"Sometimes that is the same thing."

Caleb didn't know how to answer.

He touched the brim of his hat.

"Take care of your people."

Then he walked away.

He thought the matter was finished.

He was wrong.

Caleb woke the next morning to the sound of voices.

He opened his eyes beneath the small shelter of his blanket and immediately reached for his pistol.

Then he stopped.

He remembered where he was.

The Apache camp surrounded the spring.

Children were laughing.

Women were preparing food.

Men were checking the horses.

For the first time since Caleb had arrived, the atmosphere did not feel desperate.

It felt alive.

He sat up.

That's when he noticed the women.

Twenty-two of them stood in a long line near the spring.

Caleb stared.

Each woman appeared to represent one of the families in the band.

Some were young.

Some were older.

One carried a baby.

Another had a scar across her cheek.

A third wore a necklace made from small carved pieces of bone.

All of them were watching him.

Caleb slowly stood.

"What's this?"

No one answered.

Then Chief Hosa stepped forward.

He carried a carved wooden staff.

"You saved our people yesterday," he said.

"I did what anyone should have done."

"Perhaps."

Hosa looked toward the women.

"But we must know what kind of man you are."

Caleb frowned.

"I don't understand."

"You will."

The first woman stepped forward.

She was older than the others, perhaps forty-five, with silver beginning to touch her hair.

"My name is Mara," she said. "I am a healer."

Caleb nodded.

Mara looked directly into his eyes.

"What is the value of a life that does not belong to your people?"

Caleb thought about the question.

He could have answered quickly.

Instead, he considered it.

Finally he said:

"The desert doesn't ask who you are before it kills you."

Mara waited.

"So?"

"So if a man is dying of thirst, you give him water."

She watched him.

"Even if he is your enemy?"

Caleb's jaw tightened.

"If he's standing in front of me dying, he's a man first."

A few people nodded.

Mara stepped back.

The second woman approached.

She introduced herself as Nita, a craftswoman who worked leather and beadwork.

"Would you defend our people if the men threatening us were your own?"

Caleb hesitated.

This question was harder.

He knew the answer could make enemies.

He also knew that lying would make him less worthy than the truth.

"I'd stand with whoever was right."

Nita raised an eyebrow.

"Even against your own people?"

"If they're wrong."

"What if it cost you your home?"

Caleb looked at her.

"I've lived without much of a home before."

Nita smiled faintly.

Then she stepped away.

Another woman asked about loyalty.

Another asked about mercy.

One asked whether courage meant being unafraid.

Caleb answered that he didn't think so.

"A man can be scared and still do the right thing."

One asked what he believed made a leader.

"Someone who takes responsibility when things go wrong."

Another asked whether a strong man should ever apologize.

"If he's wrong."

"What if apologizing makes him look weak?"

"Then he's more worried about looking strong than being good."

The questions continued.

Hours passed.

Caleb became increasingly uncomfortable.

He wasn't accustomed to talking about himself.

He had spent years believing actions mattered more than words.

But these women weren't interested in his reputation.

They wanted to know what he believed.

And Caleb realized something.

They were doing exactly what the frontier had taught him never to do.

They were looking beneath the surface.

When the final woman stepped back, Caleb exhaled.

He looked toward Chief Hosa.

"Is that it?"

Hosa smiled.

"No."

Caleb's stomach sank.

"Of course not."

A few warriors laughed.

Even Caleb smiled.

The tension eased.

But Hosa's expression soon became serious again.

"You answered honestly."

"I didn't know there was another way."

"That is why your answers mattered."

That evening, Caleb sat alone beside the spring.

He watched the sun disappear behind the canyon walls.

He thought about the questions.

He thought about the people.

And he thought about how strange it was that he had come here looking for horses and somehow found himself being judged by twenty-two women.

He heard footsteps behind him.

Chief Hosa sat down nearby.

For several minutes neither man spoke.

Finally Caleb said:

"What was the purpose of all that?"

Hosa looked toward the water.

"Our people have suffered."

Caleb waited.

"We have been attacked by men who wanted our horses. We have lost land. We have lost families. We have watched sickness take children."

Hosa paused.

"And now drought has taken what little remained."

Caleb nodded.

"I understand."

"You understand hardship."

"Yes."

"But you do not understand why we asked you those questions."

Caleb turned toward him.

"No."

Hosa smiled.

"That will come tomorrow."

Caleb laughed softly.

"You people enjoy keeping a man nervous."

Hosa's eyes gleamed.

"We have learned that nervous men reveal the truth."

Caleb shook his head.

"Well, you've certainly managed that."

The chief stood.