Her voice was calm.

“Some expected admiration.

Some expected gratitude.

Some expected marriage because they rode farther or hunted better or spoke louder.”

Her eyes stayed on Ethan.

“You expected nothing.”

“I expected to find my horse.”

“That too.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the gathering.

Ethan rubbed the back of his neck.

“Look, I mean no disrespect, but—”

A whistle sounded from the ridge.

Two warriors appeared leading a bay gelding.

Ethan straightened.

“Copper.”

The horse whinnied.

Relief washed across Ethan’s face as he hurried forward.

“You miserable traitor.”

He checked the gelding quickly for injury.

Then his hand stopped.

Something unfamiliar had been tied behind the saddle.

A leather pouch.

“What’s this?”

Nobody answered.

Ethan untied it.

Inside lay a folded paper.

He opened it.

The relief vanished from his face.

It was a crude map.

His ranch was clearly marked.

So was a winding trail leading directly toward Whitehawk’s village.

At the bottom, someone had drawn a black symbol.

A circle split by a vertical line.

Beneath it was one word.

TOMORROW.

Ethan looked up.

“What does this mean?”

Ayana’s smile disappeared.

Whitehawk turned toward the darkening ridge.

“Your horse was found near the northern trail.”

“I came from the south.”

“We know.”

A cold sensation moved through Ethan.

“Then someone rode him here?”

Whitehawk nodded.

“Someone who wanted us to find him.”

Ethan stared again at the map.

“So somebody stole my horse, brought him here, tied this to him, then released him?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Whitehawk’s voice became quiet.

“That is the question you should ask before deciding whether you leave tonight.”

Every face turned toward the cliffs.

The sunset had turned the rocks blood-red.

And suddenly Ethan understood something terrible.

His arrival had not been an accident.

He did not leave.

Not because of Ayana.

At least that was what he told himself.

Night settled quickly over the canyon.

Fires were reduced to embers.

Children were moved deeper into the village.

Scouts disappeared into darkness.

Ethan sat beside Whitehawk, Ayana, Stone Elk, and several others inside a sheltered circle of rocks.

The map lay between them.

Whitehawk tapped the symbol.

“You recognize this?”

“No.”

Stone Elk did.

His expression darkened.

“I have seen something similar.”

“Where?”

Ethan asked.

“On supply crates.”

“What kind?”

“Army.”

The word changed the air.

Ethan looked toward Whitehawk.

“You think soldiers are coming?”

“No,” said Ayana.

Everyone looked at her.

“If soldiers were coming openly, they would not need your horse.”

Whitehawk nodded.

“Someone wants one side to believe something about the other.”

Ethan leaned forward.

“Meaning?”

Ayana pointed to his ranch on the map.

“If you disappear here, what happens?”

“My neighbors eventually look for me.”

“And if they follow your trail?”

Ethan’s stomach tightened.

“They find this village.”

Stone Elk finished the thought.

“And perhaps find your body.”

Silence.

Ethan slowly looked around the circle.

“You think whoever did this planned to kill me here.”

“No,” Ayana said.

Her gaze met his.

“They planned for us to kill you.”

The words landed heavily.

Ethan looked at the dark hills.

“Then tomorrow, whoever arranged this comes to inspect the result.”

“Perhaps,” Whitehawk said.

“Or comes with enough men to create the result themselves.”

A distant owl called.

Ethan suddenly wished it were morning.

Then Ayana asked, “Who knows where you live?”

“Everyone around Tucson who cares.”