Eleven

Juanita did not like the way Trey was acting in the days that followed the meeting with the other ranchers. He kept things to himself, was distracted during meals, and she had heard him arguing with Nell. He was a grown man—and technically her employer—and yet she felt the need to keep him close to home, especially now that Javier had been killed.

She saw her chance one October morning while Trey was finishing his breakfast. Nell had gone to lie down, and Joshua was out doing his assigned chores. She poured herself a cup of coffee and pulled a chair close to the table. “What’s going on with you?”

He stared out the window, although from his expression, he was lost in thought rather than admiring the scenery. He turned his attention to her and smiled. “Just trying to figure something out.” His expression sobered, and he covered her hand with his. “How are you doing these days?”

She pulled her hand free. “Don’t go changing the subject, young man. You are up to something, and everything I know tells me it’s going to put you in harm’s way. You want to know how I’m doing? I’m worried I could lose another son—you.” She cradled her cup with both hands, mostly to hide her shaking.

“Now, Nita, you’ve no cause to—”

“Do not lie to me, Trey. Your wife is worried, and so am I. The difference is that she knows the cause, and I don’t.”

She watched him wrestle with how much to reveal. “All right,” he said finally. “Tomorrow at church, Nell is going to invite her sister-in-law and nephews to come here for the afternoon.”

“You’re saying that boy that killed my son will be here? Staying here?”

Trey ran his hand through his thick hair. “I know it’s asking a lot, but it’s the only way, Nita. Nell will make sure he stays out of your way.”

Juanita lowered her head and studied her knobby, arthritic fingers. She felt old and tired, and she just wanted to live out her days in peace. She released a long sigh and looked up at Trey. “And you think they’ll accept after everything that’s passed between them and us?”

“Eventually, but that’s not the point. First, we have to stop the attacks, and those point directly to Collins. So Nell’s going to make sure that Pete hears her extend the invitation. It’s a trap we’re setting, Nita, to try and prove once and for all that it’s Pete and his men behind all the trouble.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Pete was pretty upset with what happened here that day last month, especially when the others chose to stay rather than follow him. When the boys took the stock to market, they overheard Pete make comments—veiled threats.”

“He’s feeling outnumbered, Trey, and Pete Collins does not like to lose.”

“He’s definitely ripe to try something. I suspect that if he thinks there’s nobody home at the Galway place, Pete will see his chance to stir things up again.”

“What about Ernest Stokes?”

“He left. Headed back to Nebraska once Lottie made it clear she has no intention of marrying again.”

“So all the other ranchers are in on this?”

Trey hesitated. “Not exactly. It’s hard to know who can be trusted.”

“You’re doing this on your own? No wonder Nell is upset. You alone against Collins and his men?” Juanita shook her head.

“Jess will be there, and Seth as well. Plus, Colonel Ashwood has agreed to have half a dozen of his men standing by. If Pete and his men show up and start to do anything, Seth can arrest them. Ashwood’s men will take them into custody and hold them at the fort.”

“And then you think this mess will end?” Juanita took her cup and his breakfast dishes to the sink and began washing them. “You forget there are two sides. You think the herders will thank you and do whatever you ask once you prove Collins is at fault?”

“I’m not naive, Nita. True reconciliation will take time, but if we can stop the destruction, we can make a start. Pete is desperate to be right—that’s become all he cares about. Sheep people are bad, and cattle people are good. For him, it’s black and white. That’s how he sees it.” He rubbed his hands over the stubble of beard on his face and leaned back. “There’s a middle ground here, Nita. I don’t have all the answers, but that I know for sure.”

She studied him for a long moment, noticing how much he reminded her of his father—another man who had sought to bring people together. “Nell is expecting your child,” she reminded him. “She’s already lost one husband and had to fend for herself and her boy. Now you would risk putting her through that again?”

Trey’s sigh told her she had hit on the nerve that was at the center of those hushed but angry exchanges. She pressed her point. “She’s afraid, Trey, and that can’t be good for her or that baby. Let Seth and Jess handle this. It’s a good plan on the face of things, but you need to stay out of it.”

She wiped her hands on a towel and crossed the room so she was standing next to his chair. “You need to stay here. Didn’t you promise Joshua you would play ball with him and his cousins when they came over?”

