The End

"Fortune knocks at every man's door once in a life, but in a good many cases the man is in a neighboring saloon and does not hear her. "

-Mark Twain

Chapter Twenty Four

Polk Buckhorn awoke to the sound of Evans and Dancing Bird bickering.

"You're a holy man," Evans was saying. "You have a responsibility."

Dancing Bird laughed bitterly.

"I am the least holy of men," Dancing Bird growled, "and perhaps the least responsible. Present company excepted."

The shaman jerked his head in Buck's direction; Buck made a rude gesture, but Dancing Bird pretended not to notice.

"And what happens in a hundred years when nobody remembers how to perform the ceremony?" Evans demanded.

"In a hundred years, there will be no one left alive to think it necessary," said Dancing Bird matter-of-factly. "Will the world still end if nobody believes that it's going to? I wonder."

"You wonder?" shrieked Evans.

Dancing Bird rolled his eyes.

"Enough," he snarled. "The ceremony is not merely a matter knowing the words to speak. I could not teach it to you even if I wanted to, which I don't. Let it rest."

Evans stormed away from the shaman, muttering obscenities under his breath. After a moment, he shot a glare at Buck.

"Say something to him, would you?" Evans snapped.

Buck shrugged, not bothering to look at either of them.

"Sounds to me like he's got his mind made up," he muttered. "What do I care what happens in a hundred years anyhow?"

Buck rose and began gathering his things, pointedly ignoring Evans' furious expression. It had been after sunrise by the time they'd found themselves back in the desert, and he'd slept through most of the day; his attitude suggested that he didn't intend to waste any more time relaxing.

"You can find your own way home, I take it," Buck said abruptly.

Evans gaped dumbly for a moment before finding his voice.

"I thought..." he began.

"You thought wrong," Buck stated flatly.

Evans scoffed; after a moment, however, his expression softened slightly.

"I am going to miss you, you know," Evans offered.

Buck glanced at Evans over his shoulder, and then chuckled mirthlessly.

"No you're not," Buck growled. "I don't like you, and you don't like me. No need to get all gushy and sentimental just 'cause this is goodbye."

Evans shook his head, and then decided to try a different approach.

"What are you going to do now?" Evans asked.

Buck contemplated for a moment before answering.

"Still got that price on my head," he murmured. "Probably ought to lay low for a while. Apart from that... I couldn't rightly tell you. The West ain't all the way tamed yet, anyhow. Means there's always demand for a man like me. I'll get by."

Evans seemed stunned.

"What, that's it?" he demanded. "Business as usual, after everything that's happened?"

"Sure," Buck shrugged. "Why not?"

Evans considered this momentarily, seemingly struggling to put an idea into words.

"Well," Evans mumbled. "Haven't you, I don't know... learned anything? From all of this?"

Buck glared over his shoulder at Evans.

"Yeah I have," Buck growled. "From now on I take my whole fee in advance, thank you very much."

Evans boggled momentarily, and then opted to drop the matter. Buck stuffed the last of his possessions into Sparky's saddlebags, and then mounted. He took one last look at Evans and Dancing Bird before he rode away, seemingly struggling to find the right words. After a moment, he arrived at something that he felt satisfied with.

"Gone to a lot of trouble on account of you two," he stated. "I ever see either of you again, I'm likely to shoot you."

Buck seemed to be on the verge of saying more, but changed his mind.

"So long," he said simply.

Evans stared at Buck's departing form as it shrank into the distance, trying to decide what he was feeling. His preoccupation was such that he didn't notice Dancing Bird sidling up beside him, and the sudden sound of the shaman's voice startled him.

"He was right," Dancing Bird said abruptly. "You do hate him."

Evans thought of denying it, but there didn't seem to be any point.

"It just doesn't seem right," Evans mumbled.

Dancing Bird chuckled sourly.

"None of what you've seen has changed you, either," Dancing Bird scolded him. "Did you expect him to atone for his sins? To pay the price for his crimes, and to be redeemed? That's just sad, Michael."

Evans shook his head.

"He did save the world," he muttered, "so maybe he gets a pass."

"He gets to keep being the same person that he always has been," said Dancing Bird. "I doubt that he deserves any worse."

Dancing Bird glanced at Evans once more, and then began to wander away. Evans stood and stared, watching until Polk Buckhorn had disappeared over the horizon.

Purely by coincidence, Buck rode into the sunset.