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“You are as naïve as I was. I’d never heard of either family, but then we grew up in rural Nevada. We were ranch folk. We went to county schools. But yes, the Buchanans and the Ciancios are both mob families out of Chicago.”
The pizza in Syd’s stomach threatened to come up. “But our ranch—it’s been in the family for generations.”
“Nope. Dad bought the ranch.”
Sydney’s body felt limp. “He lied?”
“Syd, he’s been lying to you for years.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Irish and Italian mob don’t mix. But Mom and Dad fell in love. They weren’t much older than the real Romeo and Juliet. Plus, Dad especially hated the mafia life. This gave him a great excuse to leave it behind.”
“I wonder why their parents never came after them,” Sydney said.
“Why would they? They weren’t causing any trouble. They just wanted to be left alone.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Sydney took a drink of water. Sense? Really? None of this made any sense.
“So this trouble you got into in San Antonio?” Sam said.
“With a distant cousin on my mother’s side, Paul Donetto. I figured I’d be safe, being family and all. I found out family doesn’t mean jack to these people. When Michael killed Fredo in The Godfather, that was pretty close to reality.”
Icy worry gripped Sydney’s neck. “Are you still in trouble?”
“No. Donetto and I are even. I’m in no danger. I can’t talk about it to you. There are things I’m not at liberty to divulge because I made promises to people. To friends.”
Sam snorted. “You have friends now?”
“Yes, I do have friends, believe it or not.” Blake turned to Sydney. “I’m telling you that Mom and Dad didn’t kick me out. I left.”
“Okay. Now tell us why,” Sam said. “Just because Roy and Carrie came from criminals doesn’t mean they are criminals. Why is this important?”
“In a perfect world, it wouldn’t be. They’d have gone off together and made their own lives and left it all behind.”
“Isn’t that what they did?”
“They tried.”
“And?” Sydney gulped.
“They couldn’t cut it. The ranch was never very profitable. The best thing they did was get you and me trained in rodeo arts. We actually have some talent, though God knows where it came from. A long line of mobsters who could make a living in the rodeo, I guess, though they’ll never know it.”
“You’re digressing,” Sam said.
“Sorry.” Blake opened another beer. “I never had any reason to suspect anything, and I didn’t, but one day I was tooling around in Dad’s office, looking for a paper clip. I pulled the flat drawer of his desk out a little too hard, I guess, and it ended up on the floor. As I was putting it away, the bottom gave way. Or should I say, the false bottom.”
Sydney’s ear perked up. “What?”
“A false bottom. Underneath the drawer was a small compartment about half an inch thick. And in it were some papers.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have looked, but I did. Curiosity go the best of me.”
“What were they?”
“Bank accounts. In the Cayman Islands.”
“So what?”
“The Cayman Islands are a place where people keep money that isn’t necessarily obtained legally, Sydney,” Sam said. “They have very strict bank secrecy laws and very strict penalties for unauthorized disclosure.”
