7

“Ramone, you got that scar on your face the day Grandfather Chastain was killed, didn’t you?”

Justin sat in a chair at Alonzo’s small table, across from Ramone. He did his best not to stare at Ramone’s ravaged face. Not because of how it looked. This was the West so he’d seen battered men before, and it didn’t bother him overly. It was a hard life. Scars were often a sign of a man who’d survived rugged times. He took many scars to be marks of courage and strength. But this was different. This scar was a reminder of how Justin’s grandfather had died.

It was a brutal scar. It started at the hairline, cut down through Ramone’s left eye, his face, his chin. The skin was puckered and thickened along the slash. Ramone had a scraggly beard, yet the scar was deep enough that it was visible through the facial hair.

Ramone had a white socket where his eye should be, and it’d been left to heal without any stitches or any medical care at all. It was a horrible thing.

Rosita was talking quietly with Maria, who worked at the stove. The aroma from the room was spicy. Justin smelled the hot peppers so well liked by the Mexican folks. He could eat a few of them, but Alonzo always wanted his food loaded with the bits of crunchy fire. That must be how Maria was preparing breakfast, as the air was so thick with the peppers that Justin’s eyes burned.

Alonzo sat at the head of the table with the men. He was a young spitting image of his pa, except unscarred and unbattered by life.

“Sí, your grandpapa . . .” Ramone’s voice, low and unsteady, faltered. It was heavily accented too, no surprise for a man who’d spent the last thirty years in a land where folks spoke another language. But Ramone had been born in Skull Gulch and spoke English well for the first twenty years of his life. He might falter some, but he got by well enough.

His one seeing eye flashed with fear, but he cleared his throat and continued, “. . . your grandpapa fought off two of the three hombres who came at us with their guns already drawn, and the third, Dantalion, their leader, killed Señor Chastain.”

Hearing of it brought back the exploding guns as someone had shot Cole from cover and did his best to kill more. Justin had been blaming Arizona Watts, and he was most likely guilty. It sounded like Dantalion had hired him. On the other hand, Dantalion could have just as well done it himself.

Ramone went on, “When Dantalion shot Señor Chastain and slashed me, he knelt on my chest with his knife at my throat and said I’d be blamed for my boss’s death, and because he was a powerful man, people would believe him. I’d hang for murder. He said if I ran, I’d live. I was lying there on the ground, in terrible pain, blood everywhere, and I knew he was right. It would have been the honorable thing to stay and face the charges and speak the truth, only that wasn’t a choice he gave me. He’d kill me right there where I lay if I didn’t agree to leave the country. If I came back and accused him, I’d hang. It was like speaking to el Diablo himself.” Ramone shuddered visibly. “I ran and did not stop until I reached Mexico City.”

As he spoke, Justin studied him. The scar reached his lip on the left side of his face and curled his lip in what looked like a sneer. Or maybe it was a sneer, but there was no courage or arrogance behind it, only cowardice and a trace of viciousness, reminding him of a cornered rat.

Yes, Justin understood Ramone’s reaction to run. Dantalion seemed like the kind who’d destroy a man without a second thought. But Ramone had other choices. He could have written a letter to tell the truth to the Bodens. He could have left, then circled back and faced up to what he’d witnessed, and trusted Ma and Pa to listen. The ugly wound on his face would have been a powerful piece of evidence in Ramone’s favor.

Instead, he’d turned coward and ran and made no effort for thirty years to set things right, all the while knowing Dantalion, a killer, was on the loose.

“I spent my life with my father, Don Bautista de Val, until he died.”

The old Spanish Don had been a partner to Justin’s grandfather for years. The two of them were given a vast Spanish land grant. Then the United States of America gained the whole area from Mexico in the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo to end the Mexican-American War. To retain ownership of the grant, de Val had to become an America citizen, something that didn’t suit him. So he left it all behind and moved to Mexico City to live out his remaining years. His wife and children went with him, of course, while he abandoned his mistress in Skull Gulch, including Maria and Ramone, the two children he’d had with her.

“Then after my padre’s death, his wife, who’d borne him children at the same time as my mother, cast me out.” Ramone’s face twisted in a way that made his scar all the more ugly, the sneer all the more pronounced.

