Mexican Hat

"I'm not sure Louise would want me to tell you anything more. Is she in some kind of trouble?"

"No, ma'am. We just need to talk to her."

Emily eyed the young man cautiously.

"Can you tell us how to contact her?" Jim prodded.

"I really don't feel comfortable betraying a confidence," Emily replied.

On the end table next to the sofa was a copy of Emily Wheeler's book.

Molly picked it up.

"What fun it must have been to write this book," she said.

"Have you seen it before?" Emily asked.

"Oh, yes. We have the copy you donated to the library at Western New Mexico University. I keep it in the reference section."

Emily smiled at the young woman.

"I'm pleased to hear that. Do you work at the library?"

"Yes. You did an amazing amount of research.

You must have spent a lot of time tracking people down."

"It was a lot of work. I spent a great deal of time trying to locate people who had moved away. I had some luck, too." Emily hesitated.

"What sort of luck?" Molly asked.

"Oh, it was very serendipitous. Once or twice I heard about the whereabouts of somebody from one of the folks I had contacted."

"Did that happen with Louise?" Molly asked.

"Yes. Some old Pie Town residents ran into her shortly after they moved from New Mexico to a retirement community in Arizona. They sent me Louise's address."

"Did you write to Louise?"

"I did. She sent me a short note back saying it would be better if she left the past alone. She asked me not to tell anybody where she was living."

"I wonder why she felt the need to do that," Molly said.

"I have no idea. I never saw her again after she moved away and married. Nobody did. That was a very long time ago."

"If we can find her, it would be a great help," Molly urged.

"We need to speak to her about her ex husband It is really nothing more than a family matter. Do you have her address?"

"I believe it would be best if you found her on your own."

"There is some urgency," Molly countered.

"Audit we can find Louise, she may be able to help her family."

Emily Wheeler considered the young woman for a long moment before reaching for her address book from the side table.

"I hope I'm doing the right thing."

"I think you're a dear to trust us," Molly replied.

"She lives in Green Valley, south of Tucson. It's a retirement community." Emily Wheeler put on her glasses and slowly read Louise Cox's address so the young man could write it down accurately.

"Thank you for your help," Molly said.

Molly backed her car, a year-old Mustang hardtop, out of the driveway and headed for Reserve.

"You're going the wrong way," Jim said.

She braked and pulled to the shoulder of the road.

"I have to be at work in the morning. I have a job, Jim. Remember?"

"Call in sick and go to Green Valley with me," he proposed.

"I don't have a change of clothes or anything I need."

"I'll use my credit cards. We can drive straight through, get a room, catch a few hours' sleep, and buy some fresh duds in Tucson."

"Are you serious?"

"You bet I am. Besides, I may need you to sweet talk Louise Cox the way you did Emily Wheeler."

"I was pretty good, wasn't I?"

"More than good. You were great."

"Green Valley it is," Molly replied, after a momentary pause.

"But it's going to cost you."

"I certainly hope so."

A predawn rainstorm, usually a delight to Karen, only served to reinforce her bitchy mood. She hated saddling her father with Elizabeth and Cody and breaking her promise to visit Mom at the hospital, but three phone calls-one from Omar Gatewood, one from a police lieutenant in Silver City, and one from Charlie Perry, asking her to stop by his office-made it necessary. She started with Gatewood. In the sheriff's office, she stood in front of his desk and read Amador Ortiz's sworn statement accusing Kerney of an unprovoked attack. Omar watched her from his chair with a look of satisfaction on his face, then pushed an arrest warrant across the desk.

"I'm not signing it," Karen said, looking down at the document.

"What's the problem?"

"You went over my head on the murder warrant. I don't appreciate your little bullshit game."

"I had sufficient probable cause," he argued, stung by Karen's bluntness.

"Maybe so, but you still went around me."

Gatewood waved the paperwork at her.

"This is a solid criminal complaint."

"That's my decision to make. I want to talk to Kerney before I decide.

I want to make absolutely sure the complaint is reliable."

"Amador has no reason to lie," Gatewood rebutted.

"It's one man's word against another," Karen replied, "and it's my call to "Whatever you say," Omar r(^Ued forcing a compliant smile,"

"Don't even think about blind siding me Omar," Karen said, her eyes locked on his. ^"^^ ^ She left Gatewood, his frozen smile still plastered on his face, and headed down the road to find out what Charlie Perry wanted to see her about.

Omar Gatewood sank against the cushion of his chair, stared at the ceiling, cracked his knuckles, and rubbed the back of his neck. Karen Cox was turning out to be nothing but trouble. He didn't know if she was fucking with him or just acting like a gung-ho, know-it-all rookie who wanted to do everything herself. He did know that there wasn't a damn thing wrong with the arrest affidavit.

He stood up, took his handgun from the desk drawer, and slipped it into the high-rise holster.

Maybe he'd better talk to Amador one more time, just to make sure he really hadn't told Kerney anything.

The phone rang, and he grabbed it.

"What is it?"

"What happened?" a voice asked.

"She wants to talk to Kerney first before she signs the warrant. Don't sweat it-Silver City will hold him on the murder-one charge. He's not going anywhere."

"See that he doesn't. What does Kerney know?"

"Nothing," Gatewood replied.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm going to talk to Amador again."

"If Amador lied to you, get him out of town until this blows over."

"This is turning into a real pile of shit," Gatewood hissed into the telephone.

"Talk to Ortiz and call me when you're finished.

We'll meet at Whitewater Creek."

"What about Kerney?" Gatewood demanded.

"I'll bring your orders with me."

The line went dead.

Charlie Perry, dressed in a three-piece suit, sat in his office sorting papers and putting stuff he wanted to take with him in a box. It felt damn good to be closing the assignment out, and he looked forward to returning to the Beltway civilization of Washington and a headquarters job. Two years undercover in the boondocks of New Mexico had seemed like living in a nineteenth-century time warp. He was glad to be done with it.

He looked up to find Karen Cox standing in the doorway.

"You wanted to speak to me, Charlie?" she asked, eyeing his suit.

"I do." He stood up and gestured at an empty chair. When Karen was settled, he showed her his FBI credentials.

"What's this all about?" she demanded, giving Charlie another appraising look.

Charlie perched on the edge of his desk.

"Kerney turned a smuggling bust into a murder-one case for me," he explained, "and for that, I owe him. I have hard evidence that exonerates him in the Steve Lujan shooting, and he has information that your sheriff may be a dirty cop. He wants you fully briefed on the situation."

"I'm listening," Karen said.

At the Silver City Police Department, Karen used a vacant interrogation room to meet with Kerney.

Even though Charlie Perry had walked her through the facts of the Steven Lujan murder, she let Kerney tell his story. He finished up with Amador's admission that Gatewood had ordered him to give the Padilla Canyon tip to Jim Stiles.

"Do you think Gatewood did the shooting?" Karen asked, making a final entry in her notebook.

"I doubt it. But I've been wondering if Jim was a target of choice or a target of opportunity."

"Meaning?"

"Jim should have waited and turned the information over to me. Padilla Canyon is Forest Service land and on my patrol route. Amador knew that and probably told Gatewood."

"So you think you were the target?"

"Maybe I have been all along."

"That would make the trailer bombing a second attempt to kill you,"

Karen noted.

"Which makes me very nervous."

Karen closed her notebook and stood up.

"Let's go."

Kerney stayed seated.

"There's the small matter of murder charges against me."

"Not anymore. The charges have been dropped."

"Why didn't you tell me that up front?"

"We don't have time to bicker. Let's go." Outside the police station the drizzle continued, but the sky promised a heavier rain. Rolling thunder rumbled in overcast, thick clouds. Kerney stepped off in the direction of Jim's truck.

"Where do you think you're going?" Karen demanded, standing in the drizzle.

"I've got to find a way to get to Omar Gatewood and rattle his cage."

"Not without me you don't," Karen said sharply.

"That's not a good idea."

"If you're concerned for my safety, don't be," Karen said sarcastically.

"This could get ugly."

"Either you work with me or I'll put you back in the slammer under protective custody."

"That's illegal," Kerney said.

"I'll do it anyway," Karen countered.

"Your chances of getting to Omar are nil, if you try it by yourself.

He's probably pulled in every IOU he has to get to you before you can get to him. If you want to solve this case, get in my car."

Kerney studied Karen's icy expression and decided arguing with her would do no good.

"What's your plan?" he asked as he opened the passenger door to Karen's station wagon.

"Our best bet is to isolate Omar. I'll call Gatewood from home, tell him that I'm approving his warrant, and ask him to personally bring it by the house for me to sign. When he shows up, we'll Q-and-A him."

"That might work."

As they drove away, the skies opened and hail began to fall, clattering loudly on the roof of the station wagon.

"Would you mind making a couple of stops along the way?" Kerney asked, raising his voice above the din to be heard.

"Where do you need to go?"

"Jim loaned me a shirt and a pair of jeans, but I'd like to buy some new clothes and some shaving gear."

Karen's eyes softened as Kerney's predicament hit home.

"You lost everything in the trailer, didn't you?"

"It wasn't much," Kerney admitted.

"But it was everything I cared to keep."

She looked at his waist. He wasn't wearing the rodeo championship belt buckle. He wasn't wearing a belt at all.

Kerney followed her glance.

"Melted," he announced.

"That stinks. We'll stop at a couple of stores and get you squared away."

When Kerney had finished buying what he needed, the backseat was filled with shopping bags and a large canvas carryall to put everything in.

Halfway back to Glenwood, with the skies clearing, Karen took her eyes off the road and glanced at Kerney.

"You're staying with me," she said, "until we get things sorted out."

"I'm staying with you?"

"There's no other option. You haven't got a place to live, and bunking with Jim Stiles is too risky."

"I guess house arrest is better than jail," Kerney noted.

"You'll have to sleep on the floor." She glanced at Kerney again.

"Where is Jim?"

"I wish I knew," Kerney answered.

In spite of Jim's attempts to hurry Molly along, she took her own sweet time shopping for a new outfit in a Tucson clothing store that opened early.

