Sun Hawk’s eyes were as black as the night as he looked at the old chieftain. “Father, when it becomes my duty to kill one of my Apache brothers, I will no longer be an Apache.”

He turned away from the fire and became one with the darkness.

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3

Meade had almost forgotten what civilization looked like—and felt like. Santa Fe wasn’t as cosmopolitan as Washington or the other eastern cities where he’d lived in his younger years, but compared to Fort Apache, it was sheer heaven. It was a charm-ing old city with the Military Department of New Mexico sitting squarely in the middle. Fort Marcy itself stood on a hill overlooking the town, but Meade’s assignment placed him in the Military Headquarters. His quarters were on Grant Street less than a block away from the finest hospital in the southwestern territories, and there were excellent restaurants, gaming halls, and a new opera house within walking distance of the post.

In the three months he’d been in Santa Fe he had put each of those amenities to the best possible use. He’d been out on brief details with two cavalry companies, but both assignments had consisted of nothing more than escort-ing visiting dignitaries to the elegant Montezuma Hot Springs Hotel near Las Vegas. Since there had been no Indian trouble in that area since the Pueblo uprising several decades ago, the details had been less than hazardous.

Meade was far from bored by the lack of official duties. He had made good use of his time by persuading General Whitlock, commander of the 35

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Department of New Mexico, to allow him to teach a class on new surgical techniques to the hospital staff.

Having just completed one such lecture, he left the hospital and paused a moment to consider his options. He had been considering walking down to the Palace Hotel for supper, but the late afternoon heat made the very thought intolerable. Captain Manlove and his wife were hosting a card party later in the evening . . . That was a possibility. The Manloves were pleasant enough, and there was always a last-minute need for a fourth at whist.

Then again, he could always—

“Major Ashford! There you are, sir.” Colonel Collingswood’s young aide-de-camp hurried out the hospital door and offered him a brisk salute. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, sir,” he said pleasantly as soon as Meade had returned the salute. He seemed slightly out of breath. “It’s a big hospital.”

“That it is, Lieutenant . . . Bascomb, isn’t it?”

“That’s correct, sir.”

“Well, now that I’ve led you on a merry chase, what can I do for you, Bascomb?”

The fresh-faced officer pulled a folded sheet of parchment from his coat and handed it to Meade. “The colonel requested that I deliver this to you.

New orders, I believe, sir.”

So much for my daily lectures, Meade thought as he opened the directive, which was nothing more than a request for him to attend the colonel immediately. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Any idea what those new orders might be?” he asked, though he thought it unlikely that the officer would tell him, even if he knew.

“None, sir. If you’ll excuse me, I have other duties to attend to.”

“Of course, Lieutenant. You are dismissed.”

Bascomb hurried off, most likely to deliver another message like the one he’d given to Meade.

Knowing it was pointless to speculate on the new detail to which he was about to be assigned, Meade turned down Grant Street past his own quarters and then moved along the edge of the parade grounds to post headquarters.

Several minutes later he was ushered into Colonel Collingswood’s office.

The colonel was a brisk, no-nonsense fellow with graying muttonchops that added to the already considerable width of his face. Privately Meade considered him a pompous ass, and though he kept the opinion to himself, he knew others who were less discreet in voicing similar opinions.

They went through the ritual amenities; then the colonel got right down to business. “Major, I want you to make ready to depart tomorrow at dawn. We have finally received authorization to move against the Mescalero. You’ll be attached to Company B and will take your orders from Captain Greenleigh.”

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It was everything Meade could do to keep from groaning. If Collingswood was an old pompous ass, Greenleigh was a young one. In Meade’s mind, that was much worse. At least Collingswood was a seasoned soldier whose experience could sometimes be counted upon to keep him from making foolish decisions. But only sometimes. Greenleigh was just plain arrogant.

“Yes, sir,” Meade said, trying not to grit his teeth. “May I ask a question, though?”

“Of course.”

“I was under the impression that the Mescalero were living peacefully on their reservation. Has there been an outbreak of violence?”

“No, no, no,” the colonel said irritably, plucking at his muttonchops.

“There are a few agitators on the reservation, but so far old Naka’yen and his son have kept their people in line.”

“Then why are we moving against them? Sir,” he added quickly.

“It’s not the reservation Mescalero we’re concerned with, Major. For a number of years now we’ve been receiving citizen complaints about a large group of Apaches who have been working on a ranch south of Albuquerque.

General Whitlock has finally decided that it would be prudent to incarcerate them with their fellow Mescaleros on the reservation.”

His smug expression and the way he emphasized “finally” led Meade to conclude that Collingswood had been lobbying for this action for some time.

It didn’t make much sense to Meade. “Have they made any trouble, sir?”

“They’re Apaches, Major. That alone makes them trouble,” the colonel replied, giving him a withering look that might have sent a lesser man scurrying for the door. “Of course, your perspective may be a little different, Ashford. Your sister is married to one of them, isn’t she?”

“That’s right, sir,” Meade said pleasantly, though inside he was seething.

“And I’m happy to say that my brother-in-law is one of the finest men I’ve ever known.”

Collingswood clearly wasn’t impressed. “How fortunate for you. Have you any other questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. You will accompany Captain Greenleigh and subdue the Mescaleros. Offer any medical assistance to the hostiles that may be necessary, but in the event that they resist, I trust you will remember that tending to our own wounded men comes first?”

The sarcastic question went through Meade like a hot poker. “Having served for eight years in the Apache war theater, Colonel, I can assure you that I know my duty.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

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Meade offered a brisk salute and departed quickly, reminding himself that in three months he’d never have to smile at another pompous ass for as long as he lived.

After hours of standing in the miserable July sun, the shade offered by the cottonwood looked like heaven to the Templetons. Rayna had been eyeing it covetously through most of the last maiden ceremony ritual, and as soon as Mary Long Horn disappeared into her lodge to rest, Rayna tried to usher her mother and father toward the tree. Raymond hung back, engaging in conversation with Consayka and several other Mescalero ranch hands, but Collie and Rayna headed directly for the shade.

They were only midway through the third day of the ceremony, and though Rayna had done very little but watch, she was exhausted. For Skylar’s sake she had been on hand for every ritual from sunup to sundown, and tomorrow she would do her best to stay awake during the final event, a dance that would last all night long. She had attended other maiden ceremonies, but only in bits and pieces because Skylar had not been a major participant in those events. Since this was such a special occasion for her sister, Rayna felt it was important to support her.

At least once a day Collie also came out to watch the ceremony. For the past two nights she and Rayna had given Raymond an account of the rituals his daughter was participating in, and he had decided this morning that he would attend, too. Had it not been for the intense heat, they all would have been enjoying themselves tremendously, but Rayna could tell that her parents were getting tired. She couldn’t imagine how Skylar was going to survive the ordeal; yet from all outward appearances, she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

“How much longer today, dear?” Collie asked as they settled onto a blanket under the cottonwood.

Rayna spread her skirt out around her, leaving her ankles exposed, then unpinned her wide-brimmed straw bonnet and used it to fan herself.

Neither effort cooled her off even a little. “If I remember Sky’s description correctly, there’s only one more song this afternoon. Then there will be feasting until sunset.”

Collie’s smile was strained as she closed her parasol and laid it aside. “Do you think Skylar would be very upset if Raymond and I skipped the feast?”

She glanced at her husband, and her smile faded altogether. “I don’t like your father’s coloring, Rayna. He would never admit it, but he hasn’t been feeling well lately. I think I should get him out of this sun.”

Though Rayna had always viewed her robust father as invulnerable, she had to agree with Collie. He hadn’t been looking well for quite some time, 38