Eight

Trey was surprised to realize he’d finally slept. He had been awake much of the night, staring into the darkness, thinking about Nell. He had made a mistake marrying her before the meeting with her brother. As much as he had wanted to marry her, he should have taken the time to have that meeting, perhaps to even let Henry know of their plans. After all, Galway was head of that family. But he hadn’t thought about seeking approval from either side. And now with her brother dead, her nephews and sister-in-law were bound to cut her out of their lives.

And then there was his family—his sisters and brother who had loved Javier as one of their own. Would they cast blame on Nell simply because of her kin? And would Juanita, Eduardo, and Rico ever forgive him for creating this mess in the first place?

The only way he could see them all getting through this was finding a way to come together, starting with the two families. After all, that had been his intent from the beginning. His family had always jokingly called him a dreamer. Well, now the label was no joke. Now, because of his certainty that he could make peace between ranchers and herders, his family and neighbors saw him as a fool.

From out in the compound, he heard men shouting. The urgency in their voices made him go to the narrow, barred window. It was still dark, although there was a faint light of dawn on the horizon where the night sky was turning gray. The rain was coming down so hard, it was difficult to see, but he was able to make out soldiers mounting up and riding through the massive double gate others held open against the wind.

“What’s going on out there?” Trey asked when the guards brought breakfast a few minutes later. From the next cell, he could see Ira Galway’s hands clenching the bars, his knuckles white with the force of his grip.

“Raids overnight,” one guard replied.

“Them or us?” Ira demanded.

“Both,” the other guard said. “And that’s all you fellas need to know.” He and his partner left, hunching their shoulders against the storm as they ran for cover on the other side of the compound.

The bread was soggy and the coffee cold. Trey could hear Ira muttering to himself.

“Galway?” he called. “Seems to me with your pa gone, you and your brother are in charge of things over at your place now.” During the night, he had considered the futility of his rage at what Ira had done and focused instead on the possibility that the boy might be a link to the other herders.

“What’s that to you?”

“Well, I was hoping to deal with your pa. When we first met, he seemed to me a reasonable man. A man we could work with. Now I’m wondering where you and your brother might stand on this range war situation.” He was well aware it was unlikely either Ira or his brother had even considered their position now that their father was gone. Perhaps they had thought Ernest would take charge. “I haven’t had the chance to meet many of the herders other than you and your pa,” Trey continued, “but we have to start somewhere.”

“You trying to con me, mister? That’s your plan, ain’t it? Same way you conned Aunt Nell into marrying you so you could take her land. Now you want my pa’s place as well. I’m not stupid.”

“Never said you were. And I’ve got plenty of land, so why would I need more?”

“’Cuz if you own us, you can drive us out.”

Trey felt his temper flare. “No man owns another man, Ira. We fought a war to make sure of that.”

Ira took a minute to absorb that before asking, “Did you fight then?”

Trey laughed. “How old do you think I am? I was six when that war ended. They were taking them young, but not that young.”

From the other side of the wall, Trey heard a snort that sounded a lot like a laugh the kid was trying to cover. He waited.

A minute later, Ira threw the tin cup against the bars, and the weak coffee spattered on the dusty floor. “This stuff tastes like piss.”

“Yeah. I was thinking about the coffee Javier’s pa makes—best in the territory. When we’re out on the range for days at a time, it’s Eduardo’s coffee keeps us going. I’d give a lot for a cup of that right now. Javier used to—”

“Are you scared, mister? Pa always said when a man can’t shut his mouth, he’s probably scared, and you sure do talk a lot.”

Trey thought about that. “Hard not to be when you can’t see what’s ahead,” he admitted. “It’s not so much for myself. More for your Aunt Nell and her boy—wondering what’s ahead for them, especially if I’m not there to make sure they’re all right. Your ma’s got you and your brother, but your aunt? Well, without me, she’s on her own.”

When there was no answer, no further comment from the cell next door, Trey figured he should just let the silence stand. He walked back to the window where the downpour still fell in a curtain that blocked out anything that might be happening in the compound. He let the lashing rain soak his skin and the whiskers that had blossomed overnight. He scrubbed at his face with both hands, drying them by wiping them over his trousers. With nothing else to do, he picked up one of the rocks he’d been using to draw and started working on the sketch again.

“Hey, mister?”

“Yeah?”

“I never meant to kill him. Just wanted to hurt him.” Ira’s voice trailed off, and Trey knew he was crying again.