“Don de Val was not discreet with his unfaithfulness, and his señora always despised me, and who could blame her?” Anger seethed behind Ramone’s calm words. It appeared that Ramone could blame her, and did.

“I came back to mi padre’s ranch and holed up in the old hacienda, or what was left of it. I was defeated. Cast out. I had nothing. An ugly man with nothing left to live for. I came home to die.”

“No, Padre.” Alonzo reached across the corner of the table and rested his strong hand on his father’s trembling arm. “You have family who love you.”

“You love a man who’s lived his life in fear. I have shamed our family and failed all of you.”

Alonzo’s hand tightened and he looked determined to convince his father there was a future still.

Before he could speak, Justin went on. He had to find out more about his grandfather’s shooting. “Do you know anything about Dantalion?”

Shaking his head, Ramone said, “No, nada. I had never seen him or heard of him before he attacked us, nor since.”

“What about Grandfather? He was worrying about his daughter, my ma, needing an American husband to hold on to the land grant. He talked about the governor. Do you think Dantalion worked for the governor?”

“It may be possible. I don’t think your grandpapa believed that. Rather, Dantalion was using his connections, without the governor’s knowledge, to gain wealth. Señor Chastain believed the governor was a decent man but not vigilant to his duties. Dantalion was working for others, doing bad deeds in the governor’s name.”

Justin couldn’t stand the thought of getting nothing from Ramone. He had to know more. Then he thought of that warning note they’d found on top of the canyon wall, where someone had set off the avalanche that nearly killed Pa. The note had matched word for word one left with Grandfather after he was shot. It read, This is a warning. Clear out of this land you stole from Mexico.

“What about the note they found in Grandfather’s pocket?”

A furrow tugged at Ramone’s brow. He shifted his eyes from side to side, then looked at Maria. “Donde está la nota? Quiero la nota.”

“No veo nada,” Maria replied in Spanish.

A confused frown crossed Ramone’s face that struck Justin as phony. Then, staring at the tabletop, Ramone asked, “What note?”

Justin knew a lie when he heard one. Which told him something he hadn’t known when he first came in here. Ramone knew all about the note.

“He just asked Maria if she had seen the note. He wants it.” Rosita spoke up, her voice vibrating with anger.

“I just want to see it, nothing more.” Ramone looked sullen, his words to Maria taking on a harsh tone.

“Ramone, you speak deceit.” Rosita, usually quiet, spoke as if a whip cracked in her voice. “No one knew about that note but family. John and I were told, but Chance and Veronica made the decision to tell no one. But I can tell from how you speak that you know of this note.”

“Only what Señor Justin has told me today.”

“The Bodens didn’t investigate that note or its threat because they hoped the trouble was over when you ran. They were willing to accept you as the killer, even though Veronica especially didn’t want to believe it. Perhaps you saw it as avenging yourself on a man who’d prospered while your grandfather lost his holding. Or perhaps you were furious because Frank denied your wish to court Veronica. When you ran, it seemed as good as a confession. But you say you are innocent of that crime, and we believe you. Now you sit here and lie to us and deny knowledge of something that, just from listening, I can tell you knew of. You lie to the family who rescued you from hunger, danger, and loneliness. You sit here well-fed, a roof over your head, with a doctor treating you, and repay the Bodens’ kindness with lies. You return evil for good, Ramone. You do not seem like an evil man, but now I must wonder.”

Rosita stood in outraged offense before Ramone. With his head lowered as he stared at his hands folded on the table, looking very much like a man in prayer, moments passed in the loudest silence Justin had ever heard.

Justin glanced at Rosita. He’d have confessed to just about anything if she was glaring at him like that. The fact that Ramone didn’t crumple meant he was very brave or very scared. What he knew might well be something he couldn’t bear to face.

And considering what had already been done to him by Dantalion’s hand, being afraid was a very reasonable choice.

If you were a coward. And Ramone was.

He had run before. Justin understood why, though it was still wrong. Doing the right thing, no matter the danger, was right. Yes, powerful men were always dangerous, but Justin would have faced the trouble no matter the danger. Any real man would.

And it was at that moment that Justin figured out something that he should have realized right from the beginning. Ramone was too weak to plan this, but he was also too weak to stand firm if someone threatened him, or bribed him, or both.

With due consideration about just how to handle this, Justin said quietly but with absolute conviction, “Ramone, I want you off this property, now.”

