He depends on the kindness of strangers. Fremont: As s mining geologist, I scouted out uranium on the rez. My boss was an unstable tyrant who would tolerate no deviance from his sociopathic plan. I found uranium, all right—making the Navajo hogans glow, their corn shine green from space, their cattle keel over, twisted and deranged. It was a game-changer when I realized what decades of this poison was doing to the people. And a chance meeting with the white priest who had chosen his own deviance in the desert, well, my destiny was changed forever. I’ve been down, but I haven’t been out. And Father Moloney is the premier guide to assist me on this coming out journey. Father Noel: A cancer invaded our land. My parishioners were dying at a high rate, their limbs gnarled, fingers fused together, useless. But I never expected my crisis of faith to come in the form of a built, ripped geologist. I dreamed of Fremont’s arrival, his backpack bristling with scientific instruments. He holds the future of my congregation in his beautiful hands. Will he go up against the powerful conglomerate, risking health and fortune to help us? More than that, he’s stolen my soul with his vulnerable, down-to-earth honesty. At first I saw Fremont as a fun distraction, a sort of cuddly toy to play with, to dominate and control. He’s much more than that—he pushes back and has me on my knees. I was sent here to this hellhole as punishment for toying with a subordinate on another rez. Little did they know this poisonous, gorgeous desert would be my salvation.