His stomach was grumbling for breakfast by the time she finished and came out of the dressing room wearing a dark green blouse with an embroidered yoke, a pair of white jeans, and new Tony Lama cowboy boots.

"Now you have to feed me," she announced, as she spun around to give him a full view of the outfit.

He grinned, nodded in agreement, and paid the bill without complaint.

They arrived in Green Valley in the middle of the morning, with the temperature already in the three digits. Halfway between Tucson and the border town of Nogales, Green Valley paralleled the interstate that ran through the high Sonoran Desert. Except for a few businesses at the northern end of the town and one large strip mall on the main drag, there was very little commercial development, but there were a hell of a lot of churches. Cars along the wide boulevard moved slowly in spite of the absence of heavy traffic, and most were late-model Americanmade land yachts driven by gray-headed motorists.

There wasn't a baby boomer, adolescent, or thirty something person in sight.

Molly turned off the main street and passed row after row of single-story apartment condominiums that looked like cheap budget motel units. The native landscaping of saguaro cactus, paloverde trees, desert ironwood, brittle bush, and yucca didn't completely hide the cut-rate construction of the cement-block buildings.

After the condominiums petered out, the neighborhood changed into modest single-family ranch style tract homes on small lots. Recreational vehicles, pickup trucks with camper shells, and travel trailers filled about every other driveway. Finally they entered an upscale area of multilevel homes with brick exteriors and tile roofs that surrounded a golf course. Molly parked in front of a house that backed up to a fairway. It was expensively landscaped with crushed rock, native plants, flagstone walks, and a border of blackfoot daisies that covered a low stone wall.

With Molly at his side, Jim rang the doorbell. A tall woman, about seventy years old, answered. She had an angular face, a high forehead, and a long nose that gave her a birdlike appearance.

"Yes?" the woman said, glancing from the man to the woman. The young man's face looked as if it had been peppered with birdshot, his eye was covered with a patch, and his left arm was in a sling. The young woman was wholesomely attractive with lively blue eyes that sparkled with vitality.

"Louise Blanton Cox?" Jim asked.

"Yes."

He introduced himself and showed his', deputy sheriff's commission to the woman.

"I'm with the Catron County Sheriff's Department. We'd like to talk to you about your husband and brother-in-law."

Louise Cox began to close the door as he spoke.

Stiles blocked it with his foot.

"I have nothing to say to you," Louise Cox said.

"We can talk informally, or I can get a subpoena," Stiles bluffed.

Louise Cox hesitated and opened the door, her mouth drawn in a thin, anxious line.

"Come in."

She ushered them into a vaulted-ceiling living room and sat them in a conversation area in front of a freestanding natural-gas fireplace with fake logs.

She looked warily at them across a low glass coffee table centered on an off-white area rug. Next to the front picture window stood a grand piano. An accent table which held a vase of fresh-cut flowers was close at hand.

"What is this all about?" Mrs. Cox asked.

"Don Luis Padilla's son and great-grandson were murdered at Elderman Meadows," Jim explained.

"They had returned to New Mexico to investigate the death of Don Luis."

"Luis Padilla died long before I arrived in Catron County."

Jim smiled.

"But you do know about his death.

What can you tell us about it?"

"Talk to Eugene," Louise said flatly.

Molly leaned forward.

"Mrs. Cox, please help us.

We came a long way to see you."

Louise's hand fluttered to her cheek.

"I can't."

"You have a beautiful house," Molly said.

"How long have you lived here?"

"Ten years. I had it built when I moved from Sedona. My doctor said I needed to move to a lower altitude. My heart isn't very good."

"Were you teaching in Sedona?"

Louise shook her head and relaxed a bit.

"No. I haven't taught since I married Eugene and left Pie Town."

"You're still married to Eugene, aren't you?" Molly asked, looking at the wedding ring on Louise's left hand.

"Technically."

"After so long?" Molly probed.

"I have no desire to talk about my personal life," Louise said, caution creeping back into her voice.

"Sorry," Molly said quickly with a disarming smile.

"We're not here to pry."

"We came to ask you about Eugene," Jim said.

"Did he ever talk about what happened when he was shot on Elderman Meadows?"

"Not really."

"What did he say?"

"He talked about revenge."

"Against who?"

Louise hesitated for a moment, brushing an invisible bit of lint off her sleeveless polo shirt. Satisfied, she crossed her legs and adjusted the drape of her poplin skirt.

"Eugene is an angry man, Mr. Stiles. An unforgiving, angry man."

"Was he angry with you?" Molly inquired.

Louise laughed in harsh agreement.

"Always. I could never do anything right. It was a loveless marriage.

It became intolerable for me."

"You gave him custody of your sons," Molly said softly.

Louise's eyes blinked rapidly.

"I had no choice. I don't want to talk about it anymore.

"Stiffly, she stood up.

"Please sit down, Mrs. Cox," Jim said.

Louise hesitated and complied.

"You said you had no choice," Jim restated.

"I had to protect myself."

"From who?" Jim asked.

"I've said enough."

"You can't be forced to testify against your husband.

I'm not asking you to do that."

Louise's eyes flashed at Jim Stiles.

"I want you to leave."

Jim pushed on.

"Did Eugene tell you things he wanted to make sure remained secret?"

"Absurd." Her voice rose a few notches.

"From where I sit, it looks like whatever happened to you still hurts."

Louise turned her face away and stared off into space; the corner of her mouth turned down in a dour grimace.

Jim continued, "It must be hard to live with those memories."

Louise Cox looked ashen.

"It is," she said weakly.

She licked her lips, clasped her hands, and pulled herself together before continuing.

"But I don't want to be dragged into a police investigation of something that I had nothing to do with."

"You're a victim, not a criminal," Jim responded gently.

"Did Eugene mistreat you? Did he beat you?"

Louise took in Jim's words as if they were slaps across her face.

"Did he force you to give up your children?" Molly asked.

The breath rushed out of Louise, and her lip quivered.

"I've feared this moment ever since Emily Wheeler wrote to me. It was like opening a door and getting hit in the face with a past I wanted to forget."

She looked from Jim to Molly with a taut smile.

Molly slipped out of her chair, sat next to Louise, and took her hand.

"You don't have to be afraid," she said.

"But I am. I am not a brave person."

"I think you are," Molly said.

Louise swallowed hard and looked at Molly.

"What would you do?"

"Maybe it's time to let it go," Molly replied.

Louise nodded her head and stood up slowly, still clutching Molly's hand.

"Maybe it is. Wait here."

She returned promptly with an old leather diary and resumed her position on the couch.

"When I decided to leave my husband, I knew I needed something to keep him away from me. Don't let the wheelchair fool you-he is a vicious man. He was tremendously strong back then. His chest and arms were as hard as rocks. He frightened me. Just the thought of him still does.

When I told him I was leaving him, he threatened to kill me if I took Cory and Phil with me. He forced me to my knees, put a pistol to my head, and made me promise to leave the boys with him."

"How terrible," Molly groaned.

"Wasn't there someone you could turn to for help?"

"No one. Eugene kept me isolated from everybody.

After I had his children-my sons-I was nothing but a maid and a prisoner."

She patted the book in her lap.

"All I had when I left was the clothes on my back, my grocery money for the month, and his father's diary. After some time had passed and I was far enough away, I copied pages from Calvin's diary and sent them to Eugene.

I told him if he ever came near me again I'd make his father's diary public. It's been the only protection I've had over the years."

Louise held out the book.

"Read it for yourself.

The interesting entries are marked. It won't answer all of your questions. Only Eugene and Edgar can do that. But I'm sure you can piece together part of the puzzle."

Jim reached out and took the book from Louise's outstretched hand, and with Molly looking over his shoulder, they read excerpts from Calvin Cox's diary.

"You're a pretty good detective," Molly said.

"You're not too bad yourself," Jim replied.

Stiles drove while Molly sat next to him. She had taken off the new boots and socks and put her bare feet on the dashboard. She wiggled her toes, and Jim decided that even her feet were beautiful.

Molly gave him a winning smile.

"If we get married…"

"Pick the date," Jim.

"I said if." Molly poked him gently in the ribs with a finger.

"Anyway, if we get married, you'd better not turn into an asshole like Gene Cox."

"That's unlikely," Jim replied.

Molly nodded in agreement and stared out the window, thinking about Louise Cox. The heat of the sun and the windblown sand rolling off the desert distorted the distant Superstition Mountains into vague, shimmering shapes.

"What a sad, sad lady she is," Molly said with a sigh.

"If someone put a gun to my head and threatened to kill me if I walked out on him with my kids, I'd shoot the son of a bitch myself."

"I believe you would. How many kids would you like to have?"

"That's not the topic under discussion, but the answer is two." She took her feet off the dashboard and faced Jim.

"What do we know for sure?"

"We know that Edgar and Eugene went to the meadows together. That they were sent there by their father, and that Edgar brought Gene home badly wounded. Also, that Calvin bribed the doctor, who was a drunk, to change the date that he treated Gene for the bullet wound, and that the same doctor later ruled Don Luis Padilla's death was accidental, for which he received an additional sum of money."

"Which means that Calvin Cox engaged in a cover-up," Molly added.

"So who killed Don Luis?" Jim asked.

"And shot Gene Cox?" Molly added.

"And rustled Padilla's sheep?" Jim noted.

Molly nodded.

"At a place called Mexican Hat, that nobody can find?"

"We're down to two suspects. Who do we start with first? Gene or Edgar?"

"Good question." Molly put her feet back on the dashboard and wiggled her toes.

"Do you think Louise has been milking money out of Gene over the years as a payment for her silence?" Jim asked.

"It's possible. She didn't act like a woman who had moved on with her life and made her own way.

And that house she lives in certainly isn't a low-end little retirement cottage."

Jim gave her an agreeing look.

"We need to find Kerney and fill him in."

"There's a lot of horses under the hood," Molly replied.

"We'll get back to Reserve a hell of a lot faster if you goose it a little. Besides, creeping along at the speed limit is boring."

Omar turned east on the paved state road that led to the picnic grounds at the Catwalk National Recreation Trail and stopped at the side of the road when he reached the old mine that jutted out of the hill on the far bank of Whitewater Creek. Cars traveling in both directions slowed as they passed his patrol unit.