Justin thought of when they’d found Ramone, and he’d held them under his guns. Alonzo had taken the Bodens’ side over his own father.

With misgivings, Justin felt it was right to say, “Alonzo, you are a man I consider my friend, and you’re a hard worker and a skilled cowhand. You are welcome to stay here. But your father must leave.” Justin turned to Maria. “I appreciate your help, but it’s time for you to go, too.”

His voice echoed with anger and betrayal. He’d been overly stern. He could apologize and say it more politely, but the message would be the same. Get off my land.

Maria gasped, obviously shocked that she was being asked to leave. But she would have left anyway with Ramone leaving. He shouldn’t have spoken so rudely to her.

“I’m sorry, Maria.” Justin dragged his black Stetson off and ran his hand deep into his hair, then resettled the hat. “It’s been a hard spell and I have no cause to take it out on you.” He looked up, hoping she knew he was sincere. She had something she wasn’t saying. But instead of looking shifty, like a liar, she looked scared. Even so, she didn’t say anything.

Justin promised himself then and there he’d find Maria later when she wasn’t under the watchful eyes of her brother and ask her a few more questions.

“It is fine, Justin. I would head for town now anyway. I am needed at the orphanage, and if Ramone needs further care, I will see to it in town. Can we borrow a horse? I have one I rode out, but Ramone will need a way to town. I will keep the horse in the stable in town until someone from the CR comes for it.”

“That’s fine.”

“And I have enough money set aside that you can find a place in Skull Gulch to live, Papa.” Alonzo patted his father on the back.

“Let’s go, Ramone.” Maria began to pack.

Justin hadn’t really meant to stand over them and watch them leave, as if he didn’t trust them on his land. Although right now, he didn’t. But they gathered what few things they had so quickly, they left ahead of him.

Alonzo followed, then waited at the door for Justin. Now Justin was getting shown off of Alonzo’s property, at least out of this house.

He reckoned he deserved that.

Justin followed Rosita into the house in time to meet Cole coming into the kitchen with Heath tagging along behind. Rosita went toward her room, taking off her shawl.

When he saw Justin, Heath said, “I’m going to climb down and have a look at Dantalion’s body. You want to come along? We can leave the women to tend Cole.”

Cole looked frustrated that he didn’t get to go. He held his side, every move careful, not even close to being up to the trip.

“We’ll go right after I’m sure Ramone is gone,” Justin said. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t tell Sadie we’re going.”

“Where are you going you can’t tell me about?” Sadie came in, and her smile had an edge. She knew when her brother was trying to get away with something.

“Morning, Sadie.”

She’d never give up until she badgered it out of them, so Justin gave in gracefully. “Heath and I are going to climb down that cliff where Dantalion fell. We want to see if we can find out any more about him, search him and such.”

“His horse ran off,” Heath said. “Maybe we can round it up. It might’ve settled in to graze and not left the area. There could be saddlebags, even a brand might tell us something. We need to know who hired him.”

“Slim chance of catching his horse now. Why didn’t you hunt for it right away?” Cole asked.

“Because we were too busy trying to keep you alive.” Sadie propped her fists on her hips, but she couldn’t maintain the angry pose. She quickly went back to fussing over Cole.

Heath sidled up close to Sadie, too close in Justin’s opinion. He admitted he was having a hard time getting used to his sister being married.

Her overly familiar husband rested his hand on the small of her back and said, “We thought you might want to stay and care for Cole. We also knew you’d be mighty tempted to come along on our climb. If you want to go, you can. But a body that’s been dead a week is sure to be a gruesome sight. I would spare you that.”

Sadie turned from Cole and looked deep into Heath’s eyes, as if trying to see inside his head and read his thoughts. She must’ve liked what she saw. “I’ll stay here. Thank you for letting me decide instead of thinking you know what’s best and sneaking off.”

“You’re welcome, Sadie girl.” He smiled and put his hand against her cheek, gentle-like. “I like having you along.”

Justin was torn between knocking Heath’s hands off his sister and taking notes. He’d never had much luck with woman, but then he’d been mighty busy on the ranch and hadn’t missed them.

Much.