“Yeah, I did, but—”

“Then keep your promise. Let the others deal with Pete.” She held his gaze as she added, “I have asked nothing of you, Trey, but I am asking for this.”

Trey stood, and as always, she wondered at how this tall, broad-shouldered man could ever have been a sickly child so frail that she’d had doubts about him even making it to adulthood. He hugged her.

“Between you and Nell, a guy doesn’t have a chance,” he said, but he was smiling when he released her. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

It was as much as she was likely to get, so she agreed. “Good. Now let me make up a cup of my special tea for your wife. She’ll be feeling better in no time.”

Trey laughed. “Your special tea has a way of curing most ills, Nita, but it’s not what you put in it. It’s the threat that if it doesn’t work, you’ll come up with something even more foul.”

“Never you mind,” Juanita fumed, but as she turned away, she smiled. Trey would stay away from the danger—she was sure of that. He loved that woman too much to cause her any undue worry.

* * *

On Sunday, Trey and Nell arrived at the church and saw their opportunity at once. Lottie and the boys were just approaching while Pete Collins stood outside the double doors in his role as church deacon, greeting people—or at least the ranchers and their families. Nell called out to her sister-in-law.

“Lottie! I’m so glad to see you. Trey and I would like for you and the boys to come home with us after services. Juanita is preparing a feast, and Trey promises to play ball with the boys while you and I have a good long visit.”

“You’d all be welcome to spend the night,” Trey added. “We’ve plenty of room.”

While she was not privy to the true reason for the invitation, Lottie played her unwitting part to perfection. “What do you say, boys?” she asked.

Ira and Spud gave their grudging approval, and the two families entered the church together—passing Pete Collins on their way.

Later, as the service progressed, Jess elbowed Trey and nodded toward a door at the side of the church. Collins was leaving.

When the service ended, Jess kissed Addie and rode off. He would meet up with Seth and the soldiers and get into position to see if Collins and his men showed up at Lottie’s place. Trey suggested Josh ride with Lottie and her sons to be sure they found their way to his ranch. At least that was the excuse. The truth was, he wanted time alone with Nell.

“With any luck at all, this thing will be over by sundown,” he said.

“Did you see Addie? She’s more worried than she lets on, and I imagine Amanda is beside herself thinking about Seth. We should have invited them to be at the ranch while we wait.”

“Jess and Seth are lawmen, Nellie. Addie and Amanda know that. They know the risks.”

“Still, you said it yourself—Pete Collins is a desperate man. And that makes him especially dangerous. If he feels cornered, no telling what he might do.”

He knew she was right. He also knew the plan was in motion and there was nothing to be done but wait. He let the silence simmer between them.

Nell was the one to break it. “If this all works out the way you plan, Trey, what then?”

“Either way, we get back to our original idea—combining your property and mine and raising both sheep and cattle, proving that they can coexist.”

“Maybe we should take in Lottie’s sheep as well. After all, her land and mine combined aren’t a quarter of your ranch, so it wouldn’t be that much more to deal with. And with Ernest gone…”

“We’ll see what Lottie wants to do. I’ll offer, but it’s her choice—hers and the boys’.”

“Even if she refuses and insists on going it alone, we’ll still help out, won’t we?”

Trey grinned and shook his head. “Woman, you do have this way of wanting to take care of the whole world, don’t you?” He wrapped his arm around her as he drove their wagon with the other hand. “Lottie and her boys are family, Nell, and we are always there for family.”

As promised, Juanita had a spread waiting for them the likes of which even Trey had never seen. Sopapillas, empanadas, crusty bolillos, a pot of hominy posole covered with chocolate-infused mole, along with a pot of simmering frijoles, plenty of fresh tortillas, and buñuelos for dessert. Locally produced wine and sarsaparilla for the boys rounded out the feast.

Afterward, while Nell and Lottie insisted on helping Juanita clear and clean up, Trey took the boys out to the yard, called for a couple of his cowhands to join them, and laid out bases and a pitcher’s mound. Trey put any remaining anger he was holding toward Ira aside. What was happening today was too important. He tossed Ira the ball. “You pitch,” he said.

Ira nodded and strode to the makeshift pitcher’s mound.

It didn’t take long for everyone to get into the game, whooping at hits and runs, sliding into the makeshift bases, and recording the score of each inning by scraping out the numbers in the sandy dirt with a stick.

