SixThe open range, two day's ride from Fort Bridger
The man stood on the buckboard of his covered wagon, hands held aloft, railing against the sky. “My God, can you hear me? Heavenly Jesus, the truth is with you. Bring it to us all, I beseech you!”
His wild eyes settled on the cluster of bedraggled Navaho, drawn to this strange individual by his screeching voice and brightly colored clothes. The warriors had left camp on a hunting party two days ago, leaving old men, women, and children to scratch around in the dirt. When the stranger came amongst them, he offered the old men whisky. None refused – they liked whisky. Firewater they called it and they drank fitfully, dancing around, voices raised in glee. The women, huddling together some distance away, turned down their mouths, exchangin
