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The town of Headwater, true to  its name, sat at  the source of the Squaw  River. Paved road ended there, as did  the railroad. There were no hotels. West, north, and  south of the  town was nothing but empty grasslands. No one from outside of town ever spent the night in Headwater because no one ever passed through. The Bureau had to  crane off a  trailer on  national grasslands just to have a place for its agents to sleep.

The Church of  Green  Dome had  steadily  lost adherents  since peaking in  1915  but   there  were  still  many  congregations scattered across America and even a few in Europe. When families of the deceased came to Headwater  for the Last Rite  often the only place for them to stay was the Temple itself.

The C Wing had six modest rooms which were  offered to visiting fami- lies for their brief stay  of a day or  two. Klaus Hansen had never giv- en them much thought. As far as he knew or cared the beds made them- selves,  so when  he arrived at  the temple with Paul Bergin in tow he was startled to find Dory and Gabriel cleaning the rooms.

"What is this?" he demanded.

"It went with the position of Extraordinary Lay Minister of the Last  Rite," Gabriel  replied. "Somebody has to  get the  rooms ready, and now I guess the Deacon does it."

"Then what's she doing here?"

"Cousin Dory is pitching in."

"I'm reclaiming Sundays  for the  White Wing.  I only  want Red Wingers to be here, if they must, on Wednesdays."

Dory and Gabriel,  being Red  Wingers both,  made as  though to leave, but Klaus said, "Not you, boy."

"I'll pick you up at five, cuz," said Dory on her way out.

"Where's the Golden Gift?" demanded Klaus after Dory  was good and gone.

"It's right here in the Temple, sir, just as we agreed."

"How do I know that's true?"

"This is the Temple of Green  Dome, sir. Liars have  no part in the life to come."