By the time the ninety-seventh warrior stepped away from the fire, nobody in the village was smiling anymore.
The young man had ridden for three days to stand before Chief Takoda's daughter. He had brought a painted shield, two fine horses, and the reputation of a fighter who had never lost a challenge.
None of it mattered.
Nayeli looked at him calmly.
"No."
A murmur passed through the people gathered beneath the cottonwoods.
The warrior's face tightened, but he bowed once and returned to the other rejected men.
Chief Takoda remained seated beside the ceremonial fire.
His expression revealed nothing.
He had promised his daughter one thing.
She would choose.
No warrior, elder, family member, or chief would choose for her.
It was the summer of 1876 in the Arizona Territory, and that promise had attracted men from settlements and camps scattered across hundreds of miles.
Some came because Nayeli was beautiful.
Others came because marrying the chief's daughter meant influence.
A few genuinely believed they could build a life with her.
Nayeli had rejected all of them.
The hundredth man stepped forward shortly before sunset.
He was broad-shouldered, confident, and dressed in decorated buckskin. He spoke for several minutes about his horses, his hunting skill, and the family that would stand behind him.
When he finished, he looked at Nayeli as if the answer had already been decided.
She shook her head.
"No."
Silence.
Chief Takoda finally rose.
Perhaps his daughter would choose no one.
Then dogs began barking at the western edge of the village.
Several warriors turned.
A stranger stumbled through the cottonwoods.
He was a white cowboy, perhaps thirty years old, covered from hat to boots in reddish dust.
His shirt was torn at one elbow.
A coil of rope hung from his shoulder.
There was no rifle in his hands.
The stranger stopped the instant he realized he was surrounded.
Dozens of faces turned toward him.
His eyes widened.
"Well," he muttered, "this is definitely not Miller's Creek."
Several warriors reached toward their weapons.
The cowboy immediately lifted both hands.
"My name's Caleb Morgan. I'm not looking for trouble."
Nobody answered.
Caleb slowly removed his hat.
"I'm looking for a horse."
Still silence.
"A chestnut gelding. White mark above the left eye. Has a bad habit of biting anyone except me."
One of the younger men almost smiled.
Caleb noticed the gathering around the fire.
Then the decorated warriors.
Then Nayeli.
His expression changed.
"I've interrupted something."
Chief Takoda stepped forward.
"You have."
Caleb swallowed.
"My apologies."
He started backing toward the trees.
"I'll find another way around."
"Wait."
The voice came from Nayeli.
Caleb stopped.
She had been almost motionless for hours.
Now she walked directly toward him.
The rejected warriors watched in disbelief.
Caleb looked behind himself as though perhaps she were approaching someone else.
There was nobody there.
Nayeli stopped six feet away.
She studied him.
Dust covered his face.
A shallow cut crossed his cheek.
One boot had nearly lost its heel.