He waited a good fifteen minutes before a truck pulled in behind him.

Omar unlocked the passenger door and Phil Cox got in, his long legs bumping up against the dash.

Omar moved the bench seat back.

"What took you so long?" Phil demanded.

"I thought you were going to talk to Amador right away."

"I had to find him first," Gatewood answered.

"Which wasn't easy. He was in Silver City helping the family make funeral arrangements for Steve."

"What did he say?"

Gatewood grimaced and looked out the side window at an RV that slowed as it passed by.

"He ratted me off to Kerney, the little fucker. Told him everything.

I almost kicked his ass in the parking lot at the funeral home."

"Did you get him to agree to stay out of town?"

"That's not a good idea," Omar answered, turning back to Phil.

"The funeral service for Steve is tomorrow. Wouldn't look right if Amador wasn't there. I've got a deputy covering him."

"That's not what you were told to do," Phil snapped, his gray eyes narrowing.

"Save the orders for somebody else, Phil," Gatewood said wearily.

"It's your daddy we elected commanding officer of the militia, not you.

I'm still the goddamn sheriff and I made the call on this one.

Amador stays put. I don't want any more attention drawn to him."

"Okay, Omar, relax."

"I put a tail on your sweet little cousin after she left my office. She got Kerney released, dropped the murder charges against him, and took him home with her."

Phil slapped the dashboard with his hand.

"Shit."

"You said you would bring a plan with you, Phil. I hope it's better than your last fuckup that got us into this mess."

"Don't lay that on me," Phil retorted.

"Every ranking officer in the militia voted on the plan."

"But Kerney's still out there walking around. You shot the wrong man and blew up Doyle Fletcher."

"Fletcher was an accident, and I didn't shoot the wrong man."

Gatewood snorted.

"Kerney was the target, not Stiles. It was your idea in the first place to whack somebody who worked for the Forest Service that nobody gave a rat's ass about."

Phil laughed sharply.

"You need to listen more carefully to what people say. Kerney was discussed as a target, but the decision we reached was to take decisive action."

Gatewood rubbed his chin.

"Jesus. And Gene took that to mean you should go after Jim Stiles?" he asked in disbelief.

"He told me to take out whoever jumped at the bait. Kerney. Stiles.

Charlie Perry. Whoever. It didn't matter. It was time to send a message."

Omar ran his tongue behind his teeth before reacting.

"I think your old man went over the edge on this one."

Phil lunged across the seat and grabbed Gatewood's throat.

"Don't ever say that again," he snarled.

Omar pried Phil's hand free and gasped for air.

"I'm not picking a fight with you, for chrissake." He waited until Phil stopped glaring at him.

"I'm only saying Kerney was the target. No one else."

"That's not the way my father saw it," Phil replied tightly.

Gatewood grunted, gave Phil a sharp look, and let it pass. It was too late to split hairs with Phil, and the way he was acting maybe both Eugene and his son had a screw loose.

"What does Gene want done now?"

"We have to clean up the mess."

"That's what I thought," Gatewood replied, pulling a paper from his shirt pocket.

"So I did us a favor."

Phil took the paper and read it.

"You got the assault-and-battery warrant signed."

Gatewood smiled and nodded.

"You bet. I know a very obliging judge. Everything is legal again. All we have to do is go get them. After that, we can improvise."

"Them?"

"That's right. I talked to your daddy after I called you. He wants both Kerney and Karen taken care of, and I agree. That's the only way we can handle it. We can't let Karen off the hook. She could fry our asses.

We're looking at first-degree felony murder charges if we don't contain the problem now."

"Kill them both?" Phil asked.

Gatewood nodded.

"Are you all right with that?"

Phil's eyes were empty of emotion.

"Why not?"

"Good," Gatewood said, exhaling slowly.

"But it ain't gonna be me who does it. You get my meaning?"

Phil gazed at Gatewood unemotionally.

"I'll make them disappear, Omar. But we leave Karen's children alone, understood? We're patriots, not terrorists."

"Shit, Phil, I know that." He cranked the engine.

"Edgar took his grandkids to Silver City. If we get our butts in gear, we can pick up Kerney and Karen and be gone before he gets home."

"Where do we take them?"

"The Slash Z." Gatewood reached across Phil and opened the passenger door.

"I'm taking out an insurance policy on this one. I want your daddy to help you make them disappear, Phil."

Phil got out of the patrol car, stuck his head back inside, and gave Omar a wicked smile.

"He'll like that. This will all work out, Omar."

"It better. Otherwise, we'll have to declare open season on every fucking federal and state cop the government sends after us."

After treating his grandchildren to an early lunch and a matinee movie in Silver City, Edgar met briefly with Margaret's doctor, while Elizabeth and Cody waited in the hospital lobby. The doctor reported the cancer had not spread and Margaret would be discharged in the morning. The good news put a smile on Edgar's face. He took the elevator to the third floor and hurried to Margaret's room.

He found his wife sitting in the bedside chair with her hair done up in a bun, her makeup on, and wearing a pretty summer dress. She smiled and stroked his cheek when he bent down to kiss her.

"Karen couldn't come?" Margaret asked.

"She's working, and I'm looking after Cody and Elizabeth. They're in the lobby waiting to see you.

The doctor said I could take you down for a short visit."

"I can't wait to see them." She studied Edgar's face.

"You look tired."

"I feel fine," he replied.

"You look beautiful."

Margaret beamed.

"I hoped you'd notice. I had quite a bit of help from the nurses to get gussied up for your visit. Have you kept your promise?"

Edgar's smile faded and his gaze shifted away.

"Not yet. I've decided I want to talk to Eugene before I tell Karen."

"What on earth for?"

Edgar grimaced.

"I want him to know that the truth is something neither of us can avoid any longer."

Margaret stood up and took Edgar's arm.

"I don't think talking to Eugene will make one bit of difference."

"Maybe not," Edgar replied as he walked Margaret to the door.

"But that's the way I want to handle it."

"When?" Margaret asked.

"Today. After we leave here, I'll drop Cody and Elizabeth off at home with Karen and drive to the Slash Z. I'll tell Karen this evening.

Everything will be taken care of by the time you come home tomorrow."

Margaret patted her husband's hand.

"I love you very much, Edgar."

"I love you, too," he replied.

"More than you know."

The screened porch to Karen's house was filled with empty packing boxes stacked in neat piles.

Behind the porch was the living room, a rectangular space with doors opening to back bedrooms. The room held an astonishing number of books arranged in modular shelves along the walls. The only furniture was a love seat with a curved back that faced a small television and VCR on a portable cabinet next to a fireplace, and a Shaker rocking chair that sat next to the fireplace. An assortment of potted house plants was arranged on the outer lip of the hearth.

Several indoor trees, including a Norfolk pine in a large tub, sat on the floor. In front of the love seat, two sleeping bags were spread out on a Persian rug that matched the deep red color of the flagstone floor.

The room had the feel of a sheltered garden library.

Kerney scanned the spines of the books. Karen had an excellent collection of art history, architecture, biography, good fiction, and classic literature.

The wide range of interests the collection contained impressed Kerney.

He spied a biography of Vincent Van Gogh that he wanted to read.

Karen offered him the use of the bathroom to clean up. He jumped at the suggestion, and with a fresh towel and some new clothes he found his way to the bathroom. It was a cramped space in a corner of the oversized kitchen adjacent to the living room.

All the water lines running to the old pedestal sink and cast-iron tub were exposed. It was clearly a renovation done when indoor plumbing was still a recent innovation. It reminded Kerney of growing up in the ranch house his grandfather had built on the Tularosa.

He closed the door and stripped tags and labels off his new clothes while hot water filled the cast-iron tub. He shucked off Jim's hand-me-downs and sank into the steaming hot water, letting the heat work on his knee. The leg had been bothering him more than usual. He needed to get back to his daily workout and jogging routine.

Shaved, clean, and dressed in stiff jeans and a shirt that still had the package creases in it, he went into the living room. Karen sat on the love seat with her shoes off and her feet on the cushion, studying a case file. Reading glasses were perched on her nose, and an open briefcase was within arm's reach. Still wearing her work outfit, a loosely shaped wool crepe suit, she smiled at him, put the file in the briefcase, and snapped it closed.

"You look better," she remarked.

"I feel better. Did you get in touch with Gatewood?"

"He's out of town. I left a message for him to call me." She unwound herself from the love seat and stood up.

"Now it's my turn to change. Make yourself comfortable."

He browsed through the Van Gogh biography and inspected a painting on the only wall of the room not completely taken over by Karen's library.

The large watercolor had a Chagall feel to it. A woman dressed in a simple frock held a child in her arms while a small girl stood at her side, her hand clasping the hem of the skirt. All were smiling at something out of view.

Kerney looked for the artist's signature and found the initials KC hidden in a clump of flowers at the bottom of the painting.

"I did that right after I kicked my ex-husband out," Karen said as she reentered the room.

"It was a happy event, I take it," Kerney replied, turning to face her.

Barefoot, Karen wore jeans and a ribbed red-and-white-striped T-shirt.

Karen laughed.

"You noticed that."

"The feeling of the painting is hard to miss."

"I keep it conspicuously displayed to remind me how unsuited I am for married life."

"Not your cup of tea?"

"Hardly."

The painting had an accomplished feel to it.

"Did you study art?" Kerney asked.

"I was a delinquent in the undergraduate fine arts department for a time," Karen replied.

"You were very good."

"Thank you."

"From fine arts to law is quite a switch," Kerney said.

Karen cocked her head.

"I'm not very predictable.

Would you like some iced tea? The dispatcher said it would be a while before he can contact Gatewood."

"That would be nice."

Over iced tea and a platter of fruit, Karen and Kerney sat on the living-room floor and talked.

"Whatever made you take a temporary job with the Forest Service?" she asked, nibbling on a slice of honeydew.

"Money," Kerney replied.

"It can't be that much."

"Every little bit helps."

"Don't you have a pension?"

"Yeah. It pays the bills."

