

Alma's Mail Order Husband

Texas Brides: Book 1

Kate Whitsby

~~~

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 by Kate Whitsby

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

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# Dedication

To YOU, The reader.

Thank you for your support.

Thank you for your emails.

Thank you for your reviews.

Thank you for reading and joining me on this road.

# Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

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#  Chapter 1

"I've gotta tell you something."

Alma Goodkind poked the fire with a stick. Her sister, Amelia, leaned against the mesquite tree shading them from the ferocious Texas sun. Amelia gazed toward the south Texas horizon, where dust devils spun over the hard-baked earth and occasionally whizzed up into the sky.

Her sister, Allegra, squatted on the other side of the fire. "What is it?"

Alma took a deep breath. "I've made a decision. I'm getting married."

Amelia's head jerked around and her eyebrows flew up, but she fell back into her remote brooding and stared off into the distance again.

Allegra, on the other hand, laughed in Alma's face. "How do you plan to do that?" She pretended to look around her. "Where are you going to get the man from, I'd like to know. You don't have one hiding under your bed, do you?" She laughed again.

Alma waited until she stopped laughing. "No, I don't have one hiding, and I don't even have one around here. But I'm getting one. I'm getting a mail-order husband."

That really brought Amelia's head around fast. She actually gasped in shock. "What? What on earth possessed you to do a thing like that?"

"I told you," Alma replied. "I've decided to get married. I had to get a man from somewhere, and they have this mail-order matrimony service going on, matching people up all over the country. So I wrote in, and I'm having a husband sent out."

Allegra laughed again. "You're having a husband sent out? You make it sound like you ordered a hot water bottle out of a catalog. You sound like you're getting in a new breeding mare or something."

Alma smiled. "It's something like that."

Allegra couldn't stop laughing at the idea. Amelia took her eyes and her mind back off to the far distant reaches of the desert. Her eyes roamed the shimmering mirages where the red desert soil met the sky.

Allegra chuckled. "So when are you getting in your new hot water bottle?"

"We've agreed to meet at the church in Eagle Pass at the end of the month," Alma told her. "He's going to make his own way down, and we'll meet there on the thirtieth of July and get married. Then we'll come back home as man and wife."

"Just like that, huh?" Allegra asked. "And how have you managed to arrange all this, right under our noses?"

"I told you," Alma repeated. "It's all done by mail. Haven't you noticed that I've been receiving letters from him recently? We've arranged everything in our letters back and forth. It's all set up, and we agree on how we're going to do everything."

"You mean," Allegra asked. "You agree on how you're going to run the ranch and where you're going to sleep? Don't you think some of that concerns us?"

"I know what you're thinking," Alma returned. "You're thinking that, because the three of us have run the ranch by ourselves for the last five years, how is it going to work with a man around who will want to have a say in it, too. Isn't that what you're thinking?"

"You're right," Allegra admitted. "He's a man. He'll want to be involved in running the ranch. He might even want to take over from a bunch of women. I'll tell you right now, I don't plan to give up without a peep. As long as I'm here, I'm going to work the ranch and I'm going to have a say about how it runs. As long as you and your man understand that, I don't mind."

"No one's asking you to give up without a peep, Allegra," Alma murmured. "No one could expect you to do that."

Allegra smiled. "And how is it going to work with you sleeping with a man in a one-room shack in the middle of nowhere with your sisters and your father in the beds just next to yours? Did you think of that?"

"I thought of it," Alma told her. "But I think we can work all that out without too much trouble. After all, we aren't going to be raising the rafters with you and Amelia and Papa watching. We'll keep all that private, of course."

"And does this mystery man have a name?" Allegra asked.

"Of course he does," Alma replied. "His name is Jude McCann, and he's a cowboy from Amarillo. His parents still live up there. He has a brother in the rodeo circuit and a married sister in Silver City. Does that satisfy you?"

Before Allegra could answer, Amelia turned her penetrating eyes around. Both Alma and Allegra fell silent when she spoke. "And have you talked to Papa about this? What does he think of your plans?"

Alma blushed. "I haven't told him yet. I wanted to tell you two first."

Amelia shook her head. "You should have told him first. Better yet, you should have asked his permission before you went ahead and made your plans. That wasn't right of you."

Alma waved her objections away. "That's exactly why I didn't tell him, because I didn't want to ask his permission. That might be the traditional Mexican way of doing things, but none of us is our dead mother. None of us is the dutiful Mexican housewife who bows to the wishes of her husband and her father. We've been running this ranch on our own ever since Papa broke his back falling off that horse. He can hardly walk anymore. We make our own decisions, and this is no different."

"We might not be Mama," Amelia agreed, "but Papa is used to a certain kind of behavior from women. You know how he is. He doesn't even like us wearing pants to ride horses. The only reason he puts up with it is because he has no choice. He has to let us do things our way or the ranch would fail."

"And this is no different," Alma shot back. "He married Mama because he knew a part Mexican, part Apache woman would never stand up to him or raise her voice to him. He wanted a woman he could order around, and that's what he got. But none of us signed up for that. He knows he has a different kind of woman to deal with in the three of us, and he accepts that."

"You should have taken his feelings into account," Amelia insisted. "You're gonna break his heart when he finds out."

"I don't think so," Amelia maintained. "I think he'll accept it, just like he had to accept everything else we've done. He knows better than to fight us anymore. He knows we're going to do whatever we want, no matter what he does. It's better that way."

#  Chapter 2

The three sisters finished their midday meal and Allegra kicked the embers of the fire apart and used the edge of her boot to scrape dirt over them. Then they untied their horses from the bushes and swung up into their saddles.

All three sisters wore the same dusty outfit of canvas pants, rawhide chaps, long sleeved cotton shirts buttoned up the front, Stetson hats, and riding boots. They all wore gun belts around their hips with rows of bullets lined up between their holsters. Alma and Amelia wore leather gloves. Allegra didn't bother to protect her hands from the wear of her work.

Many people thought the Goodkind sisters were triplets. They all carried the same curious combination of features from their Irish father and their Apache-Mexican mother. Their black hair shone in the sun, and their sharp, fierce eyes burned in their faces. Their skin stayed clear and white, no matter how much time they spent out in the sun, but their chiseled cheekbones and strong jaw lines reflected their mother's Native heritage.

Alma wore her hair in a single long whip of a braid hanging down her back. It hung down so long, she sometimes tucked the end of it into her belt to stop it swinging. Amelia kept her hair tied in several braids looped up around the back of her neck in the style of the local Mexican women. Allegra kept her hair cropped short, up off her shoulders, like a boy. When scolded about her appearance, she claimed she didn't care what she looked like and this was the easiest way for her to manage. No one, she reminded everyone, would see her on the range anyway, so what difference did it make?

The sisters followed their normal daily routine and filed, in descending order of age, onto the trail to their grazing cattle herd. Alma couldn't see her sisters' faces behind her, but she envisioned them in her mind's eye. She knew well enough what they looked like when they received important news.

Amelia would cover up her uncertainty with quiet contemplation, but she couldn't hide the concern in her eyes or the repeated pressing together of her lips. Allegra didn't have to pretend to be totally disinterested because she was. If anything, the coming of a new person into their isolated lives represented an interesting change for her.

They didn't speak about Alma's decision again that day. In fact, they hardly spoke at all out on the range. They went through their daily routine with an unspoken understanding of their shared goals and responsibilities.

Only after they got back to their house of adobe brick did they speak again. Tucked into a cluster of thorn trees near a spring on the upper flats of the river, the tiny house offered a welcome relief from the aggressive sun. The sisters didn't return until dusk and the air began to cool, so the house also provided shelter from the cold of the desert night.

Alma sighed as she dropped down from her saddle. Her boots made two craters in the dust at her feet. "Home, at last. Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home."

Allegra swung one leg up over her saddle horn in front of her before hopping down. She laughed at Alma. "What do you mean, there's no place like it? There's only about a million mud huts across the frontier exactly like it. It's a dump."

Clarence Goodkind stooped under the lintel of the door and leaned against the door post. "I built this house with my own two hands, young lady. You'd do well to remember that."

"So you've told me every day of my life," Allegra shot back. "How could I forget? And if I ever was inclined to forget it, all I have to do is look at it to remember. It has 'hand made' written all over it."

"That house has kept the sun and rain and wind off of your ungrateful head since the day you were born," Amelia put in. "It's done the job of providing us with a house all these years, and it will continue to provide us with a home for many years to come. So you should keep your remarks to yourself."

"I never said it wasn't a perfectly functional house," Allegra maintained. "I just said there were a million others just like it, and it's a dump. I challenge even one of you to disprove what I just said."

No one took up her challenge.

Allegra squared her shoulders and led her horse off to the barn, which was another slouching lump of adobe next to the house. Amelia followed her.

Alma gazed after her sisters until they disappeared inside the barn. Then she smiled at her father.

"How did it go today?" he asked.

Alma shrugged. "The same as every other day. You know how it is."

Clarence shook his head. "I know how it is. It's a quiet business, herding cattle morning, noon, and night. I only wish I was out there with you. I don't like not knowing everything that's happening."

"If there was anything happening out there," Alma told him. "You would be the first to know about it. We haven't kept anything from you. Now, come on around here to the other side of the house and sit down. I want to talk to you."

#  Chapter 3

Alma led the way around the house and her father limped after her, dragging one leg in the dust. Alma sat down on a tilting wooden bench against the back of the house and waited for him to join her. The trees clustered more thickly over the bench, making a canopy of rustling shade.

Clarence sat down heavily on the bench. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

Alma took another deep breath. "I've made a decision. I'm going to get married."

The silence that followed sounded more terrible than all the accusations or recriminations Alma expected. She waited for him to say something, but he didn't.

In the end, she had no choice but to start talking herself. "I wrote into that mail-order matrimony service they have going. They're matching up men and women all over the country who want to get married. A cowboy from Amarillo is meeting me at the church in Eagle Pass at the end of the month. We'll get married, and then we'll come back here to live."

Her father still didn't say anything. Had he heard her? How could he fail to? Alma waited another long time. Then she saw the weathered old hand resting on the knee of his pants.

She covered it with her own smooth fingers. "I know you probably aren't happy about this, but I wanted to do it, and I did it. I told Amelia and Allegra today, so now you all know and we can start making plans."

He didn't move a whisker. Did he approve? Would he ever speak to her again?

He didn't take his hand out from under hers, but he didn't congratulate her, either.

A heavy sigh came out of his dry old lungs. "Where will you live?"

Alma started in surprise. "Here in the house."

"Here?" he asked. "With all the rest of us?"

"Why not?" she asked.

"You'll be newly married," her father reminded her. "You'll want privacy."

"If we want privacy," Alma told him. "We can get it. There's a million miles of empty desert in every direction. If we want to be alone, we'll find a way to do it. Don't you worry about that."

"So what did your sisters say when you told them?" he asked.

Now Alma took her turn to sigh. "Just what you'd expect. Amelia told me I should have asked your permission first like a dutiful Mexican daughter. And Allegra laughed at me and said I'd ordered a new hot water bottle from a catalog."

That brought a hollow chuckle from Clarence. "She would say something like that. She's a wild one, that girl."

Alma gladly turned the conversation away from herself to her sisters. "I'm worried about her. She's so thoughtless about everything. She's really reckless sometimes."

"You always worry too much about both of them," her father reminded her. "You worry about them for opposite reasons. You worry about Allegra for not thinking enough, and you worry about Amelia for thinking too much. You should think about yourself once in a while."

"I can't help it," Alma replied.

"You worry about them," Clarence continued. "And your way of handling it is by mothering them."

"Mothering them?" she repeated. "I don't mother them."

"You do so," he shot back. "You order them around, and you take charge of the work around the ranch."

"Is that so bad?" she asked. "Someone has to do it. And they don't seem to mind me taking the lead. Amelia does whatever I tell her to do without question, and Allegra just goes along for the ride. I wish they wouldn't go along so easily. I wish they'd stand up to me every now and then."

Clarence Goodkind closed his eyes. "So they didn't mind about you getting married? That's good. I'd be more concerned about their reaction than mine, if I was in your place."

"I didn't say they didn't mind," Alma corrected him. "I just said they reacted the way I expected them to. They reacted—how shall we say? They reacted in character for both of them."

"And that should concern you," her father told her. "That should concern you more than anything. That they reacted in character only proves they could be displeased about it. They're hiding it below the surface, like they usually do, each in her own way."

"I understand that," Alma replied. "And I agree with you. A strange man will be joining us on the ranch. Believe me, I'm as worried as anyone else about how this will affect all our lives."

"I'm glad you're thinking about that," Clarence returned. "Because your new husband could be the ruination of all our plans and hard work."

"I know, Papa," Alma assured him. "Believe me, I know, and I haven't thought about anything else in all the time I've been writing to him. I told him all about it. He knows I've been working the ranch with my sisters for five years, and we worked with you for another five years before your accident."

"And don't forget," Clarence reminded her. "I built this ranch from nothing over fifteen years before that."

Alma smiled to herself. "I haven't forgotten, and I told him that, too."

"It isn't just us and the ranch that could be ruined," he continued. "This husband of yours—what did you say his name is?"

"I didn't say," Alma replied. "His name is Jude McCann. He comes from Amarillo."

"Right," Clarence snapped. "Jude McCann from Amarillo. He's coming out here to live and get married. He'll have a stake to defend in this ranch, too, just like the rest of us. You're walking a tightrope with this plan of yours."

"I know I'm walking a tightrope," Alma insisted. "And I'm ready to walk it. I know as well as anyone that this family contains nothing but strong personalities and raging egos. Just one of them could bring the ranch crashing down."

"Then why do you want to do this?" Clarence sighed. "I shouldn't even ask that."

"Good," Alma exclaimed. "Then you understand that we can't go on this way forever. You can't have three adult daughters without at least one of them getting married sometime. We won't stay here, single and childless, for the rest of our lives. We need husbands and children. Otherwise, all our work to build this ranch and keep it going will be wasted."

Clarence took another deep breath and opened his eyes, but he didn't see the desert landscape around him. Did he see anything at all, even when his eyes were open? "I know. The truth is, I've expected this for a long time now. I knew it would come some day. I just comforted myself with the knowledge that there weren't any men around for you to get mixed up with. I didn't count on Nature finding a way around that, too."

Alma patted his hand. "I'm glad you aren't upset about it. Now I have to get inside. It's my turn to cook supper." She stood up. "Are you coming in?"

"You go ahead." He turned his bleary old eyes to the eastern skyline. "I'll sit here a little while longer."

Alma patted him one more time on the shoulder and vanished around the corner of the house, leaving her father sitting alone on the bench.

#  Chapter 4

The Goodkind family kept the door of their house open until the last glimmer of light left the sky. When the darkness outside matched the darkness in the house, they shut the door and lit their candles and, occasionally, a lamp.

Alma put a platter of tortillas and roasted meat on the table. Grilled chiles and chunks of prickly-pear cactus in another bowl completed their evening meal. The sisters sat down at the table with their father. After he mumbled a simple blessing, a storm of reaching arms and hands followed before anyone said anything.

Each person took a tortilla, scooped meat and vegetables into it with a spoon, and ate the wrapped package with bare fingers.

After an interval of chewing, Allegra broke the silence. "So, what are you going to wear to the church?"

Alma finished the mouthful she was chewing and swallowed. "I was thinking about Mama's wedding dress. It's in the bottom of that trunk over there. That is, if Papa doesn't have any objection."

Allegra glanced at her father. "Are you sure it will fit you? You're taller than Mama by a mile, I'd say."

"I'll let it out," Alma told her.

"You—let it out!" Allegra snorted. "I haven't seen you with a needle and thread in your hand since...well, since before Papa had his accident."

"That's only because I haven't had time to sew," Alma replied. "It doesn't mean I've forgotten how to do it. I know how to do it, and it will be a lot easier to let out Mama's dress than to buy or make another one." She looked at her father. "You don't mind, do you, Papa?"

Clarence disguised his hesitation behind chewing his food. "I don't mind. It's been sitting in the bottom of that trunk since your mother died. Someone might as well wear it. I think she would be very happy if Alma was married in it."

Alma choked back the urge to sigh with relief. She hadn't actually thought about what she'd wear to the church until Allegra asked her. "We'll get it out after supper and have a look at it. I'll try it on and see what it needs to make it fit me. I might get lucky and only need to lengthen the skirts a little bit"

The family chewed a while longer.

"I thought you would want a dress all of your own," Amelia remarked. "I don't think I could get married in a dead woman's dress, even if she was my own mother. That would be more like going to a funeral than a wedding."

"I thought about that," Alma replied. "But just think how much it would cost to buy a new dress. And then there's the problem of having it fitted for me. I don't even know anyone in town who could make one. We aren't going into Eagle Pass before the wedding. Even if someone had one ready-made, I'd have to buy it, put it on, pray to heaven it fit me properly, and then scoot off to the church in time to meet Jude. It wouldn't work."

"If I was going to get married," Amelia announced. "I would plan in advance to have a dress made. I'd order it from San Antonio, if I had to."

"You would?" Allegra put in. "You'd get a dress made—with what money? How would you pay for it? And how would you pay the money to travel up to San Antonio to get measured and fitted for the dress? Alma's right. It wouldn't work."

"I'd find a way to make it work," Amelia insisted. "I'd find a way to get myself a wedding dress. You don't want to play fast and loose with your own wedding."

"I'm not playing fast and loose," Alma shot back. "There's nothing fast and loose about wearing your mother's wedding dress. It makes the dress into a tradition handed down from mother to daughter. I could hand the dress down to my own daughter when she gets old enough to get married."

"I think it's wonderful that you're all thinking about getting married," Clarence told them.

"I'm not thinking about getting married," Allegra shot back.

"Fine," Clarence snapped. "You're not thinking about getting married. You're just talking about it. And it's wonderful that you all have different ideas about how to do it. You can each do it in your own way. There's no right or wrong way to get married."

"Except when you don't," Allegra persisted. "I'm not getting married."

Clarence Goodkind let out an exasperated gasp. He threw up him hands and slapped them down flat on the table. "Yeah, you said that already. You're not getting married." He kicked his chair out from under him and stalked away from the table to his chair by the fire.

Alma exchanged glances with her sisters. They continued eating in silence until Alma wiped the juice from the meat platter with the last tortilla. "Let's go get Mama's dress out and have a look at it."

Allegra gathered up the dishes from the table and washed them in the kettle of water boiling on the fire as Alma and Amelia slid the heavy wooden trunk away from the wall and threw back the lid.

Amelia sat on the nearest bed, which just happened to be Allegra's, while Alma unpacked the trunk. She laid one wrinkled article of clothing after another on the bed next to Amelia until she reached the very bottom.

"Here it is," she announced.

She reached all the way down to the bottom and lifted out a faded white gown with lace around the bodice and ribbon ruffles on the front of the skirt. She hung it from a nail in the rafter and smoothed it down. Amelia watched her, studying the dress. "You're right. It's a beautiful dress. I'd forgotten what it really looked like."

Alma measured it with her eye. "I think it will be long enough, too. I'll try it on, just to make sure."

"You'll be stunning in it," Amelia told her. "I'm sorry for what I said about playing fast and loose. Now that I look at it, I wouldn't mind getting married in it myself."

Alma raised her eyebrows. "You're not thinking of getting married, too, are you?"

Amelia shrugged. "I wasn't thinking about it at all until you brought it up. Now that you're getting married, I just might."

Alma burst into a happy grin. "You'd look beautiful in this dress, too. I would love it if you got married, too. I don't want to be the only married one of the three of us, and Allegra is pretty adamant that she isn't going to get married."

"No, I'm not." Allegra came over from the fireplace, drying her hands on a towel. "I'm certain of that."

"You might change your mind," Amelia suggested. "Forever's a long time. You never know what might happen."

Allegra shook her head. "No. You two can get married. I'm staying free. I'll keep working the ranch while you two stay home and mind the children."

"You'll work the ranch—along with our two husbands?" Amelia asked. "That could be tricky. What if the men won't ride with you? What if they want you to stay home, too, while they run the ranch?"

A shadow crossed Allegra's face, but she shrugged it away. "I won't let that happen. This is my ranch more than theirs. I have more right to work it than they do. If they can't become used to that idea, then this isn't the place for them."

"Don't you think Amelia and I would have something to say about that?" Alma asked. "You're not suggesting you'd drive both of us and our husbands and children away, just so you could work the ranch alone, are you?"

Allegra stiffened. "I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just saying that I'm not going to give up working the ranch just because you two decided to get married. I hope you both make certain your husbands understand that. Otherwise, we're going to have a problem here."

"Don't worry," Amelia replied. "I'm not getting married. I'm still going to work the ranch with you. I just never really thought about it until Alma decided to get married. It's not a half bad idea, anyway. But I'm not getting married, either."

