CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bright morning sunlight splashed the table and bounced off the silver service where Maria was seated on the veranda of the Ropero ranch house.
Randolph Hansen was half out of his chair. His face was twisted with fury, veins bulged in his neck, and his skin had turned a mottled red. He pounded the table with his fist. "No! No! No! This is insane! This is utterly unacceptable behavior. A grown woman, a woman who should be thinking of marriage and bearing children instead is following a crazy, impossible dream. No, not even a dream, a fantasy ..."
Maria's response was straight to the point. "My father was no fantasy; he found La Dura."
"Yes, your father and his crazy schemes."
Randolph sneered. "If Francisco Ropero would have paid attention to his ranch rather than runnin
