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  “Yes, sir!”

  Later, Kent would gauge his reaction to being called sir for the first time in his life, but at the moment, he was too worried about Mrs. Salinas, Farley, and Buck, who were nowhere in sight.

  When he got off his horse he already had his Colt drawn. The air was thick with the smell of kerosene and smoke. “Check near the bunkhouse. See if you can find anyone!”

  Matt rode off.

  The flames had eaten through the ranch house roof and were licking at the sky. Kent got as close as to the structure as he dared. “Luz!” She was supposed to have been making lunch for them. He shouted her name again and ran around to the back. “Luz!” If she was inside, there was no way he could get to her without losing his own life.

  Behind him a voice gasped softly, “Gracia a Dios!”

  He spun. Luz Salinas stumbled out of the ramshackle chicken coop. Her clothes were covered with filth. He hurried to her side.

  “I am so glad you are here,” she gasped.

  He looked her over. “Are you hurt?”

  “No.” She clung to his arm as he escorted her clear of the heat from the fire.

  “What happened?”

  “Masked riders. Farley saw them coming. He and Buck grabbed rifles and yelled for me to hide in the coop. As soon as I got inside I heard gunfire. The fire started almost immediately after. Are they all right?”

  “I don’t know. Bunkhouse is on fire, too. I sent Matt to look for them.”

  Matt rode up.

  “Did you find them?”

  He nodded solemnly. “Farley’s dead. Shot in the back. Buck’s still alive, but barely. You need to hurry.”

  Kent saw Portia and the others arriving. “Mrs. Salinas, can you make it to Portia on your own?”

  “Yes. See to Buck. I’ll be fine.”

  He ran to Blue and yelled at Portia. “I need the docs!” He rode off, hoping the men would arrive swiftly.

  Buck was lying on the edge of the pond. Farley’s silent body lay a few feet away. Blood covered them both. Kent quickly dismounted, knelt beside the dying man and lifted his head. He knew his limited medical education wouldn’t be enough. “Hold on, Buck. Docs are right behind me.”

  He grimaced a grin and whispered, “Too late. Farley and the old man are already pulling out my chair for the poker game.”

  “Who did this?”

  “Parnell. Had men with him. Made us run then shot us in the back.”

  Kent’s anger boiled.

  “Coward had his face hid, but couldn’t hide his voice. Get him for us, would you?”

  “Will do. I promise.” A promise he’d keep.

  By the time Jakes and Phillip Pratt arrived, they were too late. Kent gently lowered Buck’s lifeless body back to the ground. Seeing Portia, he shook his head to let her know he was gone. Her jaw tightened and a sheen of angry tears filled her eyes. Kent hadn’t known the two men long enough to call them friends but they’d impressed him as good people. They hadn’t deserved such ignoble deaths. “Portia, take Mrs. Salinas and your guests back to the hotel. Let your uncle know what’s happened. Have him tell the sheriff that Parnell was one of the killers. I’ll come soon as the fire’s out.”

  She nodded. The doctors mounted, Cal took Mrs. Salinas up behind him and he and Portia led the party back across the meadow.

  The fires were subsiding, leaving behind charred smoky skeletons. That it hadn’t been a windy day or the height of summer was a blessing. The wind would’ve spread the embers to the surrounding grasses, setting it afire, too. As it stood only a bit of the grass near the house had burned but both buildings would have to be replaced.

  “Stock’s gone.”

  Kent noticed the empty pens for the first time and swore softly. “Parnell must’ve run them off.”

  “Riders coming.”

  Kent looked up at Matt’s warning and watched them approach. There were four of them. They weren’t masked but he and Matt drew their guns and waited. As they neared Matt identified them. “Mr. Lane.”

  Kent remembered meeting the big burly Howard Lane at the anniversary party. Lane and his men stopped to survey the charred house before continuing to where he and Matt stood by the pond.

  “Saw the smoke. Sorry I didn’t get here earlier. We rode as hard as we could.” Only then did he see the bodies. He dismounted slowly and walked closer “Damn,” he whispered emotionally. “Who did this?”

