Hollingworth stepped out of the darkness beside the barn. A man in his fifties, tall and lean and weathered by his years of hard work, he recognized the rider as one of his own men.
“Christ a-mighty, Red—most a’ that gold was ours. Coin I needed for payroll.”
“He struck early, boss. He ain’t done that before. It was just after the stage left the Beaver Creek stop, soon as it got dark. They say he come down like greased lightning. Took the gold and was halfway to the hills before they knew what hit ’em.”
“Damn! The blackguard has a way a’ catchin’ a fella unawares. I had a bad feelin’ about comin’ here tonight.”
The man named Red rubbed the stubble of a day’s growth of beard. “He’s a crafty one, all right.”
“Did he shoot anybody?” Fletcher Austin broke in.
“No, him and his vi-queros just took the gold and run.”
“How many of them were there?” Austin asked.
“’Bout a dozen. That’s what the guard said. He’s lookin’ for some help to go after ’em. I figured most of the men were here.”
“Get your horse, Charley,” Austin said to Hollingworth. “I’ll round up the rest of my men.”
“I will come, too,” Ramon offered, as did Alfredo Montoya.
“What’s the use?” Hollingworth argued. “By now the bastard’s clean away. Halfway back to whatever rock he crawled out from under.”
“This time, we’ll find him.” Austin jerked open the heavy barn door. “We won’t stop till we run the whoreson to ground.”
The other men mumbled their agreement; there was quite an array of them by now. The women were standing outside the barn door, uncertain exactly what had occurred, when the men emerged leading their saddled horses. Ramon led his palominotoward them, then waited for Alfredo to join him. He turned at the sound of a woman’s voice.
“What’s happened, Uncle Fletcher?” Caralee McConnell caught her uncle’s arm, her pretty face lined with worry, one hand clutching the cashmere shawl she had draped around her bare shoulders.
“Get back to the house, honey. This is men’s business. You just see to the ladies, and the men’ll take care a’ the rest.”
Ramon could see she wanted to press him for more information, started to, then backed off. “I’m certain Uncle Fletcher knows what’s best,” she said to the women. “Why don’t we ladies retire to the house for a sherry? I’m sure the strain of the evening is beginning to wear on us all.” With an uncertain glance at Ramon, she turned and started walking away.
The strain of the evening,he thought. He wondered how long pampered little Caralee McConnell could stand the strain of the life many of his people were forced to endure each day—all because of the treachery and greed of men like Fletcher Austin.
“Mount up, men,” Austin commanded. “It’s time we were away.”
Ramon swung up on his palomino stallion, slid his boots into his silver-studdedtapaderos,and followed Austin and his men at a brutal pace off toward the Hollingworth ranch.
***
They had no luck finding the outlaw, which set Uncle Fletcher on edge for nearly two weeks. In the evenings he paced the floor in front of the huge rock fireplace at the far end of thesala.Carly tried to talk to him, to comfort him in some way, but he had a formidable temper, she discovered, and he usually sent her away.
By the beginning of the third week, he was once more the man he had been. They talked during supper, though neverabout El Dragón. Instead Uncle Fletcher explained with pride his accomplishments on the ranch, the increases he had made in cattle and horses, and the plans he had for the future.
“Politics—that’s where my destiny lies. This state needs men to look out for its best interest. Men who can see justice done. I intend to be one of those men, Caralee.”
“I’m sure you’d make some fine contributions, Uncle Fletcher.”
They were seated at the long oak table in the dining room, enjoying a supper of roasted meats; fresh baked tortillas;pastel de toma,a pie of onion, garlic, chicken, corn, tomatoes, and peppers in a corn flour crust; andmostaza,the Spanish name for mustard greens cooked in oil and garlic. The unusual food was delicious, as Carly had already discovered, though it had taken a while for her stomach to accept the hot, spicy flavors.
Uncle Fletcher spooned up a second serving, sending a spiral of steam up from his plate. “Perhaps an appointment to the Land’s Commission would be the place to start,” he said. “Bannister has influence there. Perhaps—” He broke off with that and smiled. Beneath the flickering candles in the wrought-iron chandelier, red highlights glinted in his thick, graying hair. “Young Vincent would make quite a catch. And he certainly seems taken with you.”
Carly focused her thoughts on the young man she had danced with, but his image changed to one of the dark-eyed don. “Vincent… yes, he seems a nice enough man.”
“I’m glad you like him, my dear. As a matter of fact, you’ll be seeing him again quite soon.”
She arched a brow. It was a two-day ride from San Francisco to Rancho del Robles. She hadn’t expected the man would return so quickly. “Really? Why is that?”