Angie picked that moment to come in. She went straight to the stove and ladled up a steaming bowl of broth and brought it over to Cole as if she were cradling life and death. Right behind her was Rosita, who took up a vigil beside Sadie. Cole was now surrounded by women fussing over him. It seemed a man had to get shot to get some female attention around here.

And since that was such a stupid thing to think, Justin decided it was a good time to head out.

“Ronnie, Cole’s been shot.” Chance Boden looked up as his beautiful Veronica entered his hospital room. She was so wonderful, he thanked God every day that she was his wife.

She was the strongest woman he’d ever known, but she staggered as she turned to him. All the color fading from her cheeks.

“Is he all right?” Ronnie rushed the few steps to his bedside and sat beside him as if her knees were giving out. She didn’t grab for the letter, which told him just how frightened she was.

“I’ve read it twice while waiting for you to come back. Sadie tells me he’s fine, but she also said it happened a week ago. It took this long for her to tell us.” Chance frowned and studied his leg, encased in plaster and strapped down to the bed so he couldn’t move it. He’d been in bed almost constantly since he got hurt, and the idleness was driving him mad. And that was before his son was shot.

“Our son, our son. Ronnie, what if—?” Chance stopped talking before he shamed himself by crying. He thought of the boy he’d brought out west with him. Born to him and his first wife. Cole was tall and dark like him, though Chance’s hair was shot through with gray these days. Cole with his city manners and his intelligent blue eyes. A look-alike for Justin, his son with Ronnie. But their two boys acted and dressed so differently there was no mixing them up.

“I have to get back there.”

“I know what that means.” She talked over the top of him. Her golden hazel eyes flashed with temper. “They waited to write until they were sure he would live. Our son has been at death’s door for a week and they didn’t tell us.”

Chance handed the letter to her. He still had John’s to read. “Sadie got married, too. She wants to come visit.”

“What!” Ronnie snatched it from him.

“Did you really think that was the thing to tell you first?” Chance admitted to himself that both had been shocks. But knowing Cole had spent the last week fighting for his life nearly made him forget the other news in Sadie’s letter.

“Who in heaven’s name did she marry?” Ronnie scanned the long letter quickly.

“Heath Kincaid.”

Ronnie looked up, her eyes bright with wonder. “The cowhand who saved your life?”

Chance grinned. “He seems like a fine young man. I was impressed with him even before he acted so courageously that day.”

“He’s a handsome young man, too. I don’t know him well, but I noticed he had a nice smile.”

Chance shook his head. “Stop noticing handsome young men, wife.”

Ronnie gave him a hug. Then her good cheer faltered altogether. “She got married and we weren’t there.” With a deep sigh, she said quietly as if she spoke only to herself, “I would have loved to see my baby girl get married.”

Chance held out an arm. She came to him, and they held each other. “So would I, my love. But we will be home soon and see their marriage, if not their wedding. And the life they make in a marriage is the most important thing.”

“I know.” Ronnie sniffled, then swiped at her eyes. “Now tell me more.”

“Here, read these pages.” Chance nodded at the letter Ronnie held. “Let’s find out what John has to say. He enclosed his own letter. I’m hoping I get a better explanation from him.”

“Although he waited until now to write, too.”

John Hightree was Chance’s foreman and old friend. He was a man to talk straight and not worry too much if he hurt anyone’s feelings. That was one of the things Chance liked best about him.

While Chance read a much more graphic description of Cole’s gutshot and what had happened to the men who’d done the shooting, Ronnie read Sadie’s letter.

John also mentioned that all three of his children had moved home. That gave Chance a deep sense of satisfaction. It was his fondest wish that his children would appreciate the legacy that came with the Cimarron Ranch. He didn’t have much time to enjoy it, though, because of other troubles from home, including Heath being shot and the discovery that the avalanche that nearly killed Chance was no accident.

A chill of dread rushed down Chance’s spine as he read that the rockslide had been deliberate. Whoever had done that was now threatening his children. Then Chance read a twist in John’s letter that hit like a lightning strike. “Ronnie! Shove something in front of the door!” As soon as he said it, he realized there was nothing to shove. “Stick a chair under the knob.”

Ronnie gave him a sharp look, then grabbed one of only two chairs in the room and rushed to the door. She jammed the high back of the rickety wooden chair into place, then turned back.