He also knew it was as close to an expression of regret as the boy was likely ever to utter.

* * *

Nell hadn’t made much progress by the time she heard the wagon behind her. The torrential rains had turned the dusty trail to mud that clung to her boots and spattered her skirt. The wind was driving the rain right at her, and she had trouble seeing where she was going. Twice she had stumbled and almost fallen, regaining her balance at the last minute. She’d thought of going back. After all, Amanda’s husband had promised to get her a horse and buggy by morning, and the hint of murky gray in the distance held the promise of daylight. Still, she plodded on.

“Get in,” the driver of the wagon ordered as he pulled alongside her. He held out his hand to pull her up next to him on the soaked wooden seat.

She folded her arms protectively around her chest and squinted up at him. “Is that you, Rico?” she asked, finally putting an identity to the man’s features.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “Now take my hand, woman.”

She stood her ground. “Will you take me to get my son?”

He let out a breath that spoke louder than words. “Look, the way this trail is, we’ll be lucky to make it back to the ranch without breaking an axle. You can get your son once this rain lets up. He’s not going anywhere, is he? And those are your people caring for him, right?”

Nell pulled her coat closer and started walking again. She heard Rico call the horses to a halt and then heard the splat of his boots hitting the ground behind her.

“Mrs. Stokes, stop,” he shouted above the howl of the wind. She kept walking, but he overtook her easily and stepped in front of her on the path. “Look, my ma is worried, and she doesn’t need any more cause right now. She just buried one son, and now Trey’s over there at the fort, but she’s also worried about you. So stop being so bullheaded and let me take you back where she can see you’re all right.”

“First of all, my name is Nell Porterfield. Nell is fine with me. Second, there’s another woman whose had a loss in all this—my sister-in-law. I don’t want her to think I’ve chosen sides. She needs to know that whatever has happened or will come, we are family. I expect your mother understands that, understands why I set out in the first place.”

Rico stared up at the sky. Then he took off the slicker and placed it on her shoulders. “Get in. I’ll take you there and wait while you call on your sister-in-law and collect your boy.”

“Thank you.” Nell allowed him to help her into the wagon. Once he had picked up the reins and snapped them to get the team moving, she scooted closer to him and held the slicker above their heads so that it covered them both.

Although it was already midmorning by the time they arrived, things were quiet at her brother’s place. The storm had kept away any visitors who might call on Lottie. She saw no sign of Ernest nor Spud or the Mexicans hired to shepherd the flock. The yard, pastures, and outbuildings appeared to be unoccupied. “Wait here,” she said when Rico pulled the wagon to a stop some distance from the house. “No need to get anybody more upset than they already are. I’ll walk down and talk to Lottie and get Joshua. When we’re ready, I’ll signal from the porch there.”

Rico drove the team forward. “I know another way. You can cut through just past the kitchen garden. The wagon will be out of sight of the barn. That way, I’ll be close enough to get you and the boy out should there be trouble.”

Surely, it was ridiculous to think she might be in any real danger. These people were family—even Ernest had been her late husband’s cousin. And yet she did not object when Rico found a route through a grove of trees near the creek, swollen now with the rain.

“I’ll wait here,” he said.

She handed him the slicker and climbed down from the wagon.

When she reached the back entrance to the house, she saw Lottie sitting alone at the kitchen table, her Bible open in front of her. Nell stepped up to the door and knocked lightly on the frame before entering the house. “Hello, Lottie,” she said softly.

Lottie raised her head to reveal eyes that were hollow and red-rimmed, in a face sallow and lined. The woman appeared to have aged a decade in just a few days. Her hand trembled as she reached out to Nell. “You’ve come home,” she whispered. “Bless you for that.”

Nell bit her lower lip as she took Lottie’s hand between both of hers. “Lottie, I came to see if you needed anything—if there was anything I could do for you.”

Lottie’s eyes hardened, and she pulled her hand away. “Do for me? You could have been at the funeral—your own flesh and blood. Where were you?”

“I thought it best…” Nell could not find the words to explain why she had chosen to stay away. “Is Joshua all right?”

“You think I wouldn’t take proper care of that boy? You think I would punish him for the sins of his mother? Is that it?”

“No! Lottie, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that you have so much to deal with right now, and I thought if I took Joshua with me, it might relieve you some.”

“You want to take that boy to that rancher’s place so he can learn how to hate his own kind?”

“You’ve got this all wrong, Lottie. Trey wants to find a way for everyone to live in peace.”