All the while, he kept watching for Jess. When he hadn’t come by late afternoon as the sun sank lower in the sky, he began to worry that something had gone wrong. If Collins had not shown up at all, Jess would have returned, signaled, and gone on back to town. But this late in the day, something had happened. To Trey’s way of thinking, it shouldn’t have taken this long for the soldiers to step in and take charge.

Several times, he saw Juanita come to the door of the kitchen and study the horizon and trail that led down from the hills to their property. Trey had gotten Nell and Lottie involved in the ballgame to keep their minds off the passing of time. Still, there was no sign of Jess.

“Cómelo! Supper!” Juanita shouted as she rang the bell hanging outside the kitchen.

With most of his cow hands out on the range, Trey had handpicked the men who would stick around to play ball and share a meal with the Galway boys. He was gratified to see Ira and Spud talking easily to his men. Of course, they were replaying the game and not debating livestock, but still, it was progress.

Because it would be dark before Lottie and the boys could make it home, Nell persuaded her it was too dangerous to make the trip at such a late hour. “Stay,” she pleaded.

Joshua turned to his cousins. “If you stay the night, Ma sometimes lets me sleep down in the bunkhouse. We play cards and stuff, and the men even let me brush down the horses.” He turned to Nell. “We can spend the night in the bunkhouse, right?”

Nell hesitated, glancing at the cowhands before answering.

“It would be all right, ma’am,” one of them said.

“Clearly, I’m outnumbered here,” she said with a smile. “Lottie? Is this all right with you?”

“I suppose.” She hesitated and looked at her sons for confirmation.

“Do you play cards for money?” Ira asked.

“Matchsticks,” the cowboy replied.

Ira shrugged. “Sure. I guess.” As always, Spud followed his lead.

Once the boys had headed off to the bunkhouse and Nell and Lottie had gone to make up the guest room, Trey sought out Juanita. “I’m worried, Nita. Jess should have come back by now—that was the plan. No matter how this thing went down, he would have come here to let us know what happened.”

She didn’t argue with what they both knew he needed to do. “Take one of the hands with you,” she said.

“I’ll pick up a couple of men from the range as I go.” He strapped on his gun belt and pulled his hat tight over his forehead.

Juanita handed him the medical kit they kept supplied in the event of a scorpion bite, broken bone, or worse. “Just in case,” she said.

“Tell Nell I’ll be back as soon as possible, and keep Lottie and her boys here, no matter how long it takes me to get back.” He kissed Juanita’s forehead and left. He wanted to say goodbye to Nell, but she was in the library with Lottie, and Lottie would have questions he wasn’t ready to answer.

As he saddled a horse from the corral, he could hear laughter from the bunkhouse and knew the card game had begun. The way his cowhands had done their part in including the Galway boys gave him hope that he was not being unrealistic in believing it was indeed possible for herders and ranchers to get along. Cowboys had a live-and-let-live philosophy that allowed them to fit into most any situation. They were a transient group, following the work as the seasons changed. But most were loyal to the man paying them—at least while they worked for him.

He galloped toward the Galway ranch. His plan was to pick up a couple of his cowboys on the way, but as he rode, he saw that they were too far away. They were moving the herd to higher ground, headed in the opposite direction. If he made the detour necessary to reach them, he would lose valuable time, and his gut told him something had gone terribly wrong. There was no time to waste, so he chose to ride cross-country, taking the shortest route possible to reach his destination.

Taking care not to be seen, Trey slid from his horse and crawled on his belly to a place among the boulders that would give him a clear view.

Everything below was as it should be—no fire or damage visible. The property appeared deserted. If Collins had been there, he’d either left or been apprehended by Jess, Seth, and the militia. But if that were the case, why hadn’t Jess come to let him know it was over?

He mounted his horse and rode slowly toward the deserted yard. A few sheep grazed unattended in a field behind the house. With all the times the flock had been raided, it had dwindled in numbers to a few hundred instead of thousands. He wondered if the flock he saw in the distance also included Nell’s sheep. If so, she and Lottie didn’t have much more than the land. It would take years to rebuild the livestock to the point where either woman would see any profit.