"So what do you need more money for?"

"Land. Enough to start a small ranching operation."

Karen picked up a piece of watermelon and cleaned out the seeds.

"That's what you want to do?"

"You bet. I have my eye on a section just north of Mountainair on the east side of the Manzano Mountains, south of Albuquerque. It comes with BLM grazing rights. The owner will carry the mortgage if I can come up with the down payment."

Kerney was surprised at himself; talking about dreams sometimes vaporized them into extinction.

"Do you know the area?"

Karen finished the melon slice, licked her fingers, wiped her hand on her jeans, and nodded.

"I've driven through it. It's pretty country. What fun it would be to build a house just where you want to. I bet you're looking forward to it."

"I am."

"I hope it happens for you."

"Me too." Kerney heard a board creak and looked at the open door to the porch. Omar Gatewood stood in the doorway with a revolver in his hand and a nasty smile on his face. Kerney pushed Karen to the floor, flung himself across her, and reached for the pistol under the belt at the small of his back.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

Karen snapped, her fist balled, ready to punch him in the chops.

Before Kerney could free the weapon he felt a muzzle dig into his neck.

"Don't," Phil Cox warned, standing over Kerney.

Slowly, hands empty, Kerney moved both arms away from his body. Pinned under him, Karen's expression changed from a look of indignation to one of incredulity.

"Are you totally fucking nuts, Phil?" she yelled.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," Phil answered.

He poked the rifle barrel against Kerney's neck, secured the handgun, and stuck the weapon in his waistband.

"Get up real slow, Kerney," he ordered.

"The charges against him have been dropped," Karen snarled.

Kerney pushed himself upright. Gatewood had a clear shot at him from across the room. He was boxed in nicely.

"Stay where you are, Karen," Gatewood ordered.

He covered Kerney while Phil Cox cuffed him, hands at his back.

With Kerney secured, Omar reached down and pulled Karen to her feet.

"I decided not to take your advice, Karen. I got that warrant you wouldn't approve signed by somebody else," he explained.

"Everything's nice and legal."

"Are you crazy, Omar?" Karen snapped.

"Or just plain stupid? I'll have your badge for this."

"I don't think so."

She struggled to pull free of his grasp, but Gatewood held her tightly.

"Get that gun out of my face."

"Can't do it," Omar answered, wrapping his arm around Karen's waist and pulling her closer.

"You both need to come with us."

"Where?" Karen demanded.

"You'll see," Gatewood answered.

"Why?"

"You'll find out." Gatewood backed up to the door, taking Karen with him.

"At least let me leave a note for my children," Karen pleaded.

"No," Gatewood said.

"Phil?" Karen implored.

Phil looked at Gatewood over Kerney's shoulder.

"It might be a good idea," he said.

"It could buy us time."

Omar considered it.

"All right." He holstered his weapon and tossed a pair of handcuffs to Phil.

"I'll take Kerney on ahead. It's best if we don't travel together. Cuff Karen after she writes the note and bring her along."

With Karen pinned to his side, Gatewood walked to the middle of the room and exchanged her for Kerney.

Karen searched Kerney's face for a reaction as Gatewood walked him to the door. He remained expressionless except for a slight shake of his head that was barely noticeable. It told her to do nothing foolish.

"Write your note and give it to me," Phil told her as soon as Gatewood and Kerney were gone.

"Can I put some shoes on first?"

Phil waved the rifle toward the bedroom.

"After you, cousin." He followed her and watched as she slipped on socks and cowboy boots.

Finished, she sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him.

"Why are you doing this?"

"According to the sheriff, you've been harboring a fugitive. It's my civic duty to help him, isn't it?"

"Help him do what?"

"Just write the fucking note," Phil replied.

She found pencil and paper in a nightstand drawer.

"If I tell them I'll be working late, will that do?"

"Fine. Just do it."

Karen wrote quickly and held up the note for Phil to read. He had his rifle pointed at her stomach, his finger on the trigger.

He scanned it and nodded an okay.

"Put your hands out," he ordered.

She stuck her hands out hoping Phil would be dumb enough to cuff her to the front. He complied and double-locked the cuffs with a key that he dropped into his shirt pocket.

"If I don't leave the note on my mother's refrigerator, my father won't see it," Karen explained.

"Let's go."

Phil marched her to her parents' house and into the kitchen, where he watched her attach the note to the refrigerator with a magnet. Karen held her breath, hoping he wouldn't read it again. He didn't.

"What's this all about, Phil?" she asked, trying hard to sound innocent and obliging.

He prodded her with the rifle barrel.

"Get going."

Molly took over the wheel just west ofLordsburg near the Arizona border.

Off the interstate, on the state road to Silver City, she punched the car hard through the Big Burro Mountains and slowed only when they hit the city limits. Once rid of the city traffic, she floored the Mustang again and passed everything in sight, driving with superb coordination.

She loved to make the Mustang fly when Jim was with her to take the heat in case she got stopped. He had saved her from many speeding tickets during the two years they had been dating. It was, according to Molly, one of the few benefits of dating a cop.

Flying along the road to Glenwood, Jim quietly watched her drive. Molly said nothing until they reached the last long curve before the village.

She slowed the car and flashed him a brilliant smile.

"We made pretty good time, wouldn't you say?"

"You are good behind the wheel," Jim admitted.

"Swing by Karen's house." He gave her directions.

"We'll see if she knows where Kerney is."

Molly hit the turn signal as they approached the turnoff to Dry Creek Canyon. A truck entering the highway swerved onto the road in front of them, then accelerated quickly.

Stiles sat upright, his eyes riveted on the truck.

"Keep going," he said.

"Why?"

Jim nodded at the truck as it pulled away.

"That's Phil Cox up ahead, and Karen is with him."

"What's so strange about that?" Molly asked.

"I'm not sure, but he's in a hell of a hurry. Stay back a little. Do you have that handgun I gave you?"

"It's under my seat."

Jim reached and got the holstered 9mm semiautomatic.

"What do you need a gun for?" Molly demanded.

"I don't know if I need it," Jim answered.

"Drop back a little more."

"He doesn't know my car," Molly said.

"He knows me," Jim answered.

"Let's see where he's going."

Molly slowed down to almost the speed limit.

They followed Phil to Old Horse Springs and barely got there in time to watch him turn in on the Slash Z ranch road.

"What do we do now?" Molly asked as she parked on the shoulder of the highway.

"We wait," Jim said.

"It's five miles to the ranch from the highway, and I don't want to jump to any conclusions. Damn, I wish I could get to a telephone."

"Why?"

"So I could call around for Kerney. This may be nothing more than paranoia on my part."

"Open the glove compartment," Molly suggested.

Jim punched the button and found a cellular phone.

"When did you get this?" he asked, holding up the telephone.

"A couple of months ago."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Was I supposed to? It's only for emergencies. I hardly use it." Molly smiled winningly.

"Isn't it handy?"

"You are amazing."

"I know it."

Stiles flipped open the phone, dialed Karen's home number, and got no answer. He tried Edgar Cox with the same results. He called the sheriff's office and asked for Gatewood. The deputy who answered said Omar was out of town and not due back until morning.

"What's the status on Kerney?" Jim inquired.

"Has he been picked up? Have the charges been dropped?" It took longer than necessary to get a reply.

"I haven't heard a thing," the deputy said.

Stiles snapped the cover closed and shook his head.

"What?" Molly asked.

"Something isn't kosher. We'll give Karen and Phil some time to get to Phil's house and then I'll call," he said.

"I hope this is just a wild-goose chase."

"Is that what you think?"

"No. That's why we're going to sit here and wait."

The children piled out of Edgar's truck as he parked behind Karen's station wagon. He was glad to see her car. It meant Karen was home and he could take a break from his baby-sitting duties. He waved as Cody and Elizabeth called out their thanks and told them to send Karen down to see him. They ran around the side of the house and out of sight.

Inside, the house was too damn quiet without Margaret to fill the place up with the sounds of her presence. Edgar shed his boots in the living room and padded to the kitchen, thinking it was time to start thawing one of the meals in the freezer so he could have it for dinner. On the refrigerator door was a note. He removed the magnet and read it. All it said was that Karen might be working a little late, but would be home soon. She must have forgotten to take it down after she got back. He crumpled it up and threw it in the trash under the kitchen sink.

He got a meal out of the freezer, put it on the counter, and started back to the living room when Elizabeth slammed through the back door.

"Is my mom here?" she asked breathlessly.

"No, sweetie. Isn't she at your house?"

"No," Elizabeth replied.

"Where could she be?"

Edgar rumpled Elizabeth's hair.

"Don't worry.

She left a note for us that she might have to work late."

"But our car is here," Elizabeth replied.

"Mom should be home, if the car is here."

"Not necessarily," Edgar answered.

"Listen, you go get Cody and we'll drive to Uncle Phil's."

"Right now?"

"Sure. By the time we get back, I'm sure your mom will be home."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

After Elizabeth left, Edgar thought about Karen's note and fished it out of the trash. She had signed it "Peanut." Now that was kind of strange. He couldn't remember a time when Karen had appreciated his nickname for her. He used it in spite of his best attempts to break the habit, and she almost always reacted with a frown when it slipped out.

He read the note again. Even the handwriting looked slanted and jerky, not at all like Karen's fluid script. There was a crossed-out Z before the word "soon" at the end of the note.

Slash Z, Edgar thought, stuffing the note in his pocket. It couldn't mean anything else. He hurried to get his boots and round up the children. Something was wrong, but for the life of him, he couldn't imagine what it could be.

Karen probed Phil on the ride to the Slash Z, using the humblest attitude she could manage, trying to match the obsequious demeanor of Phil's wife, Doris. The ploy worked; Phil got puffed up with self-importance and started talking. The garbage that poured from his mouth was truly amazing.

He talked about the Catron County Militia with a zealot's passion, and he described his attempt to kill Jim Stiles like a schoolyard bully bragging on himself.

She tried to maintain a servile tone, while her mind raced over the implications of Phil's confession.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked meekly.

Phil guffawed.

"You're going to have to disappear."

Karen dropped the charade, and her voice cracked with hostility.