"And," Alma added. "I'm not giving up working the ranch just because I'm getting married. I told Jude he can expect all three of us to keep working the same way we always have. I think I can be pretty sure he won't just walk in and start taking over. All three of us will make certain that doesn't happen. He better wake up early in the morning and pack a lunch if he wants to get the jump on us."

Allegra laughed. "Alright. Just so we all understand each other. Now, quick! Change into the dress so we can see it on you."

#  Chapter 5

Alma took down the dress and ducked behind a curtain in the corner of the room that served as the sisters' closet. Allegra sat down on the bed next to Amelia and kicked off her boots. Then she unbuckled her gun belt. She refastened the buckle and hung the belt on the bedpost. She did the same thing with the plain leather belt holding up her pants. Then she ran her fingers through her short hair.

"I guess we'll all be going into Eagle Pass at the end of the month," Allegra remarked. "We don't get out to town much. We'll have to make an inventory of supplies to get when we're there. We might not get in again until next spring."

"What did you have in mind?" Amelia asked.

"The most important thing is salt blocks for the cattle," Allegra replied. "And we're running low on lamp oil."

"What about food?" Amelia asked. "Do we have enough salt and flour for ourselves?"

"I'll check before we head out to work tomorrow morning," Allegra told her. "I sure hope this Jude McCann character likes tortillas and prickly-pear relish. He could be a real Yankee for all we know. He might not fancy the food we eat or the way we eat it. He might get weird about us not using dishes and forks and knives and all that."

Amelia chuckled. "That would certainly throw a wrench in their marriage, wouldn't it?"

Allegra stared at her middle sister. Amelia almost never joked or saw the funny side of anything.

Alma's voice floated over the top of the curtain. "What would throw a wrench in our marriage?"

"Nothing," Amelia called back. Then she lowered her voice and murmured to Allegra so Alma couldn't hear. "He's from Amarillo. You would think he'd eaten country style before."

Allegra shrugged. "I wonder if she asked him about that in their letters."

Amelia smirked again, but they didn't speak about it anymore, because Alma came out from behind the curtain, wearing their mother's wedding dress. She swished right and left. "What do you think? The train is long enough to make up for the difference in height. I don't have to let it out at all. I just won't have to lift it up when I walk."

Her sisters stared at her with their mouths open, but neither answered her.

Their silence startled Alma. "What's the matter? Doesn't it look good?"

Neither Amelia nor Allegra moved. After a moment, Amelia succeeded in closing her mouth.

"Is it that bad?" Alma asked.

Clarence broke the silence from his place by the fire. "You look like your mother."

Alma whirled around. "Papa!" she gasped. "I didn't know you were listening."

"How could I miss it?" he asked.

Alma peered through the half-light of the lamps, trying to find his eyes in the dark. How much could he really see? "Can you see from over there? You're in pitch darkness."

"I might be in the dark," he told her. "But you're in the light. I can see you just fine. I didn't realize you resembled her so much. You look the way she did when I took her to the altar. Looking at you, I could almost believe she's still alive."

Alma smiled into the shadows. Then she turned back to her sisters. "So? Do you think it will work all right?"

She smiled at her sisters, but they didn't respond.

Amelia pried her eyes away from the dress and stared off into the darkness. Allegra gazed at her older sister a moment longer. Then she exploded into a flurry of movement.

She kicked her legs out along the length of her bed. She kicked all the articles Alma laid out so neatly from the trunk and sent them flying onto the floor. Then she kicked Amelia in the hips. "Get off my bed! Get off! Get off! This is my bed, now get off!"

Amelia cried out in surprise and retreated to her own bed, which just happened to be the next bed over. She went around the other side of it and sat down with her back to the room.

"What's the matter with you?" Alma exclaimed. "What's wrong?"

Allegra didn't answer. She gave her empty bed a few more kicks for good measure before she stretched herself out on top of the blanket with her face to the wall.

Alma stared at the back of her youngest sister's head. Was that a quiver she saw in Allegra's shoulders? Allegra never indulged in emotional outbursts. She preferred indifferent mockery.

On any other night, Alma would have gone to Allegra's bedside to find out what disturbed her so much. But, for some reason, the wedding dress stopped her from doing it. She hurried behind the curtain and took the dress off. She put on her night clothes in its place. When she came out, she laid the dress out on her own bed while she put everything back in the trunk. Then she laid her mother's wedding dress on top of the pile and closed the lid.

She glanced around the room again. Was that a sniff she heard coming from Allegra's bed. More and more frequently, Alma noticed her youngest sister slept in her work clothes. She took off her gun belt, boots, and hat, but she laid down on top of her bed in her pants and work shirt and slept that way until morning. She didn't even cover herself with her blankets.

Alma stole a look at Amelia. Her middle sister sat on the edge of her bed, gazing off into the darkness, unresponsive to her surroundings. Alma didn't bother to ask if Amelia would blow out the lights before she went to sleep. She didn't say good night to her father, either.

The rupture they all feared so much didn't need her or anyone else getting married. It already happened long before she even planned to get married. It crept up on them by degrees, over the course of years. Long over-familiarity bred complacency in their relations with each other.

Now, they didn't even bother to speak to each other. They knew each other too well, and they took one another for granted. Alma didn't have to ask Amelia if she would put out the lights. She already knew she would do it. She didn't have to say good night to her father. He would be drifting in his dreams before the fire, already miles away from her and the rest of their family. He wouldn't appreciate her calling him back from his travels just to wish him good night.

Alma looked around the room one last time. Getting married was the best thing she could do, the only thing she could do. They had lived together so long that now they no longer lived together at all.

#  Chapter 6

On the morning of July 31, the Goodkind sisters rose at the first light of dawn as they usually did. But instead of saddling their horses and hitting the trail to tend their cattle, they went to the barn and hitched up the old wagon.

Alma took the job of brushing down the horses as Amelia and Allegra rolled the wagon out of the barn and organized the harness and its fittings. They loaded the wagon with food supplies, a cooking pot and pan, and piles of blankets.

They would get to the town of Eagle Pass in about four hours if the trip went well, and they hoped to be home before dark. But they always went fully prepared for unforeseen circumstances when they left home. They never knew what might happen out in the middle of the desert. Even one night in the open could be fatal without the right supplies.

Amelia piled up the blankets into a soft throne just behind the wagon seat. Then she rigged up a sheet over the top of it with two corners tied to the ends of the seat and the other two corners tied to the sides of the wagon. The sheet made a little tent over the throne.

Alma backed first one horse and then the other into place next to the wagon shaft. As she and Allegra put on the horses' collars and hitched up their harnesses, Amelia escorted their father out of the house and seated him on the throne under the tent.

He leaned on her shoulder when he climbed into the back of the wagon, and he leaned forward at the hips before collapsing into the pile of blankets. In the end, he settled himself into his nest under the shade and waited for his daughters to finish getting ready to go.

Amelia climbed into the seat. Alma double checked all the harness fittings and Allegra doubled checked the provisions, including a supply of grain for the horses. She glanced back toward the barn. "Do you think we should bring an extra saddle horse for your man to ride home? Do you think he'll have a horse of his own to ride?"

Alma followed her gaze toward the barn. "I didn't think of that." Then she shook her head. "No. If we take another horse, that's another mouth to feed that he might not even use. If he doesn't have his own horse, he can ride in the back of the wagon with Papa and Allegra. Then he can ride one of our horses when he gets here."

Allegra nodded her approval.

"And you can stop calling him 'your man'," Alma continued. "That goes for all of you. He has a name, and his name is Jude."

Allegra ignored her. "Just think. By the end of the day, you won't be Alma Goodkind anymore. You'll be Alma McCann. What do you think of that?"

Alma blinked. "I didn't think of that, either. It doesn't sound like me at all. It doesn't sound like a Mexican woman at all. It sounds like some Irish washerwoman."

"All except the 'Alma' part," Allegra pointed out. "And anyway, you're not Mexican. You're Mexican, Apache, and Irish. So you could be an Irish washerwoman after all."

Alma shook her head. "I don't know. If I wasn't on my way to the church to get married, I might say I didn't like the sound of it, but I guess it's too late now."

"That's putting it mildly," Allegra replied. "You're about to get into the wagon to go to the church."

Alma blushed. "That reminds me. I forgot something." She ran inside while the others waited for her.

She came out with a bundle wrapped in a white sheet. Amelia gasped up on the seat. "You didn't! You didn't almost forget to bring your wedding dress!"

Alma kept her eyes down and busied herself with tucking the bundle into a corner of the wagon next to her father's throne. "Don't tell Jude."

Allegra laughed and climbed into the back of the wagon. She stretched out on her back on the bare boards and pulled her hat down over her eyes. Alma got into the seat next to Amelia.

Alma took the reins from the brake handle and spread them out in her hands. "All set?"

No one answered her. She clucked to the horses and the wagon creaked away from the barn. A minute later, the wheels slotted into the ruts in the dry cracked road. Alma relaxed and let the horses pull the wagon along the well-known path toward Eagle Pass.

As soon as the sun cleared the eastern horizon, the heat bit into their skin and brought out the sweat on the horses' backs. Alma glanced back over her shoulder. Allegra hadn't moved, but kept her face hidden under her hat. Clarence dozed under his shade. Amelia stared away into the distance, unresponsive to everything.

How she wished she could talk to one of them right now! But none of them would appreciate her breaking in on their private worlds. The only way they tolerated one another's company was through diligent respect for one another's private mental space. Alma knew them all well enough to know that.

More than anything else, Alma longed for a husband to have someone to talk to, someone all her own, someone to share her experiences with. With every passing year, her sisters slipped farther away from her. Now, they didn't share experiences with each other at all, even though they spent every waking moment of their lives together.

When something happened, when they saved their herd from flash floods or shot wild cats stealing newborn calves, the sisters never shared their thoughts. Each sister kept her experience of the event to herself. If the three women hadn't been present together when it happened, Alma would wonder if Amelia and Allegra experienced the same event at all.

#  Chapter 7

The endless jiggling and squeaking of the wagon lulled them all into a dreamy doze in which the hours passed unnoticed. Alma closed her eyes for a second to rest them from the sun, and the next thing she knew, the wagon rattled into the dusty streets of Eagle Pass.

The town consisted almost entirely of low adobe hovels like their own house. All of them looked as though the next good rain would wash them into the nearest mud puddle. No one would guess they'd stood torrential downpours and floods for more than two hundred years. The adobe houses of the Texas-Mexico border were among the oldest permanent structures on the North American continent.

Alma took a firmer hold on the horses' reins as they entered the town and steered the wagon to the church. Only the curved portico on the church's roof, topped with a handmade wooden cross, distinguished the church from every other building in town. It sat on a corner of what would have been, in a larger town, the central plaza. In Eagle Pass, the plaza—what the townspeople referred to as the plaza—was nothing more than a big square of beaten dust with the church on one side and the General Store on the other.

Alma stopped the wagon in front of the church and looked around. A few men slept against the wall underneath their sombreros while others examined the family with interest.

Allegra jumped down from the wagon and cast a glance toward the General Store. "How are you supposed to find this husband of yours?"

Alma looked around again. "You would think a stranger in town would stand out like a sore thumb. If he's here waiting for me, half the men in town should be shoving him toward me right now. That's how weddings usually happen in this town."

"Maybe he isn't here," Amelia suggested.

"If he isn't here," Alma replied, "we'll just get our supplies and go home. Nothing lost."

"Except a day of work," Allegra told them.

"What do you want to do?" Amelia asked.

"Maybe we should ask around town," Allegra suggested. "I'm sure everyone knows if a strange man came into town recently. Benito over at the store is the resident town crier house. I could go and ask him."

"Why don't you take your dress into the church and change your clothes?" Amelia added. "There's the cloak room off to the side of the pulpit. Allegra can go over to the store and ask Benito if he knows about Jude, and I'll wait here, just in case he shows up asking about you."

Alma breathed a sigh of relief. "Good idea." She took her bundle out of the wagon and headed for the door of the church. As she swung it open, she saw Amelia helping her father out of the wagon.

The cool darkness of the church hit Alma in the face as soon as the door closed behind her. She shivered after the pounding heat outside. She waited for a minute in the doorway until her eyes adjusted to the gloomy interior. Then she made her way down the aisle to the cloak room.

What people called the cloak room looked more like a shed, and no one kept their coats or cloaks or anything else in there. Even in driving rain, local people kept their coats on in church. In all her life, Alma knew of only one instance when someone used the cloak room, and that was when Hidalgo Hernandez bought a dog from Alberto Rodriguez in front of the church on a Sunday and tied the animal up in the cloak room until the end of service before he took it home.

Alma halted in the door of the cloak room, looking for a place to put her dress down. Cobwebs and piles of dust decorated the little enclosure. Only a few streams of daylight peeked through the loose boards on the side of the room. Not a single shelf or hook adorned its walls or rafters.

In the end, she hung the dress on the remnant of a tree branch sticking out of one of the peeled beams in the ceiling. She sighed once. How many women in this country got married like this?

She heard about high society women Back East with attendants to dress them and fix up their hair before they took a coach to the church. When they arrived there, they found it decorated with flowers and filled with gaily-dressed friends and relatives.

In south Texas, nearly everyone got married this way. Only local girls could change their clothes at home instead of in the cloak room of the church. Most of them didn't even change their clothes. They met their men at the altar in their regular everyday dresses, got married, and went home to cook supper without so much as a ten minute break.

Alma slipped out of her clothes. She dropped her pants and shirt onto the floor along with her boots and hat before she realized she hadn't brought anything else to wear home. After the service, Jude McCann would see her for the first time in her work clothes. What would he think about his new wife wearing pants and a gun belt?

Alma didn't even own a dress. Neither of her sisters did, either. They'd worked the ranch for so long that they no longer bothered keeping any clothing other than their work clothes. Maybe that would change with a man around.

But she couldn't think about it now. She pulled her mother's wedding dress over her head and straightened the skirts. It really was a magnificent dress. Then Alma realized she hadn't brought anything to wear on her feet. She should have some silk slippers to match the dress. She had no choice but to put her boots back on or go barefoot to the altar. Alma pulled her boots back on. The ruffled hem of the dress just brushed the red clay of the floor, hiding the boots from view.

#  Chapter 8

"Alma, he's here!" Allegra voice hissed through the crack in the door. "Jude McCann's out here."

"Did you find him in town?" she asked.

"No," Allegra answered. "He can up to Amelia outside the church and asked her if she knew where to find Alma Goodkind. He's out here with the priest now. He's waiting for you whenever you're ready."

"Hey, Allegra," Alma called. "Would you come in here for a minute, please?"

The door cracked open and Allegra stuck her head in. "What do you need?"

Alma held up the long, white head piece. "Would you pin this into my hair? I can't do it myself."

Allegra stepped into the cloak room and narrowed her eyes at the train of lace hanging nearly to the floor. "I can give it a try. It's not really my specialty, you know."

Alma chuckled. "It's not exactly higher mathematics. Just hold it while I put my hair up."

Allegra held the head piece up off the floor as Alma shook out her long black hair. She swept it up to the top of her head and coiled it into a bunch on top of her head.

"Now," she instructed Allegra, "put the comb in here to hold it."

She pointed with her finger and Allegra slotted the bone comb into her hair. A stiff fan of white lace stuck up above the stark black twists of hair.

Allegra spread the lace across Alma's back and admired the result. She shook her head with wide eyes. "It's amazing. I never would have believed it."

Alma smiled at her expression. "Do I look okay?"

Allegra gulped. "You wouldn't recognize yourself. You look like one of those Spanish ladies at the Festival. You look like a princess."

Alma blushed. "I guess that's good."

"No one would ever know you're a cattle puncher in your free time," Allegra continued.

"Let's just hope Jude is as impressed as you are," Alma remarked.

"Let's find out," Allegra replied. "Are you ready?"

Alma nodded and opened the door. Allegra followed her out into the church.

Alma stopped next to the pulpit. Her father and Amelia sat in the front pew with their hats resting on their knees. Alma smiled at them, but the only thing she could think was how different Amelia looked with her hat off. With her looped braids hanging around the back of her neck and her bright eyes visible, she looked like any other beautiful Mexican girl. Only her pants and riding boots gave her away.

Allegra took off her hat and sat down in the pew next to Amelia. With her short hair, she looked like a young boy of the Jicarilla Apache tribe. Unlike Amelia, nothing in her appearance indicated she was a woman, and it wasn't only her hair or her clothes. Her face wore a hardened expression from long years of hiding her tender side behind an indifferent demeanor. No one outside her immediate family knew Allegra's secret pain.

A voice clearing its throat drew Alma's attention back to the pulpit. A man with sandy hair, green eyes, and the last vestige of freckles stood in front of the first pew. He wore the plain clothes of a Texas cowboy around his lean, muscular frame—no fancy suit or silk tie—and he wore his gun belt slung low around his hips. He smiled at Alma. "Alma Goodkind?"

Alma nodded and smiled back, but her eyes smarted with tears. "You must be Jude McCann."

Jude answered with a stiff nod. "In the flesh." He waved his hand toward the pulpit. "What do you say we get married? If you're ready, that is."

Alma laughed, but she couldn't see more than a watery outline through her tears. "I'm ready."

Jude glanced down at her dress and snorted. "I guess that was a stupid thing to say. You look beautiful."

Jude took off his hat and tucked it under his arm. He crooked his other elbow at her, and Alma slid her hand around his arm. They turned and faced the pulpit.

Alma didn't hear much of the service. Her mind swirled with the excitement and impressions of her first meeting with Jude. She knew he was a cowboy from their letters, but she never realized meeting him in the flesh would affect her this way.

She knew him. She knew the man who wore that uniform. She knew how he thought and how he spent his days and nights. She knew the people he must necessarily keep company with. She knew what made him happy and what sent him into a tempest of rage. She knew everything about him.

And the best part was that they were all the same things she knew about herself and her family. What made her and her sisters and her father happy would make him happy. They spent their time the same way and spoke the same language. They were cut from the same cloth, and they would get along just fine together. Her heart soared in her chest, and she looked forward to the end of the service with new eagerness.

Somehow, they got through the part where they both said "I do," and Alma turned back to find her family in a mess of tears in the front pew. Even Allegra dabbed her eyes with the cuff of her shirt sleeve. Amelia returned Alma's smile this time, and she rose to embrace her sister.

"You look so beautiful," she murmured into Alma's ear. "I never thought a simple dress could make so much difference."

Alma squeezed her hands. "Thank you. I can't tell you how much it means to me to hear you say that. I guess none of us realized what wearing men's clothes and doing men's work all these years has done to us. None of us realized how much we really want to be women."

Amelia touched the corner of her eye with her sleeve. "I'm so grateful to you for starting this process. We had to give up our independence sometime to become the women we want to be. It took a lot of courage for you to make the first move toward changing all our lives. If any of us ever gave you any reason to worry that you'd done the right thing, I'm sorry for that, because you _did_ do the right thing. You did the best thing for all of us, and I'm grateful to you for it."

Alma burst into a flood of tears. "Oh, thank you! You don't know what that means. I've been so worried—for all of us. I'm so relieved that it's all over, and that it worked out for everyone."

They embraced each other again, and Allegra joined them. Then Alma kissed the tears from her father's cheeks and embraced him, too. She brought Jude over.

"Have you two been properly introduced?" she asked. "Jude McCann, this is my father, Clarence Goodkind. I suppose you've met my sisters, Amelia and Allegra."

Jude shook hands with Clarence. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last, sir. Alma's told me so much about all of you. I think we're going to be very happy together."

Clarence opened his mouth, but Alma interrupted. "Of course we are."

#  Chapter 9

Jude glanced around the church. "Well, what do you want to do next? Do you have business in Eagle Pass, or do you want to get going? I understand it's a fair hike back to your place."

"We should get going in time to get home before dark," Alma told him. "But we have some supplies to get from the store before we leave."

"It's already done," Allegra told them. "I got the stuff when I went over there to look for Jude. All the supplies are loaded into the wagon. We can go home any time you want."

"Then there's nothing left to do but change out of my dress," Alma remarked. "Allegra, would you help me get my comb out the same way you put it in? I would appreciate it."

"Sure." Allegra followed her back to the cloak room and took the comb out. "You go ahead and get changed. I'll help Amelia get Papa loaded up. That way, as soon as you're finished, we can hit the road."

"Okay," Alma agreed.

Allegra disappeared, leaving Alma alone in the dusty shadows of the cloak room.

Alma laid her head piece inside the sheet she used to bundle up her wedding clothes. She hesitated to take her dress off and she looked down at the white skirts ruffling away from her body. If only she could see it in the looking glass just once. If only she could carry that image of herself back to the distant reaches of the ranch. Her womanly beauty never saw the light of day there.

At least Jude would carry the image. He would remember it when he saw her with mud and grime all over her face, when he saw her smeared with soot from the branding iron, and when she cracked a whip to round up her stock.

He would always carry the memory of his first sight of her. He would know the woman who lurked under her chaps and hat, even when she didn't know it herself. She dropped the dress off her shoulders and stepped out of it. As soon as it left her body, it took its magic with it, leaving her once more the cowgirl she was when she came into the cloak room the first time.

