked her over once more. He stood with his hand on her shoulder, propping himself carefully.

"Boys. I don't mind doing this but Jake, you have to watch how it's done. She's sufferin' enough. I can stop that if I do this just right."

Jake nodded, and handed Frank the gun.

"Go on, Jimmy," Frank said. "There's enough of us here. Give her some dignity." He wanted the boy out of there. It was not something he wanted the boy to have to see.

Jimmy trudged away, dragging his feet.

"All right now, girl, let's see what we can do for you. Get you on your way to peace, shall we?" He positioned the gun just so. "Won't take but a minute and then you'll be running free."

And just at that critical moment, a cheery shout made him take his finger off the trigger.

"Mr.Hopkins! Ah! I see you're dealing with a horse! Shall I wait here for you to finish?" It was Smithers, in his neat suit, pad and pencil at the ready.

Frank swore quietly, repositioned the gun and pulled the trigger, burying his feelings as deeply as he could. He had never wanted to put another horse down, not after the last time, but life and death went on, whatever he did or didn't want. He felt vaguely sick, with tremulous feelings inside he thought he had banished to the bottom of a bottle.

He and Jake looked at one another as Smithers watched.

"You goin' to talk to him?" Jake asked.

"I suppose I could try tellin' him the truth," Frank said, screwing up his eyes against the sun. "You goin' to bury her now?"

"Me and Pa'll get to it later," Jake said. "I'll get on with the other horses. Still some to check over."

"Well he ain't more important than them, that's for sure." Frank set off back to the corral, ignoring Smithers, but the man joined them anyway.

"Just a few minutes of your time, Mr.Hopkins. If I can get the county paper interested, so many more readers will be able to enjoy the story of your stay with us."

"Hero saves prominent local citizen?" Frank asked. "Is that the headline you had planned? You'll have to excuse me. I have horses that need my attention."

The man walked in front of him, making Frank stop suddenly. "I can write a story without your help, Hopkins. I just thought you might like to clarify your position."

"Go on back, Jake. I'll come and help you, soon as me and this gentleman here have sorted out a couple of things." Frank wasn't sure how far he could trust himself with Smithers. Not so long ago he'd have flipped that coin up in the air and landed a neat punch to the man's chin. The easy self-confidence needed for a trick like that seemed to have deserted him.

Jake left him with the man. Frank leaned on his crutch and said nothing.

"Would you care for a cup of coffee, Mr.Hopkins?" Smithers ventured, easing the collar of his shirt. It was beginning to be very hot.

"I don't think so, thanks. Now, what did you want to ask me?"

"I want to write an article on the real Wounded Knee. Buffalo Bill has a way of making it seem exciting for the customers but I've never heard the story from someone who was there." The man actually licked his pencil, ready to take down Frank's answer.

"I wasn't there," Frank said bluntly. "Least, I wasn't there when it happened. I was there just after the slaughter."

"Slaughter?" said Smithers, writing diligently. "Yes, go on."

"Mister – you really want the truth?"

"Oh yes, certainly. But please, let's move into the shade. You must be very uncomfortable."

So they moved into the shelter of the barn and Frank told him the true story of Wounded Knee, what he saw of it, and told it slowly and truthfully, so the man could write it all down. Then he got Smithers to tell it all back to him, just to be sure.

Finally, he leant back again the warm timbers of the stable. "You ain't gonna print it though, are you?" he said.

There was a pause before Smithers answered. "You know it would cause trouble for you if I did?"

"Yeah, I know. Army told me to keep quiet. Now Bill tells this story a whole lot different and no one's putting him straight. Not even me."

Frank knew the man had some power over him now. But he wouldn't use it. He might print some version of the truth but that was no good. The truth of it would have to stay buried a while longer, until people no longer saw Red Savages as less than human. Maybe in his lifetime. Maybe not.

"I'll leave you to your horses, Mr.Hopkins. And your memories. I'll find another angle on the story."

"Thanks," Frank said, grateful the man was, after all, human. They exchanged a friendly shake of the hand and he went back to work with the boys and the horses.

The next day, Sam brought the local newspaper and put it down in front of Frank, who was sitting at the table having another good breakfast.

"Illustrious Visitor Tames the Savage Indian at Wounded Knee!" the headline proclaimed.

Frank read the first three sentences of the article, grabbed his crutch and was out of the door before he'd drunk his coffee.