He reined in at the barn and, hand resting on the butt of his gun, he slowly approached the open double doors and looked around inside. In the middle of the barn floor, someone had piled up kindling and bales of hay. He smelled the fumes of kerosene and saw the cast-off can that had held it. Then he went to the house, checked the doors, and found them locked, and he saw no sign of occupancy—or intrusion. The only signs anyone had been there recently came in the form of a jumble of hoofprints in the yard and the mud and dirt on the porch that he suspected Lottie would have insisted on sweeping up before coming to town for church that morning. All was quiet, and for once, he found no comfort in the silence. He sat down on the front step and tried to figure out his next move. That’s when he saw the drops of blood. They ran from the lower step of the porch across the yard to the tangle of hoofprints.

The way he figured it, someone had been shot and had made it to a horse and taken off. With the sun nearly set and all the different prints mingled together and obliterating each other, he was having trouble following the trail.

Then he heard gunfire. One shot. Another.

He didn’t wait for the third but ran for his horse, mounted, and took off toward the sound.

* * *

Nell could barely sit still, much less listen to Lottie going on about how Henry used to always say this or that. She had hoped her sister-in-law would plead exhaustion and settle into her room, but instead, she seemed to be prepared to talk through the night. Nell took her cues from Lottie’s facial expressions and certain phrases such as “remember that time.” She limited her reactions to a smile, a shrug, or a sympathetic murmur. Not wanting to raise questions from Lottie about where he might be going at this late hour, Trey had waved to Nell from the kitchen as he kissed Nita’s cheek and left. And as the minutes and then hours ticked by, all she could think of was when her husband might return.

Of course, Lottie knew nothing of the real reasons she and the boys had been invited to come to the ranch and stay over, but Nell was well aware of why Trey had wanted to bring her brother’s family to the safety of his ranch. What she didn’t know was where her husband had gone, why Jess had never come to tell them the results of the day, and whether either man was somewhere out of danger.

The night Calvin died, she had been at home, not suspecting she would never see him again. These days, every time Trey left her at the ranch, she felt a tightening in her chest and a constant chant of what if drumming in her head.

“Henry used to say—”

“Lottie, what are we going to do about rebuilding the flock? So many of our breeding ewes have been slaughtered. Lambs are without their mothers, and what stock we do have to take to market in fall is pitiful.” She hoped the change in topic would give Lottie pause, providing Nell a respite from her sister-in-law’s chatter.

Finally, her sister-in-law stopped chattering, bowed her head, and folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to do, Nell. I’ve thought of selling out to that cattleman, Mr. Collins. He’s stopped by once or twice since Ernest left. Seems like a decent sort, and he made a good case for how the money he would give me for the land would set me and the boys up for some time—long enough for Ira and Spud to find work and get settled on their own.”

“That’s not what Henry wanted for you or his sons, Lottie.”

“I know.” She sniffed back tears, but then her head snapped up, and she glared at Nell. “But Henry’s not here, is he? And I don’t have some man with his own fortune wanting to marry me and take on my boys, do I?”

“We’re family, Lottie. Nothing has changed about that.”

Lottie stood and pressed the flats of her hands over her skirt. “Everything has changed, Nell, whether you want to admit it or not. I’m tired, and with Ernest gone, me and the boys need to get back to our place first thing tomorrow. The shepherds can handle things tonight, especially since there’s so little stock to watch. Thank you for your hospitality.”

She walked stiff-backed down the hall, and a minute later, Nell heard the soft click of the guest room door. Relieved, she practically ran to the front door, tearing it open as she hurried into the courtyard and scanned the dark night for any sign of Trey.

Where are you, my love?

* * *

There were two more shots as Trey rode hard toward the sound that ricocheted off the rocky terrain. And then silence. He pulled up, trying to decide which way to go. He studied the outline of the landscape silhouetted against the night sky. There! He saw a man move behind a cluster of boulders. It was his brother—and Jess was hurt.

Trey slid from his horse, grabbed the medical kit, and followed the ledge until he was able to easily jump a narrow chasm and reach the other side. “Jess?” he hissed as he edged his way along the narrow path.

Nothing.

He moved higher. “Jess!” he said more loudly.

This time, he heard a low moan—and it was close. He stepped carefully around a large rock that jutted out over the chasm below. His brother was on the other side, propped up against the rock and clutching his blood-soaked shoulder.

“You want to stop that caterwauling and give me a hand here?” Jess grumbled. His voice was weak, and his head lolled to one side as if it were too much for him to hold it straight.

