discovered his mother was missing. His sisters were frantic. Armando was so upset he had withdrawn into a shell, like a turtle, and would not speak unless spoken to. As for Julio, he was nearly rabid, a boiling cauldron of seething emotions he made no attempt to hold in check.
It was close to noon.
Steve stood on the porch in the shade of the overhang, anxiously scouring the range from end to end. He had sent everyone who could ride a horse out to search. The vaqueros, most of the servants, his brothers and Dolores, had all been out since early morning. He wanted to go, too, but someone had to stay.
Steve squinted at the sun, then balled his hands into fists, the nails biting into his palms. They had to find her. They had to. She would be alive and unhurt, with a perfectly logical reason for why she had disappeared. She would continue to oversee the ranch, continue to make the important decisions he was glad not to have to make. Not decisions involving the everyday operation of the ranch. Steve could handle those. He knew cows better than anyone. Everything about them. From calving to branding, from roundups to driving herds to market, he was an expert.
No, the decisions Steve wanted nothing to do with, the decisions he feared, had to do with what to do about the murders. Julio and many of the vaqueros thirsted for revenge. They blamed the Toveys, and wanted to ride to the Circle T. What they would do when they got there was not entirely clear. They could not very well gun the Toveys down without proof the Toveys were involved. They still believed Jack Demp was to blame for Berto, and there had been dark muttering about treating Demp to a strangulation jig.
Steve was as upset as anyone about the deaths. But he had sided with his father, then his mother, in advocating that they proceed with care and caution. The last thing Steve wanted was to spill innocent blood. Julio was almost at the point of not caring so long as he had his vengeance, and once Julio reached that point, Steve wondered if anyone could hold him back.
Just then, the door opened and closed. Steve did not look around. “It is better if you stay in your room. I told you I would send for you when I have news.”
Trella came over, her arms clasped to her bosom, the dry tracks of tears on her cheeks. “I will go loco if I stay in there by myself any longer. I need someone to talk to.”
“You can talk to me, but I don’t know what good I will be.” Steve always felt uncomfortable around women, even his sisters. They did not think or act like men. He could never predict what they would say or do. He preferred cows, predictable creatures if ever there were any.
“This is a nightmare,” Trella said. “A nightmare that gets worse each day.”
Steve could not agree more.
“Who will be next? You? Me? Armando? Dolores? Someone is out to kill us. Each and every one of us.”
“We don’t know that,” Steve said.
Trella spun on him. “What will it take to convince you? How many of us must die before you face the truth?”
“I wish we knew what the truth really was.”
“It is obvious. Someone wants our rancho, and they will stop at nothing to get their hands on it.”
“Who?”
“Who else but the Toveys? They are not content with half the valley. They want all of it. Unless they are stopped, by the end of the month there will not be any of our family left.”
“You sound like Julio.” Steve had hoped she would be more sensible.
“What is wrong with that? He is willing to stand up to them. To stop the killing, and protect what is ours.”
“He would paint the valley red with blood.” A prospect that horrified Steve. His father had taught him that the taking of a life was not something done lightly, and his father should know.
“Again, what is wrong with that, if it is not our blood?” Trella countered. “Are you going to twiddle your thumbs and do nothing while the Circle T takes us over? Have you forgotten they outnumber us? Hijino says we must strike before they do.”
“Who?” Steve was distracted by tendrils of dust to the south.
“One of our vaqueros. You know him. The one who rides the fine white horse, and is fond of silver.”
Something in her voice drew Steve’s gaze from the dust. She was smiling sweetly, and it occurred to him that it was the first time all morning she had smiled like that. Her eyes were aglow, too, with a peculiar inner light. It puzzled him. His mother had often had the same look when she held his father’s hand and strolled with him in the garden. The realization jolted him. My little sister and a vaquero? What would their mother say? What should he say?
Fortunately, Steve was spared from having to say anything by the approaching dust cloud. Trella had noticed, too.
“Someone returns in a hurry. I pray they have found her, and she is safe.”
“That makes two of us.” Steve dreaded the alternative. He would become the true head of the family, with all the responsibilities it entailed.
“If anything has happened to her . . .” Trella did not finish. Tears moistened her eyes, and she dabbed at them with a sleeve.
“No one would harm a woman,” Steve said. It was the straw at which he clutched. Even on the frontier, there were things men just did not do. Steal, yes. Swindle, yes. Rustle, yes. Kill, yes. But never, ever hurt a woman. It was considered so vile, widespread outrage inevitably resulted in swift punishment.
“Apaches and Comanches do it all the time.”
“That’s different,” Steve said. He counted seven riders. They must have found something. He had given orders that no one was to return before nightfall otherwise.
“You must be strong, Steve,” Trella said. “Do what must be done for the good of the rancho.”
“What makes you think I will not?” Steve responded, a trifle defensively.
“I know you. I know how you think. You will not act until you have all the facts. But sometimes that is not possible. Sometimes we must act on our feelings.”
“You would have me be like Julio, and think only of getting revenge?” Steve shook his head. “I will do as our father would do. He always said to think before we act. To be reasonable in all we do.”
“And where did his thinking and his reason get him? I loved him as much as you, so when I say he was not as strong as he should be, I say it out of my affection for him.”
Steve had never struck his sisters, but he came close to slapping Trella. “You call that affection? Insulting the memory of him?”
“You know yourself that he was much too considerate of others, at our expense. Look at the Circle T. Those gringos had no right to that land. Father should have driven them off before they built their house. By any means necessary.”
“I have never heard you use that word before.”
“Which word? Gringo? Just because I have not spoken it does not mean I have not thought it. Besides, they call us greasers, don’t they?”
Steve was shocked by her expression. It was a mask of hate. “Kent and Nancy Tovey have never called us that. They have always treated our family with the utmost respect.”
“Hijino says all gringos do that. They smile and extend one hand in friendship while with their other hand they stab you in the back.”
“I must have a talk with this Hijino.”
Concern replaced her hate. “What for? He is my friend. Don’t you dare say anything to him. I do not meddle in your personal life, do I?”
“With father gone, I have an obligation to look after you. To protect you. To see
