what she was going to say next wouldn't come out without encouragement. "You understand," she said, "that I ain't the sort to rely on nobody. Ain't but a few folks in this wide world that I trust, and I've had to kill some of them, too. I don't want to be adding to either list right now, but it seems I have to if I'm to get my answers. You're the only one who can take me to this feller, meaning I have to ask you for help to find him. I don't like it none, but there it is.
"So here's the deal." Her fist slammed down onto the bar, making Victoria jump. "You take me to this feller of yours so I can have my answers from him. Once he's had his say and I've put him in the ground, I'll follow you back to wherever you want and settle your spooks. Deal?"
Victoria couldn't believe her sudden change of fortune. "You would really do that?" she asked.
"If I hadn't said it, you would have," Cora said. "I need your help, you need mine. I reckon my helping you will be a sight more work than you helping me, but I guess I'm just generous like that. So we got a deal?"
"Yes! Yes, absolutely," Victoria said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the excitement out of her voice. She shook Cora's offered hand. "When do we start?"
SIX
Her stomach rolled and pinched, begging to be fed. The girl ignored it as best she could. It would do no good to go to her father for help. He could not feed her any more than he could feed himself. His legs were thin like a bird's legs now, and his face had sharp edges. She didn't like the way he looked.
They had been living in the new area for a long time. She could barely remember her old home, the one with the big blanket over the entrance. It seemed like something she dreamed at night to forget what it was like to be awake. She was always hungry, but she didn't like waiting in line for food from the soldiers. All of the people looked sad when they stood in that line. They talked of times when they could plant their own food, when they were safe from the Apaches, when they lived in the land their ancestors had given them. They did not belong here, in the place they called Hweeldi.
The girl did not understand everything they said. She didn't remember the life she had before Hweeldi. To hear the other people speak of it, it had been a happy life, and it made her sad to think she didn't remember it.
She did remember her mother, though, and the memory made her sadder than anything else. Her mother had been brave and strong and good. How could she have died? When she closed her eyes, the girl could sometimes see the blood covering her mother's feet as she shivered from the cold. Other women had ridden in the cart with the girl, but her mother would not sit next to them, even when her feet began leaving red footprints in the dirt.
When she thought about it, it made the girl angry. If her mother had ridden in the cart with them, she might not have died and left her alone with her father. The girl didn't like being angry at her mother. Still, she would sometimes think of that memory before she went to sleep at night. If she did, she might dream of her mother again. The dreams weren't always nice, but her mother was alive in them, and that was enough.
One night, she dreamed that her mother came to her as she stood in the line for food. She was as pretty as ever, the sun shining in her hair. In the strange way of dreams, the girl didn't remember that her mother was dead; she just smiled at her. Her mother wrapped the girl's hand in one of her own and led her away from the line into one of the stone buildings used by the soldiers. The girl was frightened to be in this room, but she only held on to her mother's hand and said nothing. Her mother was wise; if she was in this room, it was allowed.
Soldiers suddenly appeared in the room with their blue clothes and long weapons. The girl knew now that those weapons were loud and dangerous. She had seen the soldiers