“Peace?” Lottie spat the word at Nell. “Do you know where Spud and Ernest and the others are right now?”

“I assumed they were out tending the flock,” Nell replied.

“They are out all right, but there’s no tending to be done. There was a raid last night. They stampeded our sheep and those of yours we’d managed to round up after the fire. Ran them up there to Deadman’s Point and drove them over the edge, whooping and hollering and firing their rifles in the air.”

“No.” Nell covered her mouth with her fist. Would this carnage never end?

“You doubt me? Where were your husband and his family last night, Nell? Ask yourself that.”

Nell found her footing with that taunt. “My husband was in jail at the fort, just like Ira. And his family was at home—all night.” She looked past Lottie and saw Joshua standing in the doorway.

“Ma?”

She realized what a mess she was—her hair pulled free and sodden around her face and shoulders, her clothing soaked and pocked with mud. Even so, she held out her arms to him, and he ran to her. “Joshua, go gather your things, and be sure you make the bed and leave everything in order. Then come back here and thank Aunt Lottie for everything she’s done for you these last few days.”

Joshua pulled away and looked up at her. “Where are we going?”

Nell looked at Lottie. “We’ll be staying at Mr. Porterfield’s ranch,” she said.

“Not at Doc Addie’s in town?”

“No, but she and her family will be at the ranch from time to time, I’m sure. Now go get ready.”

Joshua turned to go but stopped next to Lottie’s chair. “Aunt Lottie, don’t you worry. I’ll be back to see you real soon.” He gave her a hug before hurrying down the hall and did not see the tears leaking down the furrows of Lottie’s worn face.

Nell knelt next to her and clasped hands with her. “Lottie, please forgive me. I should have been here, if not for Henry, then for you.”

Lottie sniffed back her grief. She tightened her grip. “What are we going to do to save Ira? Those people have accused him of murder. He’ll hang. I can’t… I’ve lost…” She broke down completely then, her tears soaking their joined hands.

“I’ll talk to Trey and his family. They’ll know what to do,” Nell promised.

And in that instant, the bond between them was shattered. Lottie pushed Nell away with such force, she nearly toppled over. “Get out of my house, Nell. Take your boy and go. And be certain of this—I will never forgive you for betraying us the way you have. And if Ira goes to the gallows, that is on your head. You brought this on us.” She was standing now, her body rigid with rage.

From behind her, Nell saw Joshua close the door to the bedroom and walk toward the kitchen. “Lottie, please,” she whispered.

Her sister-in-law turned away and saw Joshua. “You’ll be needing a slicker, young man,” she said briskly as she took one down from a hook and wrapped it around the boy’s shoulders. “This was your Uncle Henry’s.”

“It’s too big,” Joshua said.

“You’ll grow into it, and when you do, remember where it—and you—came from.” She hugged him close, then left the room without a backward glance at Nell.

* * *

The detail of soldiers returned around noon, and shortly after that, Trey was summoned to Colonel Ashwood’s office. The rain had stopped, and the sun burned so hot that everything had dried up, and it was almost as if there had been no storm at all. Only a few puddles of murky standing water pitted the compound.

As he walked between two guards, Trey did what he could to make his appearance more presentable—tucked in his shirt, brushed off his vest, and while he waited to be announced, he slid the top of each boot against his calves in an effort to remove some of the dust. The door to the colonel’s office swung open, and the guards stepped aside.

“Come in, Mr. Porterfield.” The colonel came around his desk to greet him.

Trey was confused. Colonel Ashwood was treating him like a welcome guest rather than a prisoner. He accepted the man’s handshake and his invitation to sit in one of two wooden chairs. Instead of returning to his larger chair behind the desk, Colonel Ashwood dismissed the guards, closed the office door, and sat next to Trey.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

“I’m fine, sir. I appreciate you asking.”

“As you are aware, Peter Collins has brought some disturbing charges against you. I must say I never thought I would see the day when that particular cattleman took the side of a sheepherder’s family.”

“He wasn’t there,” Trey said.

“Yes, so he has said. He claims to have witnessed the altercation from a distance.”

“Then what he saw was Henry Galway pull a gun on me. I was moving to attend to Javier Mendez when Galway came at me, tripped, fell, and shot himself as he tumbled down the cliff. Jess was there. As was the boy you’ve got locked up for killing Javier.”

“Still, I know you appreciate the need for me to follow protocol here.”

“Yes, sir.”

