“Fine,” Candice snapped, making him jerk around. Her eyes flashed murderously. “You want it built better, you do it by yourself.”
Luz and Shozkay looked at each other.
Jack tested the gohwah. “Fortunately, the weather is good. Come here. Ill show you how to weave this grass in.”
Luz restrained him. “I’ll do it,” she said, smiling. “Do you speak Spanish?” she said, switching to her grandmother’s tongue.
“Yes, a bit,” Candice said. “I understand better than I speak it, though.”
“I will teach her. After all, she is now my sister.” Luz bit her lip, and there was a quick exchange of glances between Jack and the two Apaches.
“What does she mean?” Candice asked Jack, understanding Luz perfectly.
Shozkay answered. “My brother has traded for you. You become our sister the way Luz became his sister through me. It is just a manner of speaking.” He smiled.
Candice watched them walk away, her arms crossed over her chest.
Luz showed her how to weave strands of the long bear grass through the brush. She did it quickly and efficiently. Candice was tired of the task and tired in general, and her weaving was loose and shoddy.
“Do you like Jack?” she asked curiously as she picked up another length of grass. The strands were between three and four feet long.
Luz smiled. “Very much. He is brave and strong. He brings much pride to the path he walks, and never shame.”
Candice absorbed that. “Why is he called ‘Niño Salvaje’?”
“It was the name the great Cochise gave him many, many winters ago.”
“Cochise named him?” She was curious.
“Yes.” Luz glanced at Candice briefly as she wove the grass into the brush. “It was a great honor to be given such a proud name by such a great warrior—the son of the chief. And he was only a boy.”
“Well, it suits him.” She yanked out the strand of grass and started over. “Why did Cochise name him? Are they related?”
“No. Cochise gave him as a gift to my husband’s parents. They loved him from early on and adopted him.”
“He gave Jack as a gift?”
“Yes.”
“But, what about Jack’s real parents?”
“I don’t know. You would have to ask him. They probably died.”
Later, after thegohwahwas finished, hides stretched tautly over the shell, Candice accepted a lesson in cooking. It wasn’t that she was interested in how to prepare the bland stew made from acorns—but she did like Luz. Some time later Luz sent her down to the creek with two woven baskets for water.
Candice looked at the baskets doubtfully. “Don’t these leak?”
Luz laughed. “No, look inside.”
She uncovered one and found that there was a clay urn within.
“We make very little pottery, it breaks too easily,” the squaw said. “But sometimes it is necessary.”
The creek ran along the entire edge of the back of the camp. She walked slowly through the pines, tired from the day, glad of the time alone. Soon she had left thegohwahsbehind. She didn’t want to think, but she instantly started speculating about the woman Datiye. She was almost at the creek when she heard Jack’s voice.
She looked up, stopping short.
Datiye was in his arms. She was pressed against him, her hands on his bare chest. She was talking rapidly in Apache, looking up into his face. He had both his hands on her waist, and his face was unreadable. Candice stood frozen.