Trey immediately opened the kit and took out a roll of bandages. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. He wadded it up and pressed it against his brother’s shoulder like he’d seen Addie do once or twice. “Got to stop that bleeding,” he muttered. “Stay with me, Jess. I’ll get you to Addie, and she’ll fix you right up. You know how good she is with—”

“She’s gonna be madder than all get-out,” Jess muttered. “She told me not to come. Maybe shoulda listened.”

“Stop talkin’ and lean on me so I can get you bandaged up here,” Trey said.

Jess chuckled. “Well, listen to you, little brother, ordering me around like you’re in charge.”

“I am in charge, at least for now.” He tied off the ends of the bandages. “Okay, wrap your good arm around me, and let’s get you on your feet. Where’s your horse?”

“Collins shot it—and me. His own horse slid on the path and threw him, so he shot it as well. That man’s got no respect for man or beast.”

Typical Jess, Trey thought. Making light of something serious.

Together, they hobbled away from the ledge, back toward the chasm Trey knew he could easily span, even carrying the weight of his brother. Finally, they reached the flat of a mesa on the other side, and Trey eased his brother down. “Wait here while I round up my horse.”

“Horse can’t take both of us,” Jess called out as Trey walked away.

“He’s only takin’ you. He knows the way back to the ranch, and once he gets there, Nita will take over. You tell a couple of our cowhands where to find me and Collins and send them back. I’ll wait.”

Trey could hear Jess still muttering his objections once he led his horse to the spot where he’d left his brother.

“This is a bad idea,” Jess argued. “You against Collins? He’ll kill you, Trey. Wait for the militia. They took off to round up Collins’s men.”

“I can get the jump on him,” Trey said as he hoisted his brother into the saddle and used the reins to anchor him. “Just in case you pass out along the way,” he explained. “Don’t want you falling and breaking that hard head of yours.” Then he gave a whoop and slapped the horse’s hindquarters, and it took off, headed hell-bent for home.

He could hear Jess yelling at him as he watched to be sure his brother was well on his way. Then he followed the ledge, protected by a wall of boulders, back to where he’d found Jess, knowing Pete had to be nearby.

He pulled his gun from its holster. Trey was not a man of violence. The truth was, he understood guns and rifles only as necessary evils for living on the range, but surely those days of men taking the law into their own hands were coming to their end. And yet out there somewhere was a desperate man who had nothing to lose.

Above him, he heard a trickle of loose gravel and waited. He inched himself to a place between two boulders where he could see the path that led to the top of the cliff. Pete Collins was dragging himself along the edge of the cliff. The man was clearly wounded, his one leg useless.

Trey crept closer, saw that Pete was focused intently on the spot across the narrow gap where Trey had found Jess.

“You’re a dead man, Jess Porterfield,” Pete shouted as he steadied a rifle on a flat rock and took aim.

Knowing he had the drop on Pete, Trey holstered his gun and moved quickly to the top of a large boulder. He leaped and landed on the rancher’s wounded leg, twisting it hard as he came down. As he had hoped, Pete lost control of his rifle. Better yet, the rifle went clattering over the cliff. In seconds, he had Pete on his stomach and pinned to the ground. “Shut up,” he ordered when the rancher kept whining about his leg.

Trey stood, pulled out his gun, and aimed it at Pete. “Don’t move.” From his back pocket, he pulled the piggin’ strings every cowhand carried when out on the range. He straddled Pete, set the gun out of reach, and prepared to hog-tie the rancher.

But Pete was strong, and in spite of his injured leg, he used both hands to push Trey off balance and grab the pistol. “Back off, Porterfield, or I’ll blow your face clean off.” He scooted himself into a sitting position and leveled the gun with both hands.

Trey did as the man instructed. “Come on, Pete. Give up. It’s over. The soldiers will be here any time now and—”

“Just shut up. For once in your miserable life, stop talkin’.”

The gun wavered, and Trey saw Pete was sweating and having trouble keeping his eyes open. The earth around them was soft and sandy. Slowly, subtly, Trey scraped dirt into a small pile with the toe of his boot. “Shoot me, Pete, and you’ll spend the rest of your life in jail—if they don’t hang you first.”

Pete struggled to his feet, keeping his one leg stiff and grimacing in pain as he propped himself against a tree trunk. Trey saw his chance. He picked up a handful of loose dirt and flung it at Pete, hoping the wind would carry it into Pete’s eyes and he could overpower the man. But the wind shifted, and the dirt hit Pete in the mouth, infuriating him further.

