Virgil Wounded Horse is a vigilante for hire on the Rosebud Indian Reservation in South Dakota. Vigilantes are a real thing because tribal police do not have sufficient authority to prosecute federal crimes and federal police refuse to enforce anything smaller than mass murder. That leaves drug sales, domestic violence, rape, and assault left to personal accounts. When Nathan Wounded Horse, Virgil’s 14-year-old nephew and personal responsibility, is caught up in an attempt by a no-goodnik Indian, or is it an encroaching Mexican cartel, to expand the sale of deadly drugs across the rez, Virgil is swallowed by a maelstrom.
The description of life on a modern day Indian reservation, for good and mostly bad, feels firsthand. The plot and dialogue, however, feel very much like a first draft. Lines like, “I entered the dark room. I knew there had to be a gun. My eyes would not adjust. It felt very dangerous,” are commonplace. Accurate, but painfully stale.