barn.
He’d just finished strapping on his gun belt when Sheriff Hardy limped around the huge door. The elderly man looked to be every day of a hundred, with the night’s drinking showing in his eyes. He wore a gray duster and what appeared to be a new hat.
‘‘Morning.’’ Hardy signaled the blacksmith to get his buggy ready. ‘‘You folks about ready to go?’’
Wes climbed down the ladder, smiling. He’d had a feeling Hardy would be early and the man hadn’t disappointed him. ‘‘We have one more who’s coming with us, if you’ve no objections, Sheriff.’’ He nodded toward the boy standing in the shadows between stalls.
The sheriff glanced at Jason, then at the bundle of clothes beside him.
‘‘Allie says he’s of her tribe.’’ Wes figured the words didn’t make any sense, but they were as good a reason to take the boy as anything he could think up. If there was anyone in town who might object to Jason leaving, Hardy would probably know it.
Before the sheriff could answer, Allie appeared at the top of the ladder. She’d combed her hair and pulled it back with the ribbon Wes had taken from the hotel. Her brown dress hung a little long at the hem and sleeves. Other than that, she looked quite proper.
‘‘Allyce.’’ The sheriff bowed a greeting as the blacksmith brought his buggy to the barn door opening. ‘‘Would you like to ride with me this morning?’’
Allie glanced at the boy, then to Wes.
Wes lifted Jason’s bundle and tossed it in the back of the buggy. ‘‘You take the other horse, son. Allie can ride with the sheriff.’’
The boy stiffened. ‘‘I ain’t your son. I told you.’’ Fear shook his voice, but he stood his ground.
Wes handed him the bay’s reins without taking offense.
From the moment the boy touched the leather, Wes knew he’d never been near a horse. It was hard to believe, but the kid didn’t even know how to lead an animal. In a country where riding a horse was as much a necessity as breathing, somehow this child had been forgotten.
The bay seemed to sense inexperience and jerked her head.
‘‘Easy now.’’ Wes patted the animal’s neck with one hand while his other grabbed the reins close to the bit and tugged the bay’s head lower. Once the horse settled, Wes pulled his own mount in front of Jason, slowing each action, silently showing the boy what to do.
Jason learned quickly, following Wes’s movements exactly, as he climbed into the saddle.
Wes grinned. The bay was a gentle animal. She’d give the boy time, and she’d follow Wes’s horse without much guidance.
Allie stepped into the buggy with the sheriff. Hardy talked as they moved away from the barn. He didn’t seem to notice that Allie never spoke. Her presence was all the encouragement he needed.
By the time they’d ridden two hours, Wes began to believe that Jasonwasof Allie’s tribe, for the boy said nothing. He mirrored each of Wes’s movements, learning as they traveled. Wes watched him closely out of the corner of his gaze. Jason’s bruises were starting to heal, but he looked pale, like someone who never saw the sun. His body had just started the stretch to manhood, leaving him thin, with legs and arms that didn’t match his body size. If Jason were given regular meals, he’d grow into a tall man, Wes thought.
As they rode along a path dusted with wagon tracks just clear enough to mark a trail, Wes couldn’t help but admire the landscape. It was good land, flat enough in places for farming and rich enough with rain to hold a tall grass for pasture. In many ways it reminded him of his own land farther north. He’d bought his land with back pay from the war, but he hadn’t had time to build on it. He’d spent one winter in a little dugout on the property and swore he’d finish a house before he married. But it hadn’t happened.
Wes pulled his horse beside the wagon. ‘‘When do we hit the Catlin spread, Sheriff?’’
‘‘We’ve been on it for half an hour,’’ the old man answered. ‘‘Victoria owns one of the largest ranches in these parts, but she hasn’t worked it in years. You should be able to see the house just over the ridge.’’
Wes kicked his horse and galloped up the hill. A lone adobe ranch headquarters sat in the middle of a valley below. The earthy buildings at the core looked inviting, but a thick wall surrounded the estate like a fortress.
