himself to finish the statement. It was too disturbing, too horrifying.
“Demp is out on the range,” Clayburn said. “It could take an hour or more to round him up.”
“Take Jesco and Loring with you to help search,” Kent directed. “And whoever else is handy.”
“Timmy, you heard Mr. Tovey,” Clayburn said. He exchanged glances with John Jesco. “But it’s best if you stick around. To sort of keep an eye on things.”
Nance was wringing her hands in anguish. “This is terrible, just terrible. Come inside while we wait, Dar, you and your boys. My husband will get to the bottom of this, I promise you.”
“I am grateful,” Dar said, and beckoned to his sons.
Steve and Armando alighted, but Julio did not. “I will wait out here, Father,” he announced, betraying his reason by his tone and the look he cast at Kent and Nance.
“The Toveys are our friends, son,” Dar reiterated with marked paternal patience. “You can’t blame them for something one of their punchers might have done.”
“But why?” Kent fell back on the same issue. “What would Demp hope to gain? It’s pointless.”
“Who can say?” Julio challenged, without the courtesy of a “senor.” “Perhaps he did it because he does not like Mexicans. With my own ears, I once heard him call Hijino a bean-eater.”
Nance gasped. “We don’t allow that sort of thing at the Circle T. Why wasn’t I told?”
The question was addressed to Kent. “This is the first I’ve heard about it, dearest. Rest assured, I will discuss it with Demp and Clayburn when they get back.” To Julio he said, “Please reconsider. You are always welcome in our house. Come in out of the hot sun.”
“And this Demp?” Julio persisted. “What will you do to him?”
“If he’s guilty, appropriate steps will be taken.”
“If?”
“A person is innocent until proven otherwise,” Kent said. “He must be given an opportunity to defend himself.”
“As I thought,” Julio said in contempt. “Already you take his side against us. Is this what you call justice?”
“What would you have us do? String him from a tree?” Kent meant it as a splash of cold logic to cool Julio down.
“That is exactly what we should do,
“Julio!” Dar said sternly. “That is enough. If you can not be civil, you will go wait by the stable.”
His jaw jutting defiantly, Julio wheeled his mount. The vaqueros fell in behind him.
“Please excuse my youngest,” Dar said. “He and Berto were close. Julio has taken the death hard.”
“I can’t blame him,” Nance sympathized. “Don’t worry. We won’t hold his behavior against him.” She placed a hand on Dar’s arm. “Now how about that coffee? While we wait, you can tell us what your lovely wife and daughters have been up to since I saw them last.”
Kent let Steve and Armando enter ahead of him. He indicated that Jesco should join them, but the tall cowboy shook his head and walked to a rocking chair.
“Out here will do, Mr. Tovey. Someone needs to keep an eye on those vaqueros.” Jesco sat and hooked his left boot on the rail.
“Surely you are not suggesting they will cause trouble?” Kent was incredulous. “I grant you that Julio has been rude, but he has an excuse. We must forgive him.”
“Turnin’ the other cheek only works when the other gent turns his,” Jesco remarked. “Otherwise you get yours blown off.”
Deeply troubled, Kent hurried inside to catch up to the others.
Fortunately, Nance was her usual talkative self, and rambled on about the upcoming rodeo and the current price for beef and whether they would get any rain before the summer was out. Anything and everything except Berto’s death.
The clock on the wall ticked off an hour. Then an hour and a half. Ten minutes more, and the front door opened and Jesco hollered, “They’re comin’, Mr. Tovey!”
Almost a dozen cowboys were with Clayburn, including Jack Demp. Apparently the foreman had not told Demp why he had been sent for, because the first thing out of his mouth was, “You wanted to see me, Mr. Tovey?”
Dar, Steve, and Armando were on the porch. Julio and the vaqueros had trotted up from the stable and were to one side, Julio with his hand on his revolver.
Kent took the incriminating evidence from his pocket. “Yes, I did. Is this folding knife yours?”
“Land sakes!” Demp grinned, and snatched it from Kent’s grasp. “Where did you find it? I’ve been lookin’ all over for this thing.”
“Then it does belong to you?” Kent needed to be absolutely certain.
“Sure, it’s—” Demp blinked and ran a finger along the grips. “Hold on. I never carved my initials in mine. And what’s this red stuff? Good God. Is this blood?”
“But you do admit to owning a knife like that?”
Demp looked up and regarded the ring of intent faces. “Sure. I keep it in my war bag. Most every hand in the bunkhouse knows that. But it disappeared. Remember, Walt? I asked if you had seen it anywhere?”
“That’s right,” Clayburn said. “I plumb forgot.”
Julio gigged his horse closer. “Of course he claims he lost it! Because he dropped it at our rancho when he fled!”
“What is he jabberin’ about?” Demp asked no one in particular.
“They think you killed the DP’s foreman,” Kent Tovey revealed.
Demp’s mouth dropped. “That’s plain loco!” he blurted. “Why would I blow out Berto’s wick when I hardly even knew him?”
“He was a greaser, as you like to call us,” Julio said. “That is cause enough for a bigot like you.”
“Mister, no one talks to me like that,” Jack Demp said.
“I do,” Julio declared. “You are a bastard and a murderer, but I am not afraid of you. I do not fear any gringo.”
Demp looked down at Kent. “Do I have to take this, Mr. Tovey? Aren’t you goin’ to do somethin’?”
Kent hesitated. A wrong decision on his part could result in tragedy.
“You will continue to deny it,” Julio was growling, “so if Berto is to be avenged, I must take the matter into my own hands.” He paused. “Whenever you are ready to die, fill your hand. Killing you will give me great pleasure.”
Chapter 11
For Dar Pierce, it was the moment when all he believed in, all he stood for, all he had tried to make of his life, hung in the balance.
Dar had been about his youngest son’s age when he marched off to invade Mexico. The newspapers were full of editorials and rousing accounts designed to stir patriotic fervor to a fever pitch, and his was as stirred as anyone’s.
Mexico was to blame, the government proclaimed. Mexican troops had attacked American troops on U.S. soil. The Mexicans countered that it was their soil, and the Americans were there illegally, but in the rush to arms, few north of the border gave the view of those south of the border any credence. Mexico was evil. Mexico was vile. Mexico must learn that it was the natural right of the United States, formally known as Manifest Destiny, for America to hold sway over the entire continent.
Dar bought the bill of goods. He had fallen for every half-truth, for every appeal to his devotion to his country, and done as thousands of other young men did: He enlisted. Initially, Dar fought with distinction. The newspapers and his superiors convinced him that if he did his part, the war would soon end. He had his first taste of combat at