"In other words, you're going to kill me."

"It's a family tradition," Phil replied.

"What does that mean?"

He looked at her like a hawk that had spotted its prey.

"I'll let my father explain."

"If I'm reported missing, Catron County will be crawling with cops from all over the state. It isn't going to be that easy."

"Omar can handle them."

Karen laughed.

"In your dreams he can. Omar isn't smart enough to take the heat. It won't take much to crack him wide open."

"You're only going to be missing, Karen. That's the key word." Phil smiled.

"All Omar has to do is put everyone to work scouring the countryside for you."

"A missing ADA is a whole different matter from a lost tourist."

Phil made the turn onto the Slash Z road before answering.

"You know what? I have half a mind to strip you naked and stuff a sock in your mouth before we get to the ranch. Hell, I just may do it. Pop would get a big kick out of it, I bet."

Phil's raw sexual glance sent a shiver up Karen's spine. She leaned against the seat and stared at her cuffed hands. Phil's rifle was in the gun rack, but she doubted she could get to it before he could react.

She needed to hit him with something, but there was nothing substantial in sight to do it with.

After a mile on the flats, the ranch road cut through some low hills.

Phil drove with one eye on the road and the other on her, shifting his gaze back and forth before each curve. There were pools of standing water in the ruts from the heavy morning rain, and Phil slowed down a bit going through them. Silently, Karen started counting seconds between Phil's glances. There was about a ten-second break in eye contact.

The next curve came up, and Phil's eyes moved back to the road. Karen pivoted on the seat, brought her legs up, and kicked at Phil's face with her boots.

He saw the blow coming and threw up a hand to deflect it. Karen's foot slammed into the steering wheel. Phil clamped his hand on her calf and lost control of the truck. They lunged off the road into an arroyo.

Phil wrenched the wheel as they slid sideways down the slope.

Karen kicked Phil in the cheek with her free leg.

The truck fishtailed into a tree, bounced, and landed on its side.

Phil's head snapped against the doorpost, and Karen landed on top of him, her knees grinding into his ribs.

She waited for him to move, but he remained still.

She pushed herself upright until her head bumped the passenger door. She swung the door open, gripped the roof with both hands, pulled herself free, and landed hard on her feet. Unsteadily she walked to the front of the truck. Through the cracked windshield she could see that Phil was out cold. She had to get the handcuffs off before he regained consciousness. She shattered the glass with a large rock, reached in, and fumbled in his shirt pocket for the handcuff key.

Her hands were shaking, and it took several attempts to get the key in the lock. Wooziness hit her, and she stopped until it passed. She got the cuffs off, wrapped Phil's arms through the steering wheel, cuffed him, and threw away the key. She crawled halfway into the cab, picked up the rifle from the floorboard, and scrambled out.

She sat on the ground and trembled, her eyes locked on Phil's unconscious face, wondering where the insanity in him came from and why she hadn't seen it before. Maybe it had been there all the time, lurking under the surface. Maybe it was the legacy of bitterness and rage passed on from father to son.

Finally calm, she considered her options. She could walk to the highway and try to flag down some help or head to the ranch. There wasn't enough time to turn back. It would be the ranch, she decided, even if she had to face down Omar Gatewood and Uncle Eugene by herself to free Kerney.

She checked the Winchester, found it fully loaded, and set out for the Slash Z. Impatiently, Stiles checked his watch every few minutes. The thought that Kerney and Karen might be in trouble gnawed at him, but he didn't have anything solid to back up the feeling. He gave in to his anxiety and started punching in Phil Cox's number on the cellular phone when a pickup truck sped by and braked quickly for the turn to the Slash Z. Jim dropped the phone in his lap and hit the car horn repeatedly. The truck stopped at the cattle guard.

"What is it?" Molly said, somewhat startled.

"That's Edgar Cox. Drive over to him."

Edgar Cox waited for the car to pull up, wondering who in the hell had flagged him down. Cody crawled into his lap, rolled down the window, and leaned out. Elizabeth, kneeling on the bench seat, stared out the rear window.

Jim got out of the Mustang and stepped over to Edgar's truck.

"Mr. Cox," he said.

"I'm in a hurry, Jim," Edgar replied.

"Looking for Karen?"

"How did you know?"

"We saw her drive in with Phil."

Edgar relaxed a bit.

"That's a relief."

"Why do you say that?"

"She left me a note. It threw me for a loop. Maybe I'm getting too suspicious in my old age."

"Can I see it?"

Edgar handed Jim the note.

"I thought maybe she was in some sort of trouble," Edgar said.

Jim read the note.

"What makes you say that?"

Molly was at Jim's side. He passed the note to her.

"The way it's written, the words she used, the little squiggle near the end of it. I thought it looked like a Z with a slash through it."

"It does," Jim replied.

"I agree," Molly said as she returned the note to Edgar.

"Who is this woman?" Edgar asked, as he put the note away.

"My partner, Officer Hamilton," Jim replied.

Edgar nodded a greeting at Molly and turned his attention back to Stiles.

"It's just as well Karen is with Phil. I can kill two birds with one stone."

"Meaning?"

"Family business, Jim." He clutched and put the truck in gear.

"It's not your concern."

Jim reached in, killed the engine, and took the key from the ignition.

Edgar gave him a hard look.

"Why did you do that?"

"What if Karen is in trouble?"

"Sitting here jabbering with you and your partner won't answer that question," Edgar snapped.

"I'm sure it's just a family visit."

"Don't bullshit me, Edgar. Karen hasn't stepped onto Slash Z property in over twenty years, if ever.

And we're just back from Arizona, where we had a nice chat with Eugene's wife, Louise. So whatever is going on, we're in on it. Now, I'm going to call and talk to Phil before any of us move down that road."

"What for?"

"Because I've got a bad feeling about this. Was Kevin Kerney with Karen today?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen my daughter since early this morning."

Jim stepped back to the Mustang, grabbed the cellular phone, and dialed the number. Phil's wife, Doris, answered.

"Doris, this is Jim Stiles. Is Phil home?"

"Jim! I was so very sorry to hear what happened to you. Are you up and around now?"

"I'm much better, thanks. Is Phil there?"

"Not yet."

"Do you know where he is?" Jim asked.

"I have no idea."

"Is he with Eugene?"

"No. But Sheriff Gatewood is. His police car is parked outside."

"Is anyone with Omar, Doris?"

"I think so. PJ said he saw a man with him. I don't know who it is."

"Let me talk to PJ."

"He's down at the barn doing chores," Doris said.

"If you miss Phil, I'll let him know you called when he gets home."

"Thanks, Doris." Jim hit the disconnect button.

"Phil and Karen haven't showed up yet, and Omar Gatewood, who was supposed to be in Silver City, is with Gene. He brought somebody with him. I think it may be Kerney.

"I'm going to give you some lawful orders, Edgar, and I expect you to follow them," Jim continued.

"Officer Hamilton and I are going to ride in the back of your truck. If we see anything unusual at all, I'll order you to stop. Do it right away. If not, just before you reach the ranch, there's a slight downgrade as you come around the last hill."

"I grew up here, damn it!"

"Yes, sir. I know that. Stop the truck before the curve and stay in the vehicle until I do a sweep, just to make sure everything is all right."

"Is all this necessary?" Edgar demanded, as he took the truck keys back from Stiles.

Cody looked at Jim with wide, excited eyes. Edgar pulled him away from the open window and sat him down on the seat.

"Just do as I say, Mr. Cox," Jim said in exasperation.

"Understand?"

"I can follow orders."

"Good. Are you carrying any firearms?"

"There's a Colt thirty-eight in the glove box."

"Grab it by the barrel and hand it over."

Edgar gave Jim the pistol, and he handed it to Molly.

"Hold on to this for me."

"This is ridiculous," Edgar said.

"Maybe so, but Padilla Canyon taught me a lesson.

I'm not making any more assumptions about what is safe and what isn't until I check things out."

"You'd better know what you're doing," Edgar warned.

Bouncing along in the back of the truck, Molly sat with the pistol cradled in her hands. She looked at the gun and glanced over at Jim, who was resting against the wheel well.

"Officer Hamilton?" she whispered.

Jim grimaced.

"I didn't want to tell him you were my girl."

"Do you know what you're doing?"

"I think so."

"It turns you on, doesn't it?"

"What turns me on?"

"Cop stuff."

Jim chewed his lip before answering.

"Yeah, sometimes it does. Does that bother you?"

"No. What bothers me is that maybe you'll get hurt again."

Eugene Cox sat in his wheelchair in the front room dressed in starched military fatigues. An AK47 rested against the side of the chair. On the collar of his shirt were the eagles of a bird colonel, and on the left sleeve he wore a Catron County Militia unit patch. Freshly shaved, Eugene had combed his hair straight back over his ears.

The room was trashed with newspapers, magazines, military training manuals, maps, and a clutter of old household appliances that would make an antique dealer drool. There was a floor-size Emerson radio against one wall with a Polar Cub oscillating fan on top that pushed warm air around the room, fluttering the piles of newspapers.

Gatewood forced Kerney to sit on the floor and stood behind him. Kerney smiled up at Eugene Cox.

The old man ignored him. Caressing the barrel of the AK-47, he spoke to Omar.

"Where is Phil?"

"He'll be along shortly with Karen," Gatewood replied.

"We thought it best not to travel together."

Eugene nodded.

"I'll tell you what I told Phil," Omar added.

"You'll have to do your own dirty work on this one."

"Covering your ass, Omar? Or are you just a pantywaist?"

"You figure it out."

Eugene grunted.

"Sometimes I think you're just another dumbass politician."

"Think whatever you like," Omar replied.

"You still have to kill them if you want them dead."

"Fine." Eugene shifted his gaze to Kerney.

"Why are you smiling at me like a jackass? What's so damn funny?"

"Was I smiling?" Kerney answered.

Eugene's eyes bored into Kerney.

"Don't be a smartass. Answer the question."

Kerney considered the man in the wheelchair dressed in combat fatigues with his useless legs dangling to the floor.

"I was admiring your uniform."

Eugene sneered.

