“Well, he’s not a very orthodox Jew. He sort of gets around the whole religious issue by going Hindu. What he really believes in, I think, is science. He thinks science can save the world. If every scientist were as good a man as Oppy, I might agree.”

“How good is that?”

“The best.”

They had reached the head of the ski slope that looked over Los Alamos. Dark spruce bordered a steep meadow of aspen that ran down the side of the mountain like a shaft of light.

“Enough Indians, enough guides.” Fuchs caught up. “What I want to know, Sergeant, is what you’re going to do about the madman who tried to kill me.”

“Who threatened you, you mean.”

“Tried to kill me while you did nothing.” Fuchs rose to his toes.

“There’s no reason to stir things up with the pueblo. Why don’t we just forget about it?”

“Forget about it? I want him reported. You know who he was; you said his name. And he knew you.”

“If you report him—” Joe began.

“No. You report him, Sergeant,” Fuchs said. “You.”

Joe had decided not to report Anna Weiss and to avoid Augustino for as long as he could. Now he had to see Augustino about a medicine man?

“Would you?” Anna Weiss asked.

“If Dr. Fuchs insists, I have to report the incident.”

“And put your friend in jail?”

“That’s not up to me.” Joe felt he was backing into a corner. Roberto wasn’t a friend; he didn’t know him until two days ago.

“Who is it up to?” she asked.

“The officer in charge of security.”

“Captain Augustino?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Fuchs reset his glasses. “After all your talk, we see what kind of Indian you really are.”

“It’s Army business as soon as I see Augustino,” Joe tried to explain to her.

“I told you.” Fuchs turned to Anna. “I warned you he was Captain Augustino’s man. Good, Sergeant, you do as you’re told.” Fuchs backed away and then started downhill, stumbling through the dry grass.

Anna Weiss squinted as if she were trying to see something in the distance. Gray eyes with black edges, as if charred. “The world is full of people who take orders.”

“It’s an Army post. It’s as simple as that.”

“You’re right. I was foolish to think anything else.”

“I’m just a sergeant.”

“Captain Augustino’s man. And Mrs. Augustino’s man. Many things, but not very Indian.” She looked up at Joe. “The answer to your question is, ‘No, I’m not interested.’ ”

She went after Fuchs. Watching her descend, a white figure swinging from aspen to aspen, Joe wanted to call, as if words could reach out and stop her. But he had no words; on his mountaintop, he was as dumb as a yearning brute.