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and she was beginning to worry. “Mother, if you and Papa want to leave now, I’m sure Skylar would understand. Having you here has meant a lot to her, but she wouldn’t want either of you to suffer.”

“Then I think we’ll ride on back to the house. I’ll have one of the hands bring the buggy back for you.”

“Oh, don’t bother with that. I can walk.”

Collie patted Rayna’s arm in her most motherly fashion. “Not in this heat, dear.”

Rayna was too hot to argue. She glanced around, looking for her father, and was surprised to see Skylar coming toward them. Though this was the third day Rayna had seen her sister in her ceremonial dress, she was struck again by how beautiful Skylar looked in her costume. As Mary Long Horn’s attendant, she wore a buckskin dress very similar to the celebrant’s. The waist-length cape and calf-length skirt had been tanned and bleached in the sun until they were nearly snow white. Layers of fringe adorned with tin cones and beads hung from the waist of the cape and down the sleeves, and the fringe of the skirt dangled to the tops of her beaded moccasins.

As she walked, the fringe swayed gently, creating swirls of motion around her. Her unbound hair hung to her waist, adorned only by a single feather that had been braided into her hair so that it fell onto her right shoulder.

What had surprised Rayna most about her appearance was that she had also donned the necklace she had made years ago. The bone, silver beads, and turquoise choker fit her throat snugly, and the crudely carved Thunder Eagle medallion that hung down between her breasts swayed lightly as she walked.

Whatever its significance to her, whether real or imagined, it was a lovely adornment. In this native costume, Skylar was stunningly beautiful. She was also thoroughly Apache.

The strained smile on Collie’s face told Rayna that her mother was thinking the same thoughts. “Is something wrong?” Rayna asked as Skylar knelt on the blanket in front of them. “I didn’t think you were supposed to leave Mary’s side.”

“White Painted Woman is resting,” Skylar said, careful to follow the pro-scription that during the ceremony Mary be referred to only as the Apache deity she represented for these four days. Skylar looked at her mother. “I am concerned about you and Father. I know that you came to show your support of me, and that means more than you can ever know. You mustn’t feel obligated to stay, though. It’s much too hot to stand in the sun all afternoon.”

Collie reached out and brushed a lock of hair over her daughter’s shoulder.

“It’s hot for you, too, dear.”

A radiant smile lit Skylar’s face. “I’ve hardly noticed the heat, Mother.

Attending White Painted Woman has kept me too busy. And besides”—she gestured toward a tall ceremonial lodge that was open at the bottom but cov-39

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ered with brush and yucca leaves at the top—”I spend most of my time in the shade. You and Father are suffering far more than I.”

“What about me?” Rayna asked, affecting a teasing pout. “Don’t I get any credit for suffering, too?”

Skylar laughed and took her sister’s hand. “Not a bit. If you weren’t here, you’d be out scouting the herd, and you wouldn’t feel the heat, either.” Her look of gratitude was enough to tell Rayna that Skylar understood why she was here and that she appreciated the sacrifice.

“Actually, dear, I was thinking of taking your father home after the next ritual,” Collie said.

“Good. He doesn’t look well.” Skylar glanced around. “If you can drag him away from Consayka, you should take him home immediately.”

“Thank you, dear. I believe I will.”

“I should be getting back now,” Skylar said. As she rose, she glanced in the direction of the house, barely visible in the distance, and she frowned. “What is that, I wonder?”

Collie twisted around and Rayna stood. A cloud of dust was rising out of one of the shallow flats between the Mescalero encampment and the hacienda. A murmur of voices nearer to the ceremonial grounds suggested that the Templetons were not the only ones to notice the phenomenon.

“Looks like company’s coming,” Raymond said as he joined his family under the cottonwood. A moment later that prediction was borne out as two flags appeared on the rise, announcing the arrival of a long column of cavalry troops.

“What the devil are they doing here?” Rayna muttered.

Collie chided Rayna for her language, and Skylar glanced nervously behind her at the cluster of Mescaleros who were gathering near the ceremonial lodge. “I must get back to White Painted Woman.” She placed one hand on her father’s arm, drawing his attention down to her. “You won’t let them disrupt the ceremony, will you, Papa?”

