"Appreciate that," Dan said. "Hang on. I've got another two-month block of articles to set up."

Gus walked down the stairs and stopped by Carly's chair. Absently he tapped the envelope he held on the table.

"Told you he could do it," Gus said. "Bump on his head and all."

"You're right. Your brother's amazing. A nerd in wolf's clothing."

Gus smiled but it faded quickly. The image of his brother lying in the snow on Castillo Ridge had been a lousy way to start the day. The rest of the day had gone in the same direction. He looked at the envelope he'd carried in from his office.

"You hear from Winifred today?" Gus asked.

Caught by something in Gus's voice, Carly looked up from her computer screen. "No, why?"

"There's a rumor going through the hispano community."

Dan hit a key and faced his brother. "What kind of rumor?"

"That Winifred is dead."

Carly opened her mouth and shut it just as fast. Her hands clenched in her lap. "Surely someone would have told me."

"Would they?" Dan asked. He put his hand over her fists and rubbed gently. "No one wanted you here but Winifred."

"If they think I'll leave because she's ill or dead, they're going to be real disappointed."

Dan didn't bother to argue that Winifred's death would be a good excuse for Carly to go to a safer place. He was old enough to know which arguments would fly and which would die. She wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what was at stake. Lying in a snowy ravine waiting to be shot had a real clarifying effect on thought processes.

"If she's dead, what caused it?" Dan asked.

"Pneumonia."

Carly bit the inside of her lip against a combination of anger and tears. Winifred wasn't an easy person, but she was a living encyclopedia of Castillo and Quintrell history. If she'd died, all the insights, the love, even the hatred-all the emotions and memories that made history more than a litany of names and dates-had died with her.

"She can't be dead," Carly said.

And she knew she could.

"She saw the raven flying," Dan said. "Damn."

"We can't be sure she's dead," Gus pointed out.

"Did you call the ranch?" Dan asked.

"Of course."

"And?"

"Melissa gave me a very polite runaround. The doctor was with Winifred, she couldn't be bothered, she'd get back to me."

"And she didn't," Dan said.

Gus shrugged. "Not yet. But maybe Carly can help."

"How?"

"This is addressed to you." Gus held out the envelope he carried. "It looks like old-fashioned handwriting, it came from the Quintrell ranch, and I'm thinking-"

"Winifred," Dan cut in.

"Yeah," Gus said. "I guess she didn't know where Carly would be staying, so Winifred sent it care of me."

Carly looked at the postmark. Friday morning. Quickly she opened the letter. A receipt of some kind fluttered out. With a speed that made her blink, Dan snatched a corner of the paper before it had fallen more than a few inches.

"'Genedyne Lab,'" he read. "Looks like a return receipt for some kind of tissue or blood samples."

"Why would Winifred mail her lab work receipt to Carly?" Gus asked.

Dan smiled slowly. It wasn't a nice smile.

Carly looked at him warily, reminded of the man who had been lying next to her in the snow, bleeding, waiting with a drawn weapon, hoping to meet whoever was stupid enough to approach them.

"It's one of the top genetic testing labs in the U.S.," Dan said. "Looks like Winifred mailed some samples to them."

"Why?" Carly asked.

"Good-bye, Gus," Dan said.

Gus looked hurt.

It would have been more effective if he hadn't licked his lips at the thought of a hot story involving the single most newsworthy family in the state.

"If you stay, you promise not to write, hint, or pass by sign language anything you hear," Dan said. "If you want to keep Mom happy, you'll abide by not only the letter of what I've said but the spirit. Or I'll bust your balls and feed them to a coyote."

Gus gave a shout of laughter. "He's baaaack!"

"Who?" Carly asked.

"My real brother, the one who has been off somewhere sulking for three months. It took a rap on the head to wake him up."

"Men don't sulk, they brood," Dan said.

Carly snickered.

Dan pinned his brother with a level glance that said he was through playing. "Are you in or out?"

"Does this have something to do with the baby names I'm tracking down?"

Dan waited.

Gus sighed. "Yeah, yeah, my lips are sealed, my hands are tied, and I won't fart in code, okay?"

Carly laughed.

"I'm going to call the office," Dan said. "They'll be able to find out what Winifred sent to the lab."

"How can they-" Carly began.

"Finding out things is what they do," Dan said, "and they're good at it."

"They," Gus muttered. "I thought you weren't working for the Feds anymore."

"I'm not."

Dan took out his cell phone and wished he'd brought the satellite phone. But he hadn't. It was locked in the case with his encoder-decoder, gun, ammo, and a few other things he didn't want children of any age playing with. He punched in a number, listened, punched in another number, and left his name and callback number.

"Okay," he said. "What else is in Winifred's letter?"

Carly fished out what looked like an old legal document, unfolded it carefully, and shook her head. "She shouldn't have crammed this into a business envelope. There's damage."

"Maybe she was in a hurry," Dan said.

"What is it?" Gus asked, trying to get around Dan so that he could read over Carly's shoulder.

"Some kind of legal document," Carly said, scanning quickly. "Nineteen thirty-four. There's an English translation at the bottom. At least, I think it's a translation. My reading Spanish isn't up to a point-by-point comparison."

"May I?" Dan asked.

She leaned aside so that he could read.

"It's an accurate translation," he said after a minute.

"Of what?" Gus asked impatiently.

"Looks like a nuptial or prenuptial agreement between the Quintrell family and Sylvia Simmons y Castillo," Carly said, scanning the English version. "He agrees that in appreciation of their contribution of money and local support, he'll guarantee that only a child of Sylvia Quintrell's body can inherit the land, and thereafter only descendants of that child may inherit, world without end, amen. If anyone not of Castillo blood attempts to inherit-or in case of death before children or divorce-the land and all its buildings and livestock immediately revert to the Castillo family."

Gus looked surprised.

"From the look and feel of it," Carly said, "whoever made this document was working from an older template. If I had to guess, I'd say that template was the original Quintrell/Castillo marriage agreement in 1865. Maybe it's somewhere in all the stuff Winifred gave to me."

"Guess the Castillos didn't trust the Quintrells, then or now," Gus said.

"They were realists," Carly said, "and the reality was that women in the mid-1860s often died before their husbands, who then remarried and started another family. The Castillos were just trying to make sure that the children of a second Quintrell wife didn't inherit Castillo land."

"Then why the more recent agreement?" Gus asked, looking at the early twentieth-century document. "Women weren't dying in childbirth as often."

"The second prenuptial agreement is the Castillo family's estimate of the Senator's morals," Dan said dryly. "They were afraid he'd use the Castillo's influence with the hispano community to get elected, and then dump their lovely Sylvia for someone without Castillo blood."

"Okay. So why does that matter now?" Gus asked. "The Quintrell begats are a matter of many public records."

Carly put the old document on the table and removed another piece of paper. It was a holographic will leaving everything of Winifred's to Carly, plus the right to search for, copy, or otherwise gather anything from the ranch records that would be helpful to the family history. The will also stated that Carly was to have free run of the ranch as long as the ranch was owned by Castillo descendants. The document was dated last Tuesday.