Raul slipped from his saddle to shake hands with the arrivals. Cerro had brought a number of his best men. Could they ride? Perhaps it wasn't customary, but they would appreciate it very much. Dr. Velasco and Dr. Hernández had also come. Then, to his astonishment and delight, he saw Lucienne.
Bareheaded, she stood in the midst of them, proud, one glove removed. She seemed on the verge of running off and couldn't find much to say beyond civilities. When she got Raul alone she criticized herself for coming, for riding a white horse, for wearing white. She felt her hair falling about her neck and shoved it up underneath her beret.
"Lucienne, have a drink on the veranda with us," said Raul.
Roberto took her arm and hugged her.
"Lucienne ... something cool. Will you ride with us?"
Angered, she drew away, and said: "I wouldn't have come if something terrible hadn't happened yesterday. You know"—she paused to swallow—"they broke into the hacienda Refugio and killed the priest and killed Francisco Goya and his sons."
"Who?" asked Roberto.
"Armed men—I don't know."
"Who told you this?" said Raul.
"Jesús Peza. He told me. He was there, doctoring someone. He got away," said Lucienne. "He's back in Colima."