21

“You don’t need all of us there.” Cole spoke before Justin walked the short distance to where Ramone was staying.

“I’m going to stay here and talk to some more of our neighbors,” Cole continued. “I want the word to get out about this danger. I regret that we haven’t warned them. It felt personal before, but now that I’ve seen that map, I think ranchers in the area need to have what information we’ve got.”

Heath said, “That’s a big job. Sadie and I will stay here and help.”

Angie found herself walking off with Justin alone. She was quite sure that at some point, not that long ago, she’d promised herself she’d never be alone with him again.

“Angie, I could see that you wanted to ask me about the danger to the Blakes and others mighty bad. Thank you for waiting for us this morning. It’s a good sign that you’re learning the ways of the West.”

But Angie could tell that what he really meant was never ride alone again, ever. She decided to goad him just a bit. “I asked Mel if she’d help me learn to ride and shoot and be better at all the western things she knows about.”

Justin stopped in his tracks and pulled Angie to a halt. “Uh, I don’t think you should probably be shooting a gun.”

“Why not?”

“Because you could do a lot of damage. What if you shoot something you weren’t aimin’ for?” He pulled her close, his eyes wide with alarm.

“Well, of course I won’t shoot what I aim at, not at first. But I’ll get better.”

“What if you shoot someone or yourself?” His hand slid from her hand to her upper arm.

“I’m sure Mel will have me practice somewhere I can do no harm.”

Justin stared down at her as if he were either struck dumb or had so much to say that he couldn’t get out a single word.

Feeling tired, Angie was sure it was the latter. When had Justin ever stopped lecturing her? “Wouldn’t you like me to be safer? A woman alone, like I am, can’t count on someone else to protect her.”

“You were riding some better the other night. You don’t need to learn all these things.”

“I was hanging on by my fingernails every time I got that old mare to go faster than a walk. Mel said she could handle herself as well as any man riding alone, and she’d teach me to be just as tough.” Angie was making this all up, since Mel hadn’t been able to talk for laughing—although she intended to ask Mel again and nag her until she did show Angie a few things. But she made it sound like Mel had agreed just to annoy Justin, who seemed to want to handle everything for her. But he was always so far away he was useless.

“She might teach me to rope a steer, too.” She’d heard of roping cattle, and a steer was some kind of cow, but it was beyond her what you’d do with it once you had it roped.

She didn’t tell Justin that, of course.

“Can’t you keep busy letting Sister Margaret teach you how to cook and sew? And being a teacher is a fine womanly task. Concern yourself with that.”

True, she needed to learn those things along with shooting.

“I don’t suppose you know how to collect eggs.”

“You mean collect them from the store?”

“I’ll take that to mean no. How about milk a cow?”

“Is that why Mel said she could rope steers? You tie them up before you milk them?”

Justin sighed. “Did you ever plant a garden back in Omaha?”

“Oh, yes. Before Father died, Mother and I had the most beautiful roses. It was one of the few things we did together that came close to being pleasant.” Angie hadn’t noticed any roses around town. Maybe she could plant some.

“Are there things a woman can learn to make a fistfight fairer between her and a man?”

Justin turned her and marched her on toward Ramone’s house. “You’re not getting into any fistfights. Just stay inside the orphanage and you won’t have to fight for your life.”

He made it sound like an order, and Angie bristled. “You have no right to tell me what to do, Justin Boden. You’re not in charge of my life. In fact, I want you to—”

Justin hammered hard on a door, and only then did Angie realize they’d reached Ramone’s house. She also realized Justin didn’t want to talk to her anymore.

It was a big old shame because she had a lot more things to say to him, and she was considering shouting them at the top of her lungs.

Ramone swung the door open. Angie would have stepped back if Justin hadn’t been right behind her. She’d never met Ramone, though she’d heard of him. No one had mentioned the dreadful scar that disfigured the entire left side of his face and had left him with a white, empty socket where his eye should be.

He was ugly beyond Angie’s ability to find her voice.

Alonzo came up behind his father on the left. “Padre, let them in.”

Ramone turned to give his son a hard look. When he revealed the right side of his face only, Angie saw that he’d once been a handsome man. Now, though, he was left scarred, quite old, white-haired, and generally worn down by life. Even so, he looked so much like his son that she was suddenly confused about just what his story was. To go from fine-looking to being disfigured must have been a shocking and dreadful change.

Struggle could make a person stronger, or it could break them and turn them into someone who was ugly on the inside. Which way had Ramone been changed? Was he a friend or a very dangerous foe? She knew Justin was suspicious and had come here determined to find out what was what.

Going by his expression, she guessed he wasn’t going to leave until he got some answers.

Justin had a list of questions for Ramone, and the man wasn’t going to be allowed to dance around them this time.

Whatever Maria had known about those land-grant holdings and a revolution she’d learned from Ramone or people he had a connection to. To Justin’s way of thinking, that meant Ramone was an accomplice to murder.

Shouldering the door open, Justin pushed past Ramone and Alonzo. Ramone wasn’t strong enough to stop him, and Alonzo must’ve remembered Justin was his boss.