The colonel glanced toward the closed door and lowered his voice. “I had another reason for having my soldiers take you into custody, Trey. That young man in the cell next to you was near to hysteria his first night here. No one from his side of this business has been here, and that worries me.”

“Herders tend to walk, and from the Galway place to here is quite a journey—more than half a day on foot. The boy is frightened. He realizes what he did. He does seem to have settled down some,” he added.

“You’ve spoken to him then?”

“We talked some, last night and this morning.”

“Excellent. That was part of my plan.” The colonel stood and took a cigar from a humidor on his desk. He offered one to Trey, who declined.

“I don’t understand, sir. It sounds like you wanted the boy and me to spend time together.”

“Exactly. I don’t believe what Collins is saying about you. He wants you out of his way so he can wage war on the herders. I can’t allow him to do that, but the truth is, I don’t have the manpower to stop him.”

“And you think that boy over there can?”

“Not exactly. I am seeking some way we might remind reasonable men on both sides that this business can’t be solved by stampeding sheep or slaughtering cattle. Right now, Collins has got them all fired up. He’s convinced them this is a matter of all or nothing.” Colonel Ashwood squinted at him through a ring of cigar smoke. “I understand you married Galway’s sister. Can’t imagine that helped your cause—or hers.”

Trey felt a flush flow up the back of his neck and around to his cheeks. “My wife is—”

The colonel waved off his explanation. “None of my business. Just reminding you that it was you who put a stick of dynamite in the middle of this barrel of kerosene. It was you who jeopardized the very peace council you hoped to create.”

Trey could not deny the truth of that, so he changed the thrust of the conversation back to his arrest. “If you believe Collins is lying about what he saw, can I go home?”

“Now, how would that look? We let you go scot-free, and that boy over there has no chance to give his side of things?”

“He killed my friend—that was no accident. He brought the knife, concealed it, and used it. I believe him when he says he didn’t mean to, but the facts speak for themselves.” The grief he’d had little time to dwell on made Trey’s stomach lurch with fury. Javier was dead. Did no one care? Or was it the old story of racial differences—the death of a white man carrying far more weight than that of someone with brown skin? He forced himself to remain calm. “Colonel, if you want my help, I need to get out of here. I need to talk to the other ranchers, settle them down. I need to—”

“And I need you to get that boy to coming around to your way of seeing things.”

“He’s a kid. What good will it do if he decides to say his pa’s death was an accident? And why would he when he truly believes it was my fault?”

The colonel smiled and moved to his official chair. He sat down heavily, rested his elbows on the desk, and pressed his fingertips together. “My guess is one more night spent in that dark cell will bring him around. He’ll agree to pretty much anything, even saying he saw the whole thing up close and you had no fault in his father’s tragic death.”

“In exchange for?”

“His right to go home until his trial comes up.”

“Now, hold on. He murdered my friend—intentional or not. You’re willing to let him get away with that? Whatever happened to justice? I mean, I understand the boy acting rashly, but even out here on the frontier, there has to be some consequence.”

The colonel stubbed out his cigar in a large brass ashtray. “I said he’ll go home—nothing about going free. He’ll stand trial for Mendez’s death, but we have to give the herders something, Trey. They’re bearing the brunt of this fight. Your own wife had her place burned to the ground. As of last night, the Galways have lost most of their sheep. If we let the boy go home to his mama until the circuit court can hear his case, we tip the balance—maybe not till it’s even, but enough for now.”

“I still think—”

The colonel ran his fingers through his thin hair. “I’m trying to prevent a range war, son. Your idea didn’t work, so let’s try mine.”

“I don’t understand yours,” Trey grumbled.

“It buys us some time. If a herder stands up for a cattleman, then other ranchers—on both sides—have to think twice about their next moves. I’m convinced most of the mischief that’s been done, even slaughtering cattle and cutting fences, has been at the hands of Collins and his cowhands. I just can’t prove it.”

“Mischief?” Trey stood for the first time since entering the office. He leaned across the colonel’s desk so they were eye to eye. He kept his voice low and calm. “You call destroying a family’s livelihood and burning my wife’s home to the ground ‘mischief’?”

“Compared to what’s gone on up in Kansas and Nebraska? Yes, I do. And my job is to make sure it doesn’t get any worse. Three men have died, Porterfield. How many more do we need to bury before we get this thing under control?”

Trey moved away from the desk. “And what if the kid agrees to your plan, goes home, and goes out looking for revenge with his brother and Ernest Stokes?”