When she put her pants on again and buckled her belt, the heavy, dirt-encrusted canvas scraped her skin. She always thought they were soft and comfortable. Now they felt like alien armor or a tortoise shell that stopped her from moving the way she wanted to. Would she ever get rid of it? When she looked into her future, she didn't see any way she could. She would be working the ranch until she was old and grey, wearing the same hard clothes. She would never be soft or fine or female the way she was in that dress.

She laid the dress inside the sheet and folded up the corners. How long had she worn it? Ten minutes? It would go back to the bottom of the trunk and rot there. Someone would find it in another forty or fifty years and wonder who wore it to get married. They wouldn't know her skin touched its delicate folds. They wouldn't smell her in its sleeves and waist band.

She tied the corners of the sheet, braided her hair into its usual rope down her back, and put her hat on her head. When she opened the door, the outfit of the cattle puncher she wore into the cloak room felt like a disguise, a masquerade designed to prevent people from seeing the real Alma underneath.

The church stood deserted. Her father, sisters, and husband must be outside. That word sounded so strange in her mind— _husband_. It didn't sound like anything having anything to do with Alma Goodkind.

Local people knew the Goodkind sisters as tough, hard-riding gunslingers who worked their ranch in all weather, all year round, and drove a hard bargain at the auction yards in the fall. They didn't have any use for men. Their father, the only man in their lives, was a cripple. They never gave the local boys a second glance, and Allegra, the youngest, laughed at them.

But she wasn't Alma Goodkind anymore. She was Alma McCann, wife of one Jude McCann of Amarillo. She could make herself over as anything she pleased.

In front of the church, Alma found her father on his throne between stacks of flour sacks and Amelia in the wagon seat. Jude stood near the church door to meet her.

He raised his eyebrows at her clothes. Then he smiled. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you like this. You told me you and your sisters worked your ranch by yourselves, and after meeting them, I should have expected you to dress the same way. It's just a shock to see you like this after that dress you were wearing in the church just now."

Alma dropped her eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to look at her clothes. "I'm sorry. I just don't have anything else to wear home. I should have planned to make another dress to wear, but I didn't even think of it until after we already got here. I'll work on that when we get home. I understand you don't want your wife wearing a man's clothes."

"If you're going to keep working the ranch," Jude pointed out. "You may as well keep wearing these. It's the most sensible thing you could wear."

"I'm not sure I want to keep working the ranch if it means dressing like this," Alma told him. "That dress..." She glanced back over her shoulder toward the church door. "I think that dress did something to me. I don't think I want to go back to the way I was before."

Jude raised his eyebrows again. "You don't?"

Alma cast around for something. "This....." She looked down at her clothes. "This doesn't really fit me anymore. I didn't know it before, but I think getting married changed me somehow. I don't want to be.... _this_ ...anymore."

Jude shrugged. "You be whatever you want to be. Be what you're most comfortable being. But after the way the three of you have kept the ranch going all these years, you might find it a little more difficult than you think to walk away from it. Anyway, your sisters—and me—we might need your help."

Alma brightened up. "I'll be happy to help any way I can, and I'm not really ready to walk away from the ranch. I just think I'll start making a slow shift away from it."

"Toward what?" he asked.

"Toward being your wife, of course!" Alma laughed. "What else?"

Jude chuckled. "Well, then, that's just fine with me." He tipped his hat to her. "I'll meet you there."

Alma laughed again. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

She put her foot into the spokes of the wagon wheel to climb up into the driver's seat. But Amelia turned around and pointed back toward the wagon box. "Why don't you and Jude ride in the back and let me and Allegra drive home? That will give you a chance to get to know each other a little bit better."

"Oh!" Alma exclaimed. "I didn't think of that." She caught Jude's eye. "Is that all right with you?"

Jude looked at his new father-in-law enthroned on his mountain of blankets. "It's fine with me. I had planned to ride my own horse, but we can tie him onto the back of the wagon. I'm happy to ride with you if....if everyone else is agreeable."

Clarence Goodkind didn't even blink in his direction. Allegra climbed up the other side of the wagon into the seat, and Alma got into the wagon box as Jude tied his horse by the reins to the back of the wagon. Then he joined Alma.

She looked around inside the wagon box. "Where's your luggage?"

"What luggage?" he asked.

"Don't you have a trunk or something?" she asked. "Don't tell me you didn't bring anything."

Jude jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward his horse. "I brought my bedroll, and a few odds and ends in my saddlebags. I brought my rifle, and a shotgun, and a few letters from home. What else is there?"

"Aren't you coming out to our place to live?" Alma asked. "I thought you'd want to bring more than that."

"I don't have more than that," he told her. "That's all I've had while I've been workin' on the range, and that's what I brought. What more is there?"

Alma shook her head. "Alright. I'm just surprised. That's all. If you don't think you need any more, that's fine with me."

"I'm sure if I need anything, I can get it," Jude replied.

They settled themselves in the wagon. They sat in the two far back corners of the wagon, as far away from Alma's father as they could sit. Jude smiled at Alma, stole a peek at the old man, and turned his attention for good to his new wife.

"So," he began. "We're married."

"Yes," Alma replied.

Amelia slapped the reins on the horses' backs and shouted to them, and the wagon started forward. Jude inspected the town as they passed. "And this is Eagle Pass."

"Yes," Alma replied. "Didn't you see any of it before?"

Jude shook his head. "I just arrived. I just rode into town and went straight to the church." He frowned. "Isn't there any more of it than this?"

Alma chuckled. "Don't blink or you'll miss it. There, you see? We're out of town already. That's all there is to it. A couple of houses, a church, and a store. And we don't come into town more than once a year, twice at the most. It's a pretty sparse life we have out here."

"I'll say." Jude watched the last house out of sight, which was sooner than expected, considering the adobe walls blended perfectly with the red earth. Once the wagon passed the first clump of bushes, nothing remained to be seen of the little town.

#  Chapter 10

"How far out of town are you?" Jude asked.

Alma didn't answer. Her eyes roamed the spare landscape behind the wagon. She listened to the gentle thump of the horse's feet in the dust. A gentle wind blew the stray hair out of her face and made a hollow howling noise in her ears. She listened to it and drifted away.

"Alma?" Jude called.

Her head swung around. "Huh?"

"I asked you how far out of town you are," Jude repeated. "Didn't you hear me?"

"Sorry," she muttered. "Riding in the wagon sort of puts me to sleep. If you just keep talking to me, I'll pay more attention. As soon as we stop talking, I go into some kind of trance. I do it automatically. It helps the time pass."

"All right," Jude replied. "I'll remember that. So how far out of town are you?"

"About eighteen miles," Alma answered. "We'll get home just on dark."

"Tell me what you have going on out on the ranch," Jude told her. "I'd like to get out with you tomorrow and see your operation."

"You know how it is," Alma replied." The cattle are just summer grazing. We're pretty busy protecting them from coyotes and wild cats and wolves, keeping them moving between grazing areas, down to the river each day for water, and then back. There's not a lot to see at this time of year. There's not a lot going on."

"I still want to see it for myself," he returned. "I want to know what I'm getting myself into. And if you are thinking of handing over some or all of your work, I'll need to be familiar with the ranch if I'm going to be taking on the responsibility."

"I think I explained to you in my letters," Alma remarked. "That neither Amelia nor Allegra has any intention of giving up any control over the running of the ranch. They both want me to make it clear to you that they don't want you coming in and taking over."

"I understand that," Jude replied. "I understand you three have managed this ranch by yourselves for a long time and it's going to take some time to get used to doing things a different way."

Alma glanced toward the driver's seat just long enough to see both her sisters stiffen, but neither of them turned around. "We don't want to do things a different way," Alma insisted. "That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you. We don't want to become used to doing things your way, and we don't want to become used to you making decisions and running things. We want to keep running things the same way we always have. That's what I'm telling you."

"I understand," Jude repeated. "You don't have to stop running things. I'm just saying it's going to take some time before you get used to having another person around. It always takes time when a new person comes onto a ranch with a fresh perspective and new ideas. There's always a breaking-in period. I've seen it a dozen times on ranches I've worked."

"Have you worked on many?" Alma asked. "You make it sound like you've moved around a lot."

Jude flushed and turned away. He watched his horse plod along behind the wagon. "You know how it is. You start working somewhere, everything's going great guns, then you start to butt heads with someone, and the next minute, you're buttin' heads with the boss, and then you're movin' on to the next place."

"What did you butt heads over?" Alma asked.

"Just what we were talking about," Jude replied. "Some people don't like having a new man on the job with a different set of ideas on how to do things. Some people want everyone to do things their way. It doesn't always make for the most successful working relationship."

"But if that person is the boss," Alma pointed out. "Then he would have the right to demand you do it his way. Wouldn't he?"

Jude shrugged. "I never said he didn't. I just have my own way of doing things that works for me. That's the way I am. And then I have my way of talkin' to people and jokin' around and havin' fun. Not everyone likes that, either. Rubs some people the wrong way, if you know what I mean."

"I see," Alma muttered. "Well, I think you'll find us more than reasonable. We have our own way of doing things, but we never demand that other people do them that way. Just so long as you understand that we don't plan to change our methods, and we aren't looking for you to take over our operation."

"Yeah," he replied. "I get that."

"Good," Alma exclaimed. "Then let's talk about something else."

"Yes. Let's." Jude snuck a glance toward the tented throne and brought his eyes back to Alma. He smiled at her.

Alma followed his gaze toward her father and found Clarence staring at Jude through narrowed eyes. She tried to catch his eye by smiling at him, but he never took his eyes off Jude. What was he thinking? What was he seeing? Could he see at all? Was he just listening casually to their conversation?

Alma returned her attention to her husband and smiled back at him. "So what about you? Tell me what you've been up to this last season. Where have you been before you came down here?"

"I worked for a few months up near Amarillo," Jude told her. "I visited my family while I worked on a neighboring ranch. After that, I rode on a round-up out of New Braunfels. That ended about a month ago. Then I made my way down here. I made a few stops along the way, but I came here after that."

"How are all the folks at home?" she asked.

"They're just fine," he replied.

"Did you tell them you were getting married?" Alma asked.

"I told my cousin," Jude told her. "He sent his congratulations."

"Didn't you tell your parents?" Alma asked. "You said they still lived up there. Didn't you see them?"

"I didn't tell them," Jude admitted. "They would only get upset."

"Upset?" Alma gasped. "Why?"

Jude colored. "My mother would get upset that I was getting married somewhere away from home where she couldn't attend the wedding and get her fingers stuck into every detail of how it was to go off. And my father would get upset that I made the decision to get married without consulting him first and letting him lecture me about the rights and responsibilities of a husband. That's why I didn't tell them."

"But isn't that the parents' job?" Alma asked. "Isn't that what a father and mother are supposed to do when their son gets married?"

Allegra called back over her shoulder, "Don't let her fool you, Jude. She didn't consult with Papa before she made the decision to marry you, either. And you can bet your boots she never let anyone lecture her about her rights or responsibilities." Allegra snorted and turned back to the front of the wagon.

Alma shook her head to get the blood out of her cheeks. "I only meant that it's normal for the parents to want to have something to say about their son getting married. And at least I told you and Amelia and Papa I was getting married. At least we all went together to the church, and you were there with me when it happened. Jude's parents don't even know he got married."

"Oh, they're used to it by now," Jude told them. "My sister ran off and got married without telling anyone. She hooked up with a local plowboy on the quiet, and the next minute, they've flown the coop and are living happily as lawful man and wife out in Nevada. Shoot, she didn't even write home for about four years afterward, either." He laughed. "Didn't my Mama cry when she received that first letter!"

Alma stared at him in shock. "That must have upset your parents very much."

Jude shrugged. "Heck, that's the least of their worries. At least my sister married the guy. It could have been a sight worse for everyone if she hadn't. Once it was all said and done, my parents thanked their lucky stars for small mercies. They've had their hands full with the three of us ever since we were small. They're used to that sort of thing by now."

#  Chapter 11

The glorious red and purple of sunset colored the sky by the time they pulled into the Goodkind ranch. Amelia stopped the wagon in front of the house, tossed the reins to Allegra, and jumped down. "Come on inside with me, Papa," she called.

Alma leapt to her feet and helped extricate her father from his encampment of blankets. She and Amelia virtually lifted him down from the wagon box and set him on his feet on the ground. Amelia took his arm and guided him into the house.

Once he was clear of the wheels, Allegra set the horses moving again and drove the wagon into the barn. Jude helped her and Alma put the horses and wagon away. "Your father doesn't look so spry on his feet."

"Didn't I tell you he broke his back?" Alma asked. "He was thrown from a horse five years ago and can't ride anymore. He can't move much."

"You told me," Jude replied. "I just didn't realize it was so bad until I've seen him with my own eyes."

"He's a lot better than he used to be," Allegra put in. "For a long time after the accident, he couldn't walk at all. We had to carry him everywhere and do everything for him. He had to learn how to walk again."

Jude looked through the open barn door toward the house. "I don't think he likes me very much."

"What do you mean?" Alma cried. "He doesn't even know you. Besides, you just married his eldest daughter, the first of his daughters to get married. Of course he's going to be a little stand-offish for a while. But he'll come around in time." She laughed. "I'll whip him, if he doesn't."

"What makes you think he doesn't like you?" Allegra asked. "He didn't say a single word to you after we left the church."

"It was just the way he was looking at me on the way back here," Jude replied. "I don't think I've been stared at like that since the schoolmaster caught me stealing chocolate donuts from Lucy Spangler's dinner pail."

"You didn't!" Alma twittered.

Jude smiled. "All the time. They were the best donuts in town, and no amount of punishment could keep me away from them."

"You're a bad man, aren't you?" Alma teased. "I can see we're going to have to be very stern with you. Well, you'll get no chocolate donuts around here, young Mr. McCann. It's strictly tortillas and roasted meat."

"I can live with that," Jude replied. "As long as I don't go to bed with an empty stomach, I can manage. A man could live on the memory of those donuts."

"Good," Alma shot back. "Because from now on, that's all you'll have to sustain you. Now, what do you want to do with this horse of yours?"

"Do you have a place for him?" Jude asked. "If you haven't, I can turn him out. He's used to sleepin' rough. He can fend for himself outside until the morning."

"Fend for himself outside?" Alma gasped. "Nonsense! He'd freeze."

"Nah," Jude retorted. "He'd be fine. He's done it before."

"He hasn't done it in this desert," Allegra replied. "He wouldn't be walkin' around today if he had. It drops below freezing out there at night, even in the summer. Here, give him to me. I'll put him here."

She showed Jude's horse to a hook in the wall at the end of the building. Planks of wood suspended on ropes from the ceiling created partitions between the horses' tethering pins. She tied the horse up in an empty place, dropped grain and hay into his feed trough, and patted him on the flank.

"He'll be comfortable there until the morning," Allegra told Jude. "Now, let's get up to the house. Amelia will have supper on the table for us."

"Does she do the cooking?" Jude asked.

"We take turns," Alma told him. "And we also rotate who cleans up afterward. That makes it fair."

"But someone must be the best cook," Jude remarked. "You must have noticed which of you does the best job of cooking."

Alma and Allegra looked at each other. "I can't say I've noticed any difference," Alma replied.

"Me, neither," Allegra agreed. "It all tastes pretty much the same to me."

"You mean," Jude gasped. "You mean you always eat the same food?"

"Sure," Alma replied. "We all like it, so why change it?"

"But doesn't that get....?" Jude stopped.

"Get what?" Allegra asked.

"You know," Jude continued. "Doesn't that get a little...you know....boring? Don't you ever change anything?"

Alma and Allegra looked at each other again. "No. We have the same food every night for supper, and we have the same thing for breakfast in the morning, too."

Jude stared at them. Then a shudder coursed through his body. After it ended, he turned away. "Okay. I can live with that."

"Good," Allegra exclaimed. "'cuz that's all there is to eat around here."

"But, wouldn't you like to learn how to make something else?" Jude turned to Alma. "Wouldn't you make something else if I asked you to, just to make me happy?"

Alma felt the heat rising in her cheeks, and, at the same time, she became aware of Allegra watching her reaction. So this is how it starts. This is the pointy end of the wedge. She had to draw the line right here and now.

She laughed in Jude's face. "Oh, darling, if you want me to learn how to cook chocolate donuts just for you, I suppose I could learn how to do it. But you'll have to order the chocolate special delivery from San Antonio. And unless you want the donuts fried in bull tallow, you'll have to buy shortening, too." Allegra joined her in raising the rafters of the barn with their laughter.

Jude frowned at them. "Alright. You win. Forget I even asked."

Alma wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "You see, I'm sure all of us would love to eat some other food. We only eat the food we eat because it's the easiest and the cheapest and the most available. The only foods we buy in are flour for the tortillas and salt. Everything else we get from here. The meat comes from our own cattle, the chili's we grow in the garden, and the.....other stuff we get from the surrounding countryside. That way, we don't waste our hard-earned money on things we don't really need."

"I see," Jude told her. "You don't have to worry about me. You won't ever catch me complaining. As long as I go to sleep with a full stomach, I'm happy."

"You mentioned that before," Allegra muttered.

#  Chapter 12

Alma closed the door behind them and slotted the latch bolt into its hole. At the same time, Amelia lit a lamp and placed it in the middle of the table. "Come on and get your supper, folks," she said. "You left it late enough. Come now before it gets cold."

She set the plate of tortillas, the platter of meat, and the bowl of grilled vegetables on the table.

"We'll need another chair," Allegra pointed out.

Alma and Amelia stared at the table. "I hadn't thought of that," Alma mumbled.

"Here, Jude," Allegra continued. "You take my chair. I'll get a stool from the barn to use until we can make another chair. Don't pay any attention to Alma. Just tell yourself she was half out of her mind with excitement at the idea of marrying you that she forgot just about everything else. She very nearly forgot to pack her wedding dress in the back of the wagon this morning."

"Allegra!" Alma gasped. "I told you not to tell him!"

"I'm trying to help you out, darling," Allegra shot back. "I'm trying to smooth over the fact that you forgot to arrange for your new husband here to sit in a chair at the supper table. Now stop complaining and eat. I'll be back in a minute." She took a lit candle and stepped out into the night.

At her command, Jude sat down in her chair. Alma and Amelia took their usual places around the table along with their father. Clarence intoned his usual blessing, and the family fell to the food.

Jude observed them without comment as they each took a tortilla and filled it with meat and vegetables before eating with their bare hands. He watched one person and then another finish their first wrapped tortilla before starting another. Only then did he reach for a tortilla of his own and fill it from the platter and the bowl.

No one noticed his hesitation. They munched contentedly, occasionally making comments with their mouths full, and pushed more food in when they finished.

Allegra came back and helped herself. The chewing and casual exchange of snatches of conversation filled the little house.

Jude took his first bite and chewed. After the first few bites, he slowed, rolling the food over his tongue. Cautiously, he opened his tortilla and peered into it in the light of the lamp. He hesitated another moment. Then, he asked, "What is this vegetable? I don't think I've ever had it before."

The sisters glanced at each other. "It's prickly-pear cactus," Allegra told him. "Oh, and green chili."

Now that he'd tipped his hand, the whole family watched him chew up the mouthful he'd already taken and waited for him to take another bite.

"Don't you like it?" Alma asked.

Jude swallowed with great ceremony and took another bite of the tortilla in his hand. "I like it alright. I'm just not used to the taste. I'm sure I'll get used to it."

A glance flew around the table, and a smile twitched at the corners of Alma's mouth.

They ate silently for a while. Jude watched the sisters help themselves to one portion of food after the other, but he didn't take another for himself. The stack of tortillas shrank before his eyes.

"Is this what you have every night?" he asked.

"Yep," Alma replied. "We've eaten this every night for as long as I can remember. Maybe you can ask Papa, but I think we've always eaten this."

"Maybe Mama didn't know how to cook anything else," Amelia put in.

"I certainly don't," Allegra added. "This is the only thing I ever learned how to cook. How about you, Alma? Did Mama ever teach you how to cook anything else?"

Alma shook her head. "She died when I was nine. She'd just finished teaching me how to roll out the tortillas and keep the fire going when she died. I guess none of us ever really learned to cook properly."

"What about you, Jude?" Amelia asked. "What would you eat at home in Amarillo?"

Jude's eyes flicked across the table toward Clarence. "You know, meat and potatoes and some kind of greens. And we'd almost always have some kind of pie or pudding for desert. My mother makes good pies. She's a very good cook."

"I told you he was a Yankee," Allegra growled to Amelia.

A chair screeching across the floor made them all jump. Clarence kicked his chair back and left the table, retreating to his usual position by the fire.

The younger generation watched him depart and then returned to talking among themselves. Allegra took the last tortilla. "What's eating him?"

