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mine. I intend to have it.”
    “You won’t have it long if you marry him. The Pascal family is ruthless. They’ll take your property and set you to planning fiestas.”
    “That is not how it will be!” She pushed back from the table and stood up. “I shall manage my own land. Those grants have belonged to the familia Matas from the earliest days of Spanish exploration. Don’t presume to predict my future, Buchanan. You are a vaquero. Youknow nothing. Now, saddle my horse while I prepare for the journey to Lincoln Town.”
    “Hold on a minute there.” Noah got to his feet and caught her arm. “A cowboy is as worthy of respect as any land-grubbing don. And I didn’t take an oath to be a servant to the grand marquesa . I’ll see to your horse while you wash dishes, but we’re not going to Lincoln today. We’re headed for Chisum’s South Spring River Ranch until the trouble dies down.”
    Nostrils flared, she peeled his hand from her arm. “You may go to the Chisum ranch, Buchanan, but today I speak to Sheriff Brady.” Starting for the bedroom door, she paused and looked back. “And Isobel Matas does not wash dishes.”
    Biting back a retort he would regret, Noah banked the fire and set off for the barn. He tried to pray his way through the silence as he saddled his horse, and he had just about calmed down when he heard the woman step outside.
    “You finished with those dishes?” he called.
    She lifted her chin. “I am not a servant, señor .”
    He was silent a moment, his jaw rigid. Then he left the horse and strode to the porch. “Listen, señorita . We have a rule out here in the West. It’s called, ‘I cook, you clean.’ Dick let us use his cabin, and we’ll leave it the way we found it. Got that?”
    Her pretty lips tightened. “And in Spain we have a rule also. ‘A woman of property does not wash dishes.’”
    “But you don’t have any property, remember? So you’d better—”
    Noah stopped speaking when the haughtiness suddenly drained from her face. Her brow furrowed as she focused on the distant ridge, and her lips trembled.
    At that moment he saw her as she saw herself: fallen from social class, power, wealth. Linked with a mule-headed cowboy who sassed her and ordered her around. Threatened by a cold-blooded killer. Unsure of her future, maybe even afraid.
    “I…I don’t know how to wash dishes.” Her voice was low, soft. “It was never taught to me.”
    At her confession, he took off his hat and tossed it onto a stool. “Come on, Isobel. I’m an old hand at this. I’ll teach you how to wash dishes.”

Chapter Three
    T he sun painted the New Mexico sky a brilliant orange as Noah Buchanan and his bride, Belle, rode into Lincoln.
    She had not expected this victory.
    While up to her elbows in soapy water, Isobel had told Noah about the letter informing her family that someone in Santa Fe had begun proceedings of land transfer. Unable to learn the name of the man who possessed the Spanish land-grant titles—no doubt the same man who had killed her father and stolen them—Isobel had departed for America.
    As she dried dishes at Noah’s side, he suddenly relented. They would go to Lincoln instead of Chisum’s ranch. But the town would be up in arms over Tunstall’s murder, he warned. Rattlesnake Jackson, Jesse Evans and the rest of the posse would be there, along with Alexander McSween and Tunstall’s men. It would be a powder keg waiting for a match.
    “You’d better get to know New Mexico if you want to run cattle here.” Noah spoke in a low voice as theyentered the town. “That plant with the spiky leaves is a yucca. The cactus over there is a prickly pear.”
    Riding a horse borrowed from Dick Brewer, she pointed to a twisted vine. “That’s a sandía, a watermelon.”
    Noah shook his head. “We call it a mala mujer .”
    “A bad woman?”
    “Looks like a watermelon vine. Promises a man relief from his hard life on the trail. But the mala mujer grows only