Dan's mouth took on a sardonic curve. Nothing much had changed. Nothing ever would. The law benefited those in power. Lawlessness benefited those without power. The good and the law-abiding got ground up between law and outlaw. People who tried to change that woke up with bullets in their body.

If they woke up at all.

"The Castillos didn't obey any laws they didn't have to. That was the way of New Mexico, where no government really got a grip on the rural people," Winifred said. "Everyone thinks it's different now. It isn't." She handed an envelope to Carly. "You asked for pictures of Sylvia. Here are some school photos, wedding photos, birthday and Christmas, that sort of thing. The last photos, the ones of me in the garden, were from 1964. I came back in to the ranch for good the following year, when Sylvia had her stroke. The Senator was going to put her in an institution, but I told him to forget it. He needed the Sandoval vote to get elected again, and I'd see that he lost it unless Sylvia stayed at the ranch."

Dan was glad that he'd learned to have a poker face at an early age. He'd always wondered why the Senator hadn't walked away from his hopelessly ill wife. Now he knew.

And now he wondered how deep Winifred's ties to the Sandovals really were.

"Could you have done that?" Carly asked.

"Yes." Winifred looked straight at Dan. "Castillos and Sandovals have intermarried for three hundred years. Two of my father's sisters married into the Sandoval family. One Sandoval in Mexico. Another in Colombia. They had no use for Yankee laws. Their sons and daughters and grandchildren feel the same. They remember a time when poppy and peyote, morning glory and cocoa leaf were legal, the medicines of the curanderos. They remember when they walked tall and Anglos were carpetbaggers."

"That was a long time ago," Dan said quietly.

"Not to those who lost. To them, it's new and bitter. It always will be until the wrongs of the past are righted."

"That will never happen," Dan said. "The remembered wrongs will always be bigger than anything the present can offer as payment."

"I don't believe that." Winifred's voice was thin, harsh.

Carly looked between the two of them, surprised by the undercurrents. She'd never been in a family where history ran so close and hard beneath the surface of today. It was exciting and… unsettling. She felt like she was walking through a minefield of past emotions that might explode at any instant.

Winifred let out a long breath and wiped her forehead on the back of her arm. Silver gleamed from the thick cuff bracelet she wore. She looked at the herbs spread across the coffee table and felt much older than her years. She felt ancient.

He's wrong.

I will have my vengeance.

Winifred picked up the small clay pot that was surrounded by herbs and went to Sylvia's bedside.

Silence grew until Carly was sure everyone could hear her breathe. She cleared her throat and tried to find a neutral topic. Her glance fell on the packages of herbs.

"Is that what your mother was growing in her greenhouse?" Carly asked Dan. "Herbs and such?"

"Herbs, pepper and tomato seedlings, garlic and onion starts, even some rare kinds of beans," he said. And some other things best left unmentioned. "At seven thousand feet, the growing season is short. Mom gives her garden a head start."

Carly opened her mouth to ask another question.

"Do you need anything else?" Dan asked Winifred quickly. "Mom will be happy to send whatever you want."

"All I need is luck and time." Then, to Carly, "Spit it out, girl. I don't have all night."

"I just wondered who taught Mrs. Duran about herbs and potions."

"I did, but she has her great-great-grandmother's uncanny way with plants."

"Is Mrs. Duran related to you?" Carly asked, startled. "She wasn't on the list of relatives you gave me."

"If your family has been here for more than three generations, everyone's related, one way or another," Dan said before Winifred could. "Like any other old village, you have all kinds and degrees of cousins under every bush."

Winifred's mouth thinned. "You wouldn't believe how close to the bone some of the old families bred."

Carly's eyes gleamed gold. "I'd love to do a DNA study of-"

"What's that?" Winifred cut in.

"You remember the Dillons of Phoenix? You mentioned them when you first called me."

Winifred nodded. "I heard about them on Behind the Scenes. When I called you and you sent me the article on the Dillons, I ordered your family history of them, and hired you on the spot. There was something about DNA in the article, and how it helped them to connect up parts of their family they didn't know about."

"Right," Carly said eagerly. "They were looking for a lost great-grandfather, so they traced the Y-DNA, which is passed down through the male germ cell. Turns out that they were related to Thomas Jefferson through-"

"I should have figured the test would only be for men," Winifred cut in. "I'm interested in my family's women. Men get more than their share of everything just by being men."

"That's true," Dan said quickly, trying to cut Carly off.

It didn't work.

"If you're more concerned with female relatives," Carly said over his words, "you work with mtDNA, which comes down only from the female germ cell. Mothers pass it to daughters, who pass it to their own daughters, and so on. If a woman doesn't have any daughters, her mtDNA line dies out."

Don't take the bait, Winifred, Dan urged silently. More people are hurt by having too much knowledge than by having too little.

"Wait." Winifred frowned and tried to concentrate. The small fever she was running didn't help. "Are you telling me that you can know who is or isn't related to a woman by using special DNA tests? Does it work for men, too?"

"Yes."

"How?" Winifred asked, intrigued despite herself.

"The male's germ cell can't carry his mtDNA to the female germ cell, so the only way you get mtDNA-man or woman-is from the maternal line."

"Is the test expensive or painful?" Winifred asked.

"No pain at all," Carly reassured her. "There are several labs around the country that specialize in just such tests. It's not cheap, but if genetic certainty is important to you, then it's worth the cost."

For a moment, more than fever brightened Winifred's dark eyes. "What do you need for the test?"

"Almost anything will do. A swab from the inside of your cheek, a few drops of blood, the root of a hair. If you like, I'll order the test packet."

"Do that. Order a bunch."

"A bunch? Four? Six? More?"

"Ten. Ten should do it. Get them here quick. I'll pay for it."

Ten? Carly thought. Is she going to test everyone in the household? But all she said was, "They'll be here by Wednesday."

"Send them in my name."

"Of course."

Winifred nodded curtly and turned her attention to the herbs Dan had brought. "Thank your mother for me."

"I will. She asked after Lucia's two youngest kids. They missed her weekend reading classes."

"Alma was complaining that Lucia didn't come in to work today. Bet the kids are sick." Winifred sighed. "I'll check on them first thing in the morning."

"I'll do it on my way home," Dan said. "You shouldn't be out in the wind until you're better."

Winifred looked like she was going to object, but didn't. "I don't like leaving Sylvia alone. I have a feeling…" Her voice died. She rubbed her gnarled hands together. "Saw a raven flying alone over the cemetery. Not a good sign." She glanced at Carly. "Go with Dan to the Sandovals. The men haven't been worth a damn, but the women have lived in the valley since the Rebellion. Maybe they'll be able to answer some of your local history questions."