"My father wants to see you," he said without preamble. "Tomorrow at dawn. He will meet you at the boundary stones where your land meets the tribal hunting grounds."
"What does he want?"
"He did not say. But he was very serious."
Chaska glanced at Takala. "You should come too. He asked for both of you."
After Chaska left, Takala and I prepared in silence. We both knew this summons could mean many things, none of them simple. Had Kuruk decided I'd failed his test? Was he reclaiming Takala?
Or was this about something else entirely? I cleaned my rifle and checked my ammunition. Takala packed food and water. We didn't discuss what might happen.
There was nothing to discuss until we knew what we were facing. That night, I barely slept. I kept thinking about the photograph on the wall. About the family I'd lost and couldn't protect.
About the woman sleeping in the next room whose husband I'd killed. About the boy I'd saved who might be the only reason I was still alive. About all the debts that accumulate over a lifetime and the impossibility of ever truly settling the accounts. We left before dawn.
Two horses moving through the darkness toward whatever waited at the boundary stones. The air was bitter cold, and our breath made white clouds that hung behind us like ghosts. The boundary stones marked the edge of my property and the beginning of the land the army had grudgingly allowed the Apache to use for hunting. It wasn't a reservation.
Not officially. But it was understood territory. I'd never crossed it without permission. Kuruk was already there when we arrived, along with about 20 warriors.
They sat their horses in a line, motionless in the predawn gray. As we approached, one of the warriors moved forward. It took me a moment to recognize him. He was older than the others, maybe 60, with long gray hair and a scar that ran from his left eye to his jaw.
He looked at me with an expression I couldn't read. Kuruk dismounted and walked toward us. Takala slid from her horse and went to stand before him, her head bowed in respect. They spoke in Apache, their voices low and quick.
I caught Kuruk glancing at me several times. Takala's responses were brief, but her posture was tense. Finally, Kuruk turned to me. "Takala says you have treated her with respect."
"That you have not forced yourself on her. That you have given her space to grieve."
"Yes."
"She also says you saved her from a fire. That you showed her the graves of your family. That you spoke honestly about your past."
I waited. There had to be more.
"My people have a saying," Kuruk continued. "The man who kills in battle is not the same as the man who kills in cold blood. You killed Matto in war."
"That is different from murder, but it still leaves a debt."
"I know."
"Takala must decide if she can live with that debt. If she can live with you. I sent her to you to give her that choice, not to punish her or you."