They were gathered to bury Jackson Redclay, one of their own. His family stood grim-faced and unmoving, lost in their own thoughts while the words of ...he white preacher fell uselessly among them. Soon, it was time. Emmett Redclay knelt, and dropped a feathered amulet upon the casket. A scattering of shredded tobacco was followed by a thin, streaming handful of sandy soil, picked up from the pile beside the open grave. Melba Redclay stood with her husband, her face a cold mask. Tears ran in. " She stared at him in astonishment.He looked at her as he shook his head. "This is what I want. And killing all of the white men is not the answer. It would just bring more white men, until there was nothing left of the Cheyenne people. What we want is to keep the people safe, not get them destroyed. We can't do that by fighting. We can kill so many white men that their dead bodies would fill every valley in the mountains, and there would still be more coming to fight. There aren't enough. "My college roommate." Dave lamented. "Four years with that asshole." If he was that bad, why didn't you move out?" Paul looked confused.I laughed and Dave had to chuckle. "College chicks dig a good sob story." I said. "Dave had a brilliant line. 'I'm afraid to go back to my dorm. My roommate harasses me all the time. I don't feel safe there. Can I stay with you?' The number of women who fell for that!" I snickered. "Of course, it worked better when I came over and rubbed his ass in public.". “Mick make an appointment for next week before you leave.”“OK.”On the way out, I spoke to the receptionist and set a date for our next visit.“What is the appointment for?”“I don’t know, ask the doctor. She just said to make an appointment.”“I’ll ask her.”I walked back to the condo and met our neighbors coming out of the elevator.“Good afternoon.”“Good afternoon.”I got on the elevator wondering about the look they gave me. I got off the elevator and after opening the door I walked into the smell.
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