She smiled slightly.
"Why?"
"Because I've been hungry."
"Being alone?"
Thomas looked toward the grave.
"That too."
Anpetu studied him.
"You are already like us."
Thomas frowned.
"No."
"You have lost someone."
"That doesn't make me Lakota."
"No."
She looked at the surrounding land.
"It makes you human."
Thomas had no answer.
For the first time, they stood together without the weight of guns between them.
Then the sound of distant horses interrupted them.
Anpetu turned.
Her expression changed.
"What?"
She looked toward the southern road.
"Soldiers."
Thomas felt his stomach tighten.
"How many?"
"Too many."
He stared toward the dust rising in the distance.
"How many?"
"Forty."
Thomas looked toward the hills.
Five hundred warriors.
Forty soldiers.
One farm.
Anpetu grabbed her horse's reins.
"I should go."
"No."
She looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because if they see you riding away, they'll know."
"They already know."
"Then stay."
She stared at him.
Thomas walked toward the farmhouse.
"I have something to tell you."
"What?"
"I don't think your father wants me to choose between you and the soldiers."
"What does he want?"
Thomas stopped.
"I think he wants to know whether I understand that choosing one side doesn't mean hating the other."
Anpetu's eyes widened slightly.
Then she nodded.
"You are learning."
"Slowly."
The soldiers arrived before noon.
Captain Rourke led them.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and visibly irritated by the distance he had traveled.
He dismounted.
"Thomas Hale?"
Thomas stepped forward.
"Yes."
The captain looked at Anpetu.
His face hardened.
"You've been harboring a hostile."
Thomas said nothing.
Rourke pointed.
"Move away from her."
Anpetu's hand moved toward her knife.
Thomas stepped between them.
"She's not a prisoner."
The captain stared.
"You don't decide that."
"She's injured."
"She's one of them."
Thomas felt anger rise.
"She's a person."
The captain laughed without humor.
"You've been out here too long."
Thomas looked at the soldiers.
"You're forty."
Rourke narrowed his eyes.
"How many do you think are watching us?"
Thomas did not answer.
The captain glanced toward the hills.
"Your little friends?"
Thomas said quietly:
"They aren't my friends."
Anpetu looked at him.
Thomas continued.
"But they're not my enemies either."
Rourke stepped closer.
"Where are they?"
Thomas looked at him.
"I don't know."
The captain knew he was lying.
Everyone knew.
"You're protecting them."
"I'm protecting my farm."
"Same thing."
"No."
Thomas pointed toward the wheat.
"If you start shooting, those fields burn."
Then toward the barn.
"My horses panic."
Then toward the house.
"And my home becomes a battlefield."
Rourke stared at him.
"You'd risk your life for strangers?"
Thomas thought of Anpetu lying beside the creek.
"Yes."
The captain's expression became cold.
"Then perhaps you deserve what happens next."
He turned toward his men.
"Prepare."
Thomas's heart stopped.
The soldiers began loading rifles.
On the hills, hundreds of warriors appeared.
The valley changed instantly.
Anpetu moved beside Thomas.
"Do not run."
"I wasn't planning to."
"You may die."
"So may they."
She looked at him.
Thomas gave a tired smile.
"Apparently that's what today is about."
The chief appeared on the ridge.
He raised his hand.
The warriors did not attack.
Instead, he shouted something across the valley.
Anpetu listened.
Then she looked at Thomas.
"My father says the soldiers have one chance."
"For what?"
"To leave."
Rourke heard enough to understand the meaning.
He raised his pistol.
Thomas stepped forward.
"Captain."
"What?"
"Don't."
Rourke looked at him.
"You've got nerve."
"I've got common sense."
"You think those savages won't kill you when they're finished?"
Thomas looked toward the chief.
Then toward Anpetu.
"No."
Rourke's eyes narrowed.
"I think they already decided not to."
A silence followed.
The soldiers looked toward the hills.
Five hundred warriors.