He charged at Trey, and the two of them fell to the ground, the loaded gun between them. Trey focused on getting the gun, pinning Pete with his weight as he forced the man’s arm up and away. Grabbing a large rock, he slammed it down on Pete’s hand. Pete let go of the gun, but his other hand came up and grabbed Trey by the throat. His hand spanned the width of Trey’s neck, and he began to squeeze, his eyes wild with rage and revulsion.

Trey could feel himself losing consciousness as he fought for breath. Hit him, his brain, already foggy, ordered. He realized he was still clutching the rock. He raised his arm. Pete tightened his grip, and in an effort to break the man’s hold, Trey let go of the rock. They rolled so that now Pete was on top of Trey. With one hand, Trey tried to pry Pete’s fingers free of their grip while with the heel of the other, he swung wildly.

He could feel himself losing the battle, but he had too much to live for to die on this dusty mesa at the hands of a man who had tried to destroy everything his family stood for. This time, Trey wouldn’t miss. He closed his hand around loose sand and flung it directly into Pete’s eyes. The rancher screamed and cursed and let go of Trey’s throat.

In seconds, Trey had rolled away. He was gasping for air as he located the pistol and threw it a good distance away from Pete. Then, still choking and coughing but determined to put an end to this man’s reign of terror once and for all, he grabbed the piggin’ strings, rolled Pete roughly to his stomach, and straddled him again.

“My leg!” Pete raged. “You’re gonna break it.”

“I reckon you already took care of that before I ever got here. Stop struggling and lie still, and it won’t hurt so much.” After he finished with Pete, he retrieved his gun, shoved it in the holster, and started down the trail.

“Wait! You can’t leave me here. The coyotes—”

“We’re gonna be here a while, assuming Jess makes it back to the ranch, which you’d best hope he does. Best hope he’s conscious enough to send help, or that leg’s gonna be a lot worse by daylight. I’m gonna gather some kindling for a fire.”

Trey gathered some dried cactus and wood. Keeping his distance from Pete, he set to building a fire. “Hopefully whoever Jess sends to find us will see the smoke and get here quicker.”

“Why don’t you just shoot me and be done with it?” Collins snarled.

“Too easy. I want to be sure you have lots of time to consider the error of your ways.”

The fire crackled and popped and cast a circle of light around them. Trey settled himself on a chair-sized rock, leaned against a boulder, and lowered his hat over his eyes. “Could be a while,” he said. “Best get some rest.”

“You expect me to sleep trussed up like some heifer? Show me a little of that compassion you’re so famous for, Trey. I’m hurtin’ here, and if my leg gets infected—”

Trey ignored him. “Why’d you do all those things, Pete? What did those folks ever do to you?”

“Them woolies was ruining the land and the water. And them herders just aren’t our kind, Trey. Even somebody like you has to know that. They don’t fit in. I’ll wager you that no matter what you do, you’ll never see cattle ranchers and herders come together. They might tolerate each other, but they ain’t never gonna like each other. It’s like the Mexicans—we tolerate them, sure, but—”

“Just stop talkin’, Pete. The stuff that comes out of your mouth makes me sick to my stomach. People are people, and more and more of those ‘Mexicans’ you like to talk about are born right here in this country. That makes them as American as you or me. Everybody came from someplace else, Pete, so where do you get off tacking on labels that brand others?”

Pete snorted. “Next you’re gonna be tellin’ me you married that herder’s widow because you loved her.” He put an insulting singsong tone to the word loved.

“We are not discussing my wife,” Trey said through gritted teeth.

Pete ignored his warning. “Can’t say as I blame you wanting a piece of that. Looks to me like under her skirt lies a pair of legs that would fit just right around a man’s hips, pull him in real tight.”

Trey knew what the man was trying to do. He held his tongue—and his temper—but Pete didn’t know when to quit pushing.

“And she’s still got a firm bosom—can’t hide that. You ever suckle at those breasts, Trey? Bet she’s got enough fullness there to fill a man’s hands and then some.”

Trey felt his hand close around an extra piece of wood he’d saved to add to the fire as needed. Slowly, he sat up, knowing Pete couldn’t see him from his facedown position.