“That’s why you’re gonna spend the rest of today and tonight trying to bring him around. You have a way about you, Trey. People like you. They trust you. Hell, you got that herder’s widow to marry you.” The colonel chuckled as he walked to the door and signaled for the guards to come in.

On the walk back to his cell, Trey saw the meeting for what it had truly been. Ashwood wasn’t interested in justice. He wasn’t especially interested in what had or had not happened at Deadman’s Point. Fort Lowell was about to be shut down, the presence of a militia having run its course as the territory became more settled. If the colonel let the range war catch fire, that would be his final legacy in the area. He clearly had no intention of letting that happen. No, Ashwood would do whatever it took to prevent that stain on his record, no matter who paid the price. Trey could not understand why everyone in this battle seemed to be in it for his personal interests rather than the greater good.

Back in his cell, he added details to the drawing on the wall for a while, then lay on his cot and stared out the window. As he sketched, he thought about the mess created by what he had naively thought would be a peaceful meeting. Now Javier was dead, and so was Ira’s father. There was grief enough to share. His own father had been killed when Trey was about Ira’s age. The years that followed had been hard on everyone, but Trey had missed out on more than his older siblings. Now Ira and his brother would have to find their way to manhood without the strong hand of Henry Galway guiding them. They would need a friend—somebody older and more experienced.

“Galway,” he said after a while. “You over there?”

“Where do you think I got to with them bars between me and freedom?”

“You’re pretty quiet.”

“I’m thinkin’.”

Trey smiled. The boy’s voice hit both a high and a low note on those two words. “Me too. Care to share?”

“No. Leave me be.”

Trey sat up. “Come on, Ira. If we’ve got to be here, we might as well get better acquainted. Tell me what you want from this world.”

The silence could either mean the kid was considering his offer or shutting down again.

“Right now, I want to get the hell out of here. Beyond that, I wouldn’t say no to a big helping of my aunt’s bread pudding.”

“Your Aunt Nell?”

“Yeah. She’s a really good cook—better than Ma.”

Trey thought about the cake from the church social. It had practically melted in his mouth. “Are you and your brother close to your aunt?”

“We were. But with her and you… That really made Pa upset when I told him I’d seen the two of you. I never saw him that mad.”

“No need for your relationship with your aunt to change all that much,” Trey said.

Ira snorted. “Then you’re dumber than I thought, mister.”

“Maybe. But if you think about it, we’re not only neighbors. We’re family now. I guess marrying your aunt makes me your uncle.”

“You ain’t never gonna be my kin, mister. You got that? Now stop your jawin’ and let me think.”

“Never say never, Ira. More often than not, you end up having to eat those words.”

Ira’s cot scraped against the wall, most likely because the boy had kicked it there. “Just shut up,” he bellowed.

Trey decided to oblige.

* * *

Nell could see how curious Joshua was about Rico as the three of them sat on the wagon seat on their way back to the Porterfield ranch.

“Do you work for the Porterfield ranch?” he asked.

Rico kept his eyes on some point in the far distance. “Nope.”

“Rico owns the livery stable in town,” Nell explained when it became obvious Rico had no intention of adding to his one-word reply.

“You and Trey are friends then?” Joshua was clearly trying to make sense of everything he’d witnessed over the last weeks and months among the grown-ups in his life. They had agreed that Joshua would simply call Trey by his given name—at least for the time being.

Rico grunted.

“I’ve been sick a lot,” Joshua said. “But Doc Addie told me Trey was sick just like me when he was a kid. Did you know him then?”

“Rico’s parents live on the ranch,” Nell explained. “He grew up there. Now he and his wife and little boy live in town behind the livery.”

Joshua nodded. “Ma says Trey is gonna teach me to ride and play baseball and all sorts of stuff. Is he any good?”

For the first time since they’d set out from Lottie’s, Rico looked at Joshua. “You talk a lot for such a niño,” he observed. He glanced at Nell, then back at her son. “Trey’s about as good at those things as any man around.”

Joshua nodded. “That’s good to know. Doc Addie said he likes to draw pictures of people and read books, so I was thinkin’ maybe he was better at something like that.”

This time, Rico kept his gaze focused on Nell. “Trey Porterfield is one of the best men I know. Some say he’s too good. Some say he’ll need somebody who can rein him in a bit when he goes off thinking the world is better and kinder than it is—and thinking if it ain’t, he can change it.”

