West

"He repaid us in full."

"But I didn't, and it was my life," I said. "It's for her, to buy herself a present."

His hand dropped. He was close enough for me to start to see his memories. He was thinking of his family, including his niece, the little girl I had bought the mal-formed bracelet from.

"If I may ask, what were you doing out there last night with the sheriff in the first place?" I asked. "When you rescued me?"

The man's jaw tightened. His mind was racing, and I didn't quite get how all the images I saw were connected. Compared to Nell and Philip, his memories were disjointed. There was no flow, only flashes.

"Your uncle is ill," I said, tilting my head to the side. "He has little longer than my father, which means …" I trailed off, the images in my mind troubling me. They weren't his memories as such but encyclopedic style historical accounts of the slaughter I was there to stop. There was no obvious connection between him and the accounts, and the disjointed picture forming confused me long enough for me to realize I was being stared at by more than one person. "Are you Running Bear?"

"I am."

My mouth dropped open. Carter was brilliant. He dropped me off in a spot where the two men I sought rescued me!

"Miss Josie, we must go," Nell said.

I waved her off and continued addressing Running Bear. "We need to talk," I told him.

He stepped back. These images were memories. My eyes … they reminded him of the daughter he had lost several years before during a cavalry raid. She also had blue eyes. The disjointedness flickered, and his thoughts unfolded in a logical flow before once again breaking into flashes.

"You know who hurt your family but told your uncle, the Chief, you didn't," I said. "Maybe because you feared he'd talk you out of what you might be planning? A raid ... or …" I wasn't able to tell the full story or reasoning. The empathic memory was a hodgepodge of facts and patchy memories, some of which didn't match up at all, as if the recorded accounts about him were different. Almost like his family's slaughter happened. And then didn't. The history books didn't know, but his memories were clearer.

"What are you that you know things you should not?" he managed, searching my face.

"A starman," his niece said, smiling. "Like the shaman says. You came from the sky and landed in my uncle's -"

"Hush, Blue Stream," the man said harshly enough for the girl to jump. She peered up at him.