Chapter One
Northern Mexico, 1884. Approximately 50 miles south of Roma, Texas.
The hot September wind swept across the plain, rattling the dried cornstalks of their field, and Pilar glanced up involuntarily. The day didn’t feel right, though she couldn’t put her finger on the source of her fear. It was fire season in this part of northern Mexico, and her family had been watching for the signs of smoke for the last month, but she did not believe that this was the cause of her discomfort. There was something else, something that wasn’t right in the area, and it struck deeper in her heart than a fire would have. She gazed across the fields, squinting her eyes against the sun and searching for the cause of her discomfort.
“Pilar, if you continue to daydream we will never get our job done,” her brother Santiago snapped, interrupting her thoughts.
Pilar glanced at him and sighed. He was right, of course, though she hated to admit it. They had been sent by their mother to gather the last of the year’s corn before it went bad in the field. These cobs had been left to dry on the stalks, for winter storage and grinding, but were ready to come in now. The stalks themselves were dried and ready for tilling into the earth. There they would enrich the soil for next year’s planting, and ensure another year of successful harvest. Gathering the corn cobs was an important job, though both Pilar and her brother were comfortable with the responsibility; they were 11 and 12, respectively, and had been gathering the crops for as long as either could remember.
That didn’t mean that Pilar appreciated being under his thumb. She was just as capable of doing the job as he was, and more in tune with the world around her.
She tilted her chin up in silent protest and took another step into the cornfield to look for the remaining cobs. They had driven one of the family’s wagons out to the cornfield in the early morning to finish the gathering, and were already halfway through the field. It would be an early finish for them today. As long as things went the way they should. Pilar felt the prickling in her spine again, though, and frowned.
“Santiago, something is not right here,” she mumbled quietly. “I will be glad to get home and away from this place.”
Her brother snorted. “We’ve been here at least one million times, and nothing has ever happened before. You will be glad to stop working and get home to your dolls,” he teased. “I know you.”
Pilar smiled despite her fear. Santiago was her older brother, and had been her best friend since the day she was born. He was the one who had raised her, taught her to ride her first pony, and shown her how to shoot a gun. He was also the only one she allowed close to her – the only person on the ranch allowed to tease her in this way.
“One of these days, Brother, you will listen when I have a–”
Suddenly a gunshot rang out, followed by several more. The sound tore through the air around them and drowned out Pilar’s words. She gasped and froze, her eyes darting across the land to her left. There. Gunfire in the woods to the east. At least three guns, and they were still shooting. She turned back toward the cornfield, desperately searching for her brother, but he was not where she had last seen him. Her eyes found only corn stalks, swaying in the wind. Pilar froze, her heart pounding.
“Santiago!” she whispered fiercely. “Where are you, Santiago?”
She began to run, crashing through the corn stalks and their razor-sharp edges, and trying to find her way to the wagon. Before she had gone three steps, though, a hand snaked out from the vegetation, grabbing her ankle and bringing her down. She opened her mouth to scream, but the hand that had grasped her ankle moved quickly to cover her mouth and muffle any sound that came out of her mouth.
“Shhhh! What are you thinking, crashing through the field, making so much noise? Do you want them to shoot you, too?”
Pilar stilled on the ground, breathing heavily. Santiago. It was Santiago. He was safe, and she was not alone. She reached up to pull his hand away from her mouth.
“I could not see you. I was afraid that you had left me alone,” she mumbled.
“Silly girl,” he muttered back. He raised his head from the ground and peered in the direction of the forest. Pilar stopped her movement, listening with him. The gunshots had stopped, and all was quiet in the forest. Eerily quiet.
Pilar licked her lips and swallowed heavily. “Santiago, who would be this close to the ranch? Who would bring guns to this place?”
Santiago shook his head slowly, then pushed himself up from the ground. “I do not know, Sister, but it is not our place to find out, and it’s far too dangerous. We must get back to the ranch and warn the others that there has been trouble.”
Pilar stood, placing a hand on her brother’s arm. “Santiago, they may be hurt. We must at least find out.”
Santiago looked at her as though she had lost her mind, then shook his head and turned away. “Pilar, there are times when I don’t understand you. They are strangers. They are not our problem. You put too much of your heart out to other people, and it is bound to get you hurt someday. I am not going to find out who these people are, and neither are you.” He stopped and turned toward her, his brows drawn down over his eyes. “Pilar, it is too dangerous. Surely you can see that?”
Pilar pressed her lips together and squared her shoulders, planting her feet in place. “Santiago Arroyo, where is your humanity? Those are people in the woods, and they may be hurt. Even dying. They may be our friends, and they may need help. The Good Lord tells us to help those in need, no matter who they are.”
The boy turned to face his sister, his brows drawn down in a dark frown. “Pilar, it is dangerous–”
She paused for a moment, then found her opening. “It would be an adventure, Santiago,” she replied, her eyes dancing. “Think of it. Perhaps they are cowboys, and they have killed banditos(italics). Perhaps we will be heroes for saving them.” She suppressed a smile and watched her brother’s face soften. Santiago could never turn down an adventure, and she always kept this as her final argument for any situation.
“Perhaps, if we were careful…” he murmured.
“I am going with or without you,” she continued, turning toward the forest where the gunshots had sounded out. “Do you want to be the one left behind?”
