"Mr. Singletry," the Colonel began. That's me, Richard Nathaniel Singletry, but I go by Nate. I can't remember the last time somebody put "Mr." in front of my name. Son-of-a-bitch or asshole was more what I was used to. "My wife and I are leading a dedicated group of missionaries to convert the heathen Sioux."

That got my attention. If they really planned to take their bible thumping ways to the Sioux, the only thing they were likely to change would be their chances at a long life. I took a long look at both of them. Anybody that fucking crazy, deserved at least that. The Colonel was just as I remembered him – tall, thin, with a high sweeping forehead. His wife still hadn't said a word, but now that she wasn't covered up with the slicker, I could see her – at least part of her. She had a good face, strong but not too strong, soft lips and the kind of eyes that made me weak in the knees. Long blond hair hung down to her shoulders, but the rest of her was covered with a black dress, from her neck to her ankles. But even that dress couldn't hide the face that there was a good looking body underneath it. I just felt it was a shame she was going out west to commit suicide. Fortunately, it didn't have anything to do with me.

"Mr. Singletry, Mr. Gromley tells us you're the best wagon master in the business. Somehow I doubt that you're the best, but you are the best we've talked to. We'd like you to lead us to the heathen."

I'd been expecting this, and I was ready. "No Sir, I'm sorry, but I can't do that. When I lead a train I try to stay away from the Sioux. People that don't have a way of winding up dead. And from what you tell me, you don't just want to go across their land, you want to meet up with them. Take my advice. Go back to New York or wherever you came from and leave the Sioux alone. We'll all be happier for it."

I pushed my chair back and got up. "As for me, I'll be on my way. I've got some unfinished business I need to tend to."