The way Joshua smiled and leaned his head against her, Nell had the feeling he had heard Rico’s words as reassurance that Trey would be everything Joshua hoped for. She heard the words for what they were—a challenge to her, now that she was Trey’s wife. And once again, she realized that this man, the one who could make her body hum with anticipation and desire, was a complete stranger in so many other ways.

“We’ll be fine,” she murmured and met Rico’s stare without wavering.

Once they reached the ranch house, Rico collected his family and headed back to town. The horse and buggy Seth had promised waited near the barn. Juanita and Amanda stood in the doorway, and as Nell approached, Juanita held out her arms to Joshua.

“Can this be the boy Addie’s been telling us about, Amanda?” She held Joshua by his shoulders as she took stock of him. “Why you’re nearly grown, young man. Now you come with me, and let’s get you settled in your room.”

Joshua grinned and ducked his head, and Nell silently blessed the older woman for making her son feel at home. She watched as Juanita and Joshua disappeared down the corridor that led to the bedrooms and prepared to follow them. “I should get cleaned up,” she said as she slipped past Amanda.

Trey’s youngest sister had yet to show anything more than a polite wariness toward Nell. She stepped aside to allow Nell to pass but followed her to the large bedroom. “Nita is heating water for your bath. You go ahead and get out of those wet clothes, and I’ll get the water,” she said.

By the time she returned, Nell had undressed and wrapped herself in a robe.

Amanda eased past her, balancing two large pails of steaming water that she dumped in the copper tub. “I used to do this for Mama when she…after Papa died,” she said. “Mama loved her bath.” She stood in the doorway between the bath and bedroom and surveyed the room.

Nell removed the pins from her hair. “It must be difficult for you—and Jess—to think of me in this room.”

Roused from her reverie, Amanda held out a towel to Nell. “It was always going to be the place Trey brought his bride,” she said. “With the rest of us settled elsewhere, this was always going to be Trey’s home.” She returned to the bathroom and picked up a bottle of bath salts. She poured some into the steaming water before once again stepping aside to allow Nell to pass. But when they were side by side, she placed her hand on Nell’s forearm. “Don’t hurt my brother, Nell,” she said. “He’s the best of all of us, and he’s had enough heartbreak in his life.”

“I would never—”

“No, I don’t believe you would—not intentionally. But it’s plain to see he has given you his heart. What’s unclear to us is if that was mutual. No one would blame you if you saw Trey’s offer as a safe haven for you and your son. Certainly, you’ve had your share of heartache as well. But if you don’t love him, then at least…”

Nell was not ready to discuss her feelings for Trey with anyone. They were too new to allow others the opportunity to comment or criticize.

“Trey and I are fully aware of the obstacles we may face. We will find our way. And now if you’ll excuse me, I would like to bathe and dress so I can go to the fort to see my husband.” She edged past Amanda and gently closed the door to the bathroom.

When she had washed away the grime of her morning trek and combed out and braided her hair, she opened the connecting door. Amanda was gone, but on the bed was an outfit Trey’s sister had selected for her from the wardrobe. Her boots sat on the floor next to the bed, cleaned of the mud that had coated them on her arrival.

She dressed and hurried down the hall to Trey’s old room. The door stood open, but Joshua was not inside. She heard his laughter from the library. She slid back the pocket doors to find Amanda and Joshua sitting around a large wooden table.

“Hey, Ma, Aunt Amanda is teaching me to read this map. She used to be a teacher in Tucson.”

Nell heard little of her son’s words past his use of the term Aunt Amanda. That was as clear a sign as any Amanda had decided to give them a chance.

But it was evident Trey’s brother, Jess, would not be so easily swayed.

“You ready?” Jess barely glanced at her as he led the way to the buggy. She saw he’d tied his horse to the back.

“Yes, thank you.” She prepared to climb on.

“I’ll be driving,” he said.

“Lottie told me about the raid. I can manage,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm.

“No doubt. But you are not traveling alone, not with everything going on out there.”

“Has something else happened?”

“You could say that,” he grumbled and said nothing more as he waited for her to climb onto the seat, then took the reins.

After several minutes, Nell became uneasy. “This isn’t the way to the fort,” she said.

“It’s the long way around. We’ll get there. Trey’s not going anywhere, and I want to show you something.”

He kept the horse moving at a brisk trot for several miles, but when they reached the top of a mesa, he pulled the reins and called for the horse to stop. Below them, the land was littered with the corpses of sheep, their white and gray wool covering the red-brown dirt like snow.

Nell covered her mouth, fearful that she might actually be sick at the sight. “No,” she whispered. “Why? What was the sense of this?”

