“You know I have duties as an ambassador.” Some of the old impatience crept into Steve’s voice, and he cleared his throat. “It’s unexpected, but not a shock. Ginny can stay here with you—”

“No.” She looked up at him, eyes steady. “I told you that I will not be separated from you again. I’ll go to Mexico City with you. Besides, in case you’ve forgotten, I am acquainted with both Lerdo and Díaz.”

A faint smile curved his mouth. “I’ve not forgotten.”

They left early the next morning, before the sun had risen above the mountain peaks.

19

Astrange, oppressive air hung over the small village as they rode down the main track, dust-grimed and weary. Most of the inhabitants were Tarahumara Indians, some of whom lived in caves on the valley floor at the foot of the high cliffs.

Ginny barely noticed her surroundings, she was so weary and sore. Horses might be the swiftest method of traveling the Sierra Madres, but they were certainly not the most comfortable. Next time—if there was a next time—she would go by carriage or stage, a circuitous route that would take much longer but not leave her so exhausted.

She was so tired she did not at first notice Steve’s frowning tension, the hard set of his mouth and narrowed eyes as he accompanied her inside the small, rough posada. The dialect spoken by the posadero was unfamiliar, an Indian dialect that she didn’t understand but apparently Steve did.

After a few minutes of conversation, he took her by the elbow and escorted her to the rear of the adobe building. “It’s not much, but it’s all there is, unless you want to sleep outside again.”

“Oh, Steve, I don’t think I can take another night of sleeping on the hard ground. I’ve gotten soft, I suppose. I don’t care if it’s a bed of straw, as long as it’s a bed!”

The room was tiny, with one window and a bed, a table against the far wall that held a water pitcher and a basin, and an oil lamp. There wasn’t even a chair, and Steve slung their saddlebags to the hard-packed dirt floor.

“It’s not the Astoria, but it will keep the rain off our heads. Is that a bed or a donkey’s breakfast?” He gave the offending item a kick, and chaff dusted the floor.

“I don’t care.” She peeled off her hat and loosened the buttons of her shirt.

It wasn’t much better than a hayrack, but at least it was fairly clean. Ginny spread her own blankets atop the crude bed formed of pine planks and a thin mattress, and lay down. She was asleep almost instantly.