The city of Cheyenne, Sioux Nation, was larger than Sly had expected, but much smaller than Seattle, of course. The downtown core was about the same size, but the outlying areas were less extensive. No great, sprawling suburbs, decaying and going to hell in a handcart. As they cruised in on Route 80, then taken the Central Avenue off-ramp into downtown, she’d seen hints that there probably had once been the spread-out bedroom communities, the rows of car dealerships and fast-food restaurants, the strip malls and the bowling alleys. But all that had been before the genocide campaign, before the Great Ghost Dance and the Treaty of Denver. Now the Native Americans had torn down all those signs of "whiteskin oppression," and the land had returned to its natural state. Scrub grass and trees had grown over the remains of the razed buildings and their foundations.