Jess said nothing as he urged the horse forward once again. After a while, they came to a stretch of land where the barbed wire marking cattle land had been cut and hung in haphazard loops, the connecting posts akimbo. She knew whatever cattle had grazed inside those fences had now wandered off. But the cows could be rounded up. The sheep…

“There.” Jess pointed to a spot in the distance where a group of cowhands appeared to be loading bodies onto a wagon.

“The cattle as well?” She gave voice to her disbelief.

Jess nodded. “And that, Nell, is why I can’t allow you to go wandering off on your own. Whoever did this could have still been out here this morning when you decided to set out. They used the cover of the storm to do their work—both sides. These are desperate men, bent on winning at any cost. They won’t think twice about killing anybody who gets in their way.”

“How do we stop this?” she asked, a thought she didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud.

“You don’t. And I need you to talk Trey into standing aside as well. Let the militia handle this. It’s not our fight.”

Oh, but it was. These renegades had not only robbed Joshua of his inheritance, but her brother’s family of their livelihood as well.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you, Nell?”

She nodded. She understood all right—but she didn’t have to agree. Trey was right. This had to stop, and if the two of them could do anything to bring that about, she was more than willing to take whatever risk it entailed.

* * *

Shortly after finishing his lunch, Trey had started another drawing on the opposite wall of his cell when he heard voices outside the jail, among them, a woman’s voice he recognized.

Nellie.

He rushed to the window, straining to see around the corner of the jail. He could hear Jess talking to the colonel and just barely caught a glimpse of a green dress he remembered his mother wearing. What could Jess have been thinking of, bringing her here? He didn’t want her to see him like this—unbathed, unshaven, his clothes covered with the dust that blew through the bars of the window through the day and night.

“Ira, your Aunt Nell is here,” he said as he combed his fingers through his hair. “Remember, she is blameless in all of this.”

Ira snorted. “She married you, didn’t she?”

“Just give her a chance.”

Jess, Ashwood, and Nell stepped into the shadows of the narrow corridor that ran along the cells. He saw Nell look around, her eyes adjusting to the sudden shift in light. And then she saw him, and she hurried forward, her arms outstretched, reaching through the bars to touch him.

“Are you all right?”

He cupped her face with both hands and kissed her, the metallic odor of the bars a reminder of the barrier between them. “What are you doing here?”

“Jess will explain. Where’s Ira?” Again, she looked around, her eyes settling finally on the neighboring cell. “Ira?”

“Go away.”

“Oh, Ira, look at me, please. There are things you are far too young to—”

Trey heard the boy leave the cot and rush at the bars. “Don’t say that,” he bellowed. “I know my pa is dead. What’s to become of Ma and Spud and me now? If you’d just stayed out of this…but no! Ernest is always saying you think you’re better than us. You had no right to make decisions without talking to Pa first. He’d be alive right now if only—”

“Settle down, son,” Colonel Ashwood said as he moved between Nell and Ira. “You’re hardly in a position to go throwing blame at others. A man died at your hand. You need to concentrate on that and what it will mean for your future.”

“What future?” Ira scoffed. “There’ll be a trial, and I’ll probably hang, even though that Mexican came at me, and I was just defending myself as any man would. But no doubt these cattlemen have the judge on their side, so what chance do I have?” The pitch of his voice continued to rise until he sounded like the child he was. “I don’t want to die, Aunt Nell,” he said weakly.

Trey saw her step around the colonel and reach through the bars to console her nephew. “Shhh,” she whispered. “Calm yourself, Ira. We’ll find a way.”

“Guards!” the colonel shouted.

Two soldiers came running.

“Stand over there and listen carefully,” Ashwood ordered. “You may be called upon to repeat what you are about to hear in court.” He turned his attention back to Ira. “Now, young man, I am going to ask you some questions before these witnesses, and I need you to answer truthfully. And if I am satisfied with the information you provide, there is every possibility that you will be released to your mother’s care this very afternoon.”

Ira sniffed back his tears. “I never meant to kill him,” he blubbered.

Jess sighed. “Just shut up, boy, and answer the questions when asked. Not before, understood?”

The colonel cleared his throat. “That day at Deadman’s Point, did your father have a gun?”

“Yessir, but—”

“And did he aim that weapon at anyone?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Who?”

“That guy.”

Trey guessed Ira had pointed to his cell.

“Did Mr. Porterfield also have a weapon?”

