Ayana opened her mouth.
Then movement near the cottonwoods caught her eye.
A stranger had appeared at the edge of the village.
Dust covered his boots.
His faded shirt had been patched at one shoulder.
His hat looked as if it had survived three storms, two horses, and at least one bar fight.
He stopped the instant he realized dozens of armed men were staring at him.
Then he slowly removed his hat.
His other hand remained deliberately far from the revolver at his hip.
“I’m sorry,” he called.
“I appear to have arrived somewhere I wasn’t invited.”
Nobody answered.
The stranger glanced behind himself.
“I can go.”
Warriors shifted.
Whitehawk studied him.
“What do you want?”
“A horse.”
That answer created several puzzled expressions.
The stranger swallowed.
“My horse, specifically.
Bay gelding.
White mark over the left eye.
He got frightened by a rattlesnake about five miles south and decided he was better at choosing directions than I am.”
A child giggled.
The stranger glanced at the boy.
“He may be right.”
Several adults hid smiles.
Whitehawk stepped forward.
“Your name?”
“Ethan Walker.”
“Where do you live?”
“Small cattle place northwest of Tucson.”
“You came here alone?”
“Yes.”
“You knew nothing of this gathering?”
Ethan looked around at the assembled warriors.
“No, sir.
If I had, I would have worn a cleaner shirt.”
Stone Elk coughed suspiciously into his fist.
Whitehawk watched him another moment.
Then nodded toward the cottonwood.
“You may stand there while we finish.”
Ethan inclined his head.
“Appreciate it.”
He moved quietly beneath the tree.
That should have been the end of his involvement.
Instead, Ayana stood.
The movement instantly silenced the village.
She crossed the clearing.
Past the warriors who had ridden for days to impress her.
Past the men wearing finely worked clothing and polished ornaments.
Past men known for courage, generosity, hunting skill, and strength.
She stopped in front of Ethan Walker.
Ethan looked over his shoulder.
Nobody stood behind him.
Ayana pointed.
“I want him.”
Ethan blinked.
“I’m sorry?”
“You.”
“I believe there has been some misunderstanding.”
“There is no misunderstanding.”
He lowered his voice.
“Ma’am, I came here looking for a horse.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you looking at me like you just bought me?”
Several people laughed.
Ayana’s mouth curved.
“I have not bought you.”
“That is reassuring.”
Whitehawk approached.
“You did not come seeking my daughter?”
“No, sir.”
“You have land?”
“Some.”
“Cattle?”
“Fifty-eight this morning.
Possibly fifty-seven if the gray steer keeps testing fences.”
A few more smiles appeared.
“Wealth?”
Ethan rubbed dust from his cheek.
“Not enough to explain why anyone here should be impressed with me.”
Whitehawk’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“If my daughter chooses you, what do you choose?”
The humor disappeared from Ethan’s face.
He looked at Ayana.
Really looked at her.
Then he shook his head.
“I don’t know her.”
Nobody moved.
“And she doesn’t know me,” Ethan continued.
“Maybe your customs are different from mine, but I wouldn’t promise marriage to somebody I met five minutes ago just because everyone happened to be watching.”
Whitehawk’s expression changed.
Not anger.
Approval.
Small, nearly invisible, but unmistakable.
“Good.”
Ayana smiled.
“That is why I chose him.”
Ethan frowned.
“Because I refused?”
“Because every other man came here expecting something.”
