Point looked at Conor after hearing the story he had just finished laying out.
"I believe I have an urge to take a ride out to that McKay place," Point said. "Who do you have that can take me out that way?"
Conor looked at Point like he'd lost his damn mind. "I guess I could take you out there, seeing as I'm awake anyway," he said. "Clem here's got the bar just fine."
Conor paused, thinking. Point watched him ponder it over.
"Let's call the girls down," Conor said at last. "If you want some context to this story, you might as well get it from the horses themselves."
Point nodded.
Conor drew in a breath and shouted with the bravado of Hercules, "GIRLS, GET OUT HERE!"
All three girls came running from their rooms and bounced off the rail fastened to the support columns of the building. Their hands grabbed the wood hard. Their small, frail bodies snapped back as they rebounded off it. The twins had wonder in their eyes—anticipation written all over their faces.
"Front and center, ladies. NOW."
The girls tore ass across the walk and down the stairs to the bar floor. They lined up in front of Conor, shoulder to shoulder.
Conor looked at Addy. "I need the twins to come with us for a spell. Point here wants to ride out to the old McKay place and get a feel for what's going on. The girls might be able to add a little color to the situation."
Addy's eyes snapped to Point, panic flashing hot and fast. "You are not going any place with my girls without taking me with!" she said, her voice thick with parental authority.
Conor rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Fine. Whatever. Just get the damn horses. We'll be out in a few minutes."
Addy sent Cletus to the stables to ready five horses. The girls ran back to their rooms to make themselves fit for public viewing. Conor went off to finish dressing, still irritated from being so rudely woken by Clem.
The five of them climbed onto their horses and rode out of town toward the land the twins had grown up on. It took all of ten minutes riding hard—it sat just outside town limits.
This was the first time the girls had been back since the auction.
Their feelings were tangled. Their childhood on that land had been beautiful, but the murder of their mother—so sudden and vicious—left a tight knot in their stomachs. As they rode up, the girls smiled through wet eyes. Joy and grief walked side by side.
The group slowed as they approached.
Point swung down from his horse and began to look around. He walked through what remained of the house. After a year or two of weather, there wasn't much left—nothing that gave him a clear direction to proceed.
He walked down by the water. Then back up to the house. Then over to Conor and the girls.
"There were at least three men out here today," Point said. "Aside from us."
Charlotte piped up sharp, "How in the hell would you know that?"
Point ignored her. "How far did your mother's property run?"
The twins looked at each other. Then Angie spoke.
"Most of the land was a forty-acre chunk. Kay got six acres at two dollars an acre in 1840—somewhere around there. Two acres east, one acre north. Two rows of three acres."
Point looked at Conor. "You said the Indians being pushed out are just north of here?"
Conor nodded slowly. "That's right. What are you getting at?"
Point swung back onto his horse. "I think we need to take a ride and see what we can get out of them."
Conor lowered his chin, looking at Point from the tops of his eyes. "You even know what language they speak? How are you gonna talk to Indians when we never even told you what tribe they are?"
"You let me worry about that."
The five of them rode north until they spotted the same group of horses that had passed in front of the saloon only hours earlier.
High-pitched yells echoed out from the camp as the Indians signaled white men riding in. They stopped about fifty yards away.
Point told Conor to stay with the ladies. He would ride into the camp alone.
"You plan to just ride in there and what—ask them what they know?" Conor snapped. "You're gonna lose your life, you stupid son of a bitch!"
Point rode off anyway. He glanced back, smiling. He gave Addy a look and winked.
She turned blood red and stared at the ground.
Making a prostitute blush was no small feat.
The four remaining riders stayed back as Point trotted into the camp like it was something he did every day. Before he even dismounted, they heard him speak to the braced warriors:
"Ałk'iijááh ádin. Naat'áanii bich'į′ yáłti' nisin."
The four of them stared at each other like they'd just watched a spaceship shoot out of Point's ass and vanish into the sky.
The camp calmed. Point disappeared from view.
