Me and the boys rode out of Lincoln as quickly as possible. We knew the law would be after us. We stopped in a large field once we were sure we weren't being followed. Billy was almost doubled over in the saddle, his white shirt growing redder every second. He was breathing hard, and I could tell he was trying not to cry.

"Hey, are you all right?" I asked him.

"Sure. I've gotten worse bellyaches from your cooking." said Billy.

I scowled. "That's not funny."

I glanced over at Charley, who had calmed immeasurably since we left Lincoln. He turned his horse to the south, saying he was going back to Juarez to see Manuela. We wished him well. Then Doc announced he was taking Yen back east. "Where you going?" Doc asked Billy.

"Silver City, Albuquerque, Fort Sumner maybe."

"You're staying here?" said Chavez. "That's not a smart choice, Chivato. The rest of the Murphy men will hang you if they find you."

"They can't hang me if they don't find me," said Billy. "I'm not leavin' here. New Mexico's my home." He sat quietly for a moment, a soft breeze ruffled our hair. Then Billy turned his back to us. "'Rena, did you know you're bleeding?"

Now I remembered some of the bullets Murphy's boys fired had grazed me. I was damn lucky not to be hurt worse.

"I wish ya luck, wherever you're gonna go, Chavez," said Billy, preparing to turn his horse.

"May the Great Spirit protect you, Chivato." Chavez said seriously. I knew what he must be thinking, that Billy might not make it considering how bad he was hurt. I hoped Billy would survive; I always liked him.

"You take care of yourself, 'Rena." Billy rode away, leaving me and Chavez alone in the desert.

"Where you headed?" I asked.

"California. Like I said before." he replied.

"Take me with you," I said. I mentally shook myself. Why the hell had I said that?

Chavez shook his head sadly. "My life will be too unpredictable for some time, Querida, and I love you too much to allow you to risk yours." I blinked, taken slightly aback. Chavez laid his hand on mine. "But I promise you one thing: Someday, when the timing is right, I will come back for you and we can make a long life together."

"I-I love you...too," I stammered. I removed the cord on which hung the bullet I'd taken. "I want you to have this to remember me by."

Chavez slipped the cord around his own neck. We hugged the best we could with both of us on horseback. I watched as he rode off toward the west.

Now, I had a hell of a problem. I never expected to live through the Lincoln County War, so I hadn't made any plans for later. I swallowed my tears and tried to think coherently. Trying to settle in a town somewhere was ludicrous; I was too well-known. The only other option I had was to ride to my former home, Warm Springs Reservation. If I arrived and nothing was left of it, well, I was truly screwed.

I rode until it was almost dark and reached a small town. I was hungry and thirsty, but had too much pride to start knocking on strangers' doors. Besides, with my luck, the owner of the house would recognize me as the famous outlaw Rampaging Riddle and take a poke at collecting the price on my head. I slept in the desert that night, keeping one eye open in case I was attacked.

Midday, I reached the rock formations I knew to border our burial ground. I turned the stolen horse loose and began the hike to the village. The men posing as sentries glowered at me suspiciously. I doubted they remembered who I was, since they hadn't seen me in four years. My God, had it been that long?

I walked through the village. Usually at this time of day, the people would be out enjoying the sunshine: women grinding corn or weaving, men racing their war ponies, small children getting under everyone's feet. The village of the present was ominously silent, not so much as a scrawny coydog prowling the area. I reached the outskirts of the village and spotted the teepee I once shared with Father.

I cautiously pushed back the flap and stuck my head inside. A man knelt on a woven mat with his back to me, intent on whatever he was doing. His black hair was streaked haphazardly with gray, quite unlike Black Fox. Sadly, I realized Father must have died during my absence and this man was his replacement.

I closed the tent flap. I sat down on the ground outside, pulled my knees to my chest, and began to cry. All day long I'd pictured Father coming to greet me, looking just as he had when I was fifteen. But he was dead now and I hadn't been there for him. I gave a small gasp of surprise as I heard the tent flap open. The new medicine looked curiously at me, then his rheumy eyes glimmered.

"Daughter!" he exclaimed.

"Father!" The relief I felt was indescribable.

Father wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. I closed my eyes, breathing in the sweet, familiar odor of sage and sweetgrass. We broke apart. Father took my face in his hands, as though to make sure it was truly me.

"I'm home," I whispered to him as tears ran down my face again.