  “Buck said it was Ty Parnell and that he had men with him, but he didn’t say how many. They made him and Farley run and shot them in the back.”

  Angry murmurs came from Lane’s men.

  Lane didn’t hide his reaction. “In the old days we’d’ve hunted the bastards down and strung them up.”

  One of Lane’s riders said, “Still might. Those two never hurt a fly.”

  “Does Rhine know?”

  Kent answered the question. “Sent Portia to tell him, and to let the sheriff know.”

  Lane added, “One of my men is driving a wagon that should be here shortly. When we saw the smoke we weren’t sure what Farley and Buck would need so we piled it up. We’ll use it to take the bodies to the undertaker in Tucson.”

  “They have family?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Then I’m sure Rhine will want to pay for the funeral.”

  “I’ll contribute, too. Known them a long time. Should’ve died of old age in their beds like Blanchard. Not cut down with no dignity. What’s Parnell’s beef?”

  Kent told him what he thought to be Parnell’s motive. “When Rhine introduced me as the new foreman, Parnell said Mr. Blanchard had promised him the job. Rhine told him his mind was made up, so Parnell spit tobacco juice at Rhine’s boots. I had to teach some manners, then made him pack up and leave.”

  “He always did think he was the biggest bull in the pen. Can’t believe Blanchard made him any promises to be foreman. In fact, the old man was planning to let him go. Hadn’t cared for his attitude or his bullying the others into doing his share of the work.”

  Kent turned to Matt and received a terse nod of agreement.

  Lane continued, “If the sheriff needs men for a posse, he won’t have any problem finding volunteers, myself included. Farley and Buck were well liked.”

  Kent would be volunteering as well. “Parnell wouldn’t be stupid enough to still be around would he?”

  “Maybe. Especially if he doesn’t know Buck lived long enough to point a finger his way.”

  The wagon arrived a few minutes later. The bed was filled with tin buckets, shovels, and other items needed to put down the fire. Once it was unloaded, the bodies were carefully laid in and a tarp placed over them. As the wagon drove away, Lane said, “May they rest in peace. But I won’t be at peace until Parnell and the others swing from the end of a rope.”

  Watching the wagon bump along the track and disappear from sight, Kent agreed.

  Kent and Lane’s men set up a line and used buckets of water from the pond to douse the last of the embers, then with bandanas tied over their noses and mouths to keep from breathing in the smoke, they used shovels, hoes, and pickaxes to turn over the debris to make sure no hot spots remained. Once they were finished he thanked Lane and his men.

  “We’ll keep an eye out for your cows,” Lane promised as he and his men mounted up. “I’ll pass the word on to the other ranches as well.”

  “Thanks.”

  Lane nodded. “And if Parnell and the other killers are still in the territory, we’ll find them.”

  On the ride back to the hotel, Portia chafed under the slow pace. She wanted to kick Arizona into a full gallop for home so Rhine would know what had happened, but the inexperienced riders under her escort made that impossible. She’d considered taking Luz up with her and sending Cal on ahead but if their party ran into trouble she’d need his gun. The guests came to Arizona to experience the Wild West and had gotten more than anyone could have imagined. She glanced back. Both Ada and the widow looked shaken. Ph
illip was staring ahead as if still seeing the bodies. When she met Winston’s eyes he asked solemnly, “You knew those men well?”

  “Since I was young.”

  “My condolences on your loss.”

  “Thank you.” In the past week, she’d lost three dear friends and her heart ached.

  “I have to say, when you first yelled that the ranch house was on fire, I thought it was an act—something staged for our benefit. But then . . .” His words faded.

  “No, it wasn’t an act.”

  “What will happen next?”

  “The sheriff in Tucson will form a posse to find the killers. They’ll be brought back, tried, and a jury will decide their punishment.”

  “Will they be hung?”

