“How thoughtful,” I murmured coldly, and saw Julio’s eyes go from one to the other of us, although he made no comment. He knew I had no fondness for his brother; why should I pretend?
We walked forward again, with Lucas in the lead this time, and Julio following closely behind me. He seemed considerate of me and it was his hand that closed around my arm when I stumbled. Lucas did not even turn his head to see if we followed or not.
I cannot remember how far we walked. The valley widened and seemed to stretch before us, like a miniature kingdom. The country to the left was flat and grassy for the most part, to the right, where the mountain peaks seemed to tower higher than they did anywhere else, the terrain seemed rougher, and split by deep, narrow gullies or arroyos, which, Julio explained, could become roaring watercourses in the summer, when the snow began to melt on the mountaintops.
The corral Lucas had spoken of was a rough, wooden enclosure nestled in grass taller than any I’d ever seen before. There were four or five horses in it: restless, high-stepping animals of Arab stock.
Apaches did not use saddles—only blankets thrown across a horse’s back and bridles made of plaited horsehair or buckskin. Even these were provided in a small lean-to by the side of the corral.
“Would you like to choose which one you’d like to ride?” Surprising me, Lucas came to lean his elbows on the rough fence beside me.
I have always loved horses, and I couldn’t pretend indifference.
“That one—the spotted stallion. The breed is unfamiliar, I think, although I believe I can detect Arab blood in him.”
“You’re a pretty good judge of horseflesh, nidee.” Even the slightly sarcastic inflection of his voice when he called me sister could not detract from the fact that he had actually paid me a compliment. “He’s half Appaloosa. Sired by the first horse I ever owned, off an Arabian mare. You sure you can handle him?”
Was he challenging me again? I gave him a level look, but I could detect no mockery in his face this time.
“May I ride him?”
He shrugged. “Mount him from the right side. An’ remember he’s used to bein’ guided mostly by the pressure of your knees. Got a soft mouth, so don’t saw back too hard on the reins. Best horse in the corral. You’ve chosen well.”
In spite of my earlier forebodings I could not help feeling a thrill of anticipation at being able to ride again. Lucas, for a change, was being almost affable, and Julio, away from his responsibilities as a family man, seemed lighthearted.
After the horses had been “saddled” Apache fashion, we set out, and it was Julio who complimented me this time.
“I see that our little sister rides well,” he commented to Lucas, who merely nodded, his eyes flickering over me without expression. He seemed to have relapsed into his usual mood of somber introspection, and as we rode forward I found myself studying him covertly. He looked like a man with something eating at him inside, but why? He was free; he had a girl waiting for him. I didn’t think he was the kind of man who’d have a conscience that would bother him.
We skirted another deep, steep-sided canyon that seemed to climb to the mountain’s edge, and Julio, riding close to me, said in a low voice, “My brother has a small cabin up there, a place he goes to when he wants to be alone. Even I have not been there. But then—” and he shrugged, “I do not come here often. I prefer the freedom of my people.”
Every now and then I found myself forgetting that Julio was an Apache subchief, and the father of two young children. Like his brother, he was something of an enigma. But it was Lucas, in spite of everything I knew about him, who intrigued me most. A man like him—why would he want to be alone? I could better imagine him acting on sheer animal impulse. What had intrigued poor Flo so much that she would leave the security she had had to follow him? Above all, and the thought came to me like a blow, what was I doing here, in the midst of all this intrigue, playing the part of a helpless pawn?
We were descending, almost imperceptibly, into a part of the valley that was like a bowl, a green and brown depression within a depression. Even the climate seemed to have changed in some subtle way. There was no snow here, and the air seemed slightly warmer. The mountains that ringed us seemed to tower loftily and even more impenetrably. Craggy peaks brushed with snow, cloud-touched in some places.
Again I thought, what am I doing here? How did I come to be here? But strangely, the thought did not frighten me as it had done before. I could not help feeling exhilarated by the challenge that lay ahead of me, and the beauty of the land that lay around me. A tiny Eden. How long had this valley lain here, like a woman untouched, waiting to be taken? Even the thoughts that came into my mind were strange, not my usual, practical thoughts. I was here. The old shaman had talked of things that were meant to be; and I recalled now that I had heard so-called wise men in India speak of something they called karma, one’s inescapable fate, shaped by all the events in the past. Strange, but ever since I had received that first communication from my father, I had been caught up in the past, moved and influenced by things that had taken place long before I was born. My being here too had something to do with the past, but I felt, quite suddenly, that for the first time since I had come to America I was completely on my own, with no one else to guide me, advise me. But I had my wits, my intelligence…
Julio, who had ridden ahead with Lucas for the last few minutes, now dropped back, bringing his mount beside mine. “You like what you have seen so far?”
“How can I help it?” My response was honest. “It’s beautiful. But—” and I spoke aloud the question that had been puzzling me for some time, “Where are all the people? I’ve seen cattle, and horses; who looks after them?”
He made a sound that might have passed for laughter in another man.
“You have sharp eyes, nidee. Yes, we have people who tend to the animals here—not many, but a few trusted men my mother brought with her from Mexico. But no doubt they are at the house now, having their evening meal. It is getting late, and the sun drops from view early here. There’s no need to watch for intruders in this place, for who could find it?”
“But surely your people know of this place?”
“A few do. But we respect the dwelling places of our friends and families. Sometimes if a winter has been very hard, we come here. There is always food and game to be found if we want it. My brothers who came with us will stay here for a while, until the hides we took have been cured, and the meat smoked and packed away. And then they will return.”
“Why don’t they come with us?”
“The Apache does not like to live in a house. They will find their own place and the women will build a wickiup to shelter them.”
“You left the silver too,” I said a trifle sarcastically, but Julio was impervious to sarcasm.
“Who will touch it? Later, one of my mother’s vaqueros will go and bring it back to the house.”
“The house,” I repeated slowly. “Won’t you feel stifled within the walls and roof of a house?”