"Something," Amelia mumbled. "He hasn't said a word since the church."

"Maybe he's just emotional about our lives changing," Alma suggested.

Amelia and Allegra drifted away from the table toward their beds. Amelia sat cross-legged on top of her quilt and started darning one of her socks. Allegra took off her gun belt and started cleaning the cylinders of her revolvers. Jude observed them. "Another work day tomorrow," he remarked to Alma.

Alma nodded.

"Is this what you normally get up to in the evenings?" he asked.

Alma nodded again. "This is it. It's my turn to clean up. What would you like to do?"

Before Jude could answer, Clarence called to him from the shadows. "Why don't you pull up a chair over here by the fire? I want to talk to you."

#  Chapter 13

Jude jumped at the sudden snap of his voice. Alma brightened. "That's a good idea. You two probably have a lot to talk about."

Jude looked over his shoulder and back to Alma, but she had already pushed her chair back and began gathering up the plates.

He took the chair Allegra loaned him and settled himself across the fire from his new father-in-law. As soon as he sat down, though, he had to move back to make room for Alma to get to the kettle hanging over the fire. She squatted in front of it and washed the dishes in the steaming water. Even with her back to him, she sensed Jude's eyes on her back. Every word her husband said to her father, he said to her.

"Alma says you come from Amarillo," the old man began.

"That's right," Jude answered.

"But you didn't always live there, did you?" Clarence asked. "You moved there from somewhere else. Where was that?"

Jude's voice hardened. "No. I was born in Amarillo. I was born in the house my parents live in now. My father built that house with his own hands."

"I don't think much of the mail-order marriage system they have going now," Clarence growled. "A man could tell a woman any old thing he wanted, and she would have no way to verify if he was telling the truth."

"I wouldn't do that," Jude told him.

"Maybe you would and maybe you wouldn't," Clarence shot back. "We have only your word for whatever you want to tell us. We have only your word that you came from Amarillo."

"I would have no reason to lie about that," Jude maintained. "It wouldn't mean any more if I said I came from Kansas City."

"Kansas City!" the old man thundered.

"Or Galveston, or Baton Rouge, or any other place," Jude continued. "What difference would it make?"

"It wouldn't" Clarence returned. "Unless someone knew someone from Amarillo, or if they knew something about you because of it."

"Knew something," Jude answered. "Like what?"

"Oh, I think you know very well what," the father-in-law shot back.

Jude waved the accusation away. "I don't see how lying about it would profit me any. I'm marrying Alma. I could only benefit me for her to know the truth about me from the beginning. Marriages aren't built to last on lies."

"I'm glad you realize that," Clarence replied. "And you aren't marrying Alma. You already married her. It's over and done with. You're married."

Jude lowered his eyes. "Okay. I married Alma. But I didn't lie about coming from Amarillo."

"Maybe you didn't lie about that," Clarence replied. "But you could have lied about that or just about any other thing."

"I just told you I wouldn't do that," Jude insisted. "I married Alma in good faith. I could accuse you of the same thing. Alma could have lied to me about anything to do with your family, and I wouldn't know about it until after we were married and I came back here and found out for myself."

"Maybe Alma doesn't know everything there is to know about her own family," Clarence declared. "Like she said before, her mother died before any of the girls really got to know her, and they've never gotten to know either her family or mine. But I'll sit right here and tell you anything you want to know about me. Come on. Just ask me and I'll tell you."

"I don't want to know anything," Jude told him. "I'm satisfied with what Alma told me about your family. Everything she told me has been true so far. I trust her."

Clarence snorted. "Then you're very trusting. Well, I'll tell you anyway, just so you won't be able to accuse me of withholding any important information."

"Are you accusing me of withholding important information?" Jude asked.

Clarence ignored him. "I was born in Tuscaloosa, and I joined the Confederate Army at the age of twenty-four. I fought with Robert E. Lee, and I even had the honor of shaking his hand after the Battle of Little Crooked Ridge. So what do you think of that?"

"I don't think anything of it," Jude replied. "I didn't ask you to tell me. You don't have to tell me anything."

"Do you know," Clarence asked. "About fifteen hundred Confederate soldiers were massacred at Little Crooked Ridge? Did you know that?"

Alma detected a slight hesitation in Jude's voice before he answered. "No, I didn't. I never heard of Little Crooked Ridge until right now."

"A certain detachment of Union infantry surprised a certain detachment of Confederate soldiers there," the old man continued. "They overran them while they ate their morning porridge. They wiped out all but about five hundred of them. Did you know that?"

"I just told you I didn't know," Jude shot back. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

Clarence didn't hear him. "I was there. I was one of the survivors. Afterward, General Lee came down from Arlington. That's where I met him. He gave everyone of the survivors of the attack an honorable discharge and a small pension. He said we'd done our duty to the Confederacy. I took my pension and came down here. I spent some time in Juarez, and that's where I met my wife."

"That sounds like a nice way to ride out the rest of the war," Jude returned.

Clarence shot forward in his chair, gripping the arms with white-knuckle fists. "You would think that. Now I know I was right about you. Of all the things you've said so far, that confirms what I knew about you from the very beginning."

Jude shifted in his chair. "Which is what? What exactly are you accusing me of?"

The old man turned his milky eyes back toward the fire. "Now I know you're not the man you claimed to be. Maybe you could pull the wool over the eyes of some innocent girls from the south Texas desert who've never had any dealings with men. But you can't pull the wool over my eyes. No sirree! I know you. Just remember that."

"You know me," Jude replied. "Because I've told you everything about me. I haven't kept anything hidden."

"Listen to me, Alma," Clarence called out. She turned around and wiped her hands on the towel. "This man is a lying scoundrel. You can't trust him further than you can throw him. Mark my words. And now you're married to him. This is what comes of flouting the older generation."

Alma threw the towel onto the table. She drew herself up to her full height and towered over her father. "What exactly are you accusing Jude of? If you have something to say, then say it and stop blowing smoke out of your ears."

Clarence wouldn't say any more. He clamped his mouth shut so tightly that his whiskers stuck straight out from his face. He kept his face averted from his daughter and her husband.

"That's what I thought," Alma concluded. "You can ignore him, Jude. If he isn't willing to come out and say what's on his mind, then there's nothing you need to concern yourself with him. Come with me. It's getting late, and we have a big day tomorrow."

She strode away from the fire. Jude took one more look at his father-in-law before he followed her to the other side of the room. As she passed the table, she took the lamp with her, leaving her father in darkness.

#  Chapter 14

Alma set the lamp on the table next to her bed and sat down. Across the room, Allegra lay on top of her bed, fully clothed, with her back to the room. Amelia reclined against her headboard, chewing on a dry grass stem. She didn't look at Alma or Jude as they approached Alma's bed.

Jude walked over into the circle of light. He peeked at Amelia in the next bed and across to Allegra and the other way to Clarence's empty bed on the other side. "Where will I sleep?"

"Here." Alma patted the quilt next to her.

Jude looked around again. "Here?"

"Where else?" she asked. "Aren't I your wife?"

Jude shrugged. "I guess so." But he didn't move.

"Where would you rather sleep?" she asked. "These are the only beds, and this one is mine. Now it's ours."

"Where would I rather sleep?" he repeated. "How about the Monte Carlo in New Orleans?"

She smiled. "Okay. Let's go."

Jude chuckled. Then he sat down next to her. "Shall we order room service?"

"I'll have the lobster bisque and battered catfish," Alma replied. "And bring a bottle of your best Madeira, too, while you're at it, garçon."

Jude raised his eyebrows. "You're good. Let me just get my wallet out."

They looked across the gap between the beds. Amelia stretched out right in front of them. Without acknowledging Jude and Alma, she stood up from her bed, grabbed her flannel night dress from the bedpost, and disappeared into the closet. When she came out, she tucked herself under her quilts and blankets and rolled over with her back to them.

Jude sighed and took off his hat. "No time like the present, I guess," he muttered. He hooked the hat over the bedpost and kicked off his boots. With his sock-covered toe, he pushed them under Alma's bed.

"Why don't you take your guns off?" she suggested.

Jude shot her a crooked grin. "Why don't _you_ take _your_ guns off?"

Alma laughed. "Okay. I will, if you will."

They stood up together and unbuckled their gun belts. They hung them side by side on the other bed post. Jude sat down again. "Now what should we do?"

"I'll change into my night dress," Alma decided. "That should simplify things."

Jude nodded. "By all means."

Alma disappeared behind the curtain and came out in her checkered flannel night dress. She sat back down next to Jude.

"Now I begin to recognize you," Jude told her.

"Recognize me?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he dropped his eyes to her dress. "That this is more the person I married at the church than...that other person."

A flush of pleasure flashed across Alma's cheeks. "I'm glad of that. I'm glad she's in there somewhere."

"Now that I can see you this way," Jude told her. "I know I'll see you this way every night. I know that other person isn't really the woman I married."

"Do you think so?" Alma asked. "I was worried you would only have the memory of me in my wedding dress to remember me by, to remember that I could be something more than a rough cattle puncher."

"I don't have to remember," Jude told her. "You're right here, in flesh and blood, in front of my eyes. You aren't a rough cattle puncher. You're a soft, beautiful woman, and now that I can see you, I'm glad I married you."

Alma smiled, but her eyes brimmed with tears. "Thank you," she whispered.

Jude raised his hand and traced the outline of her cheek and jawbone with the tip of his finger. He pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He turned his face toward her, but at the last minute, he glanced around the room.

Alma followed his gaze. Amelia and Allegra breathed peacefully in their beds with their backs to the newlywed couple. Somewhere off in the darkness, Clarence Goodkind made no sound from his chair by the fire. He would be asleep by now. He might rouse himself and stagger to his bed later in the night, but he followed the same routine of falling asleep in his chair once quiet descended over the rest of the house.

"Don't pay any attention to what my father said before," Alma told Jude. "He doesn't mean anything by it."

"He seemed pretty serious about it to me," Jude murmured.

"He spouts off about the past every now and then," Alma continued. "He can't help it. He's old. His mind wanders back in time sometimes, and he starts reliving things that happened to him. Sometimes he thinks the war is still going on."

"Where do you think he got the idea I was hiding something from you?" Jude asked. "I'm not, you know. Everything I told you in our letters was the truth."

"I don't doubt it," Alma replied. "It's like I said. Just ignore him. What he said about you lying to me—it doesn't mean a thing."

"I wouldn't want to start out my life here on a bad footing with your father," Jude maintained. "We all have to get along here. He could make my life very unpleasant if he persists in making accusations against me that I'm making myself out to be something I'm not."

"I believe in you," Alma told him. "That's all that counts. And Amelia and Allegra understand how Papa is. They won't hold it against you. Just go about your business. Let him say and think whatever he wants to. He can't hurt you with words or thoughts."

"It's easy to say," Jude muttered. "It's not so easy to do."

Alma laid her hand on top of his in his lap. "Listen. Tonight is our wedding night. Let's not give any of them another thought. Let's just concentrate on us, you and me."

Jude glanced around the room again. "It's a little difficult with all of them right there. How can I not give them another thought?"

"They aren't exactly watching us," Alma told him.

Jude's eyes skirted around and he dropped his voice to a whisper. "How do you know your father isn't watching us from over there? He could be watching us right now."

"He wouldn't," Alma whispered back. "Anyway, he can't see very well. I don't think he can see from there to here even in the best of light. We'll blow the lamp out, and then he won't be able to see us at all."

Jude didn't reply, but he kept glancing over his shoulder toward the fire. Alma blew out the lamp and the whole room plunged into darkness. Chirping insects outside raised their voices to fill the void left by the light. The night noises grew to a din on the other side of the thick adobe walls.

#  Chapter 15

Alma patted her bed until she found the upper lip of her quilt. She pulled it down and tucked her legs underneath. "Come on," she whispered. "Let's get in bed."

"Are you sure there's enough room in there for both of us?" he asked.

"We'll just have to lie very close together," Alma remarked.

"Very close together doesn't even begin to describe it," Jude muttered. "We'll be on top of each other."

Alma didn't answer. Jude groped around until he felt her leg. His hand squeezed something soft, and then he realized he was massaging her thigh. He yanked his hand back, but he had to feel around until he found it again so he could orient himself to the top of the bed.

In the end, the only way he could find his way under the blankets was to feel and pat and follow the contours of her body up, past her hips and shoulders and arms to the head sticking out of the top.

Alma giggled.

"What's so funny?" Jude whispered.

"You're tickling me," Alma twittered.

"It isn't funny," Jude hissed, but he chuckled under his breath anyway.

"Yes, it is," she replied. "It's hilarious."

Jude settled down next to her. He had to press his body tight up against hers to avoid falling off the side of the bed onto the floor. She pressed herself back against him. The comic necessity of the situation prevented either of them from realizing how close they really were.

"Don't you want to take some of your clothes off?" Alma asked. "You're not going to sleep in those hard pants, are you?"

"I don't have anything else to sleep in," Jude told her. "I don't have any pyjamas, if that's what you mean."

"Maybe I can find or make some for you?" Alma replied. "We have some linen trousers from Turkey in that trunk over by Allegra's bed. I have to get into the trunk tomorrow to put the wedding dress away. I might find something that would work as bedclothes for you."

"Don't bust yourself on my behalf," Jude told her. "I can sleep in these. I've done it many times before."

"You aren't on the cattle drive now, you know," Alma pointed out. "This is your wedding night. You shouldn't be wearing the same clothes to sleep with your wife that you wear around the campfire. We'll find something more suitable for you to wear."

"Thanks," Jude snapped.

All of a sudden, Alma felt a burning streak of fire shoot through her. It made her want to jump out of her own bed and run for the hills, but instead she shuddered against Jude's wiry body. It made her jump closer toward him and cling to him for all she was worth

Her reaction startled him, too, so he jumped first away from her and then straight back to get away from the edge of the bed. He held her more tightly than ever to avoid falling backward, and the tighter he held her, the more their two bodies shuddered and shivered. They cleaved to each other for shelter against the very shock of being together.

The convulsions rocked them both without diminishing, until Alma thought she'd go mad. She couldn't pull back and she couldn't come any closer to him than she already was. Jude wrapped his arms around her and she nestled her face under the blankets against his cotton shirt.

Her breath warmed both his chest and her face. She rested her cheek against his heartbeat, and he crushed her head against his ribs. One of his hands cupped the back of her neck and the other rubbed down her back. With each stroke, icy sparks cascaded down her sides and along the backs of her arms, sending fresh spasms of shock and awe through her body.

Could her sisters hear the thundering of her heart or the panting of her breath under the quilt? Would she ever be able to sleep again with this lightning bolt in her bed? Their clothes, which seemed so thin a minute ago, now felt many miles too thick, keeping them apart against overwhelming gravitational forces. Nothing could stop them from coming together in the end.

Jude sensed the same thing at the same moment, and they both relaxed into one another. Their breathing lengthened and synchronized. Jude rested his cheek against the top of Alma's head and took a long inhalation of her earthy scent. Through his shirt, she smelled the salty spice of his sweat as well as something much more primal. It reminded her of the black soil under the trees down by the river, moist and fecund and mysterious.

She didn't recognize that smell. It must be something uniquely male. The only man she ever really knew was her father, and she never got this close to him. He never embraced her. The most affection he ever showed her was to tussle her hair every now and then.

Her heart cried out in her chest for the things she and her sisters missed from living so far away from other people. They missed the society of other children to grow up with, and now that they were adults, they missed the most basic companionship of their peers, even of other women. Alma couldn't remember the sound of her own mother's voice, much less her unique smell.

And the most amazing part was that none of them even knew what they were missing. If Amelia and Allegra remained unmarried, they would never smell this male scent or feel the heat of lying next to him. How poor their lives would be for the loss, but they wouldn't know they were poor. They would think they'd gotten everything they needed from their sisters.

Could a woman starve to death from the absence of a man in her life? Could she shrivel and blow away in the wind, without the essence of a man to breathe life into the tissues of her body? Alma didn't intend to find out. She clutched Jude tighter than ever, drinking him into herself.

The elixir of his essence would drive the cattle puncher out of her. He would wash away the stiffened leather from her arms and legs and the gunpowder from her fingers. His very presence would strip the range away and leave the woman in its place.

#  Chapter 16

"I'm tired," he whispered into her ear.

"Don't go to sleep now," Alma told him. "It will be time to get up soon."

He pulled back, but they still couldn't see each other in the darkness. "What time do you think it is?"

"Look over there," she replied. "You can see light coming through the crack under the door."

"Don't tell me we've been lying here awake all night," he growled.

"What do you think we've been doing all this time?" she asked.

"Do you think anyone heard us?" Jude whispered.

"No," she answered. "We didn't make nearly as much noise as Papa snoring. You heard him in his chair, and then we heard him come over to bed and he started up again. It's the same every night. Amelia and Allegra usually sleep right through it. If they didn't, he surely drowned out any noise we made. But we didn't make any."

"I hope not," Jude returned. "I wouldn't be able to look them in the eye, if they had heard us."

"Why not?" she asked. "We're married. What do they think we're doing in bed together? Telling stories?"

"You know what I mean," he shot back. "It would be better if we had our own house."

"And where are you going to build this house?" she asked. "And who are you going to get to help you build it? And where are you going to get the money to pay them? This is the way people live around here. Every family I know for a hundred miles in every direction has four or five generations living in one room under one roof."

"I know," Jude replied. "It's just so....."

"Poor?" she offered.

"I was going to say rustic," he returned.

"What alternative do you suggest?" Alma asked.

"I guess I can't suggest one," he replied. "Because I don't have one to suggest. I have a couple dollars in my wallet and the clothes on my back. I guess we're stuck here."

"Is it really so bad?" Alma asked.

Jude sighed "I guess I'll become used to it in time. I guess I won't be staying up all night with you forever. After today, I'll be too tired. I'll be used to sleeping with you in this tiny bed, and I'll be more interested in rolling over and going to sleep than anything else. We'll just have to figure out a way of sleeping here together without kicking each other out of bed."

Alma giggled under the blanket. "I have to get up now. It wouldn't do for the others to wake up first and find us still in bed together. I'll get dressed and get the fire going and get breakfast made. Do you want to relax here for a while?"

"I'll get up with you," Jude told her. "There's no sense layin' around, wasting good daylight."

Alma brought her face up out of the blankets. Jude stroked the hair away from her face, and they kissed long and leisurely. Alma drank the dew from his lips, the heady liquor of a man.

Some little noise outside the house put an end to it. Maybe it was a drop of moisture falling from the roof. Alma jumped a little when she heard it. Then she gave Jude one last peck on the cheek and hopped out of bed.

She changed into her work clothes in the closet. By the time she came out, Jude was standing in the middle of the room with his boots and hat and gun belt on. He smiled when he saw her.

"What?" she asked.

His eyes scanned her up and down. "You're wearing your disguise."

Alma gave him a kiss. "Don't forget me."

"I won't forget," Jude told her.

Alma smiled. "Then I can do what I have to do. As long as I know that you remember, I'll be okay."

She braided her hair and went to poke up the fire in the fireplace. The flames leapt up around the tinder as she mixed and patted out the dough for tortillas. Allegra woke up when Jude opened the door to go outside, and the next moment, the whole family burst into activity.

Allegra took a sip of water from a bucket in the corner, ran some of the water through her hair with her fingers, and stuck her hat on her head. She never did anything more to prepare herself for the day's work, and she never changed her clothes. Alma didn't even notice anymore. She gave up nagging her about it a long time ago.

Amelia changed her clothes behind the curtain and combed and braided her hair. She washed her face and rinsed out her mouth. Then she went outside and examined the sky. She followed the same routine every day, even in the height of summer, when the weather didn't change and everyone knew it would be blasting hot and dry for months.

Their father went straight from his bed to his chair by the fire. Alma finished making the tortillas, and by the time she set them on the table, her sisters came back and sat down at the table.

Alma watched Allegra take a tortilla off the stack and stuff it into her mouth. She saw the meal unfolding as if for the first time. "Where's Jude?" she asked.

Allegra glanced over her shoulder toward the door and balled her tortilla up inside her cheek. "I don't know."

"He just went out to the barn," Amelia told her. "I just saw him go in there."

"Someone should tell him we're eating," Alma suggested.

No one moved from the table.

She stared at them a moment longer. Then she left the house and went out to the barn. She found Jude brushing down his horse. "Breakfast is ready."

"I'll be right there," he called over his shoulder.

"You better come now," she told him. "There won't be anything left in a minute or two."

He turned around and stared at her. Then he dropped his brush and accompanied her back to the house.

When they got inside, Alma sat down at the table with her family and started eating the warm tortillas. Jude stopped halfway between the door and the table and observed them eating. He glanced at the stack of tortillas on the plate, then at his new in-laws eating them one after the other.

He looked at Alma sitting with them. Then he turned on his heel and strode out of the house.

#  Chapter 17

They found him about halfway between the barn and the river.