“Yep, I’ve studied on it, and my guess is that little lady must be a regular hellion in bed. You’re one lucky bastard, Trey. Course she’s used goods, but better leavings like that than fresh meat that has to be trained.” He snickered and then froze as he realized Trey was standing over him, the club in one hand. “Whatcha planning to do with that stick?” he whined, struggling to roll to his back.

“If ever I hear you say one more disrespectful word about my wife or any of her kin, Collins, I will not only kill you, I’ll enjoy it and feel no remorse.”

“Ah, Trey, where’s your sense of humor? You know I don’t mean half of what I say and—”

Trey squatted beside the man and let the club come down hard within an inch of the man’s face.

Pete flinched, and his eyes bulged with a mix of pain and terror. “You’re plum loco,” he managed.

“Maybe so, but you and I both know after what you’ve put this community through these last months, no one would blame me.” He pulled out his knife and cut a couple of the ropes so he could grab Collins by his shirtfront and stand him upright. It surprised Trey to realize the rancher was shorter and punier than he seemed. Trey dragged him to a tree and used the rope to anchor him there.

“Look, Trey, we can work this out.”

“Stop talkin’, Collins. All I’m planning to do at the moment is splint that leg of yours so maybe we can both get some shut-eye before dawn.”

He cut open Pete’s pants leg and, as he’d done to his shirt for Jess, tore the fabric into strips. Then he laid down the stick he’d been using to threaten Pete and took hold of the man’s ankle. “This is gonna hurt,” he muttered, then stood and put his weight behind pulling hard on the leg to straighten it.

Pete yelled and then passed out, making the rest of the work easy. Trey tied the splint into place. Although the night was cold, he was sweating hard by the time he finished. He hoped he’d done the right thing and, realizing his concern for the man was his first thought, he laughed and shook his head. Maybe he was too soft for his own good. But then he recalled the emotions he’d struggled with as Collins taunted him with his filthy comments about Nell. In that moment, he’d come closer to killing another man than he’d ever been before.

He went back to his position on the rock near the fire. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this life. How many times had some other cowboy made crude comments about Trey’s love for sketching and painting? He knew the only reason he held the position he did within the cattlemen’s cooperative was because of their respect for his family name. If his father—or even Jess—had been leading the push for peace, it would be done by now. Hell, his eldest sister, Maria, had commanded more respect during the years she ran the ranch than Trey did.

He slept fitfully, waking frequently to tend the fire and check on Pete. As the sky lightened in the east, he noticed Pete’s leg was badly swollen. The man moaned and mumbled in his sleep, crying out from time to time. He was feverish, so Trey soaked his bandana with water from his canteen and bathed Pete’s face and neck.

“They’ll be here soon,” he promised, hoping he was right. He untied the ropes and tried his best to make Pete more comfortable.

His stomach grumbled, and he pulled a piece of jerky from his pocket and chewed on it while he kept watch for any sign of rescue.

“Porterfield?” Pete’s voice was weak.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t mean them things I said before…about your wife.”

“Then why say them?”

Pete coughed. “Just trying to get at you. I don’t understand you.”

Trey untwisted the cap from his canteen and passed it to Pete, who seemed surprised to realize he was no longer tied up. He took a swallow and spit half of it out as he choked.

“Take it easy,” Trey instructed. “That’s it for water, so let’s don’t waste it, just in case.”

Pete returned the canteen and lay down again. “This business with the herders—you’re convinced our side can’t win, aren’t you?”

“It’s not about winning, Pete. Unless we can find a way to make our peace, everybody loses.” He noticed the sweat beading Pete’s forehead and soaking his shirt. “Stop talking, Pete. Save your strength.”

The other man struggled to raise himself onto one elbow. He grasped Trey’s forearm. “Can’t go to prison. Family would never—”

“You shoulda thought about them before you started down this road,” Trey said, wrenching his arm away.

“What if them woolies ain’t all dead?” Pete muttered, slurring his words as he fought to stay conscious. “Some…sure…had to make a point.” The man rambled on for a moment about “throwing away good money” and something about “market” before he finally passed out again.

Trey went back to his post, watching for any sign of help as the sun rose and the shadows that had covered the land evaporated. He saw the cloud of dust first and then the riders—three soldiers, one of them driving a wagon with a spare horse tied to the back. Trey climbed to the highest point and stood with his arms in the air. He fired a single shot, saw the convoy hesitate and then turn in his direction.

