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and rode through closing it behind her. The bay's hooves ground deeply into the freshly turned soil.
    A frown creased Lara's forehead. It was not the jangle of harness she heard on the other side of the knoll, but the steady hum of a tractor motor. She couldn't believe it, and turned the bay hunter down one of the straight furrows; urging him into a slow canter with a click of her tongue and a touch of the riding crop.
    As she crested the small ridge, there was the tractor and plow moving steadily through the row of trees. She recognized the driver and called, meaning to find out why Cato wasn't there, but he couldn't hear her over the din of the motor.
    The uneven ground made the going too difficult for the bay and Lara reined him over to the unplowed section. When they had passed the tractor, she cut across halting the horse directly in its path and forcing the tractor to stop. The bay did not like the noisy machine and tossed its head in vigorous protest when Lara guided him alongside of it.
    "Where's Cato?" she shouted to the driver.
    The man cupped a hand to his ear, a curious frown on his face as his mouth formed the word "What?" Her mouth thinned into an exasperated line. Quickly she signaled to Johh Porter to cut the engine. It sputtered and died, the cessation of noise intensifying the peaceful silence of the orchard.
    "What's the trouble, Miss Lara?" An inquiring smile curved his mouth.
    "Where's Cato, John?" Lara repeated her earlier question. "Why are you doing the plowing instead of him?"
    "MacQuade's orders." The man shrugged, turning his head away from her to spit out his chaw of tobacco.
    "Didn't you explain to him that Cato has always done the plowing here?"
    "I tried." The dubious shake of the man's head indicated it hadn't made much difference. "But he didn't seem to care how things were done before he came."
    Temper flared and Lara controlled it with effort. "I will explain it to him," she said determinedly. In the meantime, John, you can drive the tractor back to the sheds. Cato will be doing the plowing here."
    The pangs of uncertainty flashed across the man's face. "MacQuade told me to plow the field," he argued hesitantly. "Your father made it very clear when MacQuade took over that he was the boss and none of us would be expected to take orders from anyone else, not even your father. It could mean my job, and my wife's going to have a baby in a couple of months. I can't risk MacQuade using me as an example to the others that he's in charge. You understand, don't you?"
    "Yes." The admission was clipped out with irritation while her mind raced to find an alternate solution to achieve the same ends. "Give me the ignition key, John." She breathed in deeply. "Tell MacQuade that I stopped you and took the key. He would hardly expect you to fight with the boss's daughter, to try to get it back. This way he'll see that I'm solely responsible and not blame you."
    "Well," he murmured uneasily, "if you think it will work."
    Lara dismounted as John Porter removed the key from the ignition and swung down from the tractor. Reluctantly he handed it to her.
    "MacQuade isn't going to be happy about this." He shook his head. "You know that?"
    "I can handle Mr. MacQuade," Lara asserted confidently.
    There was an upward flick of his eyebrows as if John Porter wasn't too sure that Lara knew what she was talking about. He glanced at the tractor and plow.
    "I suppose I might as well start back," he sighed.
    "I'll walk with you." Lara fell into step beside him, leading the horse by the reins. "I might as well find Mr. MacQuade and get this mess straightened out about Cato."
    The man offered no encouraging comment as they followed the brown red furrows toward the road fence. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he took out a pouch of chewing tobacco, put a pinch between his cheek and gum, then returned the pouch to his pocket.
    "Would he be at the sheds?" Her inquiry broke the uneasy silence.
    "At the sheds or checking one of the