Monday late afternoon: Ft. Peck Indian Reservation

Rose looked at her watch; it was four-fifteen.  They were moved back to the smaller room where she had first met Rainhorse. He was once again cuffed to the table. She shook her head as she studied him, sitting at the table, fingers interlaced, looking as calm as a summer breeze.

She had nothing at stake and her stomach was in knots.  Rainhorse had everything on the line and he looked like he was watching grass swaying on a sunny afternoon.

“Your deadline was unreasonable,” she said to him. “They aren’t coming.”

“They will be here,” he said.

“And what was all that bullshit about getting Quince and this mystery man in forty-eight hours?” she added. “The FBI has had this guy on their most wanted list for twenty years and have never gotten a whiff of him and you will nail him in two days?”

Rainhorse nodded and grunted, “When you put it like that, it seems more difficult.”

Rose rolled her eyes and let out a groan of exasperation, “I don’t know what I will tell Red Feather.  He was counting on me to cut the best deal for your sorry ass.”

“You did well,” he said.

“...until you took over and pushed me out,” she finished for him. “All the things he said about you were true.”

“What did he say?”

“Things,” she said. “Un-flattering things.”

He nodded, “Red Feather has every right to hate me. I disappointed many people in my youth.  I was not a good person.”

“On that point, we agree,” Rose said.

 ”Did you call Ellie Limberhand for me?”

“I did,” Rose said. “Who is she anyway?”

“Just a close friend,” he said. “Did you deliver my message?”

“Yes, but I think you put the cart before the horse,” Rose replied. “It’s presumptuous to assume you’ll be eating hamburgers at the Burger Dive by six o’clock.”

“Perhaps,” he said.

“Jesus,” Rose said, looking at her watch. “We have twenty minutes left on the clock. Maybe if I call them now, I can salvage the original deal and get your five years taken from the sentence.”

Rainhorse shook his head, “They will come.”

“How can you be sure?”

Before Rainhorse could answer there was a peck on the door. It opened. Andrews and Burk filed into the room.

Rainhorse looked at Rose and formed a hint of a smile.

“You have your deal, Rainhorse,” Burk said. She tossed a set of papers on the table in front of Rose. “You have forty-eight hours to deliver Barnabas and his right-hand man. Don’t screw it up.”

“The president agreed to a full pardon?” Rose asked.

“The president is why this thing passed at all,” Burk said. “He is paranoid about the possibility of having a nuclear weapon detonated on US soil. He was your only friend in this cluster fuck of a deal... well, Andrews, too.”

Rose scanned through the document.

Andrews pulled an ankle monitor from his briefcase, “Let’s get this on you and go.”

“I haven’t read this document,” Rose said.

“It is all in order,” Andrews insisted, “and one condition is that Rainhorse is free of the prison walls by five o’clock. I’m not about to let all this go to hell in a hand basket over a technicality.”

Andrews rapped on the door.  A guard opened it. He handed the man an order signed by the warden to release Rainhorse.

“Un-cuff him,” Andrews demanded. The guard looked at the order and his eyes widened.

“Are you serious?”

“Read the order,” Andrews said, handing documentation to the guard. “Un-cuff the man.”

The guard glanced over the order and then handed it to his partner to review.

“The prisoner will have to be processed for release,” the guard insisted.

“That’s fine as long as the processing has you un-cuffing him escorting him out the front gate in the next five minutes,” Andrews spat, sternly.

The guard looked confused.

“Now!” Andrews demanded.

The guard uncuffed Rainhorse as commanded, and turned to Andrews, “You know, prison protocol dictates that the prisoner must remain in cuffs until we are at the holding gate.”

“There is nothing about this day that is going according to protocol,” Andrews replied.  He looked at Rose, “Are we good, counselor?”

She looked up from the document and nodded, “Yeah, we’re real good.” She turned to Rainhorse, “I’ve marked all the places for you to sign. There are two copies. Burk will get a copy and I’ll keep a copy.”

Rainhorse nodded, taking the pen in hand. He signed in all the places and handed the pen back to Rose.

“Stand up, Cheyenne,” Andrews said. “You’ve got a job to do.”

Rainhorse stood. He looked at Rose, “Thank you. Tell Red Feather I am sorry.”

“You take care of business and come back and tell him yourself,” she replied.

He smiled and nodded, then turned back to Burk and Andrews, “Shall we begin?”