Chapter 1

1958, June

The air was as still as it was hot; only the whir of a grasshopper's flight disturbed the quiet. Jesse Carver felt like an overcooked chicken, his meat damn near ready to fall off his bones. Mouth so dry he didn't have enough spit left to swallow, Jesse croaked, "That guy tryin' to kill us?"
     Dudley Miller's answer took a while coming. "I'm beginning to wonder."
     Jesse and Dudley rested in the meager shade of a live oak tree in the south yearling pasture—wherever the hell that was. A half-dozen red-brown Hereford yearlings, broad white blazes down the centers of their empty faces, grazed on parched, yellow grass. Jesse had tried a friendly moo, but they had paid him no mind.
     Jesse said, "Doesn't seem a foreman would be leavin' people stuck out here with no water."
     "Maybe Buddy ol' buddy doesn't know what he's doing—he's what, maybe twenty? Not much older than we are."
     "Oh, he knows. You hear him laugh when he drove away?"
     Dudley said, "You mean right after he said, 'You ain't troubled by snakes, are you?'"
     "Yep." Jesse tossed a stone at a clump of prickly pear cactus the size of a bushel basket. From it came a dry rustle that faded away after a few seconds. Jesse said, "You hear that?"
     "Yeah."
     "Think it's a rattler? "
     "Sounds like it."
     Jesse thought about going to see, but his legs felt like empty sacks. It had been a good three hours since Buddy dropped them off to dig a hole for a watering trough, and it had taken two to hack out a hole in the rocky ground with shovels, leaving their hands blistered and their arms and faces cooked medium-rare by the sun.
     After they had dragged the galvanized steel watering trough —four feet tall, three wide and five long—into the hole, they had stomped around to scare away snakes and then collapsed against the live oak's trunk.
     Jesse's imagination fired up thoughts of being abandoned, rattlesnakes seeking the warmth of his body when night came.
     Thanks, Buddy, you asshole.
     He scanned the landscape for a dust plume signaling Buddy's return in the Jeep. He saw no sign of rescue, but did find reason to smile—the hill country west of Kerrville was so blessedly different from home in flat, suburban Dallas. Under a white-hot afternoon sun in a never-ending blue sky, the green of live oak and cedar trees bordered yellow-gold meadows, and sprawling patches of bluebonnets prettied up hillsides here and there.
     Jesse inspected his hands; he had prize-winning blisters, all right. Digging holes was not his idea of cowboy work, and sure wasn't what he'd imagined when Dudley's mother announced she'd found them a summer job on the Box 8 Ranch. Dreaming of being ranchers, they'd thought an invite to work on a real ranch as junior ranch hands—even if it was only for room and board--was like a pass through the Pearly Gates.
     That was then.
     He said, "Some fun so far."
     Dudley was silent for a spell. Then, "That Lola's something."
     So Dudley had been thinking about Lola Braun, too. He'd figured the rancher's daughter for fifteen when they met at the ranch house that morning, so he had a year on her. But she was already the kind of girl a boy instantly undressed with his eyes.
     It wasn't her body that had started his mental peep show, although she was fun to look at. She was small, five feet from tip to toe, if that. His gaze had roamed happily down and back up slender, tanned legs exposed by short shorts, but on top she was no Playmate of the Month.
     It was a boldness in her green eyes that promised the stuff of daydreams. And then her handshake had lingered, her fingertips trailing across his palm as they left.
     Who was he kidding? Dudley would be the one she'd go for. He'd been on lots of dates and had a Cadillac; Jesse had never been on a date and had no car. He said, "You think you'll ask her out?"
     Dudley shrugged. "She was looking at you."
     Jesse could think of only one word for what she had seen—medium. Medium tall, medium brown hair, medium brown eyes, medium looks, medium build (if he could shed a couple pounds). Medium nobody. He said, "Probably just likes a freak show."
     Dudley laughed. "Yeah, that would explain her giving you the twice-over with those big ol' eyes."
     "The what?"
     Dudley hitched around to give Jesse a look. "You don't know, do you?"
     "Don't know what?"
     "What girls think about you."
     The whine of the Jeep's engine butted in before Jesse could ask the next logical question. Axel Braun, their new boss, rounded the hill and pulled up. Dust drifted over them.
     Jesse had to steady himself with a hand on the tree trunk when he struggled to his feet.
     Dudley moved in even slower motion. At six feet and on the fat side, he was big and powerful—every year the Wildcat football coach came after Dudley for the offensive line, every year Dudley was too lazy for all that exercise. But his strength didn't seem to help today.
     Mister Braun got out and inspected their work. He fit Jesse's picture of a Texas rancher. About eye to eye with Jesse, he was lean, his tan skin like a tight leather glove. Gray peppering his long black sideburns made him look old to Jesse, maybe as old as forty. The dust whitening his jeans looked like it belonged there, and the sweat darkening his shirt and straw cowboy hat looked like hard work. He wore heavy-duty shoes, not the boots Jesse had expected on a rancher.
     Mister Braun turned to them. "Buddy didn't tell you to put the trough in the shade?"
     Dudley said, "Nossir. He said right there."
     Jesse wondered why he hadn't. It would have been better than digging in the full sun. Water would stay cooler, too.
     Mister Braun studied them, then scanned the area. "Where's your water?
     Jesse said, "Don't have any."
     "Damn. Buddy should never've left you out here without water." Mister Braun opened a cooler in the truck-like rear of the Jeep. Ice rustled, he pulled out two bottles of Coke, popped the tops off with an opener welded to the side of the Jeep, and passed them out. "I brought these as a treat, but you need 'em for more than just fun."
     Jesse's Coke was ice-cold heaven. He chugged most of it, some dribbling down his chin, the rest causing a cold ache in his chest, but it felt so good going down in a rush. He said, "Thank you, sir."
     Dudley burped up carbonation. Jesse laughed. Mister Braun smiled with the first warmth Jesse had seen from him.
     Mister Braun handed Jesse a thermos. "Wash it down with this."
     A long swallow of ice water completed Jesse's resurrection. He handed the thermos to Dudley and wondered if he was as sad a sight as his friend—clothes dirty and rumpled, shirttail half in, half out, sweaty, dirt on his face. They hadn't expected to work right away, so they'd arrived in nice clothes to make a good impression. Jesse's sport shirt, khakis, and new penny loafers were now a mess.
     Mister Braun said, "You boys about ready for some supper?"
     Dudley said, "I would kill for something to eat."
     Jesse said, "Me, too."
     Mister Braun grinned and hopped into the Jeep, they scrambled to join him, and he roared off. Jesse thought maybe there were some things to like about Mister Braun.
     There were a ton of things to like about Lola, too… not that Jesse would ever dare to do anything about it.
     Then there was Buddy…and rattlesnakes buzzing in the cactus.

