Who dances the fandango? We do.Who says, "I do"?We do!"Teresita! Eugenia!" Their sister María ran down the stream bank toward them, waving, jumping up and down, and spinning in circles like a top. "Come quick! It's Papá! Papá has come home!""Papá!" Skirt hoisted high, hands dripping, Teresita raced up the embankment toward the road. "Then the wagons have come from Bent's Fort? See, Eugenia? I knew something would happen!"Eugenia panted beside her as they ran into the dirt yard of their adobe casita. There Papá stood, dark and handsome as Teresita remembered him. He was wearing the same sheepskin vest he had worn on the day he left three years ago. His stubby eyelashes angled over high cheekbones that looked even higher now over an enormous smile."Papá! Papá! You're home! Finally, you're home!"Teresita ran into his outstretched arms, and as if she were still a baby, Papá scooped her up and swung her in a circle. "Ay, mi hija bonita! My beautiful daughter." Teresita burrowed her nose into his sheepskin vest and the familiar scent of tobacco and dust and hard work. As he set her back onto her feet, Teresita saw tears glistening beneath his lashes. "I've missed you, Meadow Lark," he said softly.