Underneath lay a small beaded pouch, a medicine bag, and a single broken arrow. "Apache. " One of the younger women whispered. Ayanna did not speak. She stood up, her face a mask. Someone had been caught here, a straggler, a scout from another band.
They had been killed and buried in a hole too shallow to keep the coyotes out. She looked at the tracks leading away. They went north, toward the canyon. "They know," Ayanna said, her voice was hollow. "They are not just sweeping, they are hunting. " They camped that night in a narrow side canyon, hidden from the main trail.
They dared not light a large fire, only a small, smokeless flame in a pit to boil coffee and warm their hands against the sudden desert chill. The two younger women took the first watch at the canyon entrance. Luke and Ayanna sat by the fire. Luke's hands were untied for the evening, but his rifle remained with Ayanna. He sat with his back to the rock wall, watching the flames lick at the dry wood.
Ayanna sat opposite him, wrapping her blanket tighter around her shoulders. The discovery of the grave had shaken her. The reality of the approaching army was no longer a rumor. It was a set of hoof prints leading to her home. "Why did she die? " Ayanna asked suddenly.
Luke looked up, startled. "Who? " "Your woman, the one in the grave on the hill. " Luke stared into the fire. He had not spoken of Sarah to anyone in a long time, not the truth of it. "Her name was Sarah," Luke said. "She was 22.
She liked to plant flowers, even though the sun killed them every year. She said the land needed color. " He picked up a twig and snapped it. "It was a skirmish. A raiding party came through, stealing horses. They were not looking for a fight, I think, but my brother, Will, he was hot-headed.
He saw them taking the stock. He opened fire. " Luke closed his eyes. It was chaotic. Dust everywhere, gunsmoke. Sarah ran out onto the porch to pull Will inside.
A stray bullet hit her. "I do not even know who fired it. It might have been the Apache. It might have been Will in his panic. It does not matter.
She fell, and the flowers she planted were crushed under her body. " He looked at Ayanna. "I was not there. I was 50 miles away, guiding a column of soldiers to a water hole. By the time I got back, the earth was already settled on her grave. " Ayanna listened, her face unreadable in the dancing light. She saw the pain in him, raw and unhealed.
It mirrored her own. "My husband was named Kota," Ayanna said softly. "He was a weaver. He did not like to fight. He made blankets with patterns of the stars. " She touched the necklace of turquoise beads at her throat.