She has allies among the Apache tribes. And she has spent 10 years building a network of people who fight men like Crane. " "Where is she? " "At the gathering place, where we were headed before Crane forced us here. It is half a day's ride north. " Jesse tried to calculate. Half a day there, half a day back, time to plan, time to organize a rescue in Tucson, time to track the Mexican slavers. All while his heart was trying to quit with every beat.
"We rest here tonight," he decided. "Bury Crane and his men. Honor Marcus. Then at dawn we ride for the gathering place. If Diving Hawk can help, we ask.
If not, we do it ourselves. " "Jesse, you cannot ride. You can barely sit upright. " "I'll ride even if I have to tie myself to the saddle. " Nala shook her head, but she didn't argue further. She'd learned that Jesse Walker was impossible to move once he'd made a decision. They made camp in Echo Valley that night, built a fire, cooked the last of their meager food, tended to wounds and exhaustion, and the deep ache that comes after violence ends. Jesse sat with his back against a boulder, watching the stars emerge.
His chest hurt with every breath. His shoulder throbbed in time with his irregular heartbeat. But he was alive. And while he was alive, there was work to do. Nala sat beside him.
For a long time neither spoke. Then she said, "Why do you do this? Truly. Not the debt, not guilt. What drives you to destroy yourself for people you barely know? " Jesse thought about the question.
Finally he answered. "When I was a soldier, I followed orders. I did terrible things because I was told they were necessary. I watched children die and told myself it wasn't my fault. I was just following orders.
And then one day I realized that's the same thing every monster in history has said. Just following orders. " He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I can't undo what I did. I can't bring back the people I killed or failed to save. But I can choose differently now.
Every time I'm faced with violence, with cruelty, with someone in need, I can choose to act. Not because someone ordered me to, because it's right. And if that choice kills you, then at least I'll die as a man, not a monster. " Nala was quiet. Then she placed her hand over his. "My father was right about you.
You do have a warrior spirit, even if your skin is the wrong color. " Jesse managed a weak smile. "Your father was a wise man. He would have liked knowing you became who you were meant to be. " They sat in comfortable silence as the night deepened. Around them, the others settled into sleep. Even Swift Bird, who'd seen so much violence in one day, finally succumbed to exhaustion.
But Jesse stayed awake. Sleep felt too much like surrender. And he wasn't ready to surrender yet. At dawn they rode north. Jesse stayed in the saddle through pure stubbornness and Nala's rope, which she'd used to tie him upright when he started to sway.
Keona rode with help from Swift Bird. Her fever had broken during the night, which was either a good sign or her body's last attempt at fighting before it gave up entirely. The gathering place revealed itself slowly. First, a thin trail of smoke on the horizon, then voices carrying on the wind, then, as they crested a low ridge, a camp spread out below them. Maybe 40 people, mostly Apache, but Jesse saw Navajo, Paiute, even a few Mexican families.
All of them refugees from Crane's violence or violence like it. They'd gathered here in this hidden canyon with its reliable water source to share information and resources, to help each other survive. A woman stood as they approached. She was maybe 50 years old, her hair streaked with gray, her face lined by worry and weather. But her eyes were sharp and clear.
She carried herself like someone who'd seen everything and refused to break. Swift Bird made a sound, part sob, part gasp. He slid from his horse and ran toward the woman on legs that barely supported him. "Shiima," he said, the Apache word for mother. "Shiima, it's me, Daniel, your son. " The woman's face transformed.
She caught Swift Bird as he collapsed into her arms. Both of them were crying, years of separation and grief pouring out in that single embrace. Jesse watched and felt something crack in his own chest. Not his heart, though that ached, too. Something deeper.
The place where he kept his own losses locked away. Diving Hawk held her son for a long time. Then she looked up and saw Nahooma. "Nahooma Silver Hawk," she said. "I heard your father was dead.
I feared you were, too. " "Not dead," Nahooma said. "Not yet. " "And these others? " "My sisters, Keona and Yazi, and this is Jesse Walker, the man my father saved 28 years ago. " Diving Hawk's eyes moved to Jesse. She studied him for a long moment, and Jesse had the strange feeling she was seeing straight through him to his bones. "Jesse Walker," she said. "The white boy who survived.
My brother-in-law spoke of you many times. He said you would return when you were needed most. " "I hope I'm not too late," Jesse said. "You are exactly on time. " Diving Hawk gestured to the camp. "Come, rest, eat. Tell me what you need, and then we will see about finishing what Silas Crane started. " They were led into the camp.
People came forward with blankets, food, water. Gentle hands helped Jesse from his horse. Someone with medical knowledge examined his wounds and made sounds of concern. Keona was taken to a healer's tent. Yazi was surrounded by children her own age who folded her into their midst with easy acceptance.