He had made an attempt to learn a few of their words, but when he used them, the white men often laughed at him. It was a constant source of frustration and humiliation to him that he could not deal with the Indian agent and other white men as an equal. Consayka’s band would not have that problem. They would not be laughed at when they spoke to Newsome, and they would never have to fear that their words had been misunderstood.

Perhaps at least one good thing had come from Consayka’s break with the People. Meeting Consayka, which had before seemed like a duty to Sun Hawk, was now something he anticipated with relish.

He listened patiently to a few words of advice from his father and uncle, then went off to find the Verdes’ encampment.

Though Skylar was trying very hard not to be sad, it was difficult for her to look around the pitiful excuse for a camp she and her friends had made and not feel the tug of that emotion. Their departure from Rancho Verde had been so swift that they had not had time to dismantle the poles of their lodges, and this afternoon they’d had no chance to search for stout saplings to replace them. Instead, they had constructed several brush-covered wickiups like those the Mescaleros used when they traveled. There were not enough shelters to accommodate everyone, but at least the elderly would have some protection from the chill night air as they slept.

The departure of Major Ashford with the other soldiers had also saddened Skylar, but she tried not to dwell on his absence. She had to rely on herself now that there was no one to act as her protector, and she tried to imagine what Rayna would do if their situations were reversed. Knowing her sister as she did, she found it easy to visualize her taking charge, telling people where to construct their wickiups and deciding who should collect firewood and who should carry water from the trickling stream nearby. And Rayna, in the 69

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midst of the noise and confusion she had created, would be doing as much work as anyone, if not more.

Skylar couldn’t imagine herself taking over as Rayna would, but she found it easy to take the initiative in one area. Since she had never made a wickiup before, she knew she would only get in the way if she tried to help Gatana, so she focused instead on preparing supper. Foraging through the supplies Rayna had sent, she found flour, sugar, beans, dried beef, and even some rice, which she knew Tsa’kata was quite fond of. Consuelo, the Templetons’ housekeeper, had even thought to send along cooking utensils to supplement those the Mescaleros had brought.

While Gatana and the others finished constructing the wickiups, Skylar prepared a fire and began cooking beans seasoned liberally with strips of beef.

With Mary Long Horn’s help, she rolled out tortillas, and by the time darkness fell, the Mescalero braves were seated around the fire eating. The women served their men in the traditional fashion, then retired to a separate fire, almost too exhausted to eat.

“You have done well today, Skylar,” Gatana told her when they had finished the meal. “Your mother would be proud.”

“Thank you,” she replied, trying to smile. “I know my mother would be grateful to you for all you have done to help me.”

“That is nothing,” Gatana said with a shake of her head. “I wish I could do much more. You should not be here.”

“Grandmother thinks otherwise,” Skylar said with a nod toward Tsa’kata, who appeared to be nodding off to sleep but was probably listening to every word. “She believes it is time I learned what it truly means to be an Apache.”

Gatana stroked Skylar’s hair and gently touched her cheek. “If that is your destiny, so be it. Perhaps it was meant for you to journey in this full circle. No one can say what Usen has planned for you.”

“Then I can only await his will.”

Gatana smiled. “Good. You are already learning—but that has always been so, little one. From the time you were first brought to Rancho Verde you learned what was expected of you very quickly. Once you understood that you were in a place of safety, you were eager to please. You have done what you were told and behaved as you were expected to behave.”

“I had no place to go, Gatana. I did not want to be sent away. The Templetons provided me with the same kind of warmth and security I remember receiving from my first mother and father. I would have done—and would still do—anything to keep from dishonoring them.”

Gatana shook her head. “That would not be possible for you, child.”

Tears stung Skylar’s eyes. “I miss them, Gatana.”

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“I know. If Usen wills it, you will see them again soon. But my husband and I have talked and agreed that between now and then we should take you into our family until you can return to yours. If you will allow it, I will be proud to call you daughter for a little while.”

“That would be a great honor.”

Gatana smiled and wiped at the wetness on Skylar’s cheeks. “Then dry your eyes, daughter. There is work to be done.”

“Yes . . . indé’cìmá,” she said. My Apache mother.

Gatana was pleased. After handing Skylar a bowl of rice and beans, she gestured to Consayka. “Here. Take this to your Apache father so that he can share it with the others. It will tell them all that you are his daughter and that you have his protection.”

Though Skylar knew she had nothing to fear from the men who had worked as cowhands on Rancho Verde, she did as Gatana bade her, partly out of obedience, but primarily because it was comforting to feel that she was part of a family again. She loved these people very much, and being one of them would make her separation from her real family a little easier to bear.

She moved to the brave’s fire, and with only a softly spoken “indé’cìtà,”

acknowledging Consayka as her Apache father, she knelt and handed him the bowl. He glanced at her, his eyes smiling warmly, and for a moment Skylar was transported back in time to the nights on Rancho Verde when she had sat across a campfire from this kind old man, listening to the wonderful stories he told. She hesitated a moment, caught in a web of sweet memories of a time that could never come again.

When she finally realized that the other men were looking at her strangely, she stood, and it was everything she could do to keep from crying out as a huge shape materialized in the darkness just beyond the glow of the fire. It moved to the rim of firelight, stopped, and coalesced into an Apache brave.

Skylar’s fright passed quickly, but she was assailed by other, more confusing emotions. She had never seen any man this handsome before. Tall, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, the half-naked brave would have been enough to make any maiden swoon. His coal-black hair, parted in the center, hung loose on one side of his face, flowing around his shoulder. A single braid hung from the other side, the end tipped with a feather that dangled onto the intricate bone breastplate that covered his chest.

His long legs were encased in buckskin leggings with broad flaps on either side, similar to the chaps worn by cowhands, and a small breechclout hung from his waist to cover the area that would otherwise have been exposed by the cut-away leggings.

The light dancing on his chiseled features made him seem like something from another world, like one of the fearsome Mountain Spirits Consayka had 71

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often told her about. Skylar could barely see his eyes in the darkness, but somehow she sensed that he was looking directly at her. She suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

“A friend might come to sit by the fire of other friends if he knows that he would be welcome,” the brave said in deep-throated Apache.

“A friend would never be turned away from my fire,” Consayka replied in kind. “Sit, my young friend, and share what we have.”

Wordlessly the Apache moved to the fire, choosing a vacant space between two Verde Mescaleros who were dressed in white man’s trousers and calico shirts.

“Daughter, give this to our friend,” Consayka said. He held the bowl up to Skylar, but she didn’t move. “Have you grown roots, daughter?”

The laughter of the braves brought Skylar out of her trance, and she took the bowl, chiding herself for her foolishness. Their visitor was only a man, after all. He was not a Mountain Spirit or any kind of a deity, despite his dramatic, seemingly mystical appearance from out of nowhere. It was only the stress of a long journey and the tension of this difficult day that quickened her heartbeat.

She skirted the circle and knelt beside the visitor. A true Apache maiden would have bowed her head as she offered food to a stranger, but Skylar’s curiosity overwhelmed her knowledge of Mescalero customs. Eager to dispel her image of him as a handsome god, she looked into his face as he turned to her and became instantly lost in a pair of eyes that were as black as the night and as soft as the moon shining on dark water. The eyes regarded her curiously; then a veil fell over them, and he glanced away.

Expecting no thanks for her good deed, for it was not the Apache way, she quickly rose and left the fire.

“Who is he?” Gatana asked as she returned to the women’s camp.

It was difficult for Skylar to remember how to speak. “A visitor who calls himself a friend,” she said finally.

Gatana looked at her questioningly. “Daughter? What is wrong? You sound strange.”