And there sure were some big houses out here. The mail-boxes at the end of long snaking driveways only hinted at the luxury those names painted on the sides enjoyed. Through the driving snow he could make out the elegant proportions of those big houses, their arched lobby windows, the wide stone chimneys and porches you could park a pick-up in. The big white one he was passing now had those chime things hanging above the porch seat. The noise was eerie but beautiful as they tinkled in the snowstorm and Calvin stopped to look over the white fence at them as they swung in the wind. Milligan, said the mail box. Pretty lucky Milligans, thought Calvin. He would have liked a porch with chimes on it. One where he could sit in the summer and smoke, with grandchildren scrambling at his feet, where he could greet people who’d come to buy his magic. They would have stood respectfully at the bottom of the stairs like they used to do for Eden Hunting Wolf, and ask him if he would use his good medicine to save their baby, make a baby, bring back a lover, heal a foot, find a lost calf, make a win at bingo, stop a toothache. He’d have liked some chimes like that to tinkle as he weighed up the customer and decided whether he would help or not. But there was no porch now, and there would never be any chimes tinkling for Calvin Bitterhand.

No use wanting what wasn’t to be. The status of elder was one that Calvin took for granted would be his, but now would never have. Moses had fixed that. Moses had wasted both their lives.

His fingers curled over the top of the fence, as he looked at what he couldn’t have, and remembered why he was here.

Roddy Milligan was squeezing some oranges for breakfast when he realized his briefcase was in the lounge. A piece of toast between his teeth, he wandered through to get it.