"I'm asking you to take a chance on peace instead of accepting war as inevitable."
Kuruk was silent for a long time. Around us, the camp had gone quiet, people stopping their work to listen. Finally, the old warrior Mosca stepped forward. He spoke in Apache to Kuruk, his voice firm and carrying.
Kuruk responded, and they argued back and forth for several minutes. Other warriors joined in, some supporting Mosca, some opposing. At last, Kuruk raised his hand for silence. He turned to me.
"Mosca reminds me that you saved his life many years ago, when you could have let him die. He says you saved my son when you could have left him in the snow."
"He says you stood against the army for Takala when you could have surrendered her. He says these are not the actions of a man who lies."
"They're not. I'm asking you to risk your life, and I know what that means. But if we don't try this, the alternative is his war."
"A war you might win battles in, but you'll lose in the end. The army has too many soldiers. Too many guns. They'll keep coming until your people are destroyed or driven so far south you'll never come back."
"And if I do this thing, if I ride into your town and speak your words, what happens when the army attacks anyway?"
"Then at least we'll know we tried. And some people, maybe not many, but some, will remember that you offered peace and it was rejected. That might matter someday."
Kuruk looked at Takala. "What do you say, daughter of my tribe? Do you trust this white man with your chief's life?"
Takala met his eyes steadily. "I trust him with more than that."
The words hit me like a physical blow. She'd never said anything like that before. Never even implied it. Kuruk nodded slowly.
"Then I will do this. But not alone. I will bring 20 warriors, and if your townspeople attack, we will defend ourselves."
"I will not lead my men to slaughter."
"Fair enough."
"We leave at dawn. Tell your people to gather in the town square. I will speak to them there, where all can hear."
"And then, Silas Garrett, we will see if your faith in white man's reason is justified."
That night, we camped with the Apache. Takala stayed in her mother's old lodge with some of the women. Quinn and I were given a smaller lodge near the edge of camp. I couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw a hundred ways this could go wrong. Hollis shooting Kuruk from ambush. The townspeople rioting. The warriors retaliating.
Blood in the snow. All my good intentions meaning nothing. Around midnight, the lodge flap opened. Takala slipped inside.
She sat down across the fire from me, her face illuminated by the flickering light. "I could not sleep either," she said.