For fifteen or twenty minutes, the Indians kept their eyes on the people from town. When Point finally emerged, he wore a strip of bearskin draped over one shoulder.
Back with the group, no one knew what to say.
It was a crisp sixty-eight degrees, but Addy looked like she'd broken into a fever.
Point studied her. "You feelin' alright, Addy? You ain't comin' down with somethin', are ya?"
She scowled, fanning herself, embarrassed and angry all at once. "Can we get going?" she snapped. "I'm getting hot sittin' atop this horse, and these INDIANS are making me nervous."
Pure subterfuge.
She was experiencing more natural lubrication in that moment than she ever had in all her years as a prostitute.
On the ride back, Point explained everything that had been said between him and the Chief.
Years back—late March, during the Battle of Glorieta Pass—Point had been fighting for the North. He was shot in the chest. He didn't die, but he lost his gun and his consciousness. His horse kept running west until it grew tired, slowing near water.
That path cut straight through a Navajo camp just outside Santa Fe.
They took Point from the horse. Treated his wound. Took care of the horse too—the same one he rode today. They knew of the war and took pity on him. They dug the lead bullet from his chest. It had hit high on the left side and missed anything vital.
The real trouble was the lead that stayed inside him for too long.
Point spent three months in that camp fighting infection and fever. Fever dreams came and went—visions heavy with meaning, then gone just as fast. When the fever broke, the tribe taught him their words. They took him on a vision quest to clear what no longer served him.
When he returned to the army, they discharged him and handed him medals he threw away without a second thought. No man, he believed, should ever be given metal for killing another man—no matter the reason.
Except one.
For gallantry in action, Point had been awarded the Medal of Honor.
He gave that one to the Chief who saved his life.
The Chief still wore it.
Point believed most of the Indians around here were Navajo. His odds of getting information were better than average. Once inside the Chief's circle, he asked about the men trying to drive them off the land.
The Chief knew them.
They were the mayor's men.
They were the same men who had come years earlier, offering payment to kill the woman living south of their land. The tribe refused. For that refusal, the men killed the Chief's son.
The tribe had watched the mayor since then. They knew an attack would mean death for them all. They were proud—but too few to wage war against a man with so many men at his command.
As the five of them made their way back toward town, Point glanced at the twins.
"It's no wonder the mayor was so heartless when it came to you girls and the loss of your mother," he said. "Looks plain as day he was behind the murder. Wanted the land one way or another."
The girls' eyes filled.
Charlotte spoke first, her voice breaking. "So just because our mother refused to sell the land we lived on, he killed her for it?"
"That's what it looks like," Point said over his shoulder. "Only problem is, the word of a small tribe of Indians ain't enough to hang a man on. This is just the start."
He slowed his horse a touch.
"If we want to know everything, I'll need to stick around for a spell. See what I can get out of him. Or pull out of him."
The girls looked at each other.
Angie swallowed hard. "We don't have any money saved to give you, Mr. Point."
Point smiled.
"Please, darlin'. Just Point. No 'Mr.' needed." He shook his head. "And I ain't doing this for you. I'm doing it for me. If he's killing for profit, that's exactly the kind of work I look for. Digging up trash like that tends to make money fall outta the sky. You'd be surprised."
Together, all three girls said, "Thank you, Mr. Point."
Point tipped his hat to them.
They arrived back in town at the stables, dismounted, and made their way toward the bar.
As they came in through the back, the sheriff walked in through the front.
All five of them turned. The sheriff stepped their way.
"Hey y'all," Rex said. "There's a town meeting at City Hall tonight."
Point and Conor exchanged a look.
Conor said, "Okay… and why are you telling us this? I make it a point to get to all the town meetings." He glanced at Point. "That wasn't intentional, friend. Slip of the tongue."
Point smiled.
"That's the thing," Rex continued. "Guess the mayor knows Point's in town. New business tonight is about him. Asked me to run you down, Point. Wants to make damn sure you're there."