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picked it up. The barrel was clogged with sand, so he thrust it into the holster and walked painfully past Looks Away to the rock where the other guns had been laid out. He paused, looking down at the two corpses that were sprawled at the edges of the campfire light. Two more of the posse. One was missing his arm at the shoulder, but the wound was bloodless. A souvenir of the explosion? Grey thought so. The man had a knife buried to the hilt in his right eye socket. The other man’s head was crushed by a stone, almost exactly like Riley. The sight was sickening, and Grey turned away.
    He picked up the Manhattan pistol, opened it to inspect the barrel and loads, closed it, walked over to where Looks Away was struggling to sit up.
    The Sioux looked up and gave Grey a weary, troubled smile. He half laughed and shook his head. “By the queen’s lacy garters…”
    Grey did not smile.
    Instead he kicked Looks Away in the face.
    Very hard.
    The man flopped backward and Grey swarmed atop him, stepping on Looks Away’s right bicep and pinning him down with a knee to the chest.
    â€œWhat the bloody hell are you—?” began Looks Away, but Grey placed the barrel of the big Manhattan right between the Indian’s dark eyebrows. Right at the bottom edge of the red lace bandana.
    â€œNo more bullshit,” he said in a deadly whisper. “I have been half blown up and attacked by men who all sense and logic tell me are already dead. I don’t know what’s going on but I believe you do. And by God and all His angels, Mr. Looks Away, you are going to tell me right damn now.”

 
    Chapter Ten
    Looks Away told him.
    They sat on opposite sides of the campfire. All of the guns were arranged around Grey. He’d patted the Sioux down and taken everything he had except his clothes.
    â€œThis is about ghost rock,” said Looks Away, rubbing at the heel-shaped bruise on his face. “I was about to explain it all to you when we were attacked. You didn’t have to kick me.”
    â€œIf you are waiting for me to apologize, then I hope you have a comfortable seat,” said Grey. “Besides, it made me feel good. Tell me how this is about ghost rock.”
    Looks Away grunted. “It’s complicated.”
    â€œUncomplicate it for me.”
    â€œHave you ever heard of the word ‘metallurgy’?”
    â€œSure. Something to do with metals and such. Making alloys, all that.”
    â€œAll that, correct. The term was originally used by alchemists because some of the properties of various metals and ores were believed to be magical.”
    â€œI don’t believe in magic,” said Grey, but his comment sounded false even to his own ears. He saw the expression his tone put on Looks Away’s face, so he amended. “I believe in God and suchlike. And … ghosts. I believe in ghosts. Not sure about a lot of the rest of it. Witches and like that. Met a couple of fortunetellers who were fakes. Maybe one who had something.” He shrugged. “I met a whole lot of people who think ghost rock is spooky. The sounds it makes when it burns. Like the screams of the damned.”
    The Sioux nodded. “Do you think that’s what it is?”
    â€œDon’t know. Only heard it burned twice. Sounds weird, sure, but if I’d never heard a kettle boil or a steam engine scream I’d have thought that was the sound of the Devil, too.”
    â€œThere is perhaps a stronger connection between ghost rock and the spirit world than you might think,” said Looks Away slowly. “You see, inventors, industrialists, and natural philosophers the world over have been experimenting with the ore to harness its power. There’s really nothing like it anywhere.”
    â€œSo I’ve heard. So what?”
    â€œSo, just as scientists are exploring its potential, so are alchemists.”
    â€œHow’s that work? I thought all that alchemy stuff