"Where have you been?" Alma asked.

"Just riding around," he told them. "I was having a look around."

"We were waiting for you up by the barn," she told him. "We didn't know where you were, and we were waiting for you before we went out to the herd."

"Didn't you notice my horse was gone?" he asked. "You should have realized I was already gone."

"We saw your horse gone," she replied. "But we didn't know if you were planning on coming back and meeting up with us or if you'd gone off on your own."

"What difference does it make?" Jude grumbled.

"Just that we've been standing around waiting for you when we could have been out to work already," Alma told him. "You should let me know if you're going off by yourself so I don't wonder where you're going and what your plans are."

"I'm not going to check with you before I go somewhere," he shot back. "I won't be tied to your apron strings all the time. I'm used to coming and going as I please, and I won't change now, just because I'm married."

Alma bristled. "I didn't say I wanted you tied to my apron strings. As you can see, I don't even have any apron strings. You can come and go as you please and I don't give a rip. I just said you should tell us what your plans are so we aren't standing there waiting for you when we have work of our own to do. If you want to ride from here all the way to Mexico City, it's fine with me. Just tell me so I know what you're doing."

"No man in his right mind would stoop so low as to inform a woman about his plans and movements," Jude snapped. "If you're gonna be my wife, you better get this into your head now. _You_ tell _me_ your plans and movements, so I know what you're doing, not the other way around. You're a woman. That's your place."

Alma stared at him. Then, she frowned. "First of all, I'm not going to be your wife. I _am_ your wife. Second of all, I would tell you my plans and movements out of basic respect for your time. I wouldn't leave you standing around wondering where I was or what I was doing. That's just simple human consideration. Or is that too much for you to comprehend?"

Jude squinted at her from under the brim of his hat. "You better learn to watch that tongue of yours."

Alma's eyes flew open. "What has gotten into you? What happened between this morning and now to make you so hostile all of a sudden? After last night...."

Jude cut her off. "Don't talk about last night. Don't talk about anything private between you and me in front of your sisters. What happened last night is none of their business, and it doesn't have anything to do with what's happening right now. So don't talk about it."

"All right," Alma replied. "I won't talk about it. And I won't ask you anything more. Just tell me if you're coming up to the main herd with us right now, because if you're not, we'll go and leave you here to do whatever it is that you want to do. We're late already, and we have to get going."

"I'm not coming with you," Jude told her. "I have other things to do. You go ahead."

"Fine," Alma snapped.

She yanked her horse's head around and jabbed the animal in the flanks with her spurs. He shot away underneath her, and Alma galloped off with her sisters at her heels.

They charged up an embankment and down a gulley. Then they plowed up another small hill and Alma pulled her horse up on top of it. Amelia and Allegra reined in their horses as well, so that the three sisters sat side by side on their horses, overlooking the plain below them.

Their cattle ranged on the floor of the plain. Clusters of dots speckled the landscape as far as the eye could see. Alma scanned the herd with her eye, making a mental note of the number and location of their stock.

Jude's sudden change in behavior annoyed her and distracted her. What could be wrong with him? Could she rely on him to tell her at some point? Would they reconcile whatever precipitated this conflict? Or would he let it fester and drive a wedge between them?

How could this happen so soon in their marriage? They'd been married less than twenty-four hours, and already, they'd had their first quarrel. Not a good start to their life together.

Alma closed her eyes on the cattle. She couldn't sigh in front of her sisters without revealing to them that she gave Jude's behavior a second thought. She wouldn't reveal it. She wouldn't give them any reason at all to doubt her decision. She couldn't doubt it, either. She had to stick with it and make it work, no matter what. Isn't that what marriage was supposed to be?

Alma opened her eyes. "Let's get down there and start rounding them up."

"Look over there." Allegra nodded her head back over her shoulder in the direction from which they'd come.

A cloud of dust rose up from the far embankment. It dropped down the gulley, and the next minute, Jude drove his horse up the rise and stopped in a lather next to the sisters.

Alma smiled at him. "I thought you weren't coming."

Jude shrugged. "I changed my mind."

#  Chapter 18

"So," Jude continued. "Tell me what we have going on here today."

Allegra cleared her throat. Alma shot her a glance and pressed her lips together. "We're just getting ready to round them up and drive them down to the river. We water them once in the morning and once in the evening. That's our daily routine. Why don't you help us? That way you'll learn where things are around here."

"Why don't you water them in the middle of the day?" Jude asked. "They don't need water now. There's dew all over everything, and the plants are cool and juicy. They'll be getting enough water from their food. You should take them down to the river in the hottest part of the day when they really need it."

Alma cringed. She didn't need to look at her sisters to know where this conversation was going. "They get too stressed if we take them in the middle of the day. We do it now because they have more energy now. The water they get from their food in the early morning gives them the strength to make the trip down to the river and back. They're too weak in the middle of the day, and they fight too much because they don't want to go. It's too hard on them and on us."

"Well, I'm here now, so that will make it easier," Jude declared. "They don't need water now, and they do need it in the middle of the day. You should take them then."

Alma braced herself. "We do it this way, and we're going to keep doing it this way. We aren't discussing whether to do it. We're doing it now. We're going down to round them up. Do you want to come along and help us or not?"

Jude frowned down at the cattle spread out below them, but he didn't answer. Alma sensed her sisters watching her. She tugged her reins and wheeled her horse around. Then she kicked him forward and cantered down the hill toward the herd.

Amelia and Allegra followed her lead. Alma heard the pounding of their horses' hooves on the powdery clay behind her. When she reached the bottom of the hill, she charged forward and skirted around the cattle. Her sisters went the other way around the other side of the herd, driving them toward the center of the plain.

Only when she was part of the way around the cattle did Alma happen to glance back and see Jude riding after her. She heard a shrill whistle, and he steered his horse left and right to send the stock toward the middle of the circle.

Alma's heart soared, and she tore off to the other quadrant of the circle, relieved and happy to leave him in command of the area. On the other side of the plain, Amelia and Allegra split up, too, so each rider drove the cattle in from one quarter of the circle.

In no time at all, the herd converged in the center of the plain. Allegra took off her hat and waved it over her head. She waved it back in the direction of the hill they just sat on. Jude and Alma pressed in on their animals and sent them stampeding toward the hill. At the last moment, the cattle shot down a side gulley and thundered down it with the riders driving them from behind.

Jude and Alma raced their horses after them, keeping them moving into the gulley until the last crowd of cattle disappeared into the cloud of dust in front of the gap. Alma flushed with happiness as she pulled up her horse next to her sisters.

Jude waved his hand and shouted at them. "Don't stop! Keep them going. You don't want to lose the advantage you've gained. Keep them running. Let's go!"

"We don't have to keep going," Alma called back. "This gulley takes them all the way to the river. The cattle in the rear will keep the ones in front running until they get there. We don't have to chase them. They'll be calmer and they'll drink more if we leave them to take their time. Then they'll wander back here and keep grazing. We always do it this way."

Jude scowled. "It's sloppy. I never saw such a sloppy operation."

The smile fell from Alma's face and her lips stretched into a hard, straight line. "We know the terrain, and we know our own animals. We've done this enough times that the cattle know the routine. They know how to water themselves and then they'll come back here. They'll have enough water to keep them going, so they won't be completely dry at the end of the day. They'll have the energy to get down there again."

Jude pressed his lips together. "You've done it this way for years, I guess."

"That's right," Alma replied.

Jude shook his head. "It just goes to show you haven't had anything to do with real cattle punchers. You're women. You don't know any better. And you've been working alone all this time, so I guess it stands to reason that you don't know what you're doing."

Alma didn't dare glance over her shoulder at Amelia and Allegra, but she knew for certain they heard the exchange. "Maybe it isn't what you're used to, but it works for us and it works for this herd. Now, come on, let's get back up the hill. We have to keep a look-out for coyotes. They'll be after our calves before you know it."

Jude frowned again, but followed Alma back up to the top of the hill, where the sisters took their positions in the same mounted line. Alma settled into her saddle.

She loved the cool morning best of all. A bloom of green lightened the landscape. It would disappear in a little while, as soon as the morning sun heated everything and dried the dew from the rocks and bushes. She smiled down at the landscape.

#  Chapter 19

The cattle started coming back through the gap and milling around on the plain. They nibbled the leaves of the scrub and the occasional clumps of grass. "Something's different about this herd," Jude remarked. "They look different from the cattle I've worked with on other ranches."

Allegra spoke up. "That's because they're part Brahmin. We use a Brahmin bull. You can see the cows and calves that come from him."

"But some of them are regular Longhorns," Jude returned. "I recognize them."

"That's right," Allegra told him. "We started with a base stock of Longhorn cows and bred them with the Brahmin bull. We still have a few of the original Longhorns, but most are a mixture."

"What possessed you to go and do a thing like that?" Jude asked. "What's wrong with Longhorns?"

"Nothing's wrong with them, "Allegra replied.

"Then you should have used a Longhorn bull," Jude maintained. "You should keep the line as pure as possible."

"Why?" Allegra asked. "What's a pure line good for?"

"When you sell them," Jude explained. "You get more for purebred Longhorns than for some crazy mongrel mixture. Besides, Longhorns are the best suited to the dry conditions than other cattle breeds."

"They might be better suited than Jerseys and Angus breeds," Allegra replied. "But Brahmins are suited to dry conditions, too They might be even better than Longhorns. And the slaughterhouse buyer buys our cattle by bulk carcass weight. He doesn't care what breed they are. All that matters is that they reach the sale yards alive."

Jude narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't know about that."

"If you don't believe me," Allegra shot back. "You can ask the buyer yourself the next time we see him. That's what he told me, and he'll tell you the same thing. And I'll tell you something else. Mac Foley, who runs the ranch just next to ours, loans us his Brahmin bull every year at no charge, so we get our cows bred with no cost. If we wanted a Longhorn bull, we would pay top dollar for him, or else we would pay a fee to hire him every year. So it saves us money to use the Brahmin."

"I always favored Longhorns myself," Jude grumbled.

"Maybe you always favored Longhorns," Allegra acknowledged. "I'm not saying Longhorns aren't good. But the Brahmin bull fits our circumstances, and the animals we get by crossing the two breeds are just as good, if not better, than purebred Longhorns. So that's why we use them."

"I still don't like it," he muttered.

Allegra snorted. "You don't have to like it."

Alma caught Amelia's eye and saw a flash of amusement cross her younger sister's face. Allegra had nailed Jude neatly. To punctuate the conversation, she wrapped her reins around her saddle horn and pulled her rifle out of its leather case at her side. She jumped down.

"I'm going over to the target range," Allegra announced. "Who's coming with me?"

"Aren't you going to guard the cattle?" Jude asked.

"We take turns," Allegra told him. "All three of us don't have to sit here doing nothing the whole time. It's Alma's turn to guard them. She'll call me if anything happens and she needs me to come back."

"I'll come with you." Amelia nudged her horse over next to Allegra's. She slid down from her saddle and tied both horses to the branch of a tree a little way away. She took out her own rifle and the two sisters walked away toward a gulley behind the hill.

After they left, Jude turned to Alma. "What are they going to do over there?"

"Allegra likes to practice shooting during the slow times," Alma told him. "She's become really good with all that practice. Why don't you go with them? It will be a lot more interesting than sitting up here with me."

Jude shook his head. "I'll stay with you. It's probably a lot safer for me than going off into the desert alone with those two. They might shoot me and leave me in the gulley for the coyotes."

Alma chuckled. "No, they wouldn't. At least, they wouldn't unless I told them to."

"I see," Jude replied. "Are you sure you wouldn't tell them to?"

Alma smiled. "Not yet, anyway. But you're not makin' any friends around here by telling them how to manage our herd. We've put a lot of work into this herd, and we've gone to a lot of trouble to figure out what works best for them. You just got here. Do yourself a big favor and just watch and learn. You might find out we know what we're doing after all."

Jude frowned. "I don't want to watch and learn, especially not from...." He shut his mouth without finishing his sentence.

Alma understood him. "You mean, from a bunch of women? That's okay. I understand how you feel. But think about it. Even if you plan to take over this ranch some day, you need to learn about the local conditions and the ways of managing this herd that work best for our animals. You might not like to learn from women, but just give yourself some time to take it all in. That's all I'm saying."

Jude kept his mouth closed and didn't argue with her.

Alma nodded over her shoulder. "Come over and sit under the tree with me for a while. This could be one of the only chances we have to be alone. Let's sit and talk for a while until they come back."

She kicked off her stirrups and jumped down from her saddle. She tied up her horse with the others and sat in the shade. Jude hesitated, frowning down at the cattle on the plain. Then he dismounted and joined Alma under the tree.

#  Chapter 20

"Your sister, Allegra, seems like a tough nut to crack," Jude observed.

Alma grinned. "You sure know how to wind each other up."

"What's the matter with her, anyway?" Jude asked. "Why does she think she has to be a man?"

"She doesn't," Alma countered. "As far as I know, she doesn't think she's a man, and she's not trying to be a man. She's a woman, just like Amelia and me."

"Then why does she act like that?" Jude asked.

"Like what?" Alma asked.

"You know what I mean," Jude growled back. "She looks like a man and she does everything possible to act like one. She's over there in the gulley right now, practicing her target shooting."

"So is Amelia," Alma pointed out. "We all wear range clothes. Is it her hair you mean that makes her look like a man?"

"It's much more than her hair," Jude told her. "At least you and Amelia wear your hair long. Anyone could tell you were women a mile away. No, there's something hard and stiff about Allegra that you and Amelia don't have. You must know what it is."

Alma gazed across the landscape into the distant horizon. "She's had a hard time. Maybe she's never had a chance at life, not the way the rest of us have had."

Jude wasn't listening. "I pity the man who tries to marry her."

"I don't think Allegra will ever get married," Alma murmured. "She's said so many times, and I wouldn't blame her if she spends the rest of her life alone. There's no reason for her to get married."

"What do you mean?" Jude asked.

Alma fell silent for a long moment. "Never mind. Let's talk about something else. Whether you agree or disagree with the way we've run this ranch, just try to keep your opinions to yourself for now. Later on, after we've gotten to know you a little better, you can introduce whatever new ideas and I'll support you. If you try to do it now, you'll just make everyone mad and they'll never listen to you."

Jude picked up a stick from the ground and snapped it between his fingers. "You're just being all-mighty stubborn, is all. You won't listen to reason. You won't see a better way of doin' things when it's shoved in your faces."

Alma sighed. She stretched out her hand and laid it on his arm. "Maybe it's because you're shoving it in our faces that we don't want to listen. I'm telling you, if you'll just wait a little while longer, they'll listen to you better and I'll back you up. It's just too soon. It's your very first day. You don't want to rub them the wrong way from the very start. Just let them do it their way until they're ready to listen to a different idea."

Jude threw the stick away. "Women running cattle ranches! Whoever heard of such a thing! It's the ruination of the whole Western way a' life!"

Alma clenched her teeth to stop herself from laughing in his face. He looked so comic when he said that, with his cheeks puffed out and his eyebrows jumping around. "Listen. I'm your wife, and I've been running a cattle ranch for years. I haven't ruined the Western way of life, and I don't seem to have ruined my chance to be the wife of a man, either. It can't be as bad as all that."

"I don't mean you," Jude replied. "You're different. I meant more your sister, Allegra. If that's what this country is coming to, then we're all in big, big trouble."

"How am I different?" Alma asked. "I can ride and shoot and brand 'em as well as she can. I just have long hair, that's all."

"Maybe it's the fact that you wanted a man, and you took steps to get yourself married to one. That's what makes you different." Jude turned toward her. "It's not the long hair. It's nothing to do with your appearance at all. It's something underneath the surface, something very soft and feminine. You could be wearing a suit of plate mail, and it would still show through. You would still be pure female."

"Hmm." Alma followed the specks of cows wandering over the range on the valley floor below. "I thought the same thing about you last night. I haven't spent much time around men in my life. In fact, I haven't spent _any_ time with men. But last night, I sensed something about you that seemed like pure male. I didn't know what it was, but it was male—pure male."

Jude stared hard into her eyes as she said this. When she finished, he slid his hips across the ground so he sat right up against her. His presence surprised her, and she looked up into his eyes.

"Did you enjoy last night?" he asked.

Alma blushed. "Yes."

Jude glanced over his shoulder. "How long are they likely to stay down in the gulley shooting? We could sneak off right now."

Alma's eyes flew open. "What? Now? You can't be serious!"

"Why not?" Jude asked. "We're all alone. We're a lot more alone now than we were last night."

"We weren't alone at all last night," Alma replied.

"At least they were all asleep," Jude remarked. "At least they didn't hear us."

"You hope they didn't," Alma corrected.

"We didn't make any noise. Out here," Jude swept his hand across the plain. "There's no one to hear us. You could yell your head off and no one would know."

"If I yelled," Alma told him. "They would come running. That's our signal to get back here pronto."

Jude slid his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. "Come on. Let's sneak off behind those bushes over there. We'll be there and back before they know we're gone."

Alma laughed, but her body softened instinctively against him. She fell under the heady sway of his presence. He breathed through his nostrils against the skin of her cheek, and she thought she would lose consciousness altogether. Her head lolled back against the fleshy part of his shoulder, her eyelids drooped, and her lips hung open in hunger for him.

A buzzing in her ears blocked out the sounds around them, and Alma felt the same vibration spread through her whole body, dissolving her into tiny flashing lights like fireflies dancing here and there before dissipating into the fragile air.

Jude's mouth drifted closer to hers and his breath fanned her skin. Could this happen here, on this ridge overlooking their cattle herd? She'd sat on this spot day in and day out for years, watching these cows and shooting any predators that came near. She never suspected she could experience anything so extraordinary here as the presence of Jude McCann.

His presence initiated her into the mysteries of woman more effectively on this spot than they had the night before in her own bed. His touch meant more here, and she wanted him more passionately here than in bed.

From a great distance, the popping of gunfire reminded her where she was. With an enormous effort, the knowledge that her sisters could come back at any time forced its way into her mind. Alma pulled away ever so slightly.

Jude sensed her hesitation. Like a candle blown out with a single breath, the fire burning between them died to a cold black cinder.

Alma opened her eyes and found Jude studying her. "We'll have to go off somewhere by ourselves. That's the only way we're ever going to have any privacy."

"Where would you like to go?" she asked.

Jude gazed off into the distance. "I don't know. You'll have to decide. I'm sure you know all the good hiding places around here."

"We could go for a walk after supper tonight," she suggested. "Papa and the girls will be in the house. We'll be alone."

Jude stretched. "No. Tonight, I sleep. I'm worn out from last night. Maybe tomorrow we can go."

Alma smiled at him, but he didn't see. "Alright."

So this is how it would be from now on. Sleep meant more than anything else. They were married for certain now.

#  Chapter 21

"So what did you think of your first day?" Amelia asked Jude. "Was it what you expected it to be?"

"All in all," Jude replied. "I think it was pretty close to what I expected. I can see this ranch has some unique characteristics that I'm going to have to get used to. But it's only my first day. I have the rest of my life to deal with the ranch."

"The next thing you know, you'll be making supper," Allegra teased him.

Jude grimaced. "Not likely."

He slid the barn door closed, and he and the three sisters strolled back to the house. When the two younger sisters went inside, Alma held Jude back with her hand on his arm. "Amelia's cooking tonight," she told him. "And Allegra is cleaning up. We have a few minutes before supper's ready. Would you like to go for a walk now?"

Jude shook his head. "I'm beat. After staying up all night, all I want to do is sit down for a while, eat something, and then go to bed. I'm sure I'll be more interested after I've had a decent night's sleep. How often do you get the night off?"

"Every three days," Alma told him. "We can plan on spending some time alone, away from everyone, the next time they're both working. What do you think of that?"

Jude leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. "It's a date." He stooped under the door frame into the dark of the house.

In the one big room, Clarence Goodkind already sat in his chair by the fire, staring into the coals. He paid no attention to Amelia squatting in front of him, stirring up the embers to make their meal.

Jude threw his lanky frame into the nearest chair and sighed. He took off his hat, slapped the dust from it against the side of his leg, and hung it on his knee. Alma stared at him for a moment, trying to decide what to do with herself.

She could sit down next to Jude until Amelia served supper, but she never sat idle in the evenings before. She did some mending or sharpening tools or some other chores in this precious free time. She wasn't about to start sitting around now. Anyway, Jude just said he didn't want to spend any time together. He wanted to eat and go to sleep. He wouldn't appreciate her imposing herself on him now. In all likelihood, he valued the time to sit and rest as much as she did.

Alma sat down on the edge of her bed and kicked off her boots. She hung her hat on the bedpost along with her gun belt. Then, she had a sudden idea. She crossed the room to Allegra's bed.

Allegra sat in the same position on the edge of her bed, the way they all did when they weren't sitting at the table for meals. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Alma took hold of one of the leather handles on the side of the trunk and dragged it away from the wall. She opened it and rifled through its contents. "I saw some of Mama's old dresses in here. I thought I'd get them out and take a look at them."

