"Did you ride to Black Canyon?" Naya asked. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it screamed in the small room. Elias looked up. He could have lied.
He could have said he was in a different company, on a different patrol, but he looked at her face, the face of the woman he had started to care for, the woman who had trusted him enough to share his blanket, and he could not do it. "Yes," he said. The word was a stone dropped into deep water. "I was the lead scout," Elias said, his voice dead. "I found the trail.
I led them to the rim." Naya made a sound, a sharp intake of breath that was half sob, half retch. She backed away from him until she hit the edge of the table. "You," she whispered. "It was you."
"I did not know they would fire on the tents," Elias said, stepping forward, his hands open in a plea. "I thought they told me it was a surrender operation. They said if we found you, you would be escorted in. But when we got to the rim, the captain gave the order to fire the howitzers." "You led them there," Naya accused, her voice rose to a shout.
"You brought the wolves to the door. My husband died because of you. My son, the march that killed him started that day because of you." "I know," Elias roared back, the confession tearing out of his throat. "I know.
Do you think I forget? I hear the screaming every night. Naya, I see the snow turning red. I tried to stop them, but once the shooting started "You are a monster," Naya spat. She looked at him with pure, unadulterated hatred.
She looked around the room as if waking from a dream. "I am in the house of the man who killed my family." She said, "I am washing the clothes of the butcher." "Naya, please," Elias said, "That man, the man I was he died there, too. That is why I left.
That is why I bought this place, to get away from it." "You cannot get away from blood." She said coldly. "It stains everything." She turned and walked to her room.
She did not run. She walked with a rigid, terrible dignity. She began to throw things into a pile, her blanket, the few clothes she had, the small bag of dried meat. "What are you doing?" Elias asked from the doorway.
"I am leaving." She said, "You cannot leave," Elias said, "The soldiers, the patrol is still out there. Harlan's men are watching the roads. I would rather die in the desert than sleep one more night under your roof." She said.
She tied the bundle with a piece of rope. She slung it over her shoulder and walked past him. She would not even look at him. "Naya, listen to me." Elias pleaded, grabbing her arm.