She bit down hard on his arm, trying to get free, but Vale slapped her hard, once, across the cheek. ‘We had no choice, Nene. You heard him – he was a mad dog, he said it himself. He came here to fight.’

‘No!’ she shouted, shaking her head furiously. ‘That wasn’t what he meant.’

‘Those were his own words.’

‘You’re twisting them!’ Her body was shaking violently, the sobs and the fury and fear mixing within her; she felt herself growing hotter inside, the adrenaline becoming combustible, and she thought she might explode with rage. And shame.

‘Control yourself, Nene.’ Vale’s grip was tight on her upper arms as he roughly shook her, bruising the biceps. ‘These men are animals. They cannot be trusted to be civilized, to do what is right. Do you think they are your friends?’ He spat the last word as if it was itself toxic. ‘Ha! They would slaughter you for your dinner without a second thought.’

‘They are my friends,’ she screamed, the tears coming as sobs as she saw Señor Esperanza’s body lying inert on the ground, his chest still now and the blood flow slowly subsiding. Vale slapped her again, stunning her once again into momentary submission.

Why was no one else fighting? Why were they leaving him lying there?

And then she saw that Montez still had his gun raised and pointed towards the rest of the men – that none of them dared move, neither to save her nor join her. In a flash she understood why. There might be only one cartridge left in the rifle, but he and Vale and Señor Martin all had pistols in their belts too. The campesinos knew it as well. The reckoning wasn’t necessarily finished. Juan Esperanza might not be the only one.

‘Let them go,’ she said, sobering suddenly and understanding what Arlo had once said to her – that passion was the real enemy here. Volatility made trigger fingers twitchy and a pitchfork was no match for a bullet. She stood limp, falling still, dropping her head. Submitting. ‘You’re right, brother, they were animals. But you’ve made your point.’

She saw the campesinos’ heads turn in her direction, the inflection registering their shock as she switched side. But she saw now that if she wanted a voice, if she wanted to be heard, then she had to behave as one of them, a Mendoza. She tipped her head up slightly, nobly, knowing her riding habit gave her a gravitas she could never achieve in her normal clothes.

Slowly, Vale looked back from her to Montez. He indicated for his brother to lower the gun. ‘We will show mercy – for you, sister.’ He looked back at the men who were warily beginning to pull themselves up, their bodies still hunched, weapons on the ground as they held their hands up. ‘Let this be a warning to you,’ Vale called out. ‘Those who threaten this family – this estate – will be dealt with swiftly and without mercy. We will not tolerate revolutionaries here.’ He cast his gaze down and around, eyeballing each and every man, as though committing their faces to memory. ‘Now go. And take him with you.’