CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lucia felt at peace as she walked with Carlos along the forest path toward the camp of Salvador. The four days away had been good for her and she did not mind so much going back to be the White Sun Woman again. Perhaps it was true what Salvador had told her, that in time she would get used to her new life. Certainly if she could get away like this whenever she wanted, things would not be so bad. Next time they went out, they would have better hunting, and they would take some game to the old woman. When they had left her that morning, in the misty dawn, they had promised her they would return another time.

As they approached the point near the camp where they should give a signal to the sentry, Lucia touched Carlos’ arm. “Let me try it,” she said.

“Go ahead,” he answered.

She raised her head a little and cupped her hands around her mouth and made the barking sound that she had been practicing all day. She did it well and was pleased with herself as she put her hands on her hips and listened for an answer. But in the stillness of the summer noon only silence came back to them. She looked at Carlos. “Was it so bad? It sounded good to me.”

He seemed a little puzzled. “It was good. But perhaps not loud enough.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and made his own barking sound, louder than he usually made it, loud enough for anyone to hear. But the dense green forest closed around it and nothing came back except the cawing of crows above the treetops overhead.

Fear was coming to Lucia now, slipping in quietly to press against her heart. She looked at Carlos, who was staring ahead up the path, thinking. Then he turned and led the way off the path, and they moved silently together beneath the trees. When they were deep into the forest, far from the path, they stopped beside a great oak tree, its limbs wide and gnarled. Lucia glanced at Carlos. His face was grim.

“You do not think the sentry is sleeping,” she said softly.

“No.”

“Nor do I. Our signals would have wakened him.”

“There is no sentry,” said Carlos.

“Maybe it is because the Spaniards have gone. Maybe the camp is no longer afraid.” But she did not believe that herself. It had never been Spaniards that the people here had feared.

“There should be a sentry,” he said.

She was staring absently into the forest, one hand on her hip and the fingers of the other hand against her lips.

“Wait for me here,” said Carlos. “I will go and have a look. If everything is all right, I will come back for you.”

“No. I will come with you.”

He shook his head. “I want you to wait here. What can you do if you come?”

“I can see what has happened, the same as you. And if there is danger, do not worry about me. I will meet you back here.”

He looked at her and smiled a little. “You think you are that smart and quick, that it would be nothing to get back here?”

She shrugged. “If we are quiet, there will be no danger. If we go carefully, there will be no need to run.”

He could see now how serious she was and that she knew what would be required. “Come after me, then. A little way behind. And watch for whatever signal I might give you.”

She nodded, and he turned and started away in the direction of the town. She waited a few moments and then followed. They had only gone a short distance when she began to smell the stench.

Buzzards swirled overhead. The camp was in ashes and many of the bodies were burned. But even those that had not been burned could not be recognized, for the summer heat and scavenging animals had worked quickly on them and there was nothing left of them that was familiar. Lucia had tried to be strong and walk with Carlos through the carnage, but it was more than she could bear, and she had turned away at last and gone back into the forest to wait for him at the great oak tree. She lay now on the soft forest floor with one arm stretched out beneath her head and watched a file of large black ants moving over the leaves. Every now and then she reached up with her free hand and brushed away the tears that rose to blur her vision. She had seen enough to know that the dead were mostly men and old people and children too young to walk. Most of the women and older children had been taken away. The work of slave-catchers.

Carlos found her lying there when he returned. He sat down beside her and for a long time they were silent. Then he said, “I think I saw Salvador.”

She nodded but did not speak.

“I am not certain,” he said. “But I think it was he. I looked for some others, but I could not tell. I would have known them by their clothing, but the slave-catchers took all the clothing away.”

“When do you think it happened?” she asked quietly.

“The day we left.”

“The dream of the Water Cougar,” said Lucia. “Isabel tried to warn him.”

“And who warned you, that last night we were here? What if you had not come with me? How did you know to come?”

“Perhaps it was a dream. But I cannot remember one. Only a terrible fear. It went away when you said you would take me with you.”

They were silent again, neither of them moving. They were trying to bring it all into themselves, to know it and accept it.

At last she said, “We cannot stay in Apalachee any longer.”

“No, we cannot stay here,” he agreed.

“Where will we go?”

“To San Augustín or to Mobile,” he said. “We have our choice. To the Spaniards or the French.

“Or north to the English.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I will never live with the Creeks. Not after what they have done to us. I saw Ayubale and now I have seen this. I want nothing from the Creeks unless it be revenge. They are more our enemies than the Spaniards are.”

“Many of our people are among them.”

“They are not my people,” Carlos said bitterly. “Not any more.”

“Then you would go with the Spaniards?”

“Yes, that is where I think we should go. We feel nothing for the French. We do not know their language. With the Spaniards we can get along.”

She nodded.

“And will the White Sun Woman leave Apalachee?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered softly.

He looked down at her and brushed his fingers over her cheek. “It makes you sad.”

“Yes, but I am tired of trying to stay here. It will almost be a relief to go.”

“You can still sing the song in the mornings.”

She nodded. “I can, it is true. The Sun will come the same every morning no matter where we are.”

“And the song is very lovely.”

“Yes. Perhaps I will still do that.”

There was silence all around them in the forest, the air hot and still. In the distance they could hear the raucous cries of the crows as they squabbled with the buzzards for the carrion.