From around her neck, she pulled a leather cord.
Hanging from it was another piece of silver.
The other half.
Elias stared.
He placed his piece beside hers.
They fit.
Perfectly.
Neither spoke.
Then Isabela began to cry.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
She simply covered her face and wept.
Elias sat beside her.
He wanted to comfort her.
But he didn't know how.
So he waited.
After several minutes, she whispered:
"My mother used to sing."
Elias smiled sadly.
"She did."
"Do you remember?"
"Every word."
"Tell me."
So he did.
He told her about Mary.
How she had been stubborn.
How she rode horses faster than most men.
How she loved storms.
How she once stole a pie from a window and blamed him.
Isabela laughed through her tears.
"She sounds like me."
"She does."
"What happened to my father?"
Elias looked toward the doorway.
"Chief Nantan?"
"Yes."
"I don't know."
"You think he lied?"
"I think he has reasons for keeping secrets."
As if summoned by the words, the chief entered.
He looked at Elias.
Then at Isabela.
His expression told them he already knew.
"You found the truth."
Elias stood.
"You knew."
The chief nodded.
"From the beginning."
"Who is she?"
"My daughter."
"She's my niece."
"Both can be true."
Elias's fists tightened.
"You forced me to marry her."
"I needed you close."
"Why?"
The chief looked at Isabela.
"Because men are coming."
"What men?"
"The same men who killed your sister."
Elias went still.
The chief continued.
"Your sister did not die because of Apache warriors."
"Then who killed her?"
"Men who wanted land."
The chief explained.
Years earlier, Mary Bell had discovered that a group of land speculators were deliberately provoking violence between settlers and Apache families. They wanted the government to declare the region unsafe, remove the Apache people, and seize valuable land.
Mary had discovered evidence.
So they hunted her.
When the attack came, she was captured.
Chief Nantan found her dying near a river.
She had one child.
A little girl.
Isabela.
Mary gave the child to him.
"Protect her," she had whispered.
Nantan had promised.
He raised Isabela as his own.
The scar came later.
When Isabela was fifteen, one of the men responsible for the old attack found her.
He tried to kill her.
She survived.
The scar remained.
"The men believe the girl died," Nantan said.
"They are wrong."
"Yes."
Elias stared at him.
"What does this have to do with me?"
Nantan reached beneath his shirt and pulled out a folded paper.
He gave it to Elias.
It was a land deed.
Signed names.
Dates.
Payments.
Elias recognized one immediately.
Samuel Carter.
His employer.
Elias's stomach tightened.
"Samuel is involved?"
"Samuel works with them."
Elias thought about the letter.
The money.
The convenient job.
The border trail.
It had all been a trap.
"They sent me here."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"To find us."
Elias looked at Isabela.
"They knew you were alive."
"Perhaps."
"Then why send me?"
Nantan's voice became cold.
"Because they believed you would lead them to me."
Elias understood.
Samuel had known about the Apache camp.
He had known about Isabela.
He had sent Elias into the valley expecting him to become a guide.
Instead, Elias had become her husband.
And now he was standing between the people hunting her and the woman he had unexpectedly come to care about.
Nantan looked at him.
"Now you understand."
Elias folded the document.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Ride north."
"To Samuel?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because they believe you are still working for them."
Elias smiled grimly.
"Then let's let them keep believing it."
Isabela stood.
"You can't go alone."
"I won't."
Her eyes widened.
"You want me to come?"
"I married you."
"You married me under threat."
"That part doesn't change the fact that you're my wife."
She studied him.
"And if I refuse?"
Elias smiled.
"Then I guess I'll have to go alone."
For the first time, she smiled back.
"No."
"What?"
"I'm coming."
The Men Who Wanted Her Dead
They left before dawn.
Elias rode ahead.
Isabela followed on a gray mare named Silver.
She had changed into riding clothes and tied her hair beneath a hat.
The scar on her face was uncovered.
Elias noticed that.
"You don't want the veil?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I am tired of hiding."
He nodded.
"Good."
They traveled for two days.
On the third afternoon, they found the first body.
A man lay beside the trail.
Dead.
Elias dismounted.
The man's coat carried the insignia of Samuel Carter's ranch.
"He was one of Samuel's riders."
Isabela examined the ground.
"Look."
She pointed.
Hoofprints.
Many.
"They weren't killed here," she said.
Elias looked closer.
"Dragged."
She nodded.
"They're following us."
Elias looked toward the horizon.
The desert seemed empty.
But empty landscapes could lie.
They rode until sunset.
That night, they camped in a narrow canyon.
Elias built a small fire.
Isabela sat opposite him.
"You've been quiet."
"So have you."
"I've been thinking."
"About?"
"Us."
Elias looked at her.
She continued.
"We are married."
"Apparently."
"But we don't know what that means."
"Not yet."
She smiled.
"You always answer like that."
"Because I don't pretend to know things I don't."
She stared into the fire.
"I was afraid when I removed my veil."
"Why?"
"Because people look at scars before they look at the person."
Elias nodded.
"I know."
"Do you?"
"I have my own."
He touched his chest.
She understood.