“I want an explanation.” Her voice was hard, no-nonsense. Ronnie was a beautiful woman, well-dressed, fine-boned, and delicate-looking with her blond hair and wide hazel eyes. But Chance had learned long ago that her looks disguised the fact that she was as tough as the New Mexico Territory itself. There was no one he’d rather have beside him in a fight.

Chance waved the pages of John’s long letter at her. “He says someone’s hunting trouble around our children.”

“Who is it?” Veronica’s voice rose with anger.

“They don’t know, but John thinks whoever’s behind it has long arms. He says the avalanche was no accident, and we have to consider that we might be in danger. It reached all the way back to when your pa was shot. He insists it might reach all the way to Denver right now.”

Chance saw fire flash in Ronnie’s eyes as all her fighting instincts rushed to the fore—if there were any that weren’t there already. She’d never been satisfied that her pa’s killer had escaped punishment.

Her pa, Frank Chastain, being shot had brought about Chance’s wedding to Veronica. Chance knew he’d have gotten her to marry him sooner or later. But Frank’s dying wish was that his daughter marry Chance. The CR was at risk from powerful men looking to steal the old land grant, and they were doing it based on Frank being born in Canada, then living as a fur trapper in America, then taking Mexican citizenship to qualify for the land grant, then turning back to American once the United States got a big chunk of the Southwest from Mexico.

Frank, who’d changed countries twice already without a qualm, didn’t hesitate for a moment to become an American. But there were still men who coveted the land and saw Frank’s as easy pickins. There was nothing easy about Frank, and he’d given his life to save the CR for his daughter. Chance had willingly taken up that fight, and now it looked like they had a new fight on their hands. Well, Chance chafed to be part of it.

With a dark look at the shaky door, Ronnie asked, “John really thinks we might be in danger here?”

“He said there’s a list of names and we’re both on it.”

“A list?”

“A list of names that a man was hired to kill, and it includes all our family’s names.”

Ronnie nodded. “I need a gun.” Her first instinct was to fight for her family.

How could a man love a woman more every day when he already loved her with all his heart?

“You can’t stay in the parson’s house anymore.” Ronnie had been walking to a nearby house alone every night to stay with a parson and his wife, who had generously opened their home to her.

The hospital was in a quiet, peaceful neighborhood, a small building with just a few rooms where patients stayed. Most people healed at home.

There was no way to defend the modest building. “There’ll be no more lonely walks. My bed’s narrow, but not so narrow you can’t stay here with me.”

“I miss you in the night, Chance. I’ll be glad to stay here.”

That was solved, but keeping Ronnie close didn’t stop someone from coming into the hospital, gunning for them both.

Chance’s hands fisted, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m lying here like a worthless pile of trash. No gun. No way to stand up without a lot of help. No way to protect you.”

“Or yourself.” Ronnie’s eyes flashed. “We need to send for the sheriff. He can go with me to buy two guns.”

“And you’ll sleep here with me. You’re not safe out alone. You might take danger to the parson and his wife.” Chance didn’t argue about the two guns. He saw no reason to keep someone as accurate and fierce as his wife unarmed. “I need to see the doctor. I’ve been patient long enough. I need to get out of here.”

“No!” Ronnie jabbed her index finger right at his nose. She had agreed to everything he’d said . . . until now. She stopped him cold with her glare. “You’ve got to let your leg heal for at least six weeks. He said he’d take off the heavy cast and put on a lighter one and let you get up on crutches after that. If you get up too soon, you could still lose your leg, or worse yet, get an infection and die.”

“So I lie here, coddling myself while you’re in danger and my children face gunmen alone?” Chance fought a brutal desire to rip the plaster off his leg with his bare hands.

“Not alone. They have each other and, thanks to you, they’re all under the same roof. And John’s there, and Rosita. She’s a warrior at heart. Now Sadie has a husband fighting with them. They’re safer at the CR than they would be split up.”

The Cimarron Legacy.

Chance had demanded they respect all that had been sacrificed to build their ranch. How many times had he told the story of Grandfather Frank giving his life for the land that sustained them all? And now that demand might just save their lives.

Until he could move better, Chance had to be satisfied with that and focus his attention on protecting Ronnie. And he had to take steps fast to keep them safe. Danger could be coming even now.

And then there was a click.

He and Ronnie turned to watch the doorknob slowly turn.