Juanita envied Eli and his children. Her own past lay on the other side of the Mexican Revolution. There were no treasured photographs put away in a chest somewhere, no old letters carefully bound, no such Bible in which the births and deaths of the Barrios family had been recorded. It had all vanished in fire and massacre. She was left feeling thin and rootless, insubstantial as the spirits that haunted her sleep.

She stirred the cold cup of cocoa at her elbow, watching the brown skin of milk on the surface wind around the spoon. She sipped the cocoa and made a face. It was time to get to bed. She rose and started toward her bedroom at the back of the house but paused halfway. Something was wrong. Eli wasn’t home. She tried to remember what he had said—was he supposed to arrive sometime before midnight or sometime after midnight? Before midnight, surely. A good deal before midnight, the way he drove that Cadillac. She peered outside, but she could see nothing except an expanse of white snow that seemed to go on forever and no sign of Eli or the car. She felt a chill, scooped more coal onto the stove, put a fresh pan of milk on to warm for more cocoa.

Juanita finished the cocoa and paced the floor like a worried mother, glancing at the clock every minute or two. She fluffed cushions, washed out her cup and put it away, trying to be useful. When she could stand it no more, she dressed, put on her coat, walked through the snow to the bunkhouse to wake the foreman, Willie Thaw. Willie’s was the bunk closest to the stove. The bunkhouse was lit by the moon, but she could have found his bunk by the smell of Willie’s whiskey. She shook him lightly. He answered with a long, ragged snore. She grabbed his shoulder and shook him until he sat up with a Colt Navy in his hand. Willie pulled the hammer back and held it to her jaw, a wild look in his eyes. He was still so drunk he had no idea who she was.

“Put that thing down, Willie. It’s me.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“It’s Juanita, Willie. We need to look for Eli.”

Willie sat up on his cot. “You lost Eli someplace?”

“He should have been here two or three hours ago.”

“Naw, he’s off visiting Ida Mae in the nuthouse.”

“Willie! Will you pay attention? Eli called me from Casper and said he was on his way. That was hours ago. He didn’t make it. I want you to help me look for him.”

“Hell, he probably just stopped for a drink someplace.”