"What for?" Allegra asked.

Alma shrugged. "I might want to wear them someday."

"What would you want to wear them for?" Allegra asked. "They're no good for riding or range work."

"I might not want to do range work for the rest of my life," Alma replied. "I might like to do something else. Then I'll need different clothes."

Allegra stared at her. "What would you do that you'd need a dress for?"

"What do you think?" Alma shot back. "I'll be a wife and mother at home, just like Mama. I'll be at the house, cooking and cleaning and doing laundry and taking care of my children."

Allegra's mouth fell open, and a gasp came out. "You can't be serious!"

"Why not?" Alma asked. "What do you think is going to happen? I'm married, and I have a husband in my bed. It's only a matter of time before I wind up pregnant, and then I won't be able to work on the range anymore. These pants won't fit me anymore. I'll need something else to wear."

Allegra stared at her. The concept didn't make sense to her.

Alma smiled at her blank face and went back into the trunk. She pulled out two plain cotton dresses with ruffled sleeves. She held one of them up to her body to measure the length from her waist to the hem. She caught a glimpse of Allegra's face and burst out laughing. "What's the matter? Don't you like the way it looks?"

Allegra shook herself out of her trance. "It just doesn't fit. I just can't imagine you as a Mexican housewife in that dress."

"You didn't mind me in Mama's wedding dress," Alma reminded her. "What's so different about this?"

"That was different," Allegra told her. "I could understand you wanting to wear a wedding dress to get married. But then you changed back into your regular work clothes. This is different. This...." Her eyes scanned Alma down and back up. "This _means_ something different. It means you're a different person."

"Who am I?" Alma asked.

Allegra gulped. Was that the glistening of moisture in the corner of her eyes. "This dress means you're not the Alma I know anymore. You're not the cattle puncher I know. You're someone I've never met before."

Alma considered her words. "You're right. I'm not the cattle puncher you know. I changed, and it wasn't the wedding dress that did it or even this dress here. It wasn't any clothes that did it. I got married. I'm not the Alma you know anymore, because I'm not Alma Goodkind anymore. I'm Alma McCann, like you said yourself, and I'm happy to change into something other than a cattle puncher. I want to be a wife and a mother, and I want my place to be in the home at the fireside, not out in the saddle in all kinds of weather."

Allegra stared at her. Her voice came out as a husky whisper, and her words pleaded for an irretrievable outcome that slipped through her fingers when she wasn't looking. "But you're my sister. I don't want to lose my sister."

#  Chapter 22

Alma's eyes stung with tears. She threw the dress down into the open trunk and rushed to Allegra's side. She wrapped her arm around her youngest sister's shoulders. "I'll always be your sister, no matter what I change into. I'll never change into anything that will take me away from you. You never have to worry about that."

"But where will I find you?" Allegra whimpered. "Where will I find the sister who I know? If you're being a wife and a mother here in the house and wearing Mama's dresses, where will I find the leader of our ranching operation? Where will I look for the sister I used to count on to show us the way and keep us on track? That sister will be gone forever."

Alma listened in silence. "Maybe you could become the leader that you need. Maybe you could be the guiding force for the ranch. You know everything I know. Maybe you don't need me anymore."

"But I _do_ need you," Allegra cried. "I don't want to work on this ranch without you. It just won't be the same if all three of us aren't out there anymore. If you go, what's to stop Amelia from going, too? Then I'll be all alone." A tear rolled down her cheek, and Alma felt her own sobs threatening to overwhelm her.

"I'll stay with you as long as I can," Alma promised. "I'll ride the ranges with you as long as you need me. But it's only a matter of time before being married catches up to me, and then I'll have to give it up."

"Is that what you want?" Allegra asked. "Do you want to give it up?"

"Yes," Alma told her. "I want to be a woman. I want to be soft and gentle and loving and comforting to my husband and children. I don't want to be a cattle puncher all my life. I want to come home to the fireside and stay there. I want to be the home that cattle punchers like you come home to. I want you to know there will always be a fire on the hearth and a hot meal on the table because I'm there to make it."

Allegra hung her head, and the tears fell into her lap. "I thought the three of us would always stay together. I never knew you wanted anything different."

"I didn't want to let you down," Alma admitted. "I didn't want to have this conversation we're having now. I didn't want you to think I was leaving you."

Allegra nodded and sniffed. "I understand why you want to come home to the fireside. I really do. I only wish I could, too. But I can't."

Alma put her arms around her sister and hugged her against her chest. "You have a different destiny. But let me be the one to give it to you. Let me be the one to make a home for you. Let me make a soft place for you to land when you come back to the nest. If you never get married, you'll need someone to look after you. Let me be the one."

Allegra's shoulders shook in Alma's arms with sobs long unshed. Alma cried into the back of Allegra's head. "All right," Allegra whispered. "All right. You be the one."

When they both wiped their eyes and blew their noses, Alma put her mother's dresses away in the trunk and closed the lid on that dream. The time wasn't right yet. Allegra still needed her, and Amelia probably did, too. Jude wasn't ready to ride with them on his own yet. He needed her support before he could hold his own with the sisters.

Alma went back to her bed and sat down in the same place. She unbuckled her belt. If only she could change into one of those soft comfortable dresses now. If only she could take these stiff heavy pants off once and for all. They chafed her until she was sore, especially when she sat in the saddle all day.

A bitter loathing for the cattle puncher's life overwhelmed her. What made her live that life so enthusiastically over the last few years? She had to get up tomorrow morning and ride out to the range with her sisters the same way she always did. If she didn't have to go, she would throw her pants, boots, hat, and belt on the fire right now and be done with it.

She sighed. To think, it was Jude who wanted so badly for her to be a woman and act like one. It was Jude she had to ride out to take care of, to make sure he didn't cross her sisters so badly, he lost his place on this ranch. He probably didn't understand that himself.

She glanced across the room. There he sat in his chair, staring blankly ahead of him, too tired to think. A surge of affection for him made her want to run to him and throw her arms around him. But her father sat just a few feet away. He wouldn't approve of that sort of display.

Just then, Amelia put the food on the table. Allegra crossed the room to the table and pulled up her chair. Jude roused himself slightly and glanced toward the tortillas, the meat, and the bowl of grilled vegetables. At least he didn't grimace in disgust the way he did last night. He might just be hungry enough to eat something.

Alma took the chair next to him. Amelia sat opposite them. One chair remained vacant for their father. Clarence heaved himself out of his rocking chair and shuffled over to the table.

#  Chapter 23

But he didn't sit down. He stopped a little distance away, his bleary eyes focused somewhere in the direction of the table.

"Come sit down, Papa," Amelia called out to him. "Supper's on the table. Come and eat before it's gone."

The old man didn't move. He swayed on his feet. Alma glanced over at him. Could he fall over? Maybe he wanted to come to the table and couldn't. Maybe he was having trouble walking. That happened sometimes.

"Do you want me to help you get into the chair, Papa?" Alma asked. "There's a chair right here for you."

She started to rise from her own chair to take him by the arm, but his words made her stop. "I won't come to the table. I won't come to the table as long as _that_ ...." His bony finger stretched out. "As long as _that's_ there."

They all craned their necks to see what he was pointing at, and they followed the line of his finger toward Jude.

"What's the matter?" Allegra asked. "It's only Jude. He's Alma's husband. Don't you remember?"

"I don't care if he's the Lord Mayor," Clarence spat. "I won't eat at the same table as that man!"

"What's the matter, Papa?" Alma cried out. "What's wrong with Jude? You ate with him last night. What's gotten into you now?"

"I didn't think of it last night," her father rumbled. "I didn't have a chance to think it over. But I've been sitting here thinking about it all day today, and I'm determined not to have that....that thing in my house."

"He's not a thing," Alma corrected him. "And I won't have you calling him names as long as I'm around. He's a man."

"You may think he's a man," Clarence shot back. "I say he's a monster. If I could undo your wedding, I would."

"What is the matter with you?" Alma gasped. "What has made you turn against Jude all of a sudden?"

"I didn't remember everything before," he told her. "I didn't have a chance. But I remember now. I remember plenty. And I know enough to get that creature out of my house while I have the chance."

"You still haven't told us why," Allegra put in. "Can you explain why you want him out of your house now, when you were happy to have him last night?"

"I'll tell you," Clarence replied. "I don't have to, but I will. I told you last night about those Yankee soldiers who killed our men at the Battle of Little Crooked Ridge. Well, he's one of 'em. I know that now."

"But Jude told you," Alma recalled. "He never even heard of that battle before you mentioned it yesterday."

"Maybe you believe that story, but I don't. He was there, and he helped butcher our men, and I won't have him sitting at my table eating my food." He turned his half-blind eyes on Jude. "You've had your fun, Mister. You've had your way with my innocent daughter here, and you've told us all a fine story about your life up there in Amarillo. But now you've been found out, and I'll thank you to get out of my house, and don't let the door hit you in the backside on the way out."

Jude froze. His eyes sought out the sisters. Alma and her sisters exchanged glances. "Papa, Jude and I are married now. You can't just boot him out without so much as a thank you very kindly. He has the same right to live in this house as the rest of us. If he goes, I'll have to go with him. Is that what you want?"

Her father's expression made Alma's heart quail in her chest. "If you want to stick with him, you go right ahead. If you want to take him over me, you better get out of here, too. I won't have him around, and if you see fit to stand by him against me, then I don't want you around, either."

Alma gasped in shock. "Papa!"

"You can't mean that," Allegra put in. "You can't be serious about kicking Alma out. I can understand you wanting to get rid of Jude, but you can't throw Alma out, too. She's your own daughter."

"No daughter of mine would support a monster like him against me," Clarence thundered. "He's one of 'em, I tell you, and no one can convince me otherwise. I won't have him here in my house, and I won't share my bread and meat with him, either. He's my enemy, and he won't share the shelter of my house with my family."

Jude leaned forward to push his chair back, but Alma restrained him. "Do you really intend to throw both of us out over this? What proof do you have that he's the man you think he is? I'm sure if we sit down and discuss this, we'll figure out it's all a misunderstanding."

"I have all the proof I need," her father shot back. "I don't need to discuss anything with anyone to know what I know. He lied to you about who he was to get you to marry him. Now get out of here!"

This time, Jude broke free from Alma's grip and rose from the table. "If this is how you feel, I'll go."

Alma leapt to her feet. "Wait, Jude! Don't go!"

"I don't have to sit here and listen to this," Jude snapped. "If he doesn't want me in his house, then I won't stay where I'm not wanted."

"And what about me?" Alma cried. "What if I want you to stay in this house? Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"If you want me to stay in this house," Jude replied. "You better straighten your father out. I won't stand around being called a monster and a liar and a butcher. If you want me to stay here, you better take it up with him."

He stomped out of the house. The door banged shut after him, and a terrible stillness descended over the little house.

Allegra broke the silence. "Well, this is a fine how do you do." She reached for another tortilla.

Alma knocked over her chair getting away from the table. Her sisters watched her fly across the room and burst out of the house into the darkness outside.

#  Chapter 24

Alma followed the sound of tinkling metal to the barn. She ran over to the circle of lantern light at the end of the building. Jude straightened his horse's bridle and laid out the leather reins as if he planned to go somewhere.

"Where are you going?" Alma asked.

"I guess I'll head back up north," he replied. "I have friends on ranches up north of Austin who will give me work for the rest of the season. I can make enough money to keep me going until I find a more permanent position somewhere."

Alma's heart pounded in her ribcage. "You can't be thinking of leaving. We just got married."

"I told you," Jude growled. "I won't stay on the same patch with a man who calls me a bunch of hateful names and thinks I butchered a bunch of Confederate soldiers."

"He's a doddering old man," Alma told him. "He probably can't see well enough to recognize your face. You can't hold this sort of thing against him. His mind doesn't work right at the best of times. You have to make allowances for his age. He's infirm. You shouldn't take anything he says very seriously."

"Is that the way you handle him?" Jude asked. "Well, I won't excuse him for that. I don't care how old or infirm he is. If he can't control himself, he shouldn't be allowed to interfere with normal people's lives. And if he's that mentally unsound, then maybe he shouldn't be in the house with the rest of us. He should be put out by himself where he won't trouble anyone with his ranting and raving."

"We can't put him out," Alma maintained. "He's our own father."

"And you can put me out instead?" Jude returned. "Very well, then. You keep him and I'll go."

"Please don't leave, Jude," Alma pleaded. "I'm your wife. Stay with me. I'll deal with Papa for you."

"And how will you deal with him?" Jude shot back. "What exactly will you do about these accusations he's making?"

"I won't do anything," Alma told him. "I'll pretend this never happened. You and I will go back into the house and finish our supper. Papa will go back to his chair by the fire if he hasn't already. And the rest of us will continue to live our lives without the least thought about his accusations."

"You can't just ignore this sort of behavior," Jude insisted. "You have to make a stand against it now. Otherwise, you're just encouraging it and it will have it going on all the time."

"You sound like you're dealing with a child," Alma pointed out. "He's an old man. You can't just whip him and send him to bed. You have to indulge him a little bit."

"Indulge him?" Jude sneered. "And what about me? Are you going to indulge me by whipping him?"

"I can't whip him," Alma replied. "He's my father."

"Why don't you indulge me by telling him you won't put up with this ridiculous behavior?" Jude continued. "Why do you support him and not me?"

"I am supporting you," Alma insisted. "I'm telling you that if we ignore it, if we act as if it doesn't exist, it won't exist."

Jude scowled toward the house. "He's an old fool if he thinks I did anything in the war. All these old veterans—all they ever think about is the blasted war."

"You have to admit," Alma remarked. "He must have some reason to feel as strongly as he does. Something must have set him off to make him think you were there."

Jude started back. "Don't tell me you believe him! Don't tell me you think there's any truth to his story. That would be the icing on the cake, if you turned against me and started thinking I was holding anything back."

"I'm just saying," Alma explained. "You're acting like you do have something to hide. You're acting as irrationally as he is, and you won't even talk to him to clear the matter up. It doesn't do anything for your claims of innocence. That's all I'm saying."

Jude waved his arms around in a wild gesture of desperation. "I wasn't even born when the war was going on!" he shouted. "How could I do the things he says I did? My parents hadn't even met back then."

"Then why don't you just tell him that?" Alma pointed toward the house. "Just tell him exactly what you just told me. We can clear all this up in a couple of minutes, and then we can all go on with our happy lives."

"No, I won't," Jude grumbled. "I won't waste two minutes of my precious time explaining myself to such a fool as him."

Alma crossed her arms over her chest. "Then you can't expect him or me or anyone else to take your word for your innocence, can you?"

"You're my wife," Jude shot back. "You're supposed to support me, no matter what. You're supposed to defend me against everyone else."

"I told you before," Alma snapped. "I am supporting you. I'm telling you how to clear this up so he'll never be able to say anything against you again. But you won't do it. And you stand there and call him a fool!"

"If you believe him," Jude declared. "If you honestly think there's any chance I could have done the things he thinks I did, then I don't want to have anything to do with you. Go back to your family and leave me alone. I'll go home to the people who want to believe in me."

Alma narrowed her eyes. "Just like that, huh? Well, goodbye, and good riddance to bad rubbish!" She spun away and stomped toward the door of the barn.

Jude jumped away from his horse and caught Alma by the arm. "Alma, wait!"

Alma whirled on him with her black eyes flashing. "If you haven't heard a word I've said, that I believe you're innocent and we can make everyone else believe it, too, with just a few words from you to explain your situation, then you're too stupid to be married. If you would throw me away just like that, without even trying to explain your position to him and my sisters, then I don't want anything to do with you, either. You can go back to Austin or Amarillo, or wherever you want to go. I don't care. Let me go and get out of here!"

She yanked her arm back, but he held her fast. "Alma, wait!"

#  Chapter 25

Alma got another volley of acid words ready to launch at him, but the look in his eye stopped her.

"I'm sorry I said that," he growled. "I didn't mean I didn't want to have anything to do with you. I'm just worked up about the things he said about me. That's all."

"You made your own bed," Alma grumbled. "You could stop his mouth with a single word explaining that you're too young to be in the war, but you won't. I don't understand it. I told you a dozen times I know you're innocent. I just can't figure out why you don't clear your name with him the same way."

"He won't listen to me," Jude muttered. "He has his mind made up about me, and nothing will change it."

"You haven't tried," Alma repeated.

"I haven't tried," he agreed. "And I'm not going to try. I wouldn't stoop so low."

"Then just wait a little while," Alma told him. "Just wait until he goes back to his chair and Amelia and Allegra go to bed. Then we'll go back up to the house and slip into bed. We'll wake up tomorrow morning and ride out to work like nothing ever happened."

"Do you really think that's the best way to handle this situation?" he asked. "There has to be a better way."

"Well," she returned. "Running away sure isn't it."

"I guess you're right," Jude replied. "I guess I let my head get away from me."

Alma smiled at him. "Does that happen to you a lot?"

Jude stared down at the toe of his boot. "I guess it does. I guess I don't really think things through all that much. Maybe I should."

"Maybe you should," Alma agreed. "But you're married now, and two heads are better than one. I know how to handle my father and my sisters. If you just listen to me, I can smooth things over for you."

"All right," he replied.

"Take my word for it," Alma continued. "If you don't pay Papa's accusations the slightest attention, you can live peacefully enough with me and Amelia and Allegra. Don't talk to him until he gets over it on his own. Pretty soon, he'll run out of steam and he won't accuse you anymore. He'll sort the whole thing out in his own mind, and that will be the end of it."

Jude averted his face toward the barn wall. "I don't like it. I don't like giving ground when I know the other man is in the wrong."

"In his mind," Alma told him. "He's in the right. If you won't explain to him about being too young to be in that battle, then just ignore him."

"And what if he starts ranting and raving like he did tonight?" Jude asked. "What if he starts foaming at the mouth and saying he won't eat at the same table with me or have me staying in his house and sleeping with his daughter? What then?"

"If he says that," Alma replied. "Just keep eating and sleeping with his daughter. What can he do to stop you? We're married, and it's as much my house as his. Where does he think you're going to sleep, if not with me?"

Jude fidgeted. Then he stole a peek at Alma. "That part's alright, don't you think?"

"The part about you sleeping with his daughter?" Alma grinned. "It's all right with me. It's worth putting up with the ranting of an addled old man. That's the only reason I put up with it."

"All right," Jude replied. "In that case, I'll put up with it, too."

Alma beamed at him. "Thank you. I don't think we'll have to put up with it for long. Then it will be in the distant past and we won't even remember that he said anything."

Jude sighed. "How long do you think we have to wait out here before we can go back inside?"

"We don't have to wait long," Alma told him. "We can go in any time now, if you want to. I just thought...."

"What?" he asked.

"I thought," she continued. "This might be a good chance to spend some time alone together. No one will come out looking for us in the dark. They'll think we're having a quarrel or something."

Jude cracked a mischievous grin. "Leave it to you to think of that. Aren't you tired from last night?"

"Not too much," Alma replied. "Are you?"

"I'm wiped out," he told her. "I wouldn't be much good to you."

"Let me be the judge of that," Alma replied. She took him by the hand and led him to the far back corner of the barn, where a place to stable a horse stood empty with fresh clean dry grass spread out on the ground.

Alma kicked the grass into a pile in the corner and drew Jude down onto it. She leaned her back against the hardened clay wall of the building. Jude slouched down and stretched out next to her.

He looped his arm under the small of her back and pillowed his head on the soft flesh of her shoulder where it met her chest.

"So we're alone together," he murmured. "I don't suppose you want to spend the night out here. I don't think I can stay awake another night, no matter how interesting things get."

"I wasn't thinking of staying out here all night," Alma replied. "I wasn't even thinking about making things interesting. If you're tired, we can just sit together and talk until we go back inside. Like you said, we probably won't get much chance. We should take the opportunity when and where we find it."

"It sure is nice to lie here with you without a bunch of other people around," Jude remarked. "This is the first time we've been alone together, apart from this morning when your sisters went out shooting."

"We weren't really alone then," Alma pointed out. "Amelia and Allegra were just over the hill and they could have come back at any moment. They won't come now. They're probably all sound asleep now."

"You people sure go to bed early," Jude replied. "You don't even sit up working in the evenings the way most people do."

"The longer you stay up," Alma told him. "The more money it costs in candles and lamp oil. We get up at sunrise, anyway, so it's best to go to bed as soon as supper's over. That's the way we've always done it. And then...." She stopped.

"What is it?" he asked.

"If you do anything else," she stammered. "You wind up staying up for a while, so it makes up for it."

"Oh, I understand," Jude replied. "Kind of like we did last night?"

"Something like that," Alma replied.

