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named George K. Hope built an adobe fort to serve as a base of operations for his trading company, made up of fur trappers, Mexican merchants, and Indian traders. Within twenty years, Hope’s Fort became a primary way station for explorers heading west, merchants serving the pipeline between the United States and Mexico, and settlers looking for their fortunes beyond the Great American Desert.
    When George Hope saw Irving and Amelia Walker approaching the fort with nothing but three horses and the packs they carried, heswore that even after all his years on the plains and all he’d seen in that time, he’d never seen anything like it.
    Ten miles or so up the river, where a village had started to put down roots, Irving built a farmhouse with a massive cellar, which Amelia filled with the contents of the one bag she carried with her.

4

    That night, Troy slept, drunk with wine and celebration. Sinon climbed to the top of the wall and lit a torch, the signal for the Greek army to return. Then he went to the main square, where the horse stood. Wide streets led out from the square, giving easy access to the heart of the city and its riches. As he watched, a door on the horse’s belly swung out, and Odysseus dropped to the ground.
    He spent a moment stretching arms and legs, easing the cramps from sitting motionless all day. Nevertheless, he drew his sword in a heartbeat when Sinon approached.
    “Easy,” Sinon said, his arms raised. “I’m a friend, I think.”
    Odysseus’s gaze widened. “Sinon, thank the gods!” They met in two strides and embraced. Odysseus stank of sweat and bodies, from being locked in close quarters with a dozen other men. But they were here, within the walls of Troy.
    “You lit the torch?” Odysseus said, stepping back to grip Sinon’s shoulders.
    “Yes.”
    “Then we should open the gate. The army will be here soon.” The man’s eyes blazed in the dark of night. Sinon grinned, though his swollen face felt stiff.
    A short hour later, Troy was on fire.
    Sinon didn’t fight much. He’d done his part for the final battle, had gathered enough wounds, and found that he was too weary to do more. He’d be more of a hindrance than ahelp, lagging behind while the army pillaged the city. Troy was rich. There’d be plunder enough for all. Right now, all the treasure he wanted was rest.
    He found a vantage at the temple of Apollo, a rotunda built on the highest hill. He hiked the steps to the portico and leaned on a column. From here, he could see most of the city. The fires started on a few roofs had swallowed entire blocks. He smelled the smoke, thick and caustic. The Trojans had been caught off guard. They ran out of burning buildings, fleeing in blind panic from bands of Greek soldiers. The Greeks, identifiable by the waving crests on their helmets, scoured the streets. Screams, shouts, the clanging of weapons and armor, drifted to him here.
    The streets ran with blood. As well they should. The Trojans had been safe behind their walls for too long. Now let them suffer for their pride.
    Sinon crossed his arms and mused.
    Something bronze clattered on the marble floor behind him. He grabbed his sword and looked.
    A woman reached for the dagger she had dropped. Her black hair was unbound, streaming in tangles down her shoulders. She wore the white tunic of a priestess, dusted with soot and blood. She limped, and her face was bruised. She was crying, the sobs coming in dry gasps.
    She held the knife like she was thinking of lunging at him, and her face twisted in anguish. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”
    He gripped his sword, but kept it low, not to threaten but to guard, to show she couldn’t reach him before he could defend himself. “I think not.”
    “Then there is only this,” she said, and lay the point of the dagger on her own chest.
    He jumped at her and knocked the weapon out of her hand before she could drive it through her ribs. Screaming, she fell away from him, pawing at