Raymond wrapped one arm around his daughter and gave her an encouraging hug. “Of course not, princess. Don’t you worry about a thing. They probably just want to ask permission to make camp nearby.”

Wanting to believe it was that simple, Skylar hurried off, the cones on her dress tinkling lightly as she walked.

As the cavalry drew closer, Rayna spotted Gil Rodriguez riding alongside the officers at the head of the queue. That made sense, since Gil would have been on hand to greet them when they arrived at the hacienda. He had undoubtedly offered to take them to Raymond, but if they only wanted permission to camp on Rancho Verde land, why hadn’t the officer in charge come out here alone? Why bring his hot, dusty troops along?

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Whether their slow pace was a concession to the heat or a sign of the lack of urgency, Rayna couldn’t have guessed, but it seemed to take them forever to arrive.

As they drew close, Raymond finally stepped out of the shade to greet them, and though Collie hung back a few paces, Rayna was right at her father’s side.

At the head of the column, Meade Ashford studied the scene before him with dread. He had disliked this detail from the moment he had been assigned to it three days ago, and what he saw now made him detest it all the more. A man was coming toward them with an attractive young woman at his side and another lady slightly behind. All three were tall and fair-haired with complex-ions more suited to Nordic winters than to desert summers. They looked like a pleasant family out for an afternoon picnic.

The fact that they had permitted a group of Apaches to live and work on their land indicated that they had some attachment to the Mescalero the cavalry was about to incarcerate. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant confrontation for anyone, with the possible exception of Robert Greenleigh. In Meade’s opinion, the captain was displaying far too much relish for the task at hand.

His intolerance of all Apaches, friend or foe, was well known, and Meade was certain he couldn’t be counted on to bend an inch.

The ranch foreman, Rodriguez, had said the Mescalero were engaged in some sort of ritual, and from the looks of things, Meade guessed that it was a maiden ceremony. Over the years, Libby had coerced him into attending a number of Apache rites, and the maiden ceremony had been his first. It wasn’t one of his fondest memories, but neither was it something he was likely to forget.

Looking beyond the man and two women near the cottonwood, Meade studied the cluster of Mescaleros near the ceremonial grounds. A maiden ceremony indicated the presence of a teenaged girl, but Meade was struck immediately by the noticeable absence of young children. Usually they were everywhere at events like this. The Indians he saw were mostly old men and women, and a few middle-aged couples.

These were the Apache he’d been sent to subdue? It was absurd. These people weren’t about to make trouble for anyone.

Captain Greenleigh, whose pomaded muttonchops and bushy mustache had long since wilted in the heat, gave a signal to the sergeant behind him, and the troops came to a halt a short distance from their welcoming party.

“Mr. Raymond Templeton?”

“That’s right, Captain,” Raymond said cautiously.

“Mr. Templeton, I am Captain Robert Greenleigh, and this is Major Meade Ashford of the One Hundred-fortieth Regiment of the United States Cavalry.”

“Gentlemen,” Raymond said with a nod. “My wife, Colleen, and my daughter, Rayna.”

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Both officers touched their hats in acknowledgment of the ladies, then dismounted. As they came off their horses, Rayna noticed the gold oak leaves on the shoulder of the second officer and wondered why a major would allow a subordinate to do the talking. They handed their reins to a waiting sergeant and stepped forward.

Meade removed his hat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir, ladies. We apologize for the interruption.” He gestured toward the brush-covered lodge. “This is a maiden ceremony in progress, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Rayna replied, surprised by his knowledge. “How did you know?”

“I recognized the maiden lodge and some of the other accoutrements,”

Meade replied, looking at her closely for the first time. She wasn’t quite as young as he’d first thought, but she was even more attractive. She was, in fact, quite beautiful. Her simple skirt and shirtwaist highlighted a trim but well-curved figure, and delectable wisps of her upswept blond hair clung damply to her face, framing her lightly tanned skin and arresting blue eyes.