Daniel dreaded it. He had not seen a single person since the day he had buried the preacher's men. Brody had never come back. The world had left them alone. He did not want to poke the hornets's nest.
"I will go," he said. "You will stay." "No," Tyen said. Her voice was quiet, but absolute. She was no longer the frightened girl he had found.
She was the mistress of his home, the mother of his child. I will not hide. You said this is my place. I am your wife. I will ride with you.
He argued, but it was useless. Her mind was set. They rode into Santa Fe 2 days later. He rode Sully, his rifle in its scabbard, his pistol on his hip. She rode the mule he had bought, sitting straight and proud, her hair was in its married braids, and her condition was obvious to anyone who looked.
The plaza went silent. It was as if he had thrown a switch. Men who had been talking stopped, their mouths open. Women who had been sweeping their stoops froze, their brooms still. Every eye in Santa Fe turned to them.
To the gaunt bearded killer, Daniel Reed and his pregnant Apache wife. He felt the hatred, the fear, the disgust rolling off them in waves. He kept his hand near his gun, his eyes scanning the rooftops, his body rigid. Tyen, however, looked straight ahead. She did not flinch.
She did not lower her gaze. She was, he realized, braver than he was. He dismounted and tied the horses. He helped her down from the mule, his hand protectively on her back. They walked into the general store.
Silas Cooper was there. His face went pale as if he had seen a ghost. "Reed," he stammered. "Silas," Daniel said. He handed him a list. flour, salt, coffee, lard, and 10 yards of your softest flannel."
Silas scrambled to fill the order, his hands shaking so badly he spilled cornmeal on the floor. He would not look at Tyen, would not even glance in her direction. He weighed the goods, overcharged them by at least 30%, and took Daniel's coin. Daniel was loading the sacks onto the mule when a man stepped out of the saloon. It was Jedodiah Miller, the owner of the ranch where Hackett and Smith had worked.
He was an old man, his face like cured leather, his eyes hard. He was not a fool, and he was not a coward. He walked straight up to Daniel. "Reed," Miller said, his voice clear in the silence. Daniel stopped loading.
He turned. "Miller, I buried two of my men because of you," Miller said. They came to my home, Miller, to steal my wife," Daniel said, his voice low. Miller looked past Daniel at Tyen, who stood by the mule, her hand on her belly. "He saw her, really saw her, not as a squa, but as a young woman, proud and defiant."