“Hell,” Wootan said, leaning over to spit. “Why do most men kill other men? A woman. It was Bowman's woman, and Tucker was running his mouth about her. Nothing a man cares about as much as new pussy, I guess. They'll do just about anything for it. You headed to town to sell those horses?”

“We are.”

“You should get some good money for them. That's a good-looking string.”

“Say, Wootan. You know the law. We was in the middle of a business transaction with Tucker. We're on our way to pick up the deed to some land we bought.”

“My guess is you'll be cooling your heels for a bit. Once this inquest is done, they got to read the will, if there is one, and make postings for all who have claims against Tucker. I guess that includes you. You can probably do that today. But you won't get nothing until the estate has settled.”

“How long will that take?”

“It's law. It'll take awhile. A long, damned while.”

They went back to their various operations, running their small claims and grazing cattle in Aravaipa Canyon. Tom went on with his rodeos and his booming whiskey business, moving through Cochise, Graham, Greenlee, and Pima Counties, always a couple of steps ahead of the law, whose officers were often enough riding in the rodeos themselves.

Ola May stuck with Tom. She was almost twenty now, and the rodeo life was the best life she had known. She continued to work at the cabin in Power Garden, raising small crops and tending to the sapling walnut trees they had scavenged and set out on the north side of the cabin. She helped Granny Jane, who was visibly slowing down, with the cooking, housekeeping, and general chores. Ola was a hard worker and strong for a small girl, but she did not complain. Life was hard for everyone. At least as far as she knew. But when Tom rode in on Friday night or Saturday morning, she was ready.

She wore her work clothes—jeans and heavy shirts and boots—but carried dresses, stockings, and makeup. She rode, often enough, in the back of the truck, bouncing along country roads that weren't much more than trails, and she worked the stock with Tom and the boys from the time they arrived at some ranch or another to set up until the rodeo was over and the money had been split up amidst arguing and cursing, which she took her part in, along with her split. Then she was on her own until Monday morning, when Tom would fire up the truck, and she would make her way back to the camp from wherever she had spent the night. She never volunteered where she had been, and Tom never asked. It was all rodeo business, and rodeo business didn't bear a lot of looking into.