He chuckled into her shirt. She slid her hand up his back where the pointy bones of his spine broke the smooth surface of his skin. She felt the hardened bands of muscle underneath the velvety cover of skin. When her hand reached the cleft of his neck, she squeezed and rubbed the tight bands of sinew between his shoulders and the bony base of his head. He hummed and sighed.

"I was thinking about what you said about us having our own house," Alma murmured. "There are lots of nice spots down along the river where we could build something. If we start having children, this house is going to get pretty tight once they start growing up. We could build a house down by the river in the shade of the willows. That would be nice."

Jude didn't answer.

"I know what I said about people around here living with four generations under one roof," she continued. "But now that we've spent one night in the house with my father and my sisters, and now that we've had a couple of times alone together, I think it would be nice to have our own house. And I know what I said about getting the money to build it. But if you want to, we could sell some my share of the stock now to get the money to start the house. Then we could use our share of the auction sales in the fall to pay for the rest."

She caught her breath to stop herself from babbling excitedly and to give Jude a chance to answer. She held her breath, waiting for him to respond. But he still didn't answer.

A queer heaviness in his limbs made her pull her hand away from his neck, but he still didn't move a muscle. Then a long snore reverberated through the quietness of the barn. He had fallen asleep.

#  Chapter 26

Light penetrated the thatch of the barn roof long before it eked under the door of the house, so Alma woke up first again. She managed to work herself out from under Jude without waking him up, and she hurried to the house.

When she opened the door, she found her father and sisters all still asleep. She halted on the threshold. Then she picked up the wooden bucket from just inside the doorway and went out again to the well.

She filled the bucket up, combed a handful of the cool water through her hair, and rearranged her hair. She could show up at the house pretending she'd just gotten out of bed. Jude could pretend he'd gotten up with her and gone out to the barn before the others woke up.

She hauled the bucket back to the house and stirred up the fire. As she mixed the dough for the tortillas, Jude's silhouette darkened the door. He stopped on the threshold the same way she did. Then he tiptoed into the room and sat down in the chair by the fire.

"They're sure sleeping soundly," he whispered.

"They'll never know we didn't come in last night," she whispered back.

"What about your bed?" he asked. "It hasn't been slept in."

"How can you tell?" she returned. "How can you tell I didn't make it up this morning?"

Jude chuckled. "Good one."

"Beside," she continued. "We're married. We can stay out all night if we want to. It's none of their business."

"But won't they think....?" Jude swallowed the last words.

"Let them think whatever they want to think," Alma declared. "Whatever they think, it's probably the truth."

"You mean," he asked. "They'll think I fell asleep before we had a chance to do anything?"

"I mean," Alma shot back. "They'll think we spent the night alone together because we wanted to be alone. We didn't want to spend the night in the same room with three other people. Let them think. You can't stop a person from thinking."

A stir from the other side of the room put an end to their conversation. Allegra stretched on her bed and swung her legs over the side. Her boot heels hit the floor with a clunk. She scratched her head, furrowed her brow at Jude and Alma, and then at Amelia and her father still in their beds.

Alma smiled at her. Allegra scowled into every part of the room trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. But, in the end, she shrugged, walked out the door, and came back with her hair and face wet and her expression clear. She came over to the fire place and squatted down between Jude and Alma.

"What do ya say to cuttin' a steer from the herd today?" she asked. "We're running low on meat, and we've been surviving on salt tack for months now. I don't know about you, but I'm ready for some fresh meat for a change."

"You always liked salt tack before," Alma pointed out. "It's not like you to splash out on fresh meat. You've always prided yourself on getting by on the rough stuff."

"A body can only get by on the rough stuff for so long," Allegra replied. "Maybe I'm just seeing things differently since Jude came. We don't have to serve him on the rough stuff right from the start. We could have a feast of fresh meat and honey candy to celebrate your marriage."

Jude glanced sideways at Allegra. "You don't have to go out of your way on my account."

"Why not?" Allegra asked. "You're married to my sister, aren't you? That entitles you to a celebration, if nothing else does. You don't have to keep a stiff upper lip all the time, you know. I saw the way you handled the food that first night you came home. It wasn't exactly what you're used to, but you sure minded your manners about it. That was well done, and I'm sure all of us appreciate it."

"It wasn't anything worth mentioning," Jude muttered. "And your father didn't seem all that impressed with me."

Allegra waved her hand. "Don't give him a second thought. He can blow a lot of hot air, but it's nothing but a big noise signifying nothing."

"That's exactly what I told him," Alma put in.

"Papa's not exactly the man he used to be before his accident," Allegra went on. "He spends more and more of his time in the past, in the war and in his married life with my mother. He doesn't think so clearly about the present."

"That's exactly what I told him," Alma said again.

Jude glanced at the sleeping form in the bed closest to the door. "Should you really be talking about him like that with him right over there across the room?"

"I'd tell him the same thing straight to his face," Allegra replied. "All of us think the same thing. And all of us think you handled that first supper well, too. No one said so, but you could tell just from the way they acted. You deserve a break, and I don't think I'm stepping out of line by offering to give it to you."

"What are you suggesting?" Jude asked.

"Just what I said before," Allegra returned. "We don't have to eat boiled salt tack and grilled prickly-pears, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We can put on the good food when we want to, and you've earned it. Hoots, we all deserve it! Don't you think so, Alma?"

Alma sniffed. "I think it's a wonderful idea. Thank you, Allegra. That means a lot coming from you."

"You're darn tootin' it's a wonderful idea," Allegra declared. "We haven't had any kind of celebration in years. You didn't think you could just go off and get married without one, did ya? Shucks, it's practically mandatory around here. Some of the families around here spend a week after the wedding drinking and fighting and making idiots of themselves in the streets of the town. A big meal with a bunch of fancy, expensive food is the least we can do for the two of you."

Her voice rose in pitch in the excitement of her plans, and Amelia rolled over in her bed.

"Just wait until we tell Amelia and Papa!" Allegra exclaimed. "Jude, you can help me rope the steer and dress it out. What do ya say? That will break up the day a little."

"I'll say," Jude replied. "Are you really sure you want to sacrifice one of your prime steers for this? It seems awfully extravagant."

"You bet it's extravagant!" Allegra shot back. "That's the whole idea. It wouldn't be a wedding celebration if it wasn't extravagant." She clapped her hands and jumped up. "Come on, Alma. Get breakfast made so we can get out and get started."

Alma laughed. "Alright. I haven't seen you this excited in a long time. You weren't as excited as this when I got married."

"This is different," Allegra replied. "I couldn't really do anything for your wedding. This is something I can do, and it's something I enjoy doing."

She tripped out the door without waiting for breakfast.

Alma watched her go and laughed.

#  Chapter 27

"What's got into her?" Jude asked. "I thought she had it in for me."

"I don't think she ever had it in for you," Alma returned. "And, anyway, this celebration she's planning is as much for her as it is for us. She's always on the look-out for anything to break the monotony. She usually comes up with some wild idea every day just to occupy her interest."

"Still," Jude continued. "I wouldn't expect her to come up with a way to celebrate our marriage, no matter how much it occupied her interest. I'd sooner expect her to organize a wake or something."

Alma gasped. "What? No! She isn't in mourning over us getting married, and she doesn't dislike you. You know, I think she feels the same way about you that you feel about her."

"And what is that?" he asked. "How do I feel about her?"

"You don't know how to take her. You haven't had to deal with anyone like her before. You don't know whether to like her or hate her. As a matter of fact," Alma pointed her finger at him. "If you and Allegra decide to hate each other, it's because you're so much alike."

"What?" Jude exclaimed. "We are not alike! I'm nothing like her."

"Sure, you are," Alma maintained. "You like the same things, you react to things the same way, you find the same things interesting. You even walk and talk the same way."

"You're makin' that up," Jude declared. "I'm nothing like her."

"You see what I mean?" Alma pointed at him again. "You don't want to admit you're anything like her. That's why you would dislike her, and she feels the same way about you. I think if you both made up your minds to like each other, you could be good friends."

"I couldn't be friends with a woman who dresses like a man," Jude growled.

"But you could marry one?" Alma shot back.

Jude grumbled something inarticulate, but they cut their conversation short when Amelia got up and came across the room. At the same time, Alma put the plate of tortillas on the table, and they got through their breakfast without any confrontation between the menfolk.

Allegra didn't come back for breakfast, and they didn't find her in the barn, either.

"Should we wait for her?" Jude asked as they got their horses saddled.

"No," Alma told him. "She'll be out on the range already, picking out which steer to cut. She's probably waiting for you to show up to help her."

"Why doesn't she get one of you to help her cut it?" Jude asked. "Why the sudden interest in me?"

"She probably just got the idea that this is something you two could do together," Alma told him. "If you want to know the truth, I think she wanted you to go shooting with her yesterday. She's trying to find a way to be friends with you by coming up with ways for you to do things together—things that interest both of you."

"Cutting and butchering steers doesn't particularly interest me," Jude replied. "If it has to be done, I'll do it. But it's not something I do for fun."

Alma chuckled. "Living out here so far away from everything and everyone else, just about anything that breaks the daily routine gets to be fun. Just think about it. Allegra wants to do things with you so you two will be friends. She hasn't had many friends in her life. Just give her a chance. I think you might like each other if you try."

"I'll think about it," Jude muttered.

They saddled their horses and led them out of the barn into the crisp morning. The cool of night had already passed, and the warmth of the day settled over the landscape. Amelia rode out first, with Jude and Alma riding side by side a little way behind her.

"If you want me to," Alma offered. "I can explain to Allegra that you aren't holding back from doing things with her to slight her. I can explain to her that you're still trying to settle in here, and that you might be more interested in doing things with her later on, after you two get to know each other better."

"Don't tell her anything!" Jude shot back. "I don't want to get to know her, and I don't want to do things with her, and I don't want to be friends with her."

Alma regarded him without answering for a moment. "Alright. I won't say anything to her about it. But I think you ought to help her cut the steer. She'd be very offended if you didn't. You might not want to be friends with her, but you don't want to make an enemy of her, either."

"Yeah, I was planning on helping her," Jude told her. "I wouldn't let her do it alone. That's a job for several people at the best of times."

"She'll be happy for your help," Alma replied.

They mounted the crest of the hill and pulled their horses up next to Amelia. "There she is." Amelia pointed down into the plain. A tiny black dot trotted around the periphery of the herd, driving some of the stock toward the hill and others away from it.

"It looks like she has her eye on something," Alma remarked.

"What's she after?" Jude asked.

"It looks like she's going after that brown and white speckled steer there under the trees," Amelia replied. "He's a mean one, but he's good and fat. He'll make a good roast."

Jude chuckled to himself. "Let's go. Let's go cut him out."

"Just wait a minute," Amelia told him. "Wait until Allegra brings him a little closer. She'll signal us when she's ready."

"Once she brings him closer to the hill," Alma added. "We'll cut him from the herd and rope him. Then we'll walk him back to the house and tie him up. We'll leave him there and come back here to take the rest of the herd down to the river."

"Why don't you butcher him here?" Jude asked. "Why do you have to take him all the way back to the house?"

"All the gear is there," Amelia explained. "It just saves us hauling all the meat back home when the butchering's done. And there's a water supply there for cleaning up. There's no water here except down at the river. Wherever we butcher him, we'd have to haul the water there. It's easier to do it at the house where the water's already nearby, and all our knives and buckets and salt barrel are there."

"I guess that makes sense," Jude replied. "You people have done this more often than I have, so we'll do it your way."

Alma's eyes widened. "You must have cut out cattle and butchered them before. Don't tell me you haven't."

"Of course I have," Jude replied. "But I haven't done it here. You know better than I do what works, where the water is, and what's the easiest way to do everything. I'm happy with that."

Alma flashed him a glorious smile.

Amelia shifted in her saddle and turned back to watch Allegra driving their steer toward them. She moved at an easy pace, carefully moving the other cattle away from him and steadily moving him in the direction she wanted him to go without alarming him or the rest of the animals.

Jude and Alma watched her work. "She's really good, isn't she?" Jude remarked. "This is the first time I've had a chance to watch her. She's top notch. She could work on any of the big ranches if she wanted to. But I guess she wouldn't want to."

"What makes you say that?" Alma asked.

Jude made a face. "Well, for one thing, she's a woman. They probably wouldn't hire her, and even if they did, she would have to put up with some pretty rough treatment from the other cowboys. That's the way it usually is with anyone who's different. They make it as hard as they can for the new man—I mean, the new person—until they get to know them."

Alma and Amelia listened to him in silence. Allegra's whistle pierced the still air from the distance.

"And then," Jude continued. "There are cowboys who just flat wouldn't ride with her. They wouldn't even talk to her, and they would refuse to ride at all until the boss got rid of her. The end. They wouldn't work with her for a million dollars. That's the way some a' the old fellers are. It's a shame, too, because anyone can see from the way she's workin' that steer that she's blame good—almost like she was born to it. You don't see a cattle puncher like that every day of the week."

#  Chapter 28

Alma looked back from Jude's face to her sister, weaving in and out of the cattle and always pointing her steer toward the base of the hill. Her heart laughed and cried and sang and danced all at once in her chest.

Here was her new husband, the man who so recently snubbed Allegra for her appearance, speaking so highly of her. He might not be friends with her, but he couldn't help but notice her skill and her value to the ranch.

Poor Allegra! Would she ever find happiness? Would she ever overcome her pain to find love? Or would she flounder in agony and unfulfilled dreams for the rest of her life? Would she grow old on the Goodkind ranch, driving cattle down to the river and back, without love, without companionship, and without any hope for anything different?

In the end, Alma lifted her face in silent thanks to heaven that she'd gotten herself married. As much as she loved Allegra, she dreaded living the way her younger sister did. Alma shuddered to think of herself growing old in her father's house with nothing to look forward to but one day after another just like the one she just finished.

She stole a sidelong glance at Amelia. Did she think about these things? Did she cherish any secret dreams for her future? Did she long for the love of a man in the silent darkness of their house after her father and her sisters went to sleep?

Just then, an exceptionally shrill whistle along with a shout echoed up from the bottom of the hill. Alma snapped out of her reverie to see Allegra waving her hat over her head and calling up to them. They couldn't make out her words at that distance.

But Amelia understood. "That's it. That's the signal. Let's go." She spurred her horse forward and charged down the hill.

Jude stretched out his legs to follow her, but Alma caught him by the sleeve. "This way. Allegra's coming from behind, and Amelia's going to the right. Come with me to the left, and we'll drive him into the box."

"The box?" Jude asked. "What's that?"

"There." Alma pointed down to the bottom of the hill, to a large rock near the gulley leading toward the river. "That's what we call the box."

"What is it?" Jude asked.

"It's a false canyon," Alma replied. "It looks like a canyon or a gulley running down to the river, and the cattle go into it thinking they can get away from us. Then it closes off, and they get trapped. That's the way we cut cattle from the herd. They fall for it every time."

Jude grinned. "Sneaky. You and your sisters really have thought of everything, haven't you?"

Alma laughed. "When you've worked a ranch as long as we have, you get to know all the little secret ways that make it work."

"I know that," Jude replied. "I guess I should have listened to you from the beginning. I was stupid to think I could just waltz in and start telling you how to do things. I guess I just thought a bunch of women couldn't possibly know how to run a cattle ranch. I didn't know you would all be as good as you are. I should have listened to you. I won't make that mistake again."

Alma laughed again, but tears welled up in her eyes. "Forget about it. You didn't know, and it was a natural reaction to being in a new place with new people. None of us will hold it against you. Now, come on. They'll be counting on us to cut off his last avenue of escape." Alma spurred her horse, and they rocketed away together down the hill.

Halfway down, Alma veered off the trail and broke through the scrubby bushes. Jude followed right on her heels, matching her move for move. Near the bottom of the hill, Alma burst back through the line of cover into the open, just in time to head off the steer.

The big animal wheeled away when he saw the two riders heading toward him. He jumped first to his left, only to find Allegra behind him. Then he tried to retreat the way he came, but found the way blocked by Amelia. He lowered his head as though he'd like to charge, but at the last moment, he changed his mind and ran to his right, straight into the chute the sisters intended him to enter.

As soon as his tail disappeared into the box, the three sisters kicked their horses forward to close the steer into his natural pen. Jude and Alma went in first. Then came Amelia, with Allegra bringing up the rear, smiling happily at them.

Once inside the canyon, they slowed to a trot, letting the steer box himself in at the end of it. They didn't see him beyond the twists and turns between the steep walls of the canyon, but pretty soon, the walls opened out into a natural enclosure.

There stood the steer, neatly boxed in on all sides. He loped around the enclosed space, tossing his head and snorting at the four riders lining up across the only available line of escape. Jude, Alma, and her sisters stopped with the horses shoulder to shoulder across the canyon as the steer sized them up and evaluated his options.

In the end, he stopped in the middle of the enclosure, rolling his eyes in defiance and bellowing.

"You take him, Jude," Allegra said.

"No way!" Jude shot back. "I wouldn't dream of taking him, not after all your hard work getting him in here. He's yours."

"Let's do it together," Allegra suggested. "That way, we'll be sure to get him without too much fuss."

"All right," Jude agreed. "You take the right and I'll take the left. We can't miss him when he's standing still like that."

Jude and Allegra each untied the lariats from their saddles and uncoiled their long loops of rope. First Allegra, then Jude, began slowly swinging the wide circles of rope above their heads. The lassoes sailed through the air almost of their own accord.

With one swift flick of her wrist, Allegra sent her lasso flying toward the steer. He tossed his head and leapt to one side, but too late. The great circle of rope fell around his horns, and when he jumped sideways, Allegra pulled the rope tight. When the steer tossed his head, he jerked the noose tight and found himself caught fast.

Then Jude let his lasso go. This time, when the ring fell over the steer's head and he jerked away, Allegra backed her horse up a few steps. Her rope pulled taut, holding the steer motionless as Jude's noose fell into place around the animal's horns. Jude pulled back on his own reins to back up his horse. His own rope jerked tight, and the steer could move no further. Jude and Allegra tied their ropes around their saddle horns, and their horses stood still.

Alma laughed out loud at their triumph, and Amelia let out a loud whoop. Allegra tossed her head back with an elated smile up to the sky. But the noise of Amelia's shout startled the steer. He tugged on the ropes one last time. The strength of that desperate tug caught Jude's horse by surprise, and he lost his footing in the powdery soil of the canyon floor.

Sensing some weakness among his captors, the steer tossed his head again and succeeded in pulling Jude's horse even further off balance. A terrible tug-of-war followed between the steer and the horse. With every success by the steer, the horse became more frightened and unsteady, no matter how Jude held back on the reins or tried to calm him with his voice.

At last, with one final effort, the steer reared onto his back legs and the horse toppled. Jude called out one alarmed, "Whoa!" but the horse didn't hear him. The animal let out a terrified scream as it tried to rear back in response.

Alma watched the scene unfold with excruciating slowness. Jude glanced wildly from one side to the other as his horse teetered and fell with the rope still tying him to the steer's horns. Jude must have seen the outcome approaching in slow motion, as well. At the last possible moment, he jumped free from his saddle. He landed on his side and rolled on the ground in a cloud of dust.

The horse, on the other hand, crumpled with his legs underneath him. When he hit the ground, he let out another ear-splitting shriek that sent shivers up Alma's spine. The horse thrashed helplessly, tangling himself up in the rope still hooked around the steer's horns. With every kick of his legs, he only succeeded in tying himself up more firmly than before.

The steer pressed his advantage by yanking the rope tighter on his end. The horse screamed until it was utterly exhausted. Only after he lay still with his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth did the dust settle enough for Alma to see that his hind leg was broken.

#  Chapter 29

"Well, that's the end of that horse," Jude remarked. "I hate to see him go, 'cuz he's a good horse and he knows his business. But that leg is ruined. I can see it sticking out from here."

"What do you want to do?" Alma asked.

"There's nothing to do," Jude replied. "I'll have to put him down."

"We'll tie up the steer," Allegra put in. "We can leave him in here until we're ready to take him back to the house. Then we can take the rest of the herd down to the river for their morning drink. We shouldn't leave that too late. They're used to watering before it gets too hot."

"We can't leave the steer in here," Jude pointed out. "There's nowhere to tie him, and I won't be much good to you herding the cattle without a horse. I'll take the steer back to the house."

"How are you going to take him?" Amelia asked. "Are you going to walk the whole way? That could take all day. We'd meet you on the way when we came home this evening."

"I'll walk it," Jude replied. "You three need to take the cattle to the river. There's no two ways about that, and I don't have a horse. There's also nowhere else to tie up the steer out on the range without him standing out in the sun all day. He has to go back to the house now, and I'm the only one who can take him. Now stop arguing, and get out there to your herd."

The three sisters looked at each other.

"He's right, you know," Allegra told them. "I hate to admit it, but he's right."

"You hate to admit it?" Jude laughed.

"Okay. I don't hate to admit it. But you're right. We'll do it your way." Allegra turned to Alma. "Let's go."

"What are you going to do about your horse?" Alma asked.