Chapter 2

Lola Braun finished applying her new Coral Pink lipstick and blotted her lips with a tissue. She studied the look in her dresser mirror, and liked it. Now if only her mother didn't get weird about her wearing makeup. She rubbed a bunch off so it wouldn't be so noticeable.
     She grinned at how the shy new summer boy, Jesse, couldn't keep his eyes off her after she gave him her "secret sexy thoughts" smile. The big one was nice, but Jesse had what her friend Cindy called "bedroom eyes."
     Bored with lying around her bedroom, she decided on a ride and changed into jeans and pulled on her boots. A little bit hungry, too, she headed for the kitchen.
     Connie shucked corn at the kitchen sink, her gray maid uniform relieved by an apron ablaze with bright yellow daisies. The Mexican woman claimed Lola had put the gray in her long black hair, now pulled back into a ponytail that swayed while she worked.
     As Lola examined the oatmeal cookies Connie had baked for the new hands, searching for the perfect balance of raisins and cookie, Connie said, "Señor Braun I think is too hard on the niños."
     "You always say that. You're such a softie."
     Connie turned a mock glare on Lola. "So I should be tougher? On you too, maybe?"
     Lola laughed. "I'm shakin' in my boots."
     Connie grinned. "He could have start them tomorrow."
     "Daddy has to know if they can cut it. Remember last year we had to send that crybaby home and work short-handed?"
     "I don' think it was the working, I think it was Buddy."
     "Yeah. The way he's mean to the boys is dumb. They go home, and there's still just as much work."
     "Buddy don' do no more."
     Lola nodded. "That's for sure." Buddy put the extra load off on the wetbacks, who never complained because they'd lose their jobs.
     Connie rinsed the corn. "Are the niños nice?"
     "One is kinda cute."
     Connie looked around to make sure they were alone. "Don't let the Señora hear you say that. You know what she tell you about the boys."
     "I'll be careful."
     Conspiratorially, Connie whispered, "Which is the cute one? I could only see one was big and one not-so-big."
     "Not-so-big. Name's Jesse. He's real shy." Lola selected a plump, perfect cookie. "I'm going for a ride."
     She left with an exaggerated swing of her hips. Looking back, she smiled when Connie admonished her with a shake of her head and an affectionate frown.

