One lone figure on the back of a tall camel, a young man she thought, stood out from them all.
A few of the men did not wear uniforms or carry weapons, but instead wore drab, foreign garbs and brandished sinister, leather whips. Korina wasn't sure what upset her mother more, the sight of the foreigners or the shapes of the indolent beasts, traveling so slowly their shadows seemed not to move. Her mother made a sign of the cross with her work-worn hand. The foreign shapes threw odd shadows across the knee-high grass in the fields. "Jesus, Maria, und Josef!" Her mother exclaimed. They were heading west, most likely toward Camp Verde, a military post established to protect the frontier. Moving in an undulating line was a parade of soldiers, Arab men, horses, and, could it really be? Expecting to see the usual gentle hills and scrub trees, and perhaps an approaching visitor, Korina paused and waited for her brain to interpret exactly what her eyes were seeing. Korina looked in the direction her mother pointed. Since their house perched on a gentle rise, they had a generous view of the Texas hill country, which was now dressed in its summer finery. Then, remembering to practice her English, she repeated “Over there," as she pointed to the north. Korina dusted her hands on her apron and sprinted for the stone and wood house. Pieter, the rooster, clucked and fussed over his harem as she left them to their meal.
Red, orange, and black feathers flashed as the chickens scurried and dipped their necks to their feed. As she began to hurriedly toss big handfuls of grain, the ladies danced around her feet in anticipation of breakfast, clucking and pecking furiously at the baked dirt.
“Korina! Guck mal!” she shouted in German. Korina had just arrived in the yard, carefully holding chicken feed between the folded corners of her apron, when she heard her mother call.
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