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helped unfasten the buttons on RuthAnne’s boots, released the hooks and eyes at the back of RuthAnne’s bodice, and folded the torn and ruined traveling garments, stained with her sister’s lifeblood. RuthAnne knew she would never wear them again.
    She carefully finished undressing and discreetly wrapped the thin towel around her waist to perch on the stool. She slipped her feet into the metal tub and wrung warm water from the darkening sea-sponge. At that moment, the magnitude of what had happened hit her full force. The trunks full of clothing that were on the stage, her mother’s silver hairbrush and hand mirror, Evan’s cufflinks and epaulets from his Confederate uniform, her father’s books...lost. Forever.
    But they had their lives, thanks to a soldier who did not know them. RuthAnne momentarily closed her eyes, letting the sponge drip cleansing water down her neck. She focused on the beeswax candle as it burned from the rough-hewn side table. Its flame flickered and filled the room with an amber glow.
    Mariposa’s shadow filled the screen. “It was a blessing the captain found you, as far from the road as you were.”
    “I’d all but lost hope when we heard them above us...” Despite the warm water, gooseflesh erupted over RuthAnne’s bare skin at the memory.
    with the
    “Bowen Shepherd and his men were on their way out to meet with a band of Apache. My people.”
    “Aren’t the army and the Apache at war?”
    “Not all of us. My familia ...my tribe remains in supplication to the army. They have exchanged peace for food, shelter, and information, of course. They trust Shepherd. And only Shepherd.” She spoke it as simple fact.
    RuthAnne couldn’t help but wonder. What kind of a life did this captain lead? A soldier who made peace with enemies? A man who’d abandoned her at this small mission church without even saying goodbye?
    She swallowed hard as she washed the dried blood from her arms and between her fingers. RuthAnne finally stumbled across the tears that had been so long in coming. Tears for a man she barely knew. For a sister who would live only by the grace of God. For Evan. She missed him now more than she’d dreamed possible. She closed her eyes and prayed.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 6
     
    The crow of a bantam rooster broke the morning silence. RuthAnne attempted to roll to her side in the small cot, and every muscle in her body screamed in protest. She examined her side and arms, eyeing the bruises in their full glory where there had been only shadows the night before. Turning, she groaned at the ache deep in her right side, but she didn’t think any ribs were broken.
    She noticed the pottery cup on the table beside her bed and sat up to take a drink. The lemony water cooled her parched throat. Mariposa ...She knew the native woman must have delivered the soothing liquid in the night, and she took another long swallow.
    Catching her reflection in the tin-framed mirror, RuthAnne winced. She was a ghost of herself. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. Her tangled blonde curls fell loose about her shoulders. Injury seemed to abrade every inch of her skin, but she would survive the cuts and bruises. She rubbed her stiff, sore neck as best she could, the memory of El Tejano’s gun at her throat as vivid as the purple crescent bruise it left behind. But that was yesterday. Today, she was alive. Time to figure out exactly where they’d ended up.
    The drink must have had restorative qualities, she decided, noticing that her muscles were loose and the soreness waned within moments. She dressed carefully in the light cotton blouse and faded blue tiered skirt left at the foot of her bed.
    Standing in front of the mirror, RuthAnne fidgeted with the shoulders of the rose-embroidered blouse, a vain attempt to hide her milk-white skin. Heat already seeped through the deep open windows, making her appreciate the airy fabric of her new clothes all the more.
    In the courtyard beyond,