as if it held something, then reversed it swiftly, spreading her fingers wide. But Sheridan wanted to be sure.
"Pedro is your brother?"
"He is the son of mi madre, not my own brother. W'en Hollister beat me, Pedro laugh, he slap my face. He is bad, like Hollister."
Thora broke in.
"Why we bane wait?"
"I don't know whether she is telling us the truth. She may have been sent by Hollister to put us on a false trail."
"Then let me talk to her." Thora handed her rifle to Jackson, rode close to Juanita and ranged the bony horse alongside the fretful bronco, head to flank. She put one hand upon the horn of Juanita's saddle, above the girl's own hands. The Mexican looked up wonderingly at the great woman, so much her opposite, Nordic against Latin, blonde against brunette, ice against fire, both in that moment elemental.
"Are you bane speaking the truth? Look at me, in the eyes. So."
Their glances held, welded. Then Juanita broke out.
"Senora, I swear I speak true. Madre di Dios! Sangre di Cristo!" She crossed herself, snatching her hands from beneath Thora's palm, plucking a cross from her bosom and kissing it.
"Never you bane mind all that," said Thora heavily. "You tell me, woman to woman, do you tell the truth? You shall stay with me until I find