It was over, finally. But it wasn’t—not really. Pete would go to trial, and with his men singing like choir boys, there was certainly enough to convict him. But the man had done a great deal of damage. Nell would be all right, but others like Lottie Galway and her boys were unlikely to be able to recover from their losses. So to Trey’s way of thinking, it would never be over until both sides could find their way back to the kind of life they’d come here to build in the first place.

* * *

When the horse carrying Jess came trotting into the yard, Nell was standing outside the kitchen. She’d been waiting for Trey, determined to be there when he returned, no matter the hour.

“Nita!” she shouted. “Somebody help now!”

Two cowhands came running from the bunkhouse along with Juanita and Eduardo from the house, and Nell began loosening the ties holding Jess on the horse. The man was half out of his head as the two cowboys lifted him and carried him inside. Nell kept pace while Juanita gave orders.

“One of you ride into town and bring Addie. Eduardo, get me that bar of soap and a pan of clean water from the kitchen. Nell—”

But Nell had leaned in to speak to Jess. “Jess, have you seen Trey? Is he—”

Jess opened his eyes and squinted at her, then he gave her a loopy grin. “Hello, Nellie. You doing okay?”

She knew then that he was not in his right mind, because never in all the time she had known the man had he asked after her well-being.

“Jess, what happened?” She resisted the urge to shake him hard and bring him to his senses. “That’s Trey’s horse out there. Where is my husband?”

Jess frowned, and it was evident he was trying hard to focus. He settled his gaze on Eduardo. “Deadman’s Point,” he mumbled. “Trey’s there with Collins. Tell Ashwood and—” His eyelids fluttered and closed.

“He’s out,” Juanita announced as she pulled off Jess’s boots and then covered him with an afghan. “Well, go on,” she barked when she saw her husband and the other cowboy standing by the door. “God willing, you’ll cross path with some of the soldiers mixed up in this, and they can help. Meanwhile, Trey’s up there with that mad man.”

The two men hurried away, and a moment later, Nell heard them ride off.

“What can I do?” Nell asked.

“Nothing to be done but wait for Addie to get here.” Juanita collapsed onto a straight chair next to the sofa, clearly settling in to keep a vigil until Jess’s wife arrived.

“I’ll fix breakfast for Lottie and the boys,” Nell said. She needed to be busy, or surely her fear for Trey would overcome her. She hurried off to the kitchen. She set Juanita’s favorite iron skillet on the stove, spread lard in the bottom, and chopped an onion. At first, she blamed the fumes for making her eyes water, but after a moment, she realized she was crying for real. Her hands trembled. She set down the knife and the onion and gripped the edge of the sink, Juanita’s words echoing in her head—mad man. What if Pete had attacked Trey? Killed him?

“What’s going on, Ma?” Joshua rubbed sleep from his eyes as he entered the kitchen. “How come you’re cooking? Where is everybody?”

“Shhh. Jess is resting. He had a little accident, so Juanita is taking care of him while I make breakfast. Are your cousins awake?”

“No. We stayed up pretty late last night,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “Where’s Trey?”

“He had to go out for a while.” She sniffed back her tears, dumped the chopped onion into the sizzling pan, and sliced a large sweet potato into the mix. After adding some water and dried red chilies before covering the pan to let the vegetables simmer, she reached for eggs and saw there were only two. “Josh, go down to the coop and collect the eggs for me, please.” She handed him the basket. “And while you’re out there, wake Ira and Spud and tell them to get dressed and come up to the house for breakfast.”

Her son took the basket and grinned. “Ma, you called me ‘Josh’ like Trey does. I like that.” He raced out the door, shouting for his cousins to wake up as he went.

Nell heard the door to Lottie’s room open. Her sister-in-law had no idea of the real reason Trey had wanted her and her boys to stay the night at his ranch. “Good morning,” she said when she heard Lottie’s step approaching.

“Was there trouble?” Lottie asked. “I heard shouting, and I looked out the window, and it seemed like someone was hurt and…” She took one look at Nell’s tear-stained face and reached out to her. “Oh, Nell, it isn’t…I mean Trey is not…”

“I don’t know,” Nell admitted. She poured two mugs of coffee. “Let’s sit for a minute, Lottie. I’ve got something to tell you.”