Sitting back in his saddle, Wes let out a low whistle. ‘‘Whoa,’’ he mumbled. ‘‘That’s quite a place.’’
The sheriff pulled the buggy to a stop beside him. ‘‘Victoria’s first husband built it for her. He thought to keep his family safe from any attack. But her oldest, James, didn’t get along with Victoria’s second husband and moved farther north after he married. By the time he was killed and Allie captured, Victoria had married husband number four. Husbands came and went after that. Seemed like every year brought a wedding or a funeral but the ranch stayed pretty much the same. Her boys all hated the place. Called it ‘Mom’s jail.’ ’’
A sadness seeped into Hardy’s eyes. ‘‘I guess that’s what it’s become for her. It’s been some time since I’ve seen her. She no longer leaves the place.’’
Wes didn’t ask any questions as they moved closer. In truth, the ranch headquarters was massive but somehow lonely. They were within twenty yards before he even saw a guard. With a spread of this size a man should be posted at every side of the headquarters, making his presence known as soon as a stranger came into sight.
A stout man, dressed like a farmer, stepped from the small outer-wall door to greet them. He wore a gun belt strapped around his ample waist and carried an old single-shot rifle that would have been of little use if a band of outlaws came to rob the ranch. At first, he widened his stance and crossed his arms over the rifle as though he planned to stop them. But the moment he saw the sheriff, his posture changed.
‘‘Sheriff Hardy!’’ the large man yelled. ‘‘Welcome.’’
Hardy waved at the guard, and by the time his buggy had reached the main gate, the wooden doors were opened wide.
‘‘It’s been a long time, Sheriff.’’
The stout man motioned for others to take care of the buggy as the sheriff helped Allie down.
‘‘That it has, Gideon. That it has,’’ Hardy answered. ‘‘Too long, in my way of thinking.’’
Wes stayed in the saddle for a few minutes, looking around as the two men talked. He liked the view he had from his horse. A man spends so much time in the saddle that when he steps to ground it seems like he’s crawling for a while, Wes thought. The world looked more in balance from a few feet higher than a man stood.
The courtyard spread wide, but not very long. A main house loomed in front of them with what looked like a kitchen and laundry to the left and a bunkhouse to the right. Wes could see three men, besides the greeter Hardy had called Gideon, and two women. But the quarters on the right had been built to hold thirty hands or more. The main house looked to have at least a dozen rooms upstairs, each with a little terrace off full-length windows overlooking the courtyard. If the house was true to form for most of its kind, the back wall of the main quarters would be solid, with only tiny windows for observation. A freshly plowed garden stretched beside the kitchen. Wes also noticed a well, barns behind the bunkhouses, and a center courtyard with flowers.
It took Wes a minute to realize what was missing. Children. He’d never visited a ranch house so large that hadn’t had a dozen children playing in the courtyard. The silence was almost pestering.
On closer observation he noticed all the people he saw were beyond childbearing years. The two women who stood by the kitchen door had been joined by a little round woman with an apron that must have used half a sheet’s material to make. They stared for a while, then the round one pulled them all back inside.
‘‘I’ll tell Miss Victoria you’re here.’’ The stout man moved toward the main entrance of the huge two-story house.
‘‘Thanks, Gideon.’’ Sheriff Hardy tried to guide Allie up the steps.
Allie waited, rooted in place until Wes joined her. Then she followed the sheriff.
Wes glanced back at Jason and motioned with his head for the boy to join them, but Jason stayed several feet behind, testing the depth of invisible water with each step.
The house was cool and damp, holding the morning humidity. Wes thought he could hear the faint sound of whispering blowing in the breeze when he stepped inside the wide main hall.
Gideon ushered them to a large room with wide windows facing the sun, but the house still felt cold. Wes knew the others sensed it also, for Allie pressed close to him and Jason crossed his arms over his chest.
Allie stood like a statue in the center of the room, as though afraid to look at anything. Wes guessed she didn’t want to get her hopes up, but he could see a touch of excitement in her eyes.
Hardy moved around, handling first one item, then another, as if on some kind of investigation. The furnishings