Ira hesitated. “He wore a gun belt, so yeah, he carried a weapon.”

“Did he aim his weapon at your father or anyone else?”

“No, but—”

“And at the time your father aimed his weapon at Mr. Porterfield, had you and Javier Mendez fought?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And was Mr. Mendez wounded?”

“I didn’t mean to… I just wanted it to stop, and I thought—”

“Yes or no, Ira,” Jess coached.

“He was bleeding pretty bad.” Ira’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Mr. Porterfield has claimed that he saw his friend attempt to stand and that it was his intention to offer aid. Now that you have had time to consider the events of that day, is that possible?”

Ira was quiet for a long moment. “I guess maybe, but—”

“But your father, in the heat of the fracas, misread Mr. Porterfield’s intent and took his move forward as an attack. Is that possible?”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t change anything,” Ira added, his voice having regained some of its strength. “Pa is dead all the same.”

Ashwood ignored this. “And when your father moved forward, did Mr. Porterfield engage with him in any way? Did he touch him or push him or—”

Ira scoffed. “He did what any man would do if you was facing the barrel of a gun. He ducked, stepped back, and raised his hands.”

“Raised his hands or his fists?” the colonel pressed.

“Hands, fists, what’s the difference? And how is this supposed to help me? Sounds like the only man you’re interested in helping here is him.”

Jess leaned in close. “Wise up, kid. Helping Trey is helping you. Now tell the truth.”

“Did Mr. Porterfield push your father off that cliff, Mr. Galway?”

There was a long pause before Ira answered. “Not exactly, but Pa would never have slipped if—”

“And as he fell, was your father still in possession of his weapon?” Ashwood persisted.

Ira must have nodded, because Trey heard Jess say, “We need a verbal answer, Ira.”

“Yeah.”

“Just one more question, Ira,” the colonel said, his voice gentle. “At any time in the events we have just discussed, did Mr. Trey Porterfield take out his gun?”

“No, but—”

“Thank you, son.” Colonel Ashwood turned to the two guards. “You are dismissed. Go find Peter Collins and bring him to my office, and send someone here to release Mr. Porterfield—”

“You tricked me,” Ira shouted as he charged the bars. “This was not about helping me at all. This was just—”

“If you would let me finish,” the colonel said. “Mr. Porterfield is free to go. Mr. Galway is to be released to the custody of his family until such time as the circuit court can hear his case. Marshal Porterfield and a detail of soldiers will see that he gets home safely.”

The guards left, and Ashwood moved to Ira’s cell. “Now listen to me, young man. You have just received a gift. You step out of line even a little bit, and you will be back here to stay for however long it takes. Do we understand each other?”

“I won’t stand by while those cowboys destroy our herd and land and burn our house and—”

“You let me and my soldiers worry about that. Your mother has gone through a terrible loss. Do not add to her distress by acting on your anger. And tell your brother and Ernest Stokes that goes for them as well.” Without giving time for Ira to respond, the colonel turned on his heel and left the jail.

A few minutes later, a soldier came to open the cells—first Ira’s and then Trey’s. Jess and the guard escorted Ira to the yard. Nell followed them to the exit, wringing her hands and assuring Ira that he would be all right now.

Trey waited just outside his cell, respecting her need to tend to her nephew but longing for her to attend to him as well. He walked outside and stood next to her as she watched Ira climb onto a wagon driven by two soldiers.

“Mister?”

Trey was surprised to see Ira watching him, his mouth working as if he had something to say but couldn’t find the words. Trey moved closer to the wagon and offered the boy a handshake.

Ira stared at his outstretched hand for a moment and then clasped it tightly, his eyes brimming with tears. “I never meant—” he blubbered.

“You need to put that behind you and put your mind to helping your ma and brother,” Trey advised.

Ira nodded, and as he withdrew his hand, he murmured, “Thanks.”

Jess mounted his horse. “Let’s head out,” he instructed.

Nell followed the wagon a little way as it moved through the gates of the fort. She waved and watched.

“Nellie?” Trey said softly.

Her shoulders slumped, whether with relief of defeat, he could not tell. He covered the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him.

She twisted to face him, cupped his face with her hands, and kissed him. “I was so very afraid for you—for us,” she whispered.

“I’m right here, Nell,” he said, kissing her back. “It’s over, okay?”

But it was not that simple. They walked arm in arm to the buggy, and he helped her in before climbing onto the driver’s seat and unwrapping the reins. Until herders and ranchers could find a way to coexist, none of this would ever truly be over.