Winifred turned on the copier and went to work, reproducing the old document she'd taken from a locked box hidden in her room. When she was finished copying, she shut off the machine and turned to the desk. The wheelchair made reaching everything awkward, but she had no choice.

The side drawer stuck, then finally gave with a creak when she kept tugging. Deliberately she counted out three envelopes crisp with the Quintrell ranch logo and began addressing them. Into each envelope she put a copy of the old document. She hesitated, then put the receipt for the DNA samples that she'd sent into the envelope destined for Carolina May. She also put the original document in that envelope, folding the brittle paper ruthlessly.

With deliberate motions that belied the frantic beating of Winifred's heart, she sealed the envelopes and put stamps on each. Then she carefully mixed the three envelopes in with the ranch's normal outgoing mail, bundled everything up again, and set it neatly on the tray. Whoever took them in to town tomorrow morning-the Snead boys or Alma or Lucia-wouldn't notice the extra mail.

Winifred hesitated, but finally couldn't resist. She wanted the Senator's son to know. She wanted him to understand that she'd won.

Grimly she dialed the governor's cell number. The governor answered after four rings.

"What is it, Pete?" Josh asked. "More problems with the books?"

"It's not Pete," Winifred said. "But you have more problems than balancing the ranch books."

"Winifred? Is something wrong?"

"No, something's right." She coughed but managed to get her breath. "Finally it will be right."

"Look, it's late. I have a speech to edit, a plane to catch in four hours, and I'm still sick from whatever-"

"Oh, it's late all right," she interrupted. "Late for you and the Senator's plans. I fixed him, and you." She wanted to laugh but was afraid it would dissolve into coughing.

At the other end of the line, Josh pinched the bridge of his nose, shook himself like a dog coming out of water, and wondered what in hell was going on. Had the old woman finally cracked?

Just what I need right now-a certifiably nutty aunt.

"Winifred," he said curtly, "you're not making sense. Put Melissa on the line and-"

"Sylvia's great-grandmother, Isobel's mother, was una bruja," Winifred said, ignoring Josh's attempt to talk. "She knew the Senator couldn't be trusted with the land. She made him sign a document agreeing that-"

"Isobel? Isobel who?" Josh said impatiently. "What's this all about?"

"Castillo," Winifred hissed. "It's about the marriage between Castillo and Quintrell."

"That was a long time ago, long before the Senator was even born. How could anyone trust or not trust a man who wouldn't be born for forty years?"

Winifred took a shallow, careful breath. She had to focus so that the governor would understand.

So that he would know she'd won.

"They signed a marriage agreement," Winifred said. "Sylvia and the second Quintrell. One of the things they agreed was that only children with Sylvia Castillo's blood in them could inherit the land. Her children, not his."

"And your point would be?" Josh asked sarcastically. "Sylvia and the Senator had kids, and only one survived. That would be me. I inherited the ranch, and this whole conversation is nuts."

"Can you prove it?" Winifred asked, her voice hoarse and triumphant. "Can you prove Sylvia Castillo Quintrell is your mother?"

"Of course I-"

"No you can't," Winifred said, her voice trembling with victory and rage and illness. "You're no more a Castillo than I'm a Quintrell."

"You're crazy. Don't make me prove it and lock you up. You don't want to spend whatever time you have left wearing a hug-me jacket in a padded room. And that's just what will happen if you keep flogging this nonsense."

The governor hung up before Winifred could say another word.

You're crazy. Don't make me prove it and lock you up.

"You can threaten me and brush me off like a fly," Winifred said to the dead phone, "but not Jeanette Dykstra."

The thought made Winifred smile, then laugh, then cough until she was dizzy. Leaving the office was harder than entering had been. She was feeling age and sin and illness like a thousand cuts bleeding her strength away, even the raging strength of hatred. Death was coming to her in the body of a raven soaring on the wind. She didn't know when it would come, but she was certain it was soon.

If the pneumonia didn't kill her, the Senator's son would.

Chapter 37

TAOS

FRIDAY MORNING

CARLY AWOKE WITH THE FIRST LIGHT SLIPPING PAST THE CURTAINS INTO DAN'S bedroom. She felt a moment of disorientation at the warm weight along her left side and over her waist. Then she remembered what had happened the night before.

Part of her still didn't believe someone wanted her dead.

Most of her did.

None of her liked it.

"You awake, honey?" Dan asked very softly.

His breath stirred her hair.

"Yes," she said.

"How do you feel?"

"Like myself. Mostly."

His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. He made a low sound as her rear fit against his crotch. "What's not like you?"

"I'm scared," she said.

He stilled. "Of me?"

She looked over her shoulder and deliberately moved her hips against his erection. "No."

"Good. I'd let you go if I had to, but…" He let out a long breath. "I want you, Carly."

"So that's not a giant pickle in your pocket?" she asked wryly.

"I'm not wearing any pockets. No clothes, either."

"Funny thing. Neither am I."

"That was your idea," he said.

"It was?"

"Yeah. You decided you had to have a bath. At three A.M. You spent the next thirty minutes in the shower. Used up all the hot water and still didn't get out until you were shivering." He nuzzled against her nape. "Then you started for your bed wearing only a wet towel."

"Something must have happened on the way. This is your bed, not mine."

"You were cold and headed barefoot for a room that probably still has pieces of glass on the floor somewhere. Couldn't have that happen, could we?"

Carly smiled. She hadn't wanted to sleep alone but hadn't been up to being anyone's sex kitten, not even Dan's. He hadn't pushed her. He'd just wrapped her up in a dry towel, put her in his bed, curled up around her to keep her warm… and she'd fallen asleep. Sometime during the night, she'd lost the towel.

"Once we were in bed," Dan said, tasting her warm neck, "I didn't want you to feel underdressed, so I took off my clothes."

She murmured, savoring the feel of Dan's body pressed against hers. She liked the faint roughness of his hair rubbing over her skin. She liked the smell of him.

She couldn't wait to taste him.

The thought startled her. She'd never thought of herself as a particularly sensual person. She liked men, enjoyed the physical differences between the sexes, and had never found a man she couldn't do without. But Dan sparked a hot kind of curiosity in her. She wanted to know what it would be like to have sex with him, what she would be like in his arms, if the heat pooling in her body would finally find release.

"Now I remember," she said lazily. "The hot water ran out and I was cold and then this electric blanket warmed me up."

"Electric blanket? Have I just been insulted?"

"It was a really superior electric blanket."

He nipped her shoulder.

"Hey, at that point I still was a cheeseburger short of a Happy

Meal," she pointed out. "I just assumed anything that warm had to plug into a wall socket."

She felt as much as heard Dan's laughter.

"So that's why you wouldn't kiss me," he said. "You didn't want a mouthful of flannel and wires."