"Soon. Maybe days. Maybe weeks. But soon."
He looked at Takala one last time. "If you need sanctuary, you know where to find us." They rode away as the sun finally broke over the eastern mountains, painting the snow golden red. Takala and I stood alone at the boundary stones, watching them disappear.
"Did you know?" I asked. "About Mosca? About what Kuruk was really doing?"
"No. He does not share his plans with women. But I am not surprised."
"My chief is a careful man. He does not make decisions lightly."
We rode back to the ranch in silence. The morning grew brighter, but the cold remained sharp and unforgiving. When we reached the house, Takala went inside to start breakfast while I tended the horses. As I was brushing down my mare, I heard more riders approaching.
My hand went to my rifle, but then I saw the blue uniforms, and I knew our borrowed time had run out. Captain Vernon Hollis rode at the head of 15 cavalry troops. He was maybe 40, clean-shaven, with the kind of rigid posture that spoke of a man who'd learned everything from books and nothing from experience. His eyes swept over the ranch with obvious disdain.
"Silas Garrett?" he called out.
"That's right."
"Captain Vernon Hollis, Fort Stanton. I need to speak with you about a serious matter."
I walked toward him, keeping my rifle pointed at the ground but not setting it aside. "Speak, then." He dismounted, and his men followed suit. They fanned out in a loose semicircle, hands near their weapons.
Professional intimidation. "It's come to my attention that you're harboring an Apache woman on your property. Under territorial law and army regulations, this is a violation. I'm here to take her into custody."
"She's not in custody. She lives here by her own choice."
"That's not how the law sees it. Indians aren't permitted to live with white citizens outside of designated areas without proper authorization."
"What law? Show me the statute."
His jaw tightened. "The law is being written as we speak. The Dawes Act will codify these restrictions."
"But even without it, I have authority under military jurisdiction to prevent potential hostile actions."
"Hostile actions? She's a woman living in a house, cooking meals, minding her own business."
"She's Apache. That makes her a potential security risk."
Takala appeared in the doorway. She'd been listening, and her face showed no fear. Only a kind of weary resignation. This was what she'd expected.
What she'd known was coming. "I will go," she said quietly. "I do not wish to cause trouble."