"You like it?"

"Not really. But I'd love to hear about the militia."

Eugene threw his head back, smiled widely, and showed his stained teeth.

"I bet you would."

"Why did you go after Jim Stiles?"

"Because he's the enemy, just like you. He's a diehard conservationist who doesn't understand history."

"What history is that?" Kerney asked.

"The history of revolution. The history of this country. The history of the men who settled the west. Who in the hell do you think preserved the land before the environmentalists began beating the drum? Ranchers.

Ranchers brought the elk back.

Ranchers protected the antelope. Ranchers saved the white-tailed deer."

"What's your point?"

"Blind, stupid government," Eugene roared.

"That's my point. When a man can't manage his land as he sees fit, something ain't right. The government forces us to move fences so elk can migrate, tells us to keep our cattle away from streams to protect the fish, orders us to shut down winter pasture that can't be replaced because it's a habitat for some worthless, disease-carrying rodent or an exotic butterfly nobody gives a damn about. It doesn't make a fucking bit of sense."

Eugene warmed to his speechifying.

"We pay taxes, higher grazing fees, and we still can't use the land the way God intended it to be used. We get shit on, and shit for it."

"It's a tough life," Kerney noted with sarcasm.

"Government interference will stop. That's what the militia stands for.

That's what we're all about."

"Killing people will certainly get the government's attention," Kerney said, tired of Gene's harangue. He changed the subject.

"Who shot Jim Stiles?"

"Phil," Eugene said proudly.

"He volunteered. Is there anything else you're dying to know?"

"Tell me what happened between you and Edgar at Elderman Meadows."

Eugene chuckled.

"It's a good story."

"I'd love to hear it."

Eugene thought about it for a minute.

"Why not?"

He grinned.

"But you've gotta promise you won't tell."

"I promise," Kerney replied.

Eugene slapped his thigh and chuckled.

"I like a man with a sense of humor. Back when Edgar and I were boys, our daddy sent us to Mangas Mountains to herd Padilla's sheep down to where some trucks were waiting to load them up. Now, Edgar had this real deep moral, do-right streak to him-he still does, far as I can tell-so Daddy told him we were just gonna be helping Padilla move his stock out of the mountains.

"Of course, we were rustling, but Daddy knew Edgar wouldn't stand for that, so he made up a helping-hand story for Edgar to swallow, figuring when it was all over the damage would be done and Edgar would have to put up with it or get the shit kicked out of him. He got the shit kicked out of him a lot back in those days."

"But not you, I bet," Kerney proposed.

"Hell, no, not me. My daddy and I thought alike in a lot of ways. He trusted me. Relied on me as I got older.

"We got the herd delivered and were coming back home when snow started falling. When we reached the meadows we heard sheep bleating off on one of those little fingers where the open land snakes into the forest. It sounded like a goodly number, and we were short about twenty-five head on the drive down, so Edgar and I went looking.

"About a quarter mile in from the last stretch of meadow we found them in this crateriike field that was ringed by trees and a rock cliff.

Never would have found it if it hadn't been for the bleating. The tree canopy looks unbroken until you get right under it. You could tell it had been used for a long time as a natural corral. Grass was scant, and there were old campsites all over the place.

"Well, Edgar wanted to take those sheep right to Don Luis, but I knew Daddy wanted every last one of them gone. He got real riled when I started shooting those lambs and ewes. I had to stand him down with my rifle until the job was done.

"When I was finished, we walked out of that crater to our horses. Edgar was crying like a baby. We ran smack into Don Luis, who wanted to know where his sheep were, and what the hell all the shooting was about. I had no choice but to kill him. Just as I pulled the trigger, Edgar shot me in the back with his pistol."

Eugene threw back his head and laughed bitterly.

"The poor son of a bitch couldn't even kill me.

Being the moral, self-righteous little pussy he is, he carried me home.

My daddy beat him within an inch of his life before the doctor came."

"Didn't anyone raise a question about the slaughtered sheep?"

Eugene snickered.

"There wasn't anyone left who gave a damn enough to ask questions. The Padillas had all scattered. Besides, by the time the spring thaw came, coyotes had picked those sheep clean."

"Still, Calvin had to hush it up," Kerney proposed.

"How did he do it?"

"With money. How else? Besides that, there wasn't a white man in Catron County who would side against us with the Padillas. I doubt there are many today who would." Eugene switched his attention to Gatewood.

"Omar, are you going to arrest me now that you've heard my confession?"

"I don't think so," Gatewood answered.

Eugene nodded his approval at Omar's reply.

"See what I mean?"

"Does killing Karen even the score with Edgar?"

Eugene showed his stained teeth and smirked.

"It doesn't even come close. Why are you sneering at me?"

"Wearing army fatigues with eagles on your collar doesn't make you a colonel," Kerney said.

"Your brother won his rank in battle. All you are is a sick, crazy old man playing soldier."

Eugene snarled, picked up the AK-47, rolled the wheelchair within striking range, and slammed the butt on Kerney's gimpy knee. The pain sent shock waves through him.

They found Phil Cox in his wrecked truck, chained to the steering wheel, barely conscious, and incoherent. He had a smashed cheekbone and an ugly bruise on his left temple. Jim checked his vital signs while steam hissed out of the cracked truck radiator. Edgar Cox leaned over Jim's shoulder with panic on his face, demanding that he ask about Karen.

Phil's eyes were unfocused. All he did was grunt when Jim grilled him about Karen. Stiles got everybody back in the truck, took over the driving, and kept his eyes peeled, hoping Karen would come into view.

They caught up to her at the last curve in the road that dipped down to the ranch. Jim killed the engine, and with Edgar at his side he ran to her.

Jim had to pry the Winchester from her hands.

Karen grudgingly let it go, looking at him with smoldering eyes that were as dangerous as any he had ever seen.

Edgar enveloped her in a hug. Karen remained immobile, her arms locked against her sides. Some of the tenseness faded, and she raised a hand and patted her father reassuringly on the back.

Molly and the kids surrounded her, the children jabbering and scared.

Karen's expression softened.

She let go of Edgar, dropped to one knee, and wrapped Cody and Elizabeth in her arms. Jim hushed everybody up and corralled them back to the truck. With Cody on her lap and an arm wrapped around Elizabeth, Karen sat on the tailgate and answered Jim's questions.

When Jim had heard enough, he gently squeezed Karen's hand in appreciation.

"That was one hell of a thing you did."

"It wasn't half what I should have done," Karen said hotly.

"You did enough. Now we know what we're facing." He turned to Edgar.

"We need a new plan."

"I'm going with you," Edgar snarled.

Jim nodded.

"I'll take the point on this one." He looked at the sky. Thick clouds were gun-metal gray.

"Molly, stay here with Karen and the children. If anybody comes anywhere near you in a threatening manner, shoot him. We'll sort it out later."

"I'll do it," Karen said flatly.

Karen's eyes were smoking again. An argument wasn't worth the time.

"Fine," he said.

"Both of you can do it. Take turns." He swung back to Edgar.

"You're going to be my distraction. Give me ten minutes to get into position before you drive down there. I want to be inside the house when you pull up."

Edgar glanced at Jim's sling.

"You're wounded. I should be the one going in."

Jim pulled his arm free and felt the stitches in his biceps start to pop.

"I want you under cover at all times."

"I'll use the truck."

"Good enough. Put a couple of rounds into the house to get their attention. And for chrissake, don't shoot me or Kerney."

"Don't worry, son. I know how to take fire and put steel on a hard target."

"I believe you do. Colonel Cox."

Jim looked at the group. Molly and Karen seemed solid. Cody and Elizabeth were wide-eyed with apprehension.

"Nobody here is going to get hurt," Jim said to the children.

"I want you both to do exactly what your mother and Molly tell you."

The children nodded gravely.

"Are you set?" he asked Edgar.

"Ten minutes and counting," Edgar replied, looking at his wristwatch.

Jim kissed Molly.

"I thought she was your partner," Edgar said.

"I lied."

"I am," said Molly.

Jim flashed her an enormous smile and kissed her again.

"I partially lied," he said to Edgar.

With Molly's 9mm in his waistband, Jim trotted down the hill and started a curving loop toward the ranch house. Behind him he heard Cody announce in a loud voice that he wanted to go with Grandfather.

"You're staying right here, young man," Karen said, holding Cody back with a hand clamped firmly on his shoulder. He pouted, stomped his foot, and tried unsuccessfully to pull free. She didn't let go until Edgar drove around the bend and out of sight.

Cody waited until the other lady said something to his mother that made her look away. Then he darted into some bushes at the side of the road and started running full-tilt down the hill to catch up with Grandfather.

Omar dialed Karen's number and let it ring for a long time before hanging up. He put the receiver down and stared at Kerney as though he were responsible for Phil's lateness.

Kerney sat in the middle of the floor where he'd been dumped. The cuffs cut into his wrists, and his knee felt as if it had been blown out.

"They should have been here by now," Gatewood said, walking back to his position behind Kerney.

Eugene Cox had the AK-47 resting on both arms of the wheelchair, his fingers near the trigger housing.

It was loaded with a full clip.

"Go find them," he ordered.

"I'll take care of Kerney."

Gatewood hitched up his belt and puffed out his cheeks.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?"

Eugene gave him a scornful look.

"Don't treat me like a cripple. Get going."

As Omar turned for the door, he heard the sound of an engine and tires on gravel.

"No need to," he said as he walked to the window to look out.

"Phil's here."

"That's not Phil's truck," Gene said.

"I know the sound of it."

Two shots shattered the window high up and bits of glass rained down on Gatewood. He ducked beneath the sill and looked over at Eugene.

Kerney lashed out with a foot and kicked the wheelchair. It spun Cox around. Eugene pulled the trigger, and slugs dug into the wall, gouging holes and sending plaster fragments flying about the room.

Omar yanked his sidearm as Kerney swiveled to face him. Before Gatewood could pull off a round, Jim Stiles stepped into view and put two bullets in Omar's head, blowing his face into a bloody mess. Kerney lunged to his feet and made for Stiles, AK-47 rounds tearing up the floor behind him as Eugene spun the chair back, firing with one hand.

