PART 5 — THE RANCHER RETURNED WITH A GIFT, BUT THE CHIEF’S DAUGHTER WAS WAITING FOR A WARNING

Four days pᴀssed before Ethan returned to the Apache settlement.

His cattle had survived, though barely.

He had spent the previous days repairing a broken water trough, moving the herd closer to a deeper well, and thinking about Nahimana.

He told himself he was returning because of Kiona’s warning.

That was partly true.

But he also wanted to see her again.

He carried two things in his saddlebag.

A small leather-bound book and a silver hairbrush that had belonged to his late mother.

He had considered bringing flowers, but he wasn’t certain whether Nahimana would appreciate them.

The book seemed more appropriate.

When he reached the settlement, a young boy recognized him immediately.

“The white rancher!”

Several children came running.

One of them was the little girl he had rescued from the canyon.

She ran straight toward him.

“Ethan!”

He smiled.

“Well, look who’s feeling better.”

She pointed toward a tent.

“Nahimana is there.”

Ethan dismounted.

“Is she expecting me?”

The girl shook her head.

“She said you wouldn’t come.”

That surprised him.

“Why?”

“She said men always promise things when they want something.”

Ethan looked toward the tent.

“She may have a point.”

The girl giggled.

Then she ran off.

Nahimana emerged moments later.

She wore a simple blue dress, and her long black hair was loosely braided.

Her scars were visible.

She did not attempt to hide them.

“You came back,” she said.

“I said I might.”

“Most people say things they never intend to do.”

“Then I’ll try not to become most people.”

She smiled faintly.

They walked toward a small rise overlooking the settlement.

For several minutes, neither spoke.

Finally, Ethan handed her the leather-bound book.

“What is this?”

“A journal. I thought you might like somewhere to write.”

Nahimana opened it.

The first page was blank.

She ran her fingers over the paper.

“Why would you bring me this?”

“Because you seem to have many things you want to say, but not many people willing to listen.”

She looked at him.

For a moment, her eyes shone.

“Thank you.”

Then Ethan offered her the silver brush.

“This belonged to my mother.”

Nahimana immediately shook her head.

“I cannot accept something so precious.”

“You can. She would have liked you.”

“You haven’t known me long enough to say that.”

“Maybe not. But I know she respected courage.”

Nahimana held the brush carefully.

“Your mother must have been a good woman.”

“She was.”

They sat beneath a cottonwood tree.

Nahimana told him about her childhood.

She had loved horses, enjoyed carving small wooden animals, and once dreamed of becoming a healer.

After the fire, everything changed.

Some people treated her kindly.

Others avoided her.

The warriors who had once greeted her with laughter now struggled to look at her.

And Kiona had never forgiven her.

“Do you hate him?” Ethan asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because he lost his brother. I lost a part of myself that day too. We both remember the same fire, but we remember different things.”

Ethan considered that.

“Do you know what caused it?”

Nahimana looked toward the settlement.

“My father believes a lantern overturned. I never believed that.”

“Why?”

“Because I smelled oil near the back entrance. Too much oil for an ordinary accident.”

Ethan remembered Kiona’s warning.

“Did you tell anyone?”

“Yes. But no one wanted to hear it.”

“Did you find the pouch?”

Her expression changed.

“What pouch?”

Ethan realized his mistake.

He had not intended to reveal Kiona’s conversation so quickly.

“Nahimana, Kiona spoke to me after I left.”

She stood.

“What did he tell you?”

“That you had gone back into the burning lodge looking for a leather pouch.”

Her face went pale.

“Who else knows?”

“I don’t know.”

She looked toward the main settlement.

Then she spoke very quietly.

“The pouch was real.”

Ethan stood.

“What’s inside it?”

“Names. Dates. Records of supplies that were supposed to be delivered to our settlement but disappeared before reaching us.”

“Who was taking them?”

“I don’t know. My father suspected someone outside the tribe was paying men to steal them.”

“Then why was the pouch hidden in the lodge?”

“Because the lodge was being used as a temporary storage place.”

She paused.

“I never found it after the fire.”

Ethan looked at her.

“Could someone else have taken it?”

Nahimana nodded.

“Possibly.”

Before they could continue, an older woman approached.

It was Chaska’s sister, Grandmother Sani.

“Your father wants to see you both.”

Nahimana frowned.

“Why?”

Sani looked toward Ethan.

“Because someone has arrived.”

“Who?”

“A man from Tucson. He says he has come to discuss the old fire.”

Ethan exchanged a glance with Nahimana.

Inside Chaska’s tent stood a thin, well-dressed man with a narrow face and a dark mustache.

He introduced himself as Mr. Thomas Bell.

He claimed to represent a trading company that had once supplied the settlement.

“I heard the young woman has been asking questions about an old accident,” Bell said.

Nahimana stiffened.

“It wasn’t an accident.”

Bell smiled politely.

“An unfortunate event, certainly. But the past cannot always be corrected.”

Ethan noticed something unusual.

Bell’s right hand was trembling.

And his eyes kept moving toward Nahimana’s satchel.

“What exactly do you want?” Ethan asked.

Bell turned toward him.

“This is a private matter.”

“Then why did you come here?”

Bell’s smile disappeared.

“I came to offer compensation for the trouble your people have endured.”

Chaska’s expression darkened.

“We have not asked for your money.”

Bell placed a small envelope on the table.

“Ten dollars. A gesture of goodwill.”

Nahimana did not touch it.

“Keep it.”

Bell looked at her.

“You are making a mistake.”

Ethan stepped forward.

“She gave you an answer.”

For a moment, Bell’s face revealed something colder than annoyance.

Then he collected the envelope and left.

Chaska watched him disappear.

“That man has never visited this settlement before.”

Nahimana looked toward the entrance.

“Then how does he know about the fire?”

No one answered.

That evening, Ethan remained at the settlement.

He helped repair a broken fence and spent time with the children.

Nahimana watched him from a distance.

She had never seen a man so comfortable doing ordinary things without demanding recognition.

As darkness settled, Kiona approached her.

“You trust him?”

Nahimana glanced toward Ethan.

“I am beginning to.”

Kiona looked uncomfortable.

“Then you should know what I found.”

He held out a small folded paper.

“I searched the old lodge ruins this afternoon.”

Nahimana took it.

“What is this?”

“A piece of a letter. It was hidden beneath a stone.”

She unfolded it.

The handwriting was difficult to read, but one sentence remained clear.

The girl must never discover who carried the oil.

Nahimana’s face turned white.

Below the sentence was a name.

Kiona looked toward the chief’s tent.

Then he whispered:

“That name belongs to someone who still lives among us.”

Nahimana slowly raised her eyes.

“Who?”

Kiona hesitated.

Then he answered.

“My father.”