  “Possibly.” She wondered if it was wrong for her to want Winston and the others to pack up and go home. She didn’t have it in her to pretend that all was well and go on with her day. More than likely Rhine and Kent would be joining the posse, and with Blanchard’s ranch house burned to the ground, she had no way to entertain them even if she wanted to. Granted, she’d been looking forward to knowing Ada better, and although her interactions with Winston had been minimal, she’d enjoyed his company as well. Maybe they’d return sometime in the future, but at the moment, she didn’t care.

  Portia put off the urge to run inside when they finally arrived at the hotel because her duties came first, and so she called on Luz Salinas. “Can you go in and tell my aunt and uncle what happened?”

  Luz dismounted and hurried off. As a grim-faced Cal led the mounts back to the stables, Ada stepped up. “Thank you for your hospitality, Portia, but we’ll be going home in the morning. This has been an awful experience. I doubt I’ll ever get over the sight of those poor men.”

  “I understand.”

  “Come, Winston. I need to lie down.” He offered Portia a stiff nod of farewell and escorted his mother away.

  “We’ll be expecting a refund.”

  Portia took in the widow’s angry face. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

  “Make sure it is. I’m going to have nightmares for the rest of my life.” She stormed off.

  Phillip watched his sister go and sighed. “We certainly got more than we bargained for. I’m sorry we arrived too late to help those men.”

  “So am I.”

  “I’d like to come back, maybe next spring, but I’ll leave Venna at home. Thanks for your hospitality and for putting up with her tantrums.”

  Portia offered a small smile. “You’re welcome. Let the others know that I’ll have the maids bring lunch to their rooms.”

  “Will do.”

  Her duties done, Portia hurried inside.

  Rhine looked up when Portia walked into his office, and she could tell by the anger and distress in his eyes that Luz had already passed along the story. He was in the process of putting on his gun belt. She assumed he was on his way to Tucson to notify the sheriff. Luz and Eddy were seated in chairs near his desk.

  Eddy stood and scanned Portia anxiously. “Are you all right, dear?”

  “A little shaken but I’m okay. Kent and Matt stayed behind to put the fires out.”

  One of the maids stuck her head in the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Fontaine, the sheriff’s here.”

  Tucson sheriff, Zeb O’Hara stepped inside. He was a redheaded, brown-eyed Irishman of average height, but much of the red had been replaced by gray. He’d been the sheriff for as long as the Fontaines had been in the territory.

  Rhine said, “I was just on my way to see you.”

  “Then you’ve heard?” O’Hara asked.

  “Yes. Portia just got back. My foreman is still there making sure the fires are out.”

  The sheriff’s brow furrowed with confusion. “What fires?”

  “The ones out at the Blanchard ranch,” Portia replied.

  “First I’m hearing of it.”

  Portia and Eddy exchanged a look of surprise as Rhine asked, “You don’t know about Buck and Farley being murdered?”

  His astonishment gave them their answer. “Okay. Start from the beginning.”

  Portia told him the story. When she finished, he swore, then hastily apologized to the ladies for his language. Eddy waved him off.

  Rhine said, “I thought that was why you were here.”

  “No. Geronimo escaped the reservation last night. I’m riding around to alert everyone.”

  They stiffened with shock.

  “The army says he left with about sixteen warriors, a hundred women, and nine or ten children. They figure he and his people won’t get far, but the last time it took the army, what, almost three years to run him to ground. I’m not holding my breath that he’ll be found soon.”

  Rhine voiced what Portia had been thinking. “He and his people could be anywhere by now.”

  “Yes, and the army wants all the local sheriffs in on the hunt. Which means I can’t muster a posse to track down the men who killed Farley and Buck, at least not right away.”

  “Can you spare one of your deputies?”

  “No, I can’t.” His voice was sincere as he continued. “If times were different, I could deputize you—but I can’t. Some of the folks around here would have my head and my badge if I did.”

  Eddy’s voice was cold. “So these murderers get off scot-free?”

  O’Hara looked decidedly uncomfortable. “No. I’ll send out a Wanted bulletin, and if you can find someone I can deputize, I will. Nothing says Rhine and the others can’t join the posse, but the deputy has to be White.”

