I deserted in the middle of a snowstorm. I left my pay, my rank, and my soul back there. I have been running ever since. Ayanna stared at him. The contempt in her eyes was still there, hot and bright.
But something else flickered behind it. Confusion, perhaps. Or a realization that his shame was as deep as her anger. A man who betrays his own kind will betray us. She said to her father.
He has no honor. Nantan looked at Luke with a grim, heavy expression. A man who sees a wrong and turns away from it shows a different kind of honor. The chief said. It takes courage to walk into the snow alone.
He stood up, signaling the end of the conversation. You are here, Luke Carver. You cannot go back to them. They will hang you as a deserter. You cannot leave us.
My warriors will kill you. You are trapped in the middle. Nantan looked from Luke to his daughter. Here are the terms. You will stay with us for one season, through the winter.
You will work. You will hunt. You will help us survive the cold and the soldiers. You will live as an Apache. If, when the snow melts and the grass is green, Ayanna still refuses you, I will reconsider the bond.
Ayanna opened her mouth to argue, but Nantan raised a hand. That is the word of the chief. She clamped her mouth shut, her jaw working furiously. She glared at Luke one last time, a promise of misery, and turned on her heel, marching away toward the creek. Luke let out a long breath.
A season. Three months of winter in a hostile camp with a woman who hated him and a chief who owned him. I will stay, Luke said. I don't have much choice. Good.
Nantan said. Now, go see my son. He asks for you. Luke was escorted to a large wickiup near the edge of the circle. The air inside was thick with the smell of sage smoke and crushed juniper berries.
Taza lay on a pile of furs, his massive frame taking up most of the space. His leg was propped up, rebandaged with clean cloth. Two older women were tending to him, wiping his forehead with damp rags. They froze when Luke entered, moving their bodies between him and the injured man like protective bears. Taza grunted something in Apache, his voice weak, but commanding.