A faded piece of red cloth had been tied around it.
The moment the chief saw the cloth, his entire expression changed.
Nayeli noticed.
"Father?"
Takoda did not answer.
He reached toward the cloth, then stopped before touching it.
Caleb looked at him.
"You recognize that?"
The chief raised his eyes.
"Where did you get this horse?"
"Colorado originally. Bought him five years ago."
"Not the horse."
Takoda pointed to the saddle.
Caleb frowned.
"That saddle belonged to my father."
The chief's face became still.
"What was his name?"
"Jonathan Morgan."
Nobody spoke.
Nayeli slowly turned toward her father.
She had never seen him look afraid.
Not during raids.
Not during drought.
Not even when sickness had taken her mother.
But the name Jonathan Morgan had done something no weapon had managed.
Chief Takoda whispered,
"I knew your father."
Caleb's confusion deepened.
"My father died when I was twelve."
Takoda looked at the wooden box.
"No."
Caleb froze.
"What did you say?"
The chief raised his eyes.
"Your father did not die when you were twelve."
The world seemed to stop.
Caleb stared at him.
"I buried him."
"You buried a closed coffin."
Caleb's face lost its color.
He remembered.
The mining accident.
The collapsed tunnel.
Three men supposedly killed.
The bodies too badly injured to be viewed.
His mother crying beside a sealed pine box.
Caleb had stood there wearing his father's oversized black coat.
He had never questioned it.
Until now.
"Open the box," Chief Takoda said.
Caleb untied the leather straps.
Inside lay three things.
A silver pocket watch.
A folded piece of paper.
And a small carved wooden horse.
Caleb stopped breathing.
The carved horse had only three legs.
When Caleb was six, his father had carved it beside their fireplace.
Caleb had broken one leg accidentally.
Jonathan had laughed and told him a three-legged horse could still outrun a lazy cowboy.
The toy disappeared shortly before the supposed mine accident.
Caleb picked it up with shaking fingers.
"This was his."
Nayeli moved closer.
The folded paper bore a single line.
BRING THE SON TO RED MESA BEFORE THE THIRD NIGHT.
Beneath the words was a symbol.
Chief Takoda recognized that too.
His jaw tightened.