He doesn't want the gun. I figure he must have his own. He wraps his arm around my waist and ushers me out of the gun store. I'm getting used to his touch. It still makes me want to giggle uncontrollably and shout "Oh, mama!" but staying calm is getting easier.
"Where's your car?" he asks.
"I took the bus."
"Of course you did."
"We have one truck and one car on the ranch, and I try to leave them for my family as much as possible. I only drive when I have shipments to make or if I'm going to a movie after dark."
"Where are we going?"
"Half Crescent Ranch. Northeast Esperanza," I say. My heart races with the idea that we're going straight to my arch-enemy's ranch. My father and his friends have tried unsuccessfully to get on the property. Ed Sullivan, the owner of Half Crescent, has g
