Skull Moon

"But you're an educated man," Claussen argued. "Surely you've read of such things."

"I have, Reverend, but it doesn't mean I know a damn thing about it. The supernatural is your province, not mine."

"Something is killing people, Doctor. Something inhuman."

"I'm aware of that, Reverend."

"Word has reached me that the Sheriff has decided to post a bounty on this beast," Claussen said. "To have it hunted down like a common wildcat. What do you think of this?"

Perry shrugged. "It's worth a try, I guess."

"I don't believe any hunter can hope to outwit this beast."

"I see." Perry pursed his lips and said, "You think we're dealing with something supernatural? Is this what you're getting at?"

"Yes. I believe this beast is no normal animal."

"I've already figured that much. But the damn thing's flesh and blood, Reverend. It's no ghost."

Claussen, a small and petulant man, stabbed a finger at Perry. "Ah, I never said anything of ghosts, Doctor. I'm referring to an old pagan superstition concerning the transmutation of man to animal." He stalked around as he said this, as if he were delivering a sermon. "Shapeshifting, it is called. The Indians believe in such things, it forms part of their pagan worships."

"Werewolf?" Perry said incredulously.

Claussen nodded. "That is the European term, I believe."

"Christ in Heaven, Claussen, have you lost your mind?"

"Not in the least."

Perry shook his head. "I'm a man of science. Men cannot transform themselves into animals. It's a physical impossibility."

"Regardless, Doctor," Claussen maintained, "history is full of the lore of shapeshifters. I studied the matter in some depth at the university. It forms a portion of the legendry of all cultures."

Perry grunted. "Of course it does. You're talking pagan religions, primitive peoples. Is it that odd that a man from a primitive society would consider himself in league with a creature he admires?"

"No, not at all. Unfortunately, we're not dealing with only backward cultures here, but advanced ones as well."

"I can't buy any of this." Perry just wasn't in the mood. His back was acting up and it felt like the muscles were knotted and tied. "It's ridiculous."

Claussen pressed his fingertips together, undaunted. "Are you aware, dear Doctor, that our own local Blackfeet tribe has a religious order called the Skull Society?" the Reverend asked. "This is true. An old prospector told me of this. He said that the initiates believe they can transform themselves into monsters."

"Forget about this, Reverend," Perry said calmly. "There are no monsters, no werewolves. If you start spreading this crap around, you're going to stir a lot of people up. Too many people in this town are looking for scapegoats for the murders and I don't want to see a lot of harmless Indians getting killed for some damn fool reason. There's been too much of that already."

Claussen looked insulted. "Harmless Indians?" he said. "Those savages? They've done their share of murdering I might remind you. They've caused dying-"

"There's been a lot of dying on both sides, Claussen," Perry interrupted. "Trust me, we've done more damage to the Indians than they'll ever be able to do to us. We don't need your ghost stories stirring up more trouble."

Claussen looked as if Perry had slapped him. "You, sir, may dwell in your ignorance. I will not. If Hell has unleashed its terrors upon the living, then let no man stand in my way." He nodded curtly to the doctor. "Good day, sir."

Perry watched him leave and sighed. "Damn fool," he said under his breath. "Goddamn pious fool."

17

The sun was well up when Longtree finally woke.

Moonwind was gone and the day was bright, the world warming. He crawled out into the cold and got his fire going again. He had a quick breakfast of coffee and tinned biscuits with jam. Around him, the countryside began to wake, to shake loose the ice and snow and greet the day. He heard birds singing and animals foraging. It was a good thing to wake to, feeling fresh from a night spent outdoors. Maybe it was his mother's blood in him, but he enjoyed sleeping outside.

He wondered when Moonwind had left.

She had heard his tale and seemed to believe it. Which was good because sometimes Longtree wasn't sure if he did. He had experienced it, but still it just seemed impossible. But had Moonwind scoffed at him…it would have been hurtful. Not only because he was developing strong feelings for the woman, but because he'd never told a soul that tale.

No matter.

Wolf Creek was a distance away through the hills, but already he could hear it, smell it, feel the presence of other men. He fed and watered his mount and wondered what this day would bring. Something told him nothing remotely good.

And he believed it.

18

"I guess I never expected to see you alive again," Deputy Bowes said when Longtree walked into the jailhouse later that morning. "I thought I'd be forming a posse one of these nights to retrieve your body."

"I didn't have any trouble with 'em," Longtree admitted. "Where's Lauters at?"