We were just standing there waiting to greet them and they came over the hill with their horses galloping toward us and their long guns belching death all around us. They drew their short guns and kept firing as they closed in on us. We stared in the eyes of a yellow-haired ho’evȯtse charging with his gun pointed at us.“Run, children, run!” Mother cried pushing us to obey. Death stared at us and we turned to run as Mother crumpled to the ground. Our mother! Our mother was dead!We ran. At the edge of the village where Grandfather had met us, our horses and the fresh deer stood waiting. We cut the travois loose from them and leapt to their backs to ride away. Screams. Smoke from the guns. Terrified people running away. Soldiers knocking them down with their horses. Our village was gone. Our mother was dead. And we fled. We rode our ponies as far into the mountains as they could take us before we rested. And then we collapsed together and wept.This did not happen while we slept in. "So he followed Aedee as she pedalled along the ridge road to one of thosebig fancy houses. Aedee ran into the house and yelling out, "Hi Lauren,I'm home and I brought Eve, I mean Miss McNamara, with me like you said."Lauren appeared and if Aedee was a gorgeous seventeen-year-old, thenLauren was a gorgeous 27-year-old. She certainly didn't look any older.She also looked somewhat familiar. But then there were lots of familiarfaces in the village. It wasn't all that big. He guessed she was a trophywife, a good-looking social secretary to a rich older man. Calling herstep-mother by her first name rather than the normal "Mum" or "Mummy" heguessed was explained by the few years between them. As he got to knowthem the relationship seemed more like sisters or cousins than parent-daughter."Aedee!", she said. "You go and get changed. Miss McNamara and I need tohave a little talk." She offered him tea, which he accepted, and theytook their cups into her what she called her 'boudoir'. Actually a.
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