"I'll take care of him," Jude replied. "He's mine. I owe him that much. I'll take care of him and then I'll walk the steer back to the house."

"Are you sure you can handle him on your own?" she asked. "He might try something on you."

"I don't think so," Jude replied. "I've seen big brutes like this before. When they're facing a horse and rider, they're demons. When they're facing a man on foot, they turn into pussycats. He'll follow me."

"You call out to us if you need help," Alma told him. "We'll hear you and come lend you a hand."

"I'll be fine," Jude assured them. "Now stop stalling and get out there. Your herd comes first. I can handle myself in here. I'll see you back at the house or somewhere in between later in the day. Now go!"

The three sisters glanced at each other one last time. Then Amelia and Allegra turned their horses around and galloped out of the canyon to their waiting cattle.

Alma hesitated. "I don't like leaving you alone like this. You could get hurt and there would be no one to help you. That steer could turn vicious and trample you to death."

"Well, then," Jude replied. "I reckon you could get yourself another mail-order husband."

"I don't want another one," Alma shot back. "I want you."

Jude raised his eyes from his stricken horse and smiled at her. "Don't worry about me. I'll be okay. Now get out of here. You're a cattle puncher, and you have a job to do. I have a job to do, too, so leave me to it. I'll call you if I need help."

Alma fixed him with her eyes one more time, and then she tugged on her reins to turn her horse back toward the plain. She called out to her horse and cantered after her sisters.

At the entrance of the canyon, she saw her sisters fanning out across the plain, driving the cattle toward the gulley leading to the river. She fell into her usual place, racing alongside the lumbering cattle and waving her hat over her head to keep them moving.

The thunder of a thousand hooves reverberated off the hills and heights around the range land, and the herd shot into the gulley. Alma reined in her horse, letting the cattle stream past her. One beast followed the one in front of it, and the last swishing tails vanished into the gulley. Amelia and Allegra pulled up next to her.

In the sudden silence, a gun shot rang out across the landscape. Alma spun around in her saddle, although there was nothing to see. But the next minute, a small figure emerged from the canyon, leading a steer on a rope.

Allegra laughed. "I guess he knows his business. That steer is following him like a puppy."

"We should have known to trust him," Amelia remarked. "We shouldn't have doubted him."

"Come on up to the top of the hill, you girls," Alma told them. "You stay up there and guard the cattle. I'm going to walk back with him."

"You just can't leave him alone, can you?" Allegra teased.

Alma didn't take the bait. "If you had a husband, you would know how it is. I'm worried about him taking that steer all the way home by himself. The steer might be a puppy dog now, but all he has to do is try to get away, and he could crush Jude like a bug. You both know this yourselves."

"All right," Amelia agreed. "We don't need you here. We can guard the herd ourselves."

"Just be careful," Allegra added. "I don't know about you, but those things Papa told us about Jude have got me thinking."

"Don't tell me you believe Papa's accusations," Alma shot back. "You know Papa's not in his right mind half the time. He got that idea about Jude from somewhere, but there's no basis for it. You know how Papa is."

"You have to admit, Alma," Amelia put in. "Papa wouldn't go after Jude like this if he doesn't have some reason to believe it. He won't tell us what it is, but he must have his reasons."

"He could have imagined the whole thing, for all we know," Alma reminded them. "Jude told me himself he was too young to be in the war. He wasn't even born when Papa fought the Battle of Little Crooked Ridge. All Jude has to do is tell Papa that, and we can put this whole misunderstanding behind us."

"Then why doesn't he tell him?" Amelia asked. "Does he have some reason to keep it to himself?"

Alma's eyes flew open. "I can't believe I'm hearing this! I thought you two were starting to come around to liking Jude. Now you're backing up Papa."

"It isn't anything to do with liking Jude," Allegra replied. "I could like him 'til the cows come home. But you have to admit that Papa is right. We have only Jude's word for where he comes from and what he's done. He could have made up any old thing to put in his letters to you."

"I don't believe this!" Alma cried. "And here I was telling Jude he could count on you two for support. I should have known you would stand with Papa against us."

"We aren't standing with anyone against anyone," Amelia told her. "We're just pointing out that Papa has a point. You have to admit that."

"I don't have to admit anything," Alma fumed. "And I'm not going to stand here listening to any more of this! I'm going to help my husband bring in the steer that _you_ wanted, Allegra. He's doing this for you. Just remember that when you start throwing accusations around."

Both Amelia and Allegra opened their mouths to respond, but Alma didn't wait to listen. She hauled her horse's head around and tore away from them at top speed.

#  Chapter 30

Alma caught up with Jude in a dry gulley not more than a couple hundred yards from the opening of the box canyon. The steer started in surprise when he heard the sound of her horse's hooves approaching, and he almost jerked the lead rope out of Jude's hand.

Alma saw the steer rolling his eyes and pulling back, and she stopped her horse a little distance away. She dismounted and walked up to Jude, leading her horse by the reins.

"What are you doing here?" Jude asked.

"I decided to come with you," she told him. "I thought you might need a little help bringing him in."

"I don't need any help," Jude shot back. "I told you that."

"You might not need help," Alma admitted, "but I didn't want you bringing him in by yourself, just in case he tried any funny stuff."

Jude grinned. "Alright. Just come along for the walk, then. It beats walking all the way back by myself, anyway."

Alma fell in next to him, and the steer settled into a steady pace. "You sure were right about him following you when you're on foot. He's always been a vicious brute, but I guess that's because we've always been on horseback."

"You see?" Jude replied. "You might have a thing or two to learn from me after all."

"You're right," Alma returned. "Allegra just said a few minutes ago that we shouldn't have doubted you. We should have trusted you. We'll know better next time."

"I guess we were all wrong about each other," Jude agreed. "Let's make a pledge to give each other the benefit of the doubt from now on. We'll all know that each of us has something unique and important to bring to the running of this ranch. We should respect that."

Alma beamed. "Alright. It's a deal. We'll talk it over with the others when they come in tonight. I think they'll be happy about it, too."

Jude stopped and regarded Alma. "Now if we could only get your father to agree, we'd be set."

"You know," Alma replied. "I think we should take the same position with him."

"What?" Jude gasped. "You don't mean give him the benefit of the doubt, too, do you? We can't do that!"

"Why not?" Alma asked. "He's not completely out of his mind, you know. He has some very good points and opinions about a lot of things. We could do a lot worse than to take his advice on things."

"Do you mean," Jude growled. "That you should have taken his advice about me? Are you going over to his side now, and wishing you could undo our marriage?"

"It's not like that," Alma replied. "You don't have to get all worked up about it. I'm just saying that giving him the benefit of the doubt and listening to him every now and then wouldn't hurt us at all. In fact, it could only help us to build a stronger relationship with him."

"I won't give him the benefit of the doubt," Jude snapped. "If I did, I'd be admitting he's right about me, that I killed all those people, and that I misled you about who I am and everything else."

"You don't have to admit anything, just to give him the benefit of the doubt," Alma insisted. "You could just show him you respect him enough to explain yourself to him. He's not completely off his rocker. He's right about some things."

"Like what?" Jude asked.

"Like the fact that we have nothing but your word on who you are," Alma told him. "Amelia and Allegra just said exactly the same thing, and they're right."

"Oh, that's just great!" Jude burst out. "Now you're repeating what they said, and you're taking your father's side against me. That's just terrific!"

"I'm not taking anyone's side." Alma stopped in her tracks. "We're doing it again. We're arguing about the same thing all over again. We should just put it aside and let it play itself out. We shouldn't give it the time of day."

Jude stopped, too. "You're right." He circled her waist with his arm and pulled her against him. "Whatever happens, let's not let anything that anyone else does come between us. Let's stick together, through thick and thin."

Alma smiled. "For better or for worse?"

"That's right." Jude kissed her, and their walk back to the house took longer than expected.

Toward the end of the day, Jude and Alma reached the top of the rise overlooking the house. The slanting sun lit up the adobe walls and the surrounding countryside, casting everything into a golden red against the pink and green of the evening sky.

They slowed their pace even more. "It's too late to butcher the steer tonight," Alma remarked.

"What will we do with him?" Jude asked.

"We'll stable him in the barn overnight," Alma told him. "Then we can butcher him tomorrow."

"Who will butcher him?" Jude asked. "At least three of us will have to get out to the pasture to water the cattle."

"And that leaves one to stay behind," Alma pointed out. "Either you or Allegra will do it. Or else we can go out and water the cattle and then two can stay to guard them while the other two come back here."

"That could work, too, I guess," Jude agreed.

"When the girls get back tonight, we'll talk about it," Alma decided. "We'll figure out what everyone wants to do."

"Alright," Jude replied.

At that moment, Amelia and Allegra cantered over the hill and streaked past them. The steer only just saw them and lifted his eyes to snort at them before they were gone. Alma laughed.

She and Jude walked the rest of the way down the hill, and they met the sisters in the barn. "You were sure right about that steer," Allegra told Jude. "He followed you like a little tame lamb."

"Alma says we should stable him in here for the night," Jude replied. "We'll butcher him in the morning."

"That's all right with me," Allegra agreed. "I don't fancy the idea of missin' supper just to butcher him now. We'll give him some grain, and he'll be happy until morning."

They slid the barn door closed and headed to the house. But they hadn't gotten halfway across the yard when Clarence came out of the house, and in his hands he held a double barreled shotgun.

"Where is he?" he bellowed. "Where is the rotten weasel? I'll blow him to kingdom come!" He waved his shotgun around, crisscrossing the yard with the barrel.

The thought crossed Alma's mind that he couldn't see well enough to do any damage. But at the same moment, her father leveled the gun straight at Jude and fired.

Alma screamed and jumped a foot into the air. The shot flew wide, giving Jude time to retreat back toward the barn. Allegra started at the deafening noise. "Papa!" she cried. "What are you doing?"

"I'll kill him!" the old man raved. "I'll make up for all those poor Confederate boys who were gunned down in their long underwear without so much as a sharp stick to defend themselves. I'll settle the score with him if it's the last thing I do."

He raised his gun just long enough to break it open and slide two fresh shells into the chambers. Then he took aim and fired again. Jude ducked behind the rain barrel.

In her shock, Alma noticed his milky white eyes locking with keen precision on Jude, taking careful aim through the gun's sights. There was nothing wrong with his eyesight. Why had she fooled herself all these years into thinking he couldn't see very well? What else could he do that they didn't know about, or wouldn't admit to themselves?

He sure was handling that gun well. He looked forty years younger with the shotgun at his shoulder, facing his imagined enemy at long last.

But Alma didn't have time to think about it. Clarence loaded his gun again and stalked toward the rain barrel. Alma's mind refused to function. As a voice in her head screamed, "Run! Run for your life!", her body obeyed a different directive. She found her legs running, but not away, not to find a hiding place to wait out this crisis.

She ran toward Jude. She ran toward the source of her new-found joy and fulfillment. She reached the rain barrel at the same time her father did. He brought his shotgun up to his shoulder at the same moment Alma threw herself in front of Jude.

"Stop!" she cried. "Don't shoot! If you shoot him, you'll have to shoot me, too. Is that what you want?"

She fastened her eyes on those milky white orbs, but she no longer recognized the man they belonged to. His hair stuck out from his head in a halo of insanity, and his lips curled back from his rotten old teeth. He wouldn't have surprised her by shooting both of them in his single-minded obsession with the past.

Somewhere in the reaches of his mind, he recognized her and hesitated. The hint of familiarity and affection crept into his wild expression. His finger moved off the trigger, and his eyes misted over with tears.

"You're not choosing him over me, are you, Alma?" Clarence whispered. "Say it isn't so."

"I'm not choosing anyone over anyone else," Alma exclaimed. "You're making a mistake. He's not the killer you think he is. There's another explanation for all this. Just listen, and we can explain it all to you. If you kill him, you're no better than those people you want to fight against."

The old man hesitated again. "Don't explain anything. I don't want to hear it."

"You have to hear it," Alma insisted. "Jude isn't old enough to have fought in the war. He wasn't even born when you fought the Battle of Little Crooked Ridge."

Rather than calming him down and ending the stand-off, Clarence's face twisted up into a hideous mask of fury. "Is that what he told you? Is that the explanation you think is going to smooth everything over between me and him? He's duped you, but he won't dupe me."

Clarence pointed his shotgun at the couple behind the rain barrel one last time. But this time, Jude launched himself out of his hiding place so fast, he knocked Alma to the ground.

He hurtled forward with his arms flailing and sent the shotgun skittering out of the old man's hands. It landed in the dust some distance away. Jude didn't stop, but attacked Clarence with all the hostility the old man showed toward him just a few moments before.

His arms whirled around him like a windmill, striking and punching and smacking. The first few blows landed with gut-wrenching thuds. Alma covered her ears and screamed as loud as she could to block out the sound of those blows.

Jude's fists landed again and again on Clarence's face and body, and the old man winced and whimpered with each one. He staggered backward and fell to the ground.

Jude gritted his teeth and growled. He planted his legs wide apart above the old man and drew back his fists to finish off his opponent.

Alma saw the outcome of the fight approaching and she jumped to her feet. This time, she threw her body across her father and lifted her arm to take the blows Jude intended to rain down on him.

"Stop, Jude!" she cried. "Stop now! He's beaten. He can't do any more harm. Just leave him alone."

She didn't expect her words to penetrate his rage, but he stopped and stared at her, panting and wheezing through his clenched teeth. She held up her hand in front of his face until he calmed enough to drop his fists and stand up straight.

Alma stayed where she was, protecting her fallen father from her husband's fury. At last, the light of recognition entered his eyes, too. He held out his hand and she grasped it for dear life.

Jude pulled her to her feet and crushed her against his body in a bear hug. "I thought I was a goner there."

"Are you all right now?" she whispered into his ear.

He nodded with his face pressed into the side of her neck. "I'm just glad you're okay. He could have killed us both."

A wretched sob drew their attention to the huddled mass on the ground behind them. Clarence sat with dust in his disheveled hair. The tears streaming down his cheeks made little rivulets in the dust clogging the wrinkles in his skin. "He's a killer, I tell you. He'll turn against you in the end. You mark my words."

Alma turned on him. "What makes you say that, Papa? What makes you think he's a killer, when he wasn't even born when the war was fought?"

"Look." Clarence sniffed his tears away and pointed a gnarled finger toward Jude. "If you look, you'll see it."

"What?" Alma asked. "I'll see what?"

"The mark," he hissed. "The mark of the Forty-sixth Infantry. There it is! I told you he was there, and he has the proof right there in plain view."

Alma followed his finger toward Jude. "I don't see anything."

Amelia and Allegra broke out of their trance across the yard and came closer. All three sisters inspected Jude, looking for the sign their father pointed to. "Do you see anything?" Alma asked them. They shook their heads.

"There it is!" Spittle foamed at the corners of Clarence's mouth. "Can't you see it? It's right there on the grips of his pistols!"

Jude looked down at his gun belt, and the three sisters looked with him. He pulled one of his pistols out of its holster and turned it around so he could examine the grip. "Well, I'll be! And I never even knew it was there!"

Jude held out the gun to Alma, butt first, and she took it. She brought it right up to her face and looked. Some artisan scratched a crude skull and crossbones in the bone handle.

"Now do you see?" Clarence shouted in triumph. "That's the mark of the Forty-sixth. They all had that mark on their guns when they killed our men. I'll never forget that mark as long as I live. He was there. He massacred our men in cold blood, as sure as I'm sitting here."

Jude stared at him with wide eyes. "My father gave me these guns when I first left home. He told me he had them when he fought in the war. I always assumed he fought for the Confederacy, but he never actually mentioned which Army he fought with. I was happy enough to get the guns. I never asked where they came from."

The three sisters looked down at their father. His head drooped until his chin hit his chest, and he broke down in sobs.

"I didn't know my father was a Yankee," Jude went on. "I didn't know anything about that massacre, and I certainly wasn't there. I'm only twenty-five, you know. My parents didn't even meet until the war ended."

The old man didn't answer. He only sobbed, his shoulders convulsing and his tears falling into the dust between his legs.

Alma handed the pistol back to Jude, who put it in its holster. "Come on inside, all of you. We're all hungry and tired, and we need to get supper on before it gets any later. Tomorrow's another work day."

Jude nodded toward the old man. "What will we do about him?"

"Nothing," Alma told him. "Just leave him there. He'll come in later when he's had a chance to calm down."

She went to the door and opened it. She stood back as her sisters entered the house. Jude came toward her, but he stopped and glanced back toward the wreck of the man in the yard. "I don't like leaving him out here. We ought to bring him inside. We ought to clean him up and feed him and put him to bed."

Alma smiled at him. "Thank you for thinking of him, but he'll come on his own. It's bad enough seeing your whole carefully constructed world come crashing down around your ears. Don't make it worse by being nice to him."

"He's a human being," Jude replied. "You can see just from looking at him that he used to be a fine specimen of a man. He deserves better than this."

"Come inside," Alma told him. "Let him sit alone with his grief for a while. That's what he wants."

Jude stooped under the door frame into the dark house. Amelia lit the lamp and set it on the table as Alma closed the door.

Allegra prepared supper for them. She set it on the table, and Jude and the three women sat down to eat it, but Clarence still didn't come in.

"We ought to save him some food for later," Jude remarked. "He'll be hungry."

"I don't think so," Amelia told him. "He won't want to eat. He'll go to sleep, or he might sit up in his chair all night. Just carry on and let him work it out for himself. That's our way."

"I don't like it," Jude muttered.

"You should be angry with him," Alma pointed out. "You should want to drive him out of house and home for pulling a gun on you and trying to kill you."

"Maybe I should be," Jude replied. "But I just can't be mad at him. It's like you kept telling me. He had a reason to hate me, and he had plenty of reason to think I was at that battle. He was wrong, but he had a good reason to think so. I should have gone out of my way to find out what was eating him. I should have given him the benefit of the doubt."

A thoughtful silence fell over the table, broken only by chewing. A slight sound outside the house brought their attention back.

"Do you think he's okay out there?" Jude asked.

"He's fine out there," Alma told him. "Don't worry about him. You did the right thing by attacking him the way you did, and you did the right thing by stopping after you'd beaten him. He knows that."

Jude sighed. "I guess I'll have to take your word for it."

"I'm just glad the whole thing worked out in the end," Alma added. "I'm glad we got the matter cleared up. Now we can move on."

"So this is what getting a mail-order husband does to a family," Allegra remarked.

Alma shook her head. "If I had known it was going to work out this way, I probably would have changed my mind."

"Do you really think it's that bad?" Amelia asked. "Do you really think it wasn't worth it? I thought you were happy with your decision."

"I am happy with it," Alma replied. "I just didn't know it was going to cause so much trouble."

"It hasn't been so much trouble," Amelia returned. "I don't think it's been much trouble at all, considering how it could have gone. We're all sitting here, having supper together very amicably. And I can't remember when I've seen you so happy, Alma. You're a different person since you got married."

"You're right," Alma admitted. "I'm a different person."

"And are you happy?" Amelia asked.

Alma's smile lit up the table. "Yes. I'm happy. I'm very happy. I've never been happier in my life than right now."

"That's good," Amelia exclaimed. "Because I've decided I'm going to get myself a mail-order husband, too."

The End

Coming soon....

Texas Brides: Book 2

Amelia's Mail-Order Husband

In Book 2 of _The Texas Brides_ Series, Amelia Goodkind marries Bruce Manfield from El Paso, Texas. When Amelia first brings Bruce home, Jude and Alma and Allegra laugh at him. He's a big, gangly hulk of a man, but he's clumsy and ungainly in his movements, unlike delicate, careful Amelia. Jude especially sees Bruce as an easy target for his pointed sense of humor. The sisters can't figure out why Bruce doesn't stand up to his much smaller brother-in-law, when he could put Jude in his place with a flick of his wrist. No amount of encouragement from anyone can prod Bruce into asserting himself. He even seems to go out of his way to bow to Jude's will. Even Alma finds Jude's behavior toward Bruce disturbing.

But no one on the Goodkind ranch knows that Bruce is hiding an explosive secret, one which will transform the relationships of this family forever. The introduction of another man into the family brings fresh complications to the fragile peace established after Jude's arrival. Competing loyalties and affections breed conflicts and misunderstandings, until everyone stands against everyone else. Only Amelia's unwavering faith in her new husband carries them through to the ultimate climax. In his last battle, Bruce finds a strength he never knew he had in Amelia's love.

Thank you for reading and supporting my book and I hope you enjoyed it.

Please will you do me a favor and review "Alma's Mail Order Husband" so I'll know whether you liked it or not, it would be very much appreciated, thank you.

#  Other Books by Kate Whitsby

Violet's Mail Order Husband

Mail Order Marion (Chapman Mail Order Brides: Book1)

Christmas Mail Order Bride

Mail Order Josephine

Mail Order Bride Romance Box Set

Western Mail Order Brides Box Set

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