And now and then, one of them would point at something, and the other would look. One night she talked about a Chiricahua custom for honoring the dead before the anniversary of their passing. You gathered things the person had loved, held them in the smoke of a piñon fire, spoke their name four times. Then you gave those things away, or returned them to the earth. Holding on too long made the living heavy, she said.
She spoke her mother's name to the fire that night. Once, quiet, not for him. Just for the night and for herself. He sat with that a while. Then he went inside and came back with Clara's quilt.
Held it over the smoke, not burning it, just letting it sit in the air above the coals. Said her name. Clara. It came out smaller than he expected. He hadn't said it out loud in a long time.
Nayeli didn't say anything. He folded the quilt and left it on the porch railing and went back to his chair. The night felt different after that. He didn't have a clean word for it, but lighter was close enough. On the fifth day, Drayden's men came.
Four on horseback from the east before the heat had built. Caleb saw the dust from the south pasture and walked back without hurrying. Nayeli was on the porch already, watching them come. One hand at her side, one on the strap of the saddlebag with her herbs. He told her to go inside.
She said she wasn't going inside. He said it wasn't an argument, it was a request. He'd have an easier time talking these men down if they weren't fixed on her. She looked at him a moment, then went. The men pulled up at the yard fence.
The one in front was younger than expected, mid-20s, coat too heavy for the weather, covering inexperience with a hard face. Said he had information a Chiricahua woman was on the property and that he had a warrant for her removal to Fort Bowie. Caleb said he'd like to see it. It wasn't a warrant. It was a letter on county stationery signed by a justice of the peace named Aldrup.
And Caleb knew Aldrup had been taking money from Drayden's land office for six months. He said so. Said the name, the amount he'd heard, the name of the man who'd told him. The man in the coat went quiet. Caleb said the woman was on his property at his invitation.
Said his land had clear title on file at the Mesa Hollow office. Said any man who crossed his fence without cause would answer to the circuit judge, due in town in 10 days, who was not in Drayden's pocket as far as Caleb knew. He said it all without raising his voice, kept his hands open and away from the rifle. Then the man in the coat pulled his pistol. Not quite aiming.