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mare and the wildest stallion.”
    “Well, hell, that explains it.” Casting her a mocking glance, Brig reached into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. “Don’t tell me, the old man let you watch while the horses went at it.”
    “It wasn’t a big deal,” she lied, remembering that fierce coupling, how the stallion, eager and volatile at being with a mare in season, thrashed in his stall at the scent of her and then bit the back of the mare’s neck as he’d mounted her. Primal, rough, raw sex. She cleared her throat. “We raise horses here. It happens all the time.”
    “And you watch?” He lit up and smoke curled from the tip of his cigarette.
    “Sometimes.”
    “Jesus!” Taking a long drag, he climbed to his feet and started down the gravel path leading through the trees and around the house. Over his shoulder, he said, “Stay away from Remmington for another week or so; by that time he should be ready.”
    “I don’t want his spirit broken.”
    “What?” Brig turned and blew a plume of smoke from the corner of his mouth.
    “Don’t make him into a merry-go-round pony, okay? I picked his dam and sire for a reason and I got what I wanted. So don’t foul it up. I want more than a show pony.”
    She heard him swear under his breath before disappearing around the corner of the house.
     
    Closing her eyes and tracing the lines of the large woman’s hand with the tip of her finger, Sunny McKenzie shivered slightly. Belva Cunningham’s fleshy palms gave out no feeling, yet the woman was worried sick.
    “Jest let me know if we’re gonna make it,” Belva was saying, destroying Sunny’s concentration. “I need to know if this year’s herd will—”
    “Shh!” Sunny’s brows deepened and she felt a sadness, but not for the cattle that Belva was so worried about, no…the feeling was a distant little jarring in her brain. “You will have visitors…from far away. One speaks with an accent.”
    “That’s Rosie and her new husband, Juan. He’s a Mexican. She’s always been wild, y’know; I never could hold her back. Anyway, she met Juan down in Juarez, got herself knocked up and brought him back to the States with her. They live in L.A. now and they’re plannin’ to come up here.”
    “But they bring with them trouble,” Sunny said, feeling that cold little touch on her backbone.
    “Trouble?” The word trembled in the air. “What kind of trouble? Oh, Lordy, it’s not the baby—”
    “No, this is different.” Sunny concentrated. “There is a problem with the law.”
    “Oh, no, Juan is from a very good family. You know, one of them rich Mexicans, and it’s a good thing, too, ’cause Rosie’s dad ain’t none too happy that she married him. But Juan’s a good boy.”
    Good old-fashioned prejudice. Sunny knew only too well how it flourished and spread in a town the size of Prosperity. Many times she’d wondered why she hadn’t left this place with its small minds, but deep in her heart she knew. She wasn’t a woman who lied to herself and she stayed because of one man—a man who had been good and kind to her.
    She concentrated on the few sensations she received from Belva’s warm hand. “They are being hunted,” she said, certain of the vision that was forming behind her closed eyelids, “by men with uniforms and guns…the government.”
    “Oh, Lordy,” Belva whispered as Sunny opened her eyes. The big woman swallowed, and tiny lines appeared between her eyebrows. Sweat dripped down the side of her face. “You don’t think they’re hidin’ out, that we’ll have some U.S. Marshal beatin’ down our door.”
    “I wish I could tell you. When Rosie calls, ask her.”
    “You bet I will. That girl’s always been a handful. If she’s in trouble, her pa will skin her alive. Now, you didn’t have no kinda feelin’ about the livestock?”
    “None.”
    “Or Carl’s prostate?”
    “Nothing, but I would know better if I touched him or talked to him.”
    “Oh, gosh, no.