ADVERTISEMENT
Who will look past her figure?
She breathed through it, as a lady is taught, while another girl in a lighter dress was whirled away by an eager suitor. By the time the carriage took them home, the silence was louder than any verdict. In the morning her father summoned her to the room where contracts were made. He spoke of futures and usefulness. He spoke of arrangements. And in a decision that would echo across years, he arranged to send Jimena away to an Apache reservation on the northern frontier, where a captured warrior named Tlacael had been given a parcel of land under government supervision.
At dawn, the carriage rolled through arid country that seemed to stretch into forever. Red rock. Blue vault of sky. Wind that smelled like sage and sunlight. Jimena did not look back.
Conitnue READING…
Continue READING
ADVERTISEMENT