Justin kept Angie by his side as the two of them sat down on chairs near the kitchen table in the one-room dwelling. A narrow bed had been pushed against one wall, with two chairs facing the fireplace, a couple of wooden crates tacked on the wall for cupboards, and a small wooden table under them that served as a counter and held a dishpan. The house didn’t amount to much more than that.

“Last time I saw you, you were bone-thin and mighty weary, Ramone. You’re getting stronger.” Justin hoped the man didn’t intend to use that strength to cause trouble. He kept his eye on Ramone, watching for any sign of what he was thinking or feeling.

It wasn’t hard to figure out.

Ramone hesitated for far too long. Finally he stepped closer to Justin and said, his voice low and urgent, “You must leave, Señor Boden. They will kill me for talking to you, just as they killed Maria.”

“Tell me what you know, Ramone. We’ll keep you safe.”

“That is not possible. They are too strong, too determined. We will help them and keep their secrets or we will die.”

Studying the man in silence for a moment, Justin said, “I’ve already been seen entering your house. If someone’s watching you, the damage is done.”

Ramone’s hands began shaking. His face blanched even with his dark complexion. His breath was too shallow. Every movement spoke of terror. He then nodded, taking a seat at the table. “You are right. My death is assured. It is time to stop running and face them as a man. Instead, I act the coward and keep their secrets when all should be exposed to the light of day.” He folded his hands together until they formed a single fist and bowed his head low.

He looked like a man resigned to death, as if he wanted to die in prayer. Alonzo rested a hand on his father’s back as if to comfort him.

“Please, Ramone, do it.” Angie reached out and touched Ramone’s folded hands. “You speak of yourself as if you are a coward, but it’s they who are the cowards. Hiding behind bushes, shooting from cover at unsuspecting men and women. If someone like you would face them, as a few of the Boden men have done, these dangerous men will slink back into the shadows like the frightened vermin they are.”

Ramone lifted his chin and looked at Angie. “You speak with more valor than I.” He nodded slowly but steadily. “You are right—to make everyone who hears of their plans cower is the only way they can win.”

“But win what?” Justin leaned forward. “Is there truly a revolution coming?”

Ramone turned to meet Justin’s eyes, and for the first time Justin saw some backbone in the man. Justin had no tolerance for weaklings, and he’d judged Ramone to be one. But now, looking straight into this man’s ravaged face, Justin could imagine his pain and fear and desperation. He’d learned it when Dantalion had killed Grandfather Chastain, then scarred Ramone brutally and promised he’d hang if he didn’t run. Afterward, he’d lived his life serving a tyrant of a father and had been cast out by his father’s angry, betrayed widow.

The life he’d led could beat the strength out of anyone.

“The truth is your only hope to survive this. Tell me what’s going on and I’ll go with you to the sheriff and make sure he understands the danger you’re in. He’ll protect you.”

Ramone, his jaw a tight line, replied, “I can’t tell you much, Señor Boden, but I can tell you that it is true. The murmurs are everywhere. Some people speak of it with longing to be back with Mexico, but few are so foolish as to think they can win a war with the United States.”

“Tell me what you know.”

“There are few in Skull Gulch involved.” Ramone gave him some names, none of them men Justin knew. Still, he promised to pass the names on to the sheriff right away.

“I have met with the ones I know and they are a ragged bunch. We have been told there are others, many others throughout New Mexico Territory. These men know nothing but their discontent. Dantalion must have been planning this clear back to when he killed your grandfather.”

“You heard of this revolution talk way back then?”

Shaking his head, Ramone said, “No, but why else would he still be involved?”

“You’re assuming he’s behind a rebellion, but maybe it’s something else. We knew Grandfather was paying off someone in the territorial governor’s office. That doesn’t sound like a coming war. That sounds like powerful men pressing their thumb on a citizen. Yes, there is definitely talk of an uprising, but could this talk be a way to stir up trouble? Or is it a distraction to keep us from finding the real problem?” Justin just didn’t see how they could turn reclaimed land grants in America into Mexican land—at least not without a war.

Which reminded Justin of Maria’s last words. “And what does Juarez have to do with it?”

Ramone’s brow furrowed. “Juarez? I came through Juarez on my way back here from Mexico City. But I knew no one there and I’ve never heard it spoken of when they talked of a revolt.”

“Maria mentioned it. She whispered it as one of her few dying words. Why would she speak of Juarez if it weren’t important?”

“She said Juarez was involved?”

“Not exactly, but I figure it’s what she meant. She said ‘Viva México and tener cuidado.’ Cuidado means city, doesn’t it? And the full name for Juarez is Cuidado Juarez.”

“No, it’s Cuidad Juarez.”

When Ramone said it, Justin realized that wasn’t the word Maria had spoken. “Then what does tener cuidado mean?” Justin was upset with himself. He’d thought he knew and so hadn’t bothered to ask.

“It means ‘beware,’ and ‘Viva México’ could just be a remark about loving Mexico and wanting that country to be well.”

Justin swallowed. “But Maria wouldn’t talk of loving a country she’s never been to with her dying breath. No, she said it because she’d heard talk of a revolution and was warning me: Beware the revolution.”

He’d almost talked himself out of it, decided there was something more going on. But for Maria to say it with her dying breath . . .

He turned to Angie. “We’re going to the orphanage so you can pack up. You’re coming with us. Now.”