The AK-47 stitched Omar as he was falling. Kerney slammed into Stiles as Jim swung the pistol in Gene's direction. He knocked Jim sprawling on his back in the hallway and landed on top of him.

AK-47 rounds blew through the wall above their heads as Jim pulled Kerney down the hallway into the kitchen.

"Get us the fuck out of here," Kerney hissed.

Stiles got Kerney on his feet and ran him out the back door into the yard behind a cord of stacked firewood. Kerney fell awkwardly over a power lawn mower and banged his head against a gasoline can.

"Who is at the front of the house?" Kerney demanded as he untangled himself.

"Edgar Cox."

"What are his orders?"

"Distraction only."

"Do you have a handcuff key?"

"In my wallet."

Kerney turned his back and held out his hands.

"Get these damn things off me."

Jim released him. Kerney rubbed his wrists and shook his hands to get the circulation going. Another burst came from the house. Eugene was firing out the front door. There were two sharp cracks from Edgar's rifle as he answered back.

"Stay here and cover me," Kerney said.

"What are you going to do?"

"Get Gene out of there. Alive, if I can."

"How are you going to do that without a gun?"

Kerney grabbed the gas can, and the liquid sloshed inside. It felt half full. He opened the cap and took a whiff to make sure it was gasoline.

It was.

"That's not very sporting," Stiles said.

"Got a match?"

"No."

"Give me a round from your gun."

Jim ejected the chambered bullet, and Kerney pried the cartridge apart with a penknife.

"You're a good shot, I hope," he said, as he poured the powder into the gas can.

"I hit Gatewood, didn't I?" Jim answered.

"At close range, but remind me to thank you later." Kerney recapped the can and dragged it along as he crawled on his belly to the open back door. He looked at Stiles, who had taken up a good prone position behind the woodpile with the semiautomatic extended and ready.

Jim gave him a thumbs-up sign. Kerney pushed the gas can into the kitchen, crouched low, and ran like hell to the woodpile. He jammed his shoulder on a log as he flung himself next to Jim. Stiles cranked off two rounds, and the can exploded. Kerney took a quick look. Fire ate across the kitchen floor.

Eugene Cox rolled out of the hall into the kitchen and stopped as the fire moved toward him. Kerney pulled his head in. A burst of automatic fire tore into the woodpile.

"Shoot back," he ordered.

Stiles held the pistol over the top of the woodpile and squeezed off" two rounds. The spent cartridges bounced off" Kerney. The AK-47 fell silent.

"Did you hit anything?"

"I doubt that I even hit the fucking house," Jim replied.

The heat of the fire grew. Kerney took another look. The back of the house was engulfed in flames, and Eugene was nowhere to be seen.

"What now?" Jim asked.

The staccato sound of the AK-47 firing at the front of the house came before Kerney could respond. He waited to hear return fire. Two more shots came from Edgar Cox..-›..

"Time to join the party, Hee said..;› "‹ Bent low, they used the picket for concealment and stopped at the corner by the window The porch was empty. Through a window, they could see flames blazing, flash-burning the curtains and peeling off the wallpaper. Thirty yards away," Edgar's truck was parked at an angle to the house, slightly to the rear ofGatewood's police cruiser. The patrol car had taken bursts from Eugene's AK-47 through the hood and front tires.

Kerney couldn't see Edgar, but Cody was running across the open field with Karen hard on his heels.

Molly and Elizabeth stood exposed at the edge of the pasture. All of them were well within range of Eugene's AK.

"Holy shit!" Jim spat as he spotted the women and children.

Ammunition started to blow up inside the burning building. Eugene rolled out on the porch just as it caught fire and flames whipped up to the roof. He jammed in a fresh clip and started firing. Bullets chewed up the ground, sprayed across the police car, and shattered the windshield of the truck.

Jim steadied the semiautomatic to take Eugene down before he hit one of the women or children.

Edgar beat him to it. The muzzle flash came from under the truck, and the bullet took Eugene in the chest. The wheelchair wobbled backward as Gene slumped over and dropped the AK.

Nobody moved until Edgar crawled out from under the truck. He stood rooted to the ground.

Karen covered Cody from danger with her body, and Molly was hunched down with Elizabeth wrapped in her arms. Karen picked up Cody and started running toward Molly and Elizabeth.

Edgar didn't move an inch.

Kerney's eyes followed Karen. She checked Elizabeth to make sure the girl was all right before turning to take another look at the blazing fire. Then she walked with Cody in her arms and Elizabeth and Molly at her side to cut off Doris Cox and her children, who were running full-tilt across the pasture.

With Molly, Karen held Doris back and herded everybody away.

Stiles and Kerney joined Edgar. He said nothing until the porch roof caved in and Eugene's body started to burn. The second story blazed.

Heat stung their eyes and blew hot against their faces.

"I can't believe what I did," Edgar finally said.

"You did the right thing," Kerney replied.

"There were women and children to protect," Edgar said softly.

"I know," Kerney answered.

Edgar's blue eyes snapped back to the burning house. Images sixty years old blended with the sight of his dead brother burning in the fire.

"No, you don't know," he said in a bitter voice.

"You don't know the half of it."

"Maybe I do," Kerney responded.

"Eugene told me a very interesting story."

Edgar stared at Kerney for a long time before he broke eye contact.

"Good. I'm glad. It's time everybody heard that story."

"Mind telling me?" Jim inquired.

"After I talk to my daughter," Edgar replied.

"Fair enough."

Edgar dropped the Winchester, turned on his heel, and walked away.

Jim and Kerney moved back from the intense heat. The structure burned like a massive, billowing bonfire. Small-arms rounds randomly exploded inside the house.

"Where is Phil?" Kerney asked.

"If Edgar's truck still runs, I'll show you."

"What happened to Karen?"

"I'll fill you in on the way."

They cleaned the glass off the aeat, and Kerney drove. The clouds lifted from the top of Manaas Mountains, and a dim red light flashed from the lookout station. Whoever was up there probably had every piece of fire equipment in the district rolling.

The wail of sirens carried by the breeze confirmed it.

Jim looked at his arm. Blood soaked the sleeve where the stitches had given way. The adrenaline rush had ended, and the wound throbbed like hell.

"Karen is no lady to mess with," he began, grimacing in pain.

"Tell me about it," Kerney replied. after Jim's briefing and a quick check of Phil Cox, who wasn't going anywhere, Kerney took control of the arriving fire crews. He posted two Forest Service firefighters with rifles on the hill above the ranch to keep spectators away. Then he called Carol Cassidy by radio, gave her a quick rundown on the situation, and asked her to send every law enforcement specialist from the Luna and Reserve districts as backup until the state police arrived. He wanted no repeat of the Elderman Meadows fiasco, and enough cops around to keep the locals at bay, especially any militia members who might show up and cause trouble.

He left Jim with a paramedic and went looking for Karen. He spotted her hurrying across the horse pasture from Phil's house.

"Are you all right?" he asked when she reached him.

"Fine. How about yourself?"

Kerney smiled.

"I'm okay."

"You're limping badly."

"It will pass."

She smiled grimly.

"My father told me what happened between him and his brother at Elderman Meadows. He said you heard something about it from Gene. Is that true?"

"Gene told me one hell of a story, and I believed every word of it."

"What do you know?" Kerney recounted what Eugene had told him.

"It's quite a family I've got, isn't it?" Karen said.

"The part of it I like seems pretty solid."

She smiled with her eyes, stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a quick kiss.

"Thanks."

"I should be the one thanking you."

"We can sort that out later. I need your help."

"What can I do?"

"Work with me on this," she replied, pointing at the burning remnants of Eugene's house.

"I need a smart cop at my side."

"What you need is a special investigator," Kerney replied, smiling down at her.

"I've got one. You."

"I resigned, remember?"

"I never officially accepted your resignation."

"That puts a different spin on it," Kerney admitted.

Karen took him by the arm.

"You're on the payroll. Ready to go to work?"

"Why not?" Kerney answered.

It took five days, working eighteen-hour shifts, before Kerney, Karen, and Jim had everything sorted out. Phil Cox caved in after learning that his father was dead. He confessed to murder, attempted murder, and a host of additional felony charges.

Karen offered to drop some of the lesser charges if he rolled over on the militia, and without the iron will of Eugene Cox to shore him up, Phil capitulated.

Following Phil's directions, Kerney searched his house and found records that identified the militia members who had built the bombs that had been scattered around the wilderness, as well as the device used to kill Doyle Fletcher. Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms agents took the ball and ran with federal indictments against the bombers, while Kerney worked on state felony arrest warrants.

He also came away with the militia membership list and a scrawled note from Eugene to Phil with his recommendations for targets of assassination. Kerney was number one on the list, followed by Charlie Perry and Jim Stiles.

Doris Cox snapped as a result of the shoot-out at the Slash Z and had to be hospitalized with severe depression in Silver City. Kerney interviewed her just before she was discharged. Tonelessly, she told him of sexual assaults and physical beatings by Phil that made his stomach turn.

She took the children and left for an extended visit with her sister in Idaho. With Karen, Kerney saw her off. PJ looked desperately in need of a good therapist.

Completely shut down, the boy refused to talk and had an angry belligerence stamped on his face.

All ofGatewood's deputies were militia members, along with six seasonal Forest Service employees from the Luna and Reserve offices. The deputies were suspended and Karen arranged for a contingent of state police to provide law enforcement protection during the investigation.

Carol Cassidy placed the Forest Service workers on administrative leave and started an internal probe.

Amador Ortiz was found in San Diego, hiding out with a cousin, and brought back to face charges. He corroborated Gatewood's role in setting up the Padilla Canyon ambush.

Scooped up by the FBI for his complicity in the Leon Spence-Steve Lujan case, Ortiz was bound over in both federal court and state district court on accessory charges.

Kerney and Jim coordinated the interviews and interrogations, using state attorney general investigators and state police agents to do the leg work. They concentrated on the militia leadership, a group of twelve men that included a county commissioner, several lesser officials, prominent businessmen, and two of the biggest ranchers in the county. Because they had authorized the plan to kill Kerney, conspiracy-to-commit-murder complaints were in the works on all twelve.

