They drove twenty minutes, covering Pale Bone, and found one more ranch. Four late-model pickups and a Peterbilt rig crowded the driveway. There were a few cowboy-types on the porch sipping beers. A mangy horse stared at Luke from over a fence.

“Help you?” one of the cowboys asked as Luke approached. He looked nothing like the cowboys that Luke had played on film; he was walleyed and his teeth had been kicked in.

“Looking for a friend of mine,” Luke replied. “I haven’t seen him for fifteen years, but I heard he lives on a ranch here in Pale Bone. His name’s Ramón.”

“We don’t hire spics here,” the cowboy said. “This is an American place of business, and we only put money in American pockets.”

“Okay, well . . . thanks.” Luke turned to leave.

“Sierra Vista Road,” another of the cowboys called out, and pointed east. “Don’t know his name, but you’ll find your spic there.”

Luke saluted the man—a cool tip of the finger. “Don’t let the snakes ’tween yer spurs,” he said, which was a line from his episode of Retribution Gulch. He returned to the car, exhaled nervously, and looked at Kitty.

“Ranch number two,” he said.

“Damn,” Kitty said. “Those dogs.”

“I know.”

“They were in cages, right?”

“Yeah,” Luke said. He started the car and threw it into reverse. “But I’m taking my gun just in case.”

Still no blue Econoline van, but Luke decided to knock on the door anyway. Someone might be home, and he needed to know for sure if he had the correct residence.

The dogs jumped and clawed at their cages as he maneuvered the Caliber up the driveway, bouncing over the uneven surface, windows closed against swirls of rising dust. He stopped short of the house (and the dogs) and grabbed his snub-nose from the glove compartment.

“Stay in the car, just in case he’s home,” he said to Kitty. “He looked pretty chummy with Johan on PictoShark. We don’t want him to see you and be able to describe you. You’re supposed to be dead, remember?”

“Yeah, but why would he even mention this to Johan?”

“He likely won’t, but let’s not take any chances. Speaking of which . . .” Luke gestured at the enraged animals. “I’d keep the windows closed, if I were you.”

“Right,” Kitty said, and then, “Be careful.”