THE BUFFALO HUNTER HUNTER

A professor unravels a mystery from the darkest depths of the Wild West.

Salvation comes in strange and uncomfortable ways in this ambitious, century-spanning American gothic by Jones, drawing hard from this country’s deep well of trespasses against its Indigenous people. When 42-year-old junior professor Etsy Beaucarne is bequeathed a newly discovered, century-old diary composed by her great-great-great-grandfather Arthur Beaucarne, she thinks the Lutheran minister’s vivid tales about the frontier might finally earn her tenure at the University of Wyoming. As the framing device unfolds, we’re treated to two new narratives, the first being Arthur’s story of his ministry to a troubled Blackfeet Indian named Good Stab and the second being Good Stab’s own record of his long, strange life. “What I am is the Indian who can’t die,” he confesses. “I’m the worst dream America ever had.” Why it’s been such a long and memorable life quickly becomes apparent along with the Blackfeet’s extended teeth and thirst for blood. While a vampire Western could easily have become a farce, Jones crafts it into a rich tapestry that winds around questions of identity, heritage, and historical truth, all pivoting on a real historical atrocity, the Marias Massacre, where almost 200 Native people were murdered by the U.S. Army in January 1870. Jones never takes it easy on the reader but the trust he earns is rewarded in the end. Both Arthur’s and Good Stab’s accounts are authentically painted from their very disparate lives and cultures, so the shift can sometimes be jarring. It’s also a surprisingly slow burn for a tale with a truly visceral amount of carnage. Nevertheless, by the time the book winds back around, it’s as much an autopsy of institutionalized treachery as a demonization of its tragic and terrifying “villain.”

A weirdly satisfying and bloody reckoning with some of America’s most shameful history.