Kerney handled the Eugene Cox and Omar Gate- wood shooting-death investigations. He took the evidence to a hastily convened special grand jury.

Jim Stiles was quickly exonerated, and the panel ruled that the killing of Eugene Cox by his brother was justifiable self-defense.

The night before the grand jury met, Kerney attended a Cox family discussion where Edgar, Margaret, and Karen debated publicly disclosing the sixty-year-old crimes of rustling, homicide, and Edgar's assault on his brother.

The family decided to empty the closet of the skeleton that had haunted them for years.

Under Karen's orders, and with Edgar and Margaret's consent, Kerney arrested Edgar for the 1930s crime of attempted murder of his brother as soon as the grand jury recessed and Edgar walked out the door.

Karen had turned the case over to her boss in Socorro. The DA had traveled to Reserve to depose Edgar personally and then conducted a press conference.

He cited Edgar's military record as a career officer, his public service to the community, and his success as a rancher who had started from scratch and built his spread after retiring from the Army. He finished with a summary of Edgar's deposition of the murder of Don Luis Padilla and announced that no legal action would be taken.

Predictably, the headline in the Silver City newspaper read:

RANCHER SHOOTS TWIN TWICE IN SIXTY YEARS

The story, along with sidebar editorial pieces on the shoot-out at the Slash Z, remained at the top of the nightly news for several days.

Kerney made copies of Edgar's deposition, the newspaper articles, and Molly's historical research on the Padilla land swindle and mailed them off overnight express to Dr. Padilla's daughter in Mexico City. Leon Spence had fingered Steve Lujan as Hector's murderer, and Kerney included that information in a hand-written note to Senora Marquez. She called the next morning to say she was thinking of retaining an attorney and suing the United States government and Eugene Cox's estate for damages.

The only decent furniture in Jim's living room was an eight-foot sofa, an overstuffed easy chair, a floor lamp, and a framed T. C. Cannon poster of a somber Indian in full regalia sitting in a wicker chair. The rest of the room was taken over by an exceedingly large work table fashioned out of plywood and two-by-fours that Jim had slapped together.

What Jim used it for Kerney couldn't say. It held mostly old newspapers, junk mail, empty drink containers, and an assortment of stuff that needed to be put away.

Kerney had been bunking with Jim since the day after the Slash Z incident, and he was home before sunset for the first time in what seemed like weeks.

Stiles found him stretched out on the couch, dead to the world, and shook him awake. When Kerney opened his eyes, Jim flopped down in the easy chair with a shit-eating grin on his face and a paper sack in his hand.

Kerney groaned in disgust and sat up. Sleepdeprived, he had hoped for a solid eight or ten hours of rack time.

"What is it?" he snapped.

"I've been promoted," Stiles announced in a rush.

"You're looking at the new area supervisor for the Game and Fish Department."

"That's great. You deserve it. Where is home base going to be?"

"I'm setting up a new office in Silver City. I'm going to move down there."

"Molly will like that."

Jim's grin widened.

"We're getting married."

Kerney got up, pulled Jim out of the chair, and pounded him on the back.

"Now, that is very good news," he said, grinning back at Stiles.

"When?"

"Next month. We'd do it sooner, but Molly wants me to heal up a bit more. She said she doesn't want wedding pictures that make the groom look like he'd been beaten into submission."

Kerney laughed.

"Do me a favor?"

"Name it."

"Be my best man."

"It will be my great pleasure."

"You'll do it?"

"Absolutely."

"Great."

"Now can I go back to sleep?" Kerney asked.

Stiles pulled a bottle of whiskey from a paper sack.

"Not until we celebrate."

"Thank God I don't have to work tomorrow," Kerney said as Jim cracked the seal and handed him the bottle.

"Mom, Cody is being a jerk again," Elizabeth called out from the kitchen.

"He's teasing Bubba."

"I'm just playing with him," Cody yelled.

Bubba yelped.

"Leave the puppy alone and stop acting like a jerk," Karen said as she entered the kitchen.

"I'm not a jerk," Cody retorted, his eyes hurt, his voice quivering.

Karen knelt down and hugged her son.

"No, you're not. I'm sorry I said that."

Cody sniffled and nodded his acceptance of the apology.

"Did you finish the geography lesson I left for you this morning?"

"Yes."

"Let me see it."

He got his spiral notebook from the kitchen table and plopped down on the floor, eagerly leafing through the pages to find his work. Karen sat with him. Bubba ran over and crawled into Cody's lap, his tail slapping happily against Cody's leg. Elizabeth, standing on a low stool at the kitchen sink, returned her attention to the dinner dishes.

She went over the lesson with her son, praising his good work and pointing out his misspellings. She decided the next set of lessons would have to be on penmanship and spelling, two areas where Cody was having difficulty. Elizabeth could help. She was excellent at both.

Karen let the children stay up a little later than usual, mostly for her own sake. She had seen them only in snatches during the last five days, as she ground through the investigations with Kerney and prepared the cases. But the crunch had finally eased.

Her boss had assigned another ADA from Socorro to help, and had reassigned all of her pressing trial appearances to other staff.

She got the kids tucked into bed, went into the living room, and curled up on the love seat. With the day off tomorrow she could turn her full attention to the children and her parents. All of them, including Karen, needed to get over the Slash Z fiasco and put things back together again.

While Mom had sailed through surgery, she needed help at home during the recovery and adjustment.

Dad, still in shock over killing Eugene, hadn't purged all the guilt he felt, although going public on Luis Padilla's murder had certainly helped.

Karen sighed. And then there was Cody, who had become more emotional and wired since the Slash Z debacle. He would need a lot of attention.

Only Elizabeth-dear, sweet, beautiful Elizabeth-seemed able to take everything in stride.

Karen had watched her daughter closely since arriving home from work, and could find no trauma or suspended reaction to the events they all had witnessed.

She hoped it was true. She needed someone in the family besides herself to be on an even keel.

The thought of stability turned Karen's attention to Kerney. If anyone was solid as a rock, he was. She had liked Kerney when she first met him, and over the past week she had added feelings of respect and an appreciation of his abilities. Mingled in with it was a pleasant feeling of arousal that passed between them every now and then during their long days together. Nothing had been said, but Karen knew it was mutual.

She smiled as the thought of some well-deserved, healthy lovemaking crossed her mind. She had arranged for Kerney to draw a salary through the DA's office until everything was wrapped up. Maybe she could organize a way to keep Kerney around for a while longer, just to see what developed.

Instead of a traditional bachelor party hosted by the best man, Jim asked Kerney to organize a picnic.

The guest list would be limited to Molly and Karen.

The destination was Elderman Meadows, and it would happen on everybody's next day off.

Kerney agreed. The day before the event he made a special run to Silver City, where he bought every picnic delicacy he could think of, and an expensive hamper complete with utensils, plates, and all necessities-which he planned to leave behind for Jim and Molly when he moved on.

They rode in on the horse trail and reached the meadows just in time to see an elk herd moving into the trees. Nobody spoke until the last animal disappeared from sight.

"It's too early to eat," Jim announced.

"What do you propose as an alternative?" Molly asked.

"Let's find Mexican Hat," Jim answered.

"Let's!" Molly exclaimed.

"Find what?" Karen inquired.

"That's where Jose and Hector Padilla were going when they came to the meadows," Kerney explained.

"I know where it is."

"How do you know that?" Jim demanded.

"Instinct." It was a better answer than bringing up the events at the Slash Z again.

"This I've got to see. Lead on," Jim ordered.

He took them up the middle finger of the meadow and into the forest. Jim sniped that he was lost, until they broke cover at the edge of a crater that slanted into the mountainside.

Sunlight poured into the hollow. The sheer dropoff was shallow, rocky and barren, but the cavity glistened with the color of mahogany-red and yellow cone flowers "This is it?" Jim asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"It doesn't look like a hat to me. Not even an upside-down hat."

Molly and Karen started laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Tell him, Kerney," Molly said, still giggling.

"If you know, that is."

"See how the flowers are shaped?" Kerney replied.

"Like a sombrero. Mexican Hat."

"I knew that," Jim said sheepishly.

They tethered the horses and climbed down into the hollow with the picnic hamper, the cooler, and a blanket. Kerney acted as host and served up lunch, which was greeted with delight.

When the meal was finished and the conversation lapsed, Jim and Molly disappeared for a walk in the woods. Karen stretched out on the blanket, her head propped up in her hand. In jeans, a pullover top, and boots, with her hair loose around her face, she watched Kerney as he repacked the hamper.

He closed the lid and looked over at her. On the blanket next to her was a small gift-wrapped box.

"Open it," she said.

"What are we celebrating?" he asked.

"New friendships."

Carefully, he unwrapped the present. Inside was an exact duplicate of his rodeo buckle, accurate right down to the inscription and the date.

"It's wonderful. How did you manage to do this?" he asked, grinning like a kid.

"I tracked down the manufacturer. They keep all their molds of official award buckles. After I explained the situation, they were very happy to oblige." She handed him a business envelope.

"More?"

"Maybe."

Inside was an offer from the county manager asking him to serve as the sheriff until a special election could be held. The contract would pay Kerney a nice chunk of money.

"Is this for real?" he asked.

"You bet it is," Karen replied.

"And you get additional fringe benefits to go with it."

Kerney turned over the letter. It was blank.

"Such as?"

"For one, free housing. You can stay at Jim's place."

"Molly and Jim know about this?"

"As do my parents and Jim's. It was a group decision."

Kerney smiled broadly and stuck the letter into his shirt pocket.

"I'll see the county manager in the morning. What else?"

Karen smiled shyly.

"Dating privileges. Can you two-step with that knee?"

"I can."

"Can you hold a decent, intelligent conversation with a woman in a bar over drinks?"

"It's been known to happen."

"And eat an occasional home-cooked gourmet meal?"

"I believe so."

"Need I say more?" She held out her hand.

"Are there any more benefits?" Kerney asked as he took her hand in his.

"It all depends on how you define the term," Karen answered, pulling him closer.