Califia's Daughters by Leigh Richards Page A

chattering excitedly but at low volume, so as not to awaken these intriguing visitors. There were frequent glances cast up at the main house, in hopes of seeing the man or the boy, but as yet all was quiet.
    By the time Dian came riding up the road, a large buck strapped behind her saddle, four rabbits dangling in front, and a pack of dogs ebbing and flowing around the horse’s trotting hooves, most of the visitors had arisen and were at the tables of their host families, making the first awkward attempts at conversation. Dian had taken her dogs out well before dawn, both for exercise and to supplement the day’s supplies. Despite the inevitable gore and violence of the kills, and despite not having been to bed that night, she returned refreshed, purified as always by the simplicity of death. As Dian passed the first houses of the Valley, she came across Carmen’s oldest stepdaughter, Lupe, walking up and down the road, patting and comforting her screaming two-year-old sister. Lupe grimaced at Dian, and said in a loud voice,
“Ella no le gusta los estranjeros.”
Dian nodded in sympathy; she might not go so far as to say that she didn’t like them, but there was no doubt, fascination and fear would set the tone of the entire Valley for days.
    Dian left the meat at the kitchen, then rode to the barn and rubbed down, watered, and fed her horse. When she went to the kennels to do the same for the dogs, she found Susanna in residence, sitting on the floor with the latest litter of puppies. The girl gave Culum a thump on his side by way of greeting and grinned up at her aunt, one puppy cradled to her chest and three more mock-fighting across her still-adolescent legs.
    â€œPuppies have such a great smell, don’t they?” she said. “It’s like sweet and sour milk.”
    â€œYou used to smell like that, mewling and puking at your mother’s breast,” Dian told her. “And your personal habits were every bit as irresponsible as these guys’.” She laid the rifle, coat, and saddlebags on a table and went to liberate puppies and girl, brushing ineffectively at some of the more unsavory stains on her niece’s clothing. After a minute she gave up, returned the puppies to their mother, and took her things down the hall into her quarters to see about her own breakfast. She called back over her shoulder at Susanna.
    â€œWhat’s your mother got planned for the morning?”
    Susanna followed Dian into the house and helped her return equipment and clothing to their respective racks. “That’s why I’m here—Mom sent me to fetch you. That woman, Miriam, wants to meet with you and Mom and Kirsten and a bunch of others, I forget who, as soon as you’re ready. Why are they here? I was busy with Ling last night—did you hear that Jenn—that’s her name, Jenn—looks a little better this morning, and Ling’s pretty sure she’ll live? Anyway, Mom wouldn’t tell me anything this morning but to come here and wait for you, but I want to know what they’re doing here. Nobody ever tells me anything. I’m not a child, you know. How can a man travel like that? Why did they bring the boy? What do they want?”
    Dian laughed and placed both hands on the girl’s shoulders, bending to look directly into the excited young eyes and saying clearly, “My questions exactly. And maybe if you’d let me get myself together, we can get them answered.”
    â€œOkay, okay,” said Susanna. “I’ll go tell them you’ll be down in a bit. But there’s breakfast there—Mom’s even making coffee!”
    â€œI’ll be there as soon as I’m clean and the dogs are fed.”
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    Half an hour later Dian trotted up the three steps to the kitchen door. Someone else had been up early, for there was a rich yeasty odor of fresh bread beneath the sharp tang of bacon. She