Hector"s mind raced as he rode hard, his lathered mount frothing at the mouth. Hector had been surprised when an outrider for the cattle herd, one of Diaz"s men, had whispered that Garcia needed to see him. "Why would Diaz take a chance of discovery to send a messenger and want to meet? Had something gone wrong in San Diego? No one had come to the rancho to announce that Carlos and Hernando were dead." The hill with a crown of chaparral and a few pines was up ahead. There, he would get his answers soon enough.
On the top of the hill, two heavily armed Mexicans sat astride their horses, watching the approaching rider. Garcia, a short, powerfully built man said to his taller companion, “It is Hector.”
“You tell him,” said the tall Mexican. Garcia looked at his companion, then with a shrug
