Longarm and the Shoshoni silver

When Senator Rumford asked whether they'd find Chief Pocatello in one of the low-slung log or sun-silvered frame structures they could see ahead now, Shoogan snorted, "Of course not. Pocatello is our Powamu Puhahow! What would he be doing in our jail, dispensary, or working for the Taibo with other household help? Hear me, Pocatello has his own cabin, a big one, on a bend of our big river where the fishing is always good!"

Rumford asked how, in that case, he was supposed to meet with Pocatello and his sub-chiefs to talk about real estate. Shoogan shook his head and said, 'Tomorrow, maybe, after you and all your friends have had time to bathe and change your clothes as guests of the agency. Hear me, you will want to get some sleep, a lot of sleep, before you meet with our tribal council in the morning, if it doesn't rain. Every powamu there will want to make a speech, a long speech, and you will be expected to listen respectfully to every word, even though most of them don't speak a word of Taibo."

For some reason, that didn't seem to cheer up the gents from back East worth mentioning. Longarm kept his own council amid all the confusing jabber until they'd all reined in out front of the main agency building, where the Shoshoni-Bannock agent and other whites were lined up along the veranda to greet them. More than one face in the crowd looked familiar, and Lx)ngarm was glad. But he waited till he and the Indian Police were leading Westmore over to the nearby lockup before he asked Shoogan when Dame Flora and her two servants had made it in.

The Shoshoni said, "Yesterday, on lathered ponies. They said they had seen smoke talk and felt afrsiid. The flame-haired woman who has such a high opinion of herself told us they were looking for Taibo women who came far, far, to marry Mormons. This was a stupid place to look for such stupid women, if you ask me. We told her we didn't know anything about it. She said everyone she talks to keeps telling her that. I am glad I don't have such a woman. I would have to beat her all the time if I ever wanted to eat. All she does is talk, talk, talk about other stupid women nobody knows."

Westmore wanted to talk some more as Longarm handed him a couple of smokes, warned him he'd best make them last, and said he'd let him know, later, where the powers that be might want him delivered to stand trial and for what. When Westmore intimated he might be able to suggest some angles on that dead lady Lx)ngarm had found near the medicine ring,

Longarm told him it was a mite late and that he meant to ask some Indians.

He wasn't surprised when, stepping back outside with Shoogan, he learned the Agaiduka Shoshoni didn't know much more than he did about those mysterious stone circles. Shoogan said he'd heard a mysterious people called the Tukaduka had laid out medicine wheels for mysterious reasons, back before Spider Woman had led the first Ho into this world from somewhere more mysterious.

As he started to untether his hired paint from the hitching rail out front, Longarm paused thoughtfully and said, "One of those crooks you said you'd store in that springhouse for us answered to Duke and spoke Ho fluently. So run that Tukaduka by me again, pard."

Shoogan shrugged and said, 'Tukaduka just means sheep-eaters. I don't know why our old ones called the ones who were here before us sheep-eaters, but they did."

Longarm decided, "Somebody must have noticed 'em eating sheep, likely wild bighorn sheep if we're talking about way back when. And ancient folks who nailed enough mountain sheep to matter with no more than bows and arrows would rate my admiration as well. So might tuka or duka mean what?"

Shoogan said, ^'Tuka means sheep. Duka means those who eat. What are we talking about?"

Longarm shrugged and replied, "Likely nothing. Old Duke did eat lots of grub. But even if that was how he got his nickname, I can't connect him up with any Tukaduka medicine wheel, and I doubt lost tribes were sending smoke signals down that way in any case."

He mounted up, resisting the impulse to ask a Shoshoni whether the ancient Tukaduka might have practiced human sacrifice, the way the Pawnee had before they'd given it up without being asked. A lawman who asked questions for a living learned not to ask them of folk who couldn't know the answers.

He rode the short distance back to the main agency building, and dismounted near the roan he'd left there with other tethered ponies. He switched saddles out there in the gathering darkness in case he wanted to head out soon aboard a fresher mount. Then he mounted the plank steps and strode on into the good-sized main hall, where he found his own dudes flustering around Dame Flora MacSorley by the baronial stone fireplace where a pitch-pine fire was acting sort of frisky this evening as well.