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and they’re fierce as Comanches on the warpath.”
    Tillie was on her way back, beaming and hugging that doll for all she was worth.
    â€œMaybe,” Holt said. “But I reckon I’m at least twice that ornery.”

CHAPTER 5
    L ORELEI WAITED until after her father had left the house the next morning before unlocking her bedroom door and making for the back stairs. Angelina, the family’s long-time cook and housekeeper, turned from the gleaming cookstove to favor her with an encouraging if somewhat strained smile.
    â€œI was about to bring your breakfast on a tray,” Angelina said, in gentle reprimand. “Do you know it’s past ten o’clock?”
    The mere idea of food made Lorelei shudder, and she was only too aware of the time; she’d been watching the clock on her vanity table since just after sunrise. “Where’s Maria?” she asked, and was ashamed that she’d almost whispered the words.
    Angelina’s generous mouth pursed. “Puta,” she muttered. “She is gone—good riddance to her.” In case she’d offended heaven by calling the errant housemaid a whore, the woman crossed herself in a hasty, practiced motion.
    Lorelei stood behind a chair at the kitchen table, realizing she’d been gripping the back of it with such force that her knuckles stood out, the skin white with stretching. “Father sent her away?”
    Angelina made a face and waved a plump, dismissive hand. “Men are no good at sending las putas away. I told her to get out, or I’d work a chicken curse and make her sprout feathers full of lice.”
    In spite of the lingering tension, and a strange and totally irrational disappointment that the judge hadn’t been the one to dismiss Creighton’s little baggage from under his roof, Lorelei laughed. “You didn’t. ”
    â€œI did,” Angelina confirmed with satisfaction, motioning for Lorelei to take her customary place at the table. When she complied, the older woman poured a cup of freshly brewed tea and set it in front of her. “Drink. Your breakfast is almost ready. Hotcakes, brown on the edges, just the way you like them.”
    Lorelei lifted the china tea cup in both hands, fearing she’d spill it if she didn’t take a firm hold. “I don’t want anything to eat,” she said, after a restorative sip.
    â€œI don’t care what you want,” Angelina replied crisply, and went back to the stove. “Your papa, he is very angry. You will need all your strength to deal with him.” She paused in her deft labors, regarding Lorelei as though she were a jigsaw puzzle with one piece missing. “Why did you do it? Why did you burn your wedding dress for all of San Antonio to see?”
    â€œYou know why, Angelina,” Lorelei said.
    â€œI am not asking why you did not marry Mr. Bannings,” Angelina pointed out. “He is a coyote dropping, not a man. What I want to know is, if you had to burn the dress, why do it in front of the whole town? Now, all the women will be gossiping, and all of the men will avoid you.”
    Lorelei took another sip of tea, then sighed. “The men would do well to avoid me,” she said, with a traceof humor, “and the women would gossip, one way or the other.”
    â€œIt was a foolish thing to do,” Angelina maintained, setting the plate of hotcakes and scrambled eggs down in front of Lorelei with an eloquent thump. “People will say you are loco in the head.”
    Lorelei twisted her hands in her lap. Her father’s words echoed in her mind. I fear you are not quite sane. Would he actually go so far as to commit her to an asylum? Surely not—she’d defied him many times in the past, and he’d never sent her away. On the other hand, he’d never threatened to, either, and there was no question that he had the judicial power to do it. As a female, she had about as many legal