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face that was made of fan gs rose before them, screaming — a scream that sounded more like laughter.
    Mollie cringed. The shadows pummeled her, wrapped about her as though she were being sprayed with mud. She collapsed to the floor, crying in terror.
    Jerome balled his fists and shou ted, “ Begone, I command you all! Begone! ”
    And the demons fled the church, racing out and away to find new hosts in the vicinity of Tucker ’ s Grove.
    The evil storm subsided just as abruptly as it had begun. The interior of the new church had been shredded, leaving clouds of dust, splinters, and fear. The people were stunned, moaning, touching small cuts and inspecting tattered clothes. As Jerome ran among his people to help, some of them looked away in deep shame, afraid to let him see the shadowed hollows in their eyes, the new darkness that glinted from their gaze.
    Jerome felt his bones turn to ice and understood that his dreams were dashed. He had meant to establish a perfect town, to create a new Eden free of sin or evil or hate. Instead, he had brought more darkness to the area and saturated this very place.
    He clung to the sharp foundation of his faith. He would not surrender. He refused to leave his town. He had far too much work to do here.
    Crumpled and sick, Mollie retched onto the floor, cradling her abdomen. Jerome knelt beside her, helped her to her feet. She swayed against him. “ Are you hurt? Are you all right?”
    Mollie drew a deep breath. “ I ’ ll be fine. I just felt the baby kick, that ’ s all.”
    He didn ’ t ask her why she was shuddering.
    And she di dn ’ t tell him that the kick had felt distinctly like that of a cloven hoof.
     
     
     

LAST STAND
    MASSACRED
    Gen Custer and 261 Men the Victims
     
    3 Days Desperate Fighting by Maj. Reno and
Remainder of the Seventh
    — Bismarck Daily Tribune [Dakota Territory]: July 6 , 1876
    ³
    “ The [steamer] Far West arrived this morning, bringing terrible news from the expedition and 38 wounded men for treatment in the hospital. Genl. Custer with his command met an ove r whelming force of Indians on the Little Big Horn and five companies were completely cut to pieces, not one man being left….
    “ This has been a very gloomy day at the post. There are 24 women here who have been made widows by the disaster.”
    — Medical Journal of Assistant Su rgeon J.V.D. Middleton, Fort Abraham Lincoln, Dakota Territory. July 6, 1876
    ³
    “ After we gained the bluffs we could look back upon the plains where the Indians were, and could see them stripping and scalping our men, and mutilating the bodies in a horrible ma n ner. The prairie was all afire.”
    — John M. Ryan, survivor of the Reno Hill battle, as reco l lected in the Hardin [Montana] Tribune , June 22, 1923
    ³
    Kenner is coming back from the dead to kill me. Tonight. And I can do nothing but wait. The vengeful sorce ry that animates my former comrade has already slaughtered the other three, one by one, during the rotten core of the night.
    Walter Tucker, the first, knew nothing of his fate and lay ma n gled by the riverbank with his face a frozen expression of soul-burst ing fear. But at least he did not have to endure these hours of horrified waiting. Darby is murdered. Barrett is mu r dered. How am I to fight against an obsidian-clawed ghoul turned against his friends by Sioux hatred and magic?
    I can hear the hushed expect ancy of the river, feel the lulling sway of the Far West as it fights against the ropes tying it up during the blackest hours of night. The pungent smell of old, rain-soaked hay seeps into the air, piles strewn on the deck here to make the cramped conditio ns a little more comfortable for us ‘ brave fighters. ’ I don ’ t complain — after that night on Reno Hill surrounded by screaming victorious Sioux, feeling our parched throats and having nothing but horse blood to drink… how could I complain about mere crowdedn e ss?
    Captain Marsh has pushed the Far West