The big red barn, a couple hundred yards downhill from the house, held three horses, including her little brown-and-white paint, Fibber. Lola stopped to say hello to Spot, the barn cat, scratching the orange patch in his otherwise white fur.
     Fibber stuck his head out of his stall and nickered. She went to him and rubbed the sensitive bump between his ears, a spot that would set horses to purring if they could.
     "How about a ride down to the river?"
     Fibber pawed the earth, which she took for a yes and went to the tack room in the corner of the barn to fetch her saddle and bridle. As she reached to lift the saddle from its rack, someone drove up. She went to the doorway.
     The ranch's flatbed truck, loaded with hay bales, backed up to the barn doors and shut down. Romero, the elder of their two Mexican hands, got out the driver's side. Heavyset and as old as her father, he gave her a hostile glance, his black mustache emphasizing his sour look. He grabbed a bale and carried it toward the stack at the end of the barn. Romero had once been friendly, but not this summer. She stuck her tongue out at the back of his sweat-stained blue denim shirt.
     She smiled when Alejandro, not all that much older than her, rounded the other side of the truck, his lean body bare from the waist up, his coppery skin glistening with perspiration. She loved his beautiful eyes, a brown as dark as night, and the musical sound of his name, "Ah-lay-HAN-dro."
     He returned her smile with one of his big, bright-white ones and came to her, his gaze roaming over her like a little kid eyeing a Popsicle. She glanced at Romero; he was still turned away. Excitement fluttered in her.
     She expected Alejandro to just sneak a quick peck behind Romero's back, but he slipped his hands under her arms, carried her into the tack room, and pulled her to him for a real kiss.
     She liked it at first, but then he put his hand to her breast and squeezed. She pushed away. "No!"
     "Ah, mi corazon…" He slipped his arm around her waist and forced her toward him.
     Brown hands clamped onto his shoulders and jerked him back.
     Romero, his teeth bared with anger, shoved Alejandro against a wall. "Estupido!"
     Alejandro launched himself at Romero, swinging a punch that caught Romero on the shoulder and staggered him back to slam against a saddle rack, then Alejandro crouched, arms wide, eyes hot.
     Romero pulled a straight razor from a pocket, flicked it open and dropped into a fighting stance.
     Lola yelled, "Stop it!"
     They circled. Neither man glanced her way.
     "Stop or I'll tell my father!"
     Long seconds passed, then Romero glared at her. He folded the razor and jammed it in his pocket.
     Alejandro straightened and took a step back.
     Romero brushed past Alejandro. "You gon' git us kicked out." He grabbed a hay bale from the truck and carried it back.
     Alejandro smiled at her as though there'd been no trouble. He said, "Tonight." and returned to his work.
     She ran from the barn. Heart slamming, she forced herself to a walk, then stopped and looked back. They were silently unloading the truck, but she could see the anger on Romero's face. She started for the house, thinking on what to do.
     When Alejandro had come to the ranch, she'd thought she could have some fun with him. And she had, getting him all lathered up with sexy glances and sneaking kisses. But the way he grabbed her wasn't fun. She would tell him when they met later that if he didn't behave himself it was "no mas," no more.
     She trudged up the driveway and had reached Buddy's trailer, set a hundred yards below the main house, when the Jeep's horn honked behind her. She stopped and her father pulled up beside her. Dudley was in the passenger seat and Jesse sat in the rear.
     Her father said, "Want a lift?"
     "Sure." Dudley swung a leg out to give up his seat, but she hopped into the back with Jesse. "Let's go." Her father took off in his usual hell-bent-for-leather fashion.
     Jesse's face was sunburned as red as an apple. Buddy, the turd, had made 'em work in the sun without hats. She smiled at Jesse. "How're you doing?"
     His answering grin was shy but warm. "Great."
     "Get along okay with Buddy?"
     His eyes tightened, but he said, "Great."
     Her father glanced back with a questioning look.
     She couldn't blame Jesse for not answering truthfully, with the boss right there and it being his first day.
     She found herself hoping it wouldn't be his last.