“Harvey Stoner,” another woman answered. She dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes.

Baptiste felt woozy. He felt as if he had been in a battle for years and had managed to win a skirmish but instead of victory he felt the heaviness of it all, the long struggle of the fight. Weakness shined his ribs. He was as thin as his long-lost horse, so thin that if anyone looked at him they could have seen his heart spilling the tears of relief he couldn’t allow himself to cry. He was rattled by the emotion he felt. Harvey Stoner’s death meant a lot of things, but to Baptiste Yellow Knife Harvey Stoner’s death meant that Louise would be free of this man’s influence, that Baptiste might finally get the chance to right the wrongs he had done, another chance to save the marriage he had been convinced he had lost. It seemed suddenly easy, too easy. He lowered his face, and his eyes met the passing hearse, the heavy velvet curtains pulled shut.

“Poor sucker,” Eddie whispered to him and Baptiste grabbed Eddie’s arm. “You telling me that’s Harvey Stoner?” he asked. He was oddly stunned.

“His wife’s sending the body back east for burial. Even dead, the guy’s so important he gets a police escort all the way to the county line.” Eddie whistled low. “First class to the bitter end.”

Baptiste could taste the whiskey on his tongue. His lungs were sour. The onlookers could smell him. He stood by his truck for a while and knew he should go find Louise. He had his chance now, but he was weak. He heard the engine ticking but he could not climb inside. He went back into the bar. He lay a twenty down on the bar, the only money he had. “Give me a bottle,” he said. “Anything.”

Eddie only leaned back on the back bar and crossed his arms. Baptiste wondered if Eddie was going to get him the booze he had asked for. Baptiste pushed himself back from the bar and drew up his shoulders ready to fight if he had to.

“You got it,” Eddie said, moving quickly, lifting a fifth from the top shelf, but when he placed the bottle down before Baptiste he did not remove his hand. He looked at Baptiste straight on, something few men ever did, let alone a white man. “I’ve got to say this,” Eddie said, and Baptiste gripped the bottle Eddie held and waited for the chastisement. “Why the hell are you here, Baptiste, when Louise is busted up in the hospital?” Eddie asked.

The news of Louise pitched Baptiste back a step. He felt the drink reeling in his empty stomach. “Just give me the bottle,” he said. He wouldn’t let Eddie know he had not heard about Louise. Eddie was ringing the money in the till as Baptiste was leaving the Dixon Bar.