  Rhine’s reply was terse. “Understood.”

  Portia knew the sheriff dealt with people of color as fairly as he was able but the restrictions were still bigoted and senseless.

  “Sorry, Rhine.”

  “As you stated, these are the times. Thanks for stopping by.”

  After the sheriff’s departure, there was winter in the green eyes that assessed Portia and Eddy, but they were well aware that there was nothing they could do.

  Eddy looked to her husband. “Do you know anyone Zeb can deputize?”

  Rhine blew out a sigh of frustration. “Not off hand, and with Geronimo on the loose, no one’s going to want to leave their family to lead a posse.”

  Portia agreed. People in the area were terrified of the Apache, and because of the desperate situation the Apache were facing, the fear was justified. The prospect of Parnell and his band of killers escaping justice for want of a posse left her both saddened and infuriated. “The Jakes party will be leaving in the morning. They were overwhelmed by the killings.”

  “I understand,” Rhine said. “Let them know we’ll wire them a return of their funds.”

  “Do we tell them about Geronimo?” Portia asked.

  Eddy seemed to think it over. “On the one hand they deserve to know, but on the other hand I don’t want them scared witless with worry they’ll be killed in their beds on their last night here.”

  Rhine made the decision. “We’ll tell them. My worry is Regan. When she gets back from her mail run this afternoon I want her to stay close to home until we get word on Geronimo’s whereabouts.”

  Portia agreed. More than likely the old war chief and his people were heading to the Mexican border to seek safety in the mountains they once called home, but as Rhine told the sheriff, they could be anywhere and she didn’t want her sister accidentally crossing their path.

  Eddy asked Rhine. “So what do we do about the posse?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll figure something out. Now that I don’t have to ride for the sheriff, I’m going to go out to the ranch and see the damage. I want to find out if any arrangements have been made to transport the bodies to Tucson and if Kent’s learned anything new about what happened.”

  Portia hoped he had. “Are you going to rebuild?”

  “Yes, but after what happened today, we might want to rethink the dude ranch portion of what we offer our guests. I know the killings today probably wouldn’t happen again, but word’
s going to get around and people might rethink visiting if they’re afraid.”

  Eddy said, “Or reservations will climb from those hoping to witness that type of violence.”

  Portia knew they were both right and she was concerned. If guests stopped coming, not only would her family’s life and income be affected but the lives and welfare of their employees would be impacted, too.

  Rhine’s voice brought her back to the conversation. “Whatever we decide, I will be holding on to that land. The more Tucson grows the more valuable it becomes. We could always lease out the ranch house after it’s rebuilt.”

  Portia stood. “I’m going to get cleaned up and change my clothes. I told Phillip I’d have lunch sent to their rooms.”

  “I’ll see to it,” Eddy replied. “Make sure you get something to eat, too.”

  “I will.”

  Luz stood, too. “I need to get cleaned up and speak with my daughter.”

  Rhine nodded.

  Eddy and Luz embraced. “Go get some rest,” Eddy whispered. “I’m so glad you weren’t harmed.”

  “So am I.” Her eyes sad, she slipped out.

  In her room, Portia wondered who her uncle might approach about being deputized. She also wondered how Kent was faring and how soon he’d return. She didn’t want him accidentally encountering Geronimo either.

  Chapter Ten

  With the fires doused, there was nothing left for Kent and Matt to do. Both men had lost everything in the fires from razors to socks. The only personal items they still possessed were their saddles, horses, and the clothes on their backs.

  “So now what?” the younger man asked.

  “I want to take a look around and see if we can figure out which direction Parnell and the others might have taken. It could help us find them.” The murders hadn’t taken place that long ago but each passing minute put those responsible farther away from the scene.

  “Then what?”

  “We ride back to the hotel and see what Mr. Fontaine wants to do. If I know Rhine, he’ll probably want to rebuild. You’re welcome to hang on here until then.”

  “But I don’t have a place to stay.”