Califia's Daughters by Leigh Richards

She glanced up at a burst of laughter from the tables surrounding Isaac, and smiled wryly. “Just because we like them doesn’t mean we should be stupid. Oh, yes—tell them they’re all going to be searched before they go up. Jeri and Laine will do it. I’ve told them to be polite about it but thorough.”
    â€œIf you think it’s necessary. Where will you be?”
    â€œOh, around,” Dian said vaguely.
    â€œI can imagine. Anyway, that sounds fine. We’ll probably finish here in about half an hour. I’m sure Miriam will want to check on her two wounded as soon as she can.”
    â€œTell her that I helped Ling—and Susanna, so I’m sure you’ll hear every detail—take out the arrowhead, and with the help of some of your precious ice we got the bleeding stopped. Ling was just starting a transfusion when I left. And I went up to the caves and let everyone know that they’d probably be able to come down first thing in the morning. Kirsten told them stories for a while, and they’re settling down for the night—they didn’t seem terribly disappointed that we weren’t calling them back instantly. Can’t think why.”
    Judith laughed, grateful for the relief of humor. It was true, the alerts that sent the people to the cave might be serious affairs, but the enforced leisure made it a social occasion as well, a dramatic break from the grinding toil of daily life. And as Dian had noted that morning, there was usually a higher than average number of babies born forty weeks later.
    Judith went back to the table to reassure Miriam about her wounded rider and about her chances for a solid night’s sleep before having to account for herself. The party broke up shortly after that, the participants trudging wearily up the road to their beds by the light of the swinging lamps.
    Dian squatted in the shadow of the mill, her unstrung bow cradled loosely against her side as she studied the passing strangers. One of them looked in her direction, a small blond woman with the sharp features of a vixen—but when the stranger glanced away again, Dian decided that she’d just been curious about the mill itself.
    No one else showed any interest in her, but she examined them closely, marking the great fatigue in their shoulders and awkwardness in empty hands accustomed to holding weapons. In Miriam she saw the beginnings of relief, as of one slowly straightening after setting down a heavy burden, and she wondered at it. In the man Isaac she noted again his awareness of the subtle currents around him and a calm acceptance of his place in those currents. There was also great affection in the way he held the now-sleeping child, chest to chest, one thin shoulder tucked under the man’s stubbled chin, two sandaled feet dangling free. Judith’s face she glimpsed in the wavering lamplight, listening to Miriam. Judith, too, looked relieved beneath her chronic look of strain, as well as preoccupied—no doubt speculating, along the same lines as Dian, how this group was going to affect the Valley. And finally, Dian looked at the dogs. She trusted her dogs as she trusted few humans, and the animals seemed to like these strangers. Culum especially had formed an immediate bond with the child, Teddy, which fact interested Dian greatly. Even now he walked at the man’s side, so close that his rough coat occasionally brushed the boy’s naked leg. She stayed silent and still until all the guests and the last of their escorts had disappeared behind the high corn, and then she stood, stretched her tired muscles, and walked up the solitary road in the moonlight.
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    The next morning dawned blue and gold, with a sure promise of heat. Those who had spent the night in the cave came down at first light, and the sun coming over the surrounding hilltops found them at chores and sitting down to early breakfast tables,