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Neither Victoria nor her uncle acted like they had anything to fear from strangers, but then they didn’t need to. Buc was suspicious enough for both of them.
    Trinity couldn’t find it in himself to blame any man for doing whatever he had to do to protect Victoria. Men had robbed, cheated, and killed for less beautiful women. Scaring off strangers seemed almost harmless by comparison. He certainly wouldn’t be too particular about what he did if Victoria were his woman.
    The thought caught Trinity by surprise. After Queenie, he had sworn he’d never let another woman have any power over him. Despite the many beautiful women he’d known, and the several who would have been willing to forsake everything for him, he had kept his vow.
    There could be do doubt Victoria killed her husband. The evidence said it couldn’t have been anybody else. So there must be a good reason why she did it. Oddly enough, Trinity felt compelled to find out what it was.
    Don’t be a fool. Your job is to bring her back, not understand why she did what she did. That’s what the jury was for, and they’ve already made their decision .
    But Trinity couldn’t rest. He turned over several times, trying to find a more comfortable position. He knew the fault didn’t lay with the bed. The trouble lay in his head.
    He didn’t yet understand why, but he couldn’t just take Victoria back to Texas and forget about her. Even though it couldn’t make any difference, even though it wasn’t part of his job, he had to know why she did it.
    But how could he find out?
    Trinity didn’t get a chance to explore that question. Without warning the bunkhouse door flew open with a noisy crash. In a flash, Trinity dropped to the ground, his gun drawn.

Chapter Three
     
    A Mexican, short, thick waisted, and fortyish, entered the bunkhouse. He leaned on a skinny, carrot-topped, freckle-faced boy for support. For a moment the three men stared at each other. Trinity spoke first.
    “Sorry for the chilly welcome. You surprised me.”
    “Who’re you?” the kid demanded. “And what are you doing here?” He didn’t look more than eighteen, fresh-faced but wary.
    “The name’s Trinity Smith. I just hired on.”
    “Buc never hired you,” the kid said, openly suspicious.
    “Mr. Davidge hired me against Buc’s advice.”
    “That I believe,” said the Mexican. He hobbled to the nearest bunk and lowered himself carefully. His bronzed, leathery skin and permanently bowed legs branded him a man of the range. His skeptical black eyes and piercing gaze said he wouldn’t be fooled easily. “He needs to hire new vaqueros to replace old men like me.”
    “You’ll be as good as new in a couple of days,” the boy said, his fondness for the old man easy to hear despite the gruffness in his voice. “Just make sure you stay off that leg.”
    “How will you manage? You have nobody to ride with you.”
    “Maybe Buc will let me ride with him,” Trinity said to the Mexican. “I don’t know the layout of the ranch, but I’m better than an empty saddle.”
    “I don’t need no stranger making free behind my back” the boy said. He wasn’t exactly hostile, but close enough to suit Trinity.
    “Forgive our manners,” the old man asked. “We worry every stranger is after the senorita.”
    “Now that I work for the Mountain Valley, she’s my worry, too.
    The old man responded with a cautious smile.
    “I am Perez Calderon. My sister keeps house for Senor Grant. That is the only reason Buc keeps me. This young gringo is Michael O’Donavan.” He tousled the boy’s hair. “We call him Red.”
    “Would you like me to have a look at that leg?” Trinity asked.
    “There is no need. My horse fell on me and pinned my leg under him. He would have broken it if Red had not got to me so fast. It would not happen if Buc would hire more men. We work so hard we get careless.”
    “Is that what you meant a minute ago?” Trinity asked.
    “Si. Buc is not hiring anybody now.