“So why did you go into the law? Why aren’t you working your family’s ranch?”
“I love the ranch—I do—but the work was never in my blood, and truthfully, you gotta love it to want to do it day in and day out.”
He understood. You really had to love what you did, as most people spent their lives doing it. He felt that way about the law, choosing to be a lawman as opposed to becoming a lawyer like his father.
“How does your mother feel about that?” he asked, knowing how his own mother felt about his decision to chase criminals instead of prosecuting them. She never understood, nor did she want to, and it had remained a cause of disagreement between them until the day she passed.
Rafael faced him. “She doesn’t understand. She thinks I should be working the ranch like my brothers and sisters. My father, though, he brags to anyone who will listen that his son is a lawman.
“Just so you know, I have two brothers and two sisters…any one of them would be happy to be in a posse if there should be a need, despite what my mother thinks.” He lowered the hat on his head to shade his eyes then adjusted the reins in his hands. “Same goes for the Silvas out at Montaña del Trueno, especially Esteban. Sherm thinks he’s a crack shot, and he is, but Estebanis better. You’ll want him to have your back if the need should arise. MacLean and Serrano, too. I trust those men with my life.”
“Good to know.” He urged Challenger forward. “Lead the way.”
It didn’t take very long before they rode through the metal gate at Stone Creek. Cattle lowed in the distance. A few horses were in the corral next to the barn, but the house seemed empty. Abandoned. No life—as if the people who lived here just suddenly…disappeared.
“Is anyone here?” Devlin moved his mount a little closer to Rafael.
“Why do you ask?”
“Doesn’t look like it. Feels like the place has been abandoned.”
“No,” Rafael said. “MacLean’s here. He wouldn’t just pull up stakes and not tell anyone.” He turned his head to focus on the horses in the corral. “And he’d never leave his animals. That’s not him. You won’t find anyone more responsible than MacLean, even if he didn’t want this ranch to begin with. That was Katie, the woman he was supposed to marry.”
“Supposed to marry?”
“Didn’t quite work out the way MacLean expected. He bought this place like she wanted but it turned out Katie was interested in something else entirely. The day they were supposed to tie the knot, she left him for another man.” He looked around. “He’s probably out on the property. It’s just him and his ranch hands now.”
“I’m sorry to hear about that.” He knew all too well the pain of losing someone, whether it be because the other person passed or because they’d just left. “Should we wait?”
Rafael dismounted and stepped up to the porch and rang the big bell hanging from a porch post. The horses in the corral responded with whinnies and grunts, moving in unison behindthe wooden fence, but nothing else moved. There was nothing but the sound of birdsong and the clucking of chickens in the small coop by the barn.
“Maybe we missed him,” Rafael said. “Maybe he went into town or he might be too far out in the field to hear.”
“We can come back another day, if you don’t think anything is wrong.”
Rafael glanced around, his eyes narrowing as he took in everything. “Nothing seems out of place.” He pulled a notebook from his pocket, then fished out a small pencil. He scraped the point with the edge of his thumbnail. “We’ll leave him a note.” He quickly jotted something, ripped the page from the book, and stuck the paper onto a nail near the front door. “Let’s go.”
Both men mounted up, rode down the driveway, and back to the main road when Devlin asked, “Where are we going now?”
“Crooked River. The Serrano’s place,” Rafael said as they cantered down the road, a ribbon of brown cutting through green grass. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet MacLean. He’s a good man.”
“I’m sure I will soon.”
It didn’t take long to reach Crooked River Ranch, either. They rode up to a small but cozy house and tied their horses’ reins to a post beside a water trough. Devlin was surprised. Somehow, perhaps given the name of the place, he had expected a ranch, but this…this looked more like a farm with wheat to one side of the house and rows of corn extending from the other. There were small rows of other crops as well, ones he couldn’t name, but they were all green and healthy looking. A small barn sat on the other side of the drive along with a corral and four big horses—the kind that looked like they could pull a plow all day long. A lone milk cow roamed a grassy area on the other side of the barn. He heard the clucking of chickens as well as the grunting of pigs.
“You ready?” Rafael asked as he stepped up to the porch.
“I am.”
He knocked on the door. It swung open almost immediately and a tall, thin man with dark hair and even darker eyes stood in the doorway. A wide smile spread his lips. “Rafael! It’s been a while! Who’d you bring with you?”
“Alfonso Serrano, I’d like you to meet Marshal Devlin Goodrich.”
“A pleasure. Come inside. Damita just made some sopapillas. You won’t find any better in town. Not even Polly at Sweet Somethings makes a better sopapilla.” He opened the door wider and stepped aside.
Devlin looked around as he walked in. The housewassmall but nicely appointed with the kitchen and living area open to each other, unlike his home where a doorway separated the two. A huge stone fireplace, cold now, dominated nearly one entire wall of the room with doors on either side, which he assumed were bedrooms. There were photographs on the mantle above the fireplace, men and women staring straight into the camera, as if they were afraid to move. Not one of them smiled, but that was normal, considering how old these photographs were. Alfonso’s ancestors? Damita’s?
“Damita! We have company!” Alfonso called out.
