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They had never seen such a display of wealth and power. Cole, who was standing next to Naya when the riders appeared, felt her tense up. “Naya, what’s wrong?” he asked, confused. But before she could answer, Tacoda dismounted gracefully and walked straight toward them. His eyes fell on his daughter, and a relieved smile crossed his stern face.

“Naya, my daughter,” he said in Spanish, so everyone could understand, “we have come to take you home.” The silence that followed was deafening. All eyes in the village turned to Naya, then to the Apache chief, then back to Naya. “Daughter,” someone whispered in the crowd that had formed.

“Is the homeless woman her daughter?” another asked incredulously. Rosa, the woman who had been so cruel to Naya, paled as if she had seen a ghost. Cole took a step back, his face showing utter confusion. “Naya, I don’t understand.” Naya closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. The moment of truth had arrived.

“Col,” she said, turning to him with tears in her eyes. “My name is Naya. That’s true, but I didn’t tell you the whole truth. I’m Chief Tacoda’s daughter. My tribe is one of the richest in the entire region.” Col stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “Rich, but your clothes, your shelter, everything was a lie,” Naya finished, her voice breaking.

I came here disguised as a poor woman because I was tired of men who only wanted me for my wealth. I wanted to find someone who would love me for who I am, not for what I own. Naya’s mother approached, holding out a beautiful traditional Apache dress, adorned with shimmering beads and intricate embroidery. “It’s time to go home, daughter.”