"Indeed," said D'Age, letting a moment pass before continuing. "So you would know this area well, then, Mister…"

"Pieraro. Miguel Pieraro," he answered before walking nearer, extending a hand, which Aronson bent down to shake. "I am a rancher under the Federal Mandate. This is my daughter, Sofia."

The two men bowed their heads and removed their hats, each of them greeting her politely in turn. She nodded brusquely but said nothing.

The two riders exchanged a glance as they replaced their hats.

"You run longhorns?" D'Age asked.

Miguel shook his head. "Bedak Whitetails. My family made it to Australia after the Wave. I have always worked with cattle and was sent to a property tending Whitetails after we were released from camp. They are a good breed. Well suited to this land."

"But you are some distance from your land today, Mister Pieraro," D'Age said, leaving the obvious question unspoken.

Miguel nodded and answered by spitting in the dust.

"Road agents," he said without further explanation. Both men were sweating and high-colored in spite of the morning being cool. The color seemed to drain from the face of the one calling himself D'Age.

Aronson, the taller, leaner of the pair, cleared his throat awkwardly. "And your family?"

Miguel shook his head as he felt great weights and precarious burdens shift around somewhere inside him.

"I'm his family," Sofia said, and left it at that.

"I am sorry," Aronson said. "Some evil has befallen you?" His companion muttered condolences, too, shaking his head.

"Some," said Miguel.

Before dismounting, the riders appeared to consider something between themselves without actually exchanging any words. D'Age shook hands with Miguel while the other man led their horses over to the nearest fence line, where he tied them up. Miguel was surprised to see tears welling in D'Age's eyes.

"I am very sorry," he said again quietly. "Very sorry," he added while half bowing in a strangely formal gesture toward Sofia.

The girl smiled, but the warmth didn't reach her eyes. She didn't come and stand by her father, however, as much as Miguel could tell she wanted to. She knew not to present a small target by grouping together like that. Aronson knocked the dust from his hat by slapping it on his thigh as he walked back from the fence line.

"I'm afraid we have had our own problem with road agents," he said. Miguel noticed that D'Age seemed to stiffen and bunch his jaw muscles tightly as Aronson continued.

"Raiders hit us outside of Trinity," he said. "Near Lake Livingston. Took our supplies, a good number of cattle…"

Miguel waited for them to finish. There was obviously more.

"And some of our people," Aronson confessed at last, forcing out the words like squeezing pus from a wound.

"Your women," Miguel said flatly.

Both men nodded. He noticed something like fear tinged with rage in his daughter's eyes. The vaquero ran one hardened hand through his thick black hair. It came away damp with sweat. The sun was fully up in the eastern sky now, warming the day and causing all three men to perspire. Sofia seemed less bothered by the heat.

"We had six young women with us," Aronson explained. "One of them was betrothed to Willem. The others were riding north to our community in KC. They are a great loss."

"Your raiders came out of Montgomery, most certainly," Miguel said, his voice tired and cracked. "Many banditos infest the ruins of Houston. Not like the big Eastern cities, no, but still many. I believe that Blackstone leaves them alone in there because they threaten the refugee trails coming up from the south. They-"

"You never said anything about that," Sofia interrupted, looking annoyed.

He motioned her silent and continued. "They threaten the federale settlement paths out of Corpus Christi, too, another reason for Blackstone to leave them be. In my opinion."

Both men looked hollow-eyed and raw. Aronson worked the brim of his hat like a length of rosary beads.

"I do not take your point about Governor Blackstone, Mister Pieraro, but do you think it is possible the men who attacked us also attacked you?" he asked.

"Papa?" Sofia asked in a small voice, her eyes looking very large in her face.

Miguel sighed and shook his head. "I don't think agents from out of Houston would come this far. I saw no sign that the men who attacked our farm were traveling with prisoners."

D'Age looked ill. "But that could just mean-"

Miguel cut him off with a chopping gesture.

"No, the men who killed our family were not taking prisoners or hostages. They took nothing. A few who stayed behind were scavenging food, but that was all." He tried to give D'Age a reassuring look. "The men who attacked you were seeking plunder. They will still have your women and cattle."

Sofia surprised him by speaking up and doing so with real force.

"Then we must help them, Papa," she insisted, sounding very much like her mother for just a second. His first instinct was to argue with her, but the fierceness of her gaze gave him pause. He could tell she had made up her mind. Miguel spent a few moments sizing Sofia up. For the first time since yesterday he saw a strong emotion other than sadness in her features.

He saw ungovernable rage, a killing rage suddenly boiled up from within her heart, and it disturbed him greatly.

He sighed.

"You are looking for them, are you not?" he asked. It was more of a statement than a question.

Aronson nodded. "We followed them north as best we could, but we are not country people, really. I am a sociologist by training. I was witnessing in Scotland when the Wave hit, studying at Edinburgh. All of us came home when it lifted. We have tried to do the best we can, Mister Pieraro, but…"

Miguel could see the that man was losing his composure fast. It was not surprising. Being wrenched from city life onto the frontier and told to make do as best one could, would be enough to break most people, but these poor bastards did not just have surly beasts and stony ground with which to contend. They had fallen afoul of human treachery as well.

The vaquero came to a decision.

"There is a store here in Leona," he said. "It has a well-stocked cellar, protected from the heat and rain. You can take supplies from there. I will show you. As for your raiders, if they are not here and they did head north, they will have set down in Crockett for a few days. It has not been reclaimed, and much of the town still stands. I believe the power failed there after the Wave. If you wish, I will help you take back what is yours."

The men gaped at him as though he had just materialized in the morning air. He was aware that compared with them he must look every bit as rough and untrustworthy as the bandits who had attacked their party. Their questions spilled out one on top of the next.

"You would do that?"

"You would help us?"

"You're sure that's where they would be?"

"Why?"

He shrugged. "We are also traveling north. It will be safer for my daughter if we travel with a large group, even though we may attract more attention. If you will have us as companions, I will help you. Sofia, however, I must insist be protected. If there is fighting to be done, I will do it."

He gave her a stern look, as if to cut short any dissent, but she bristled anyway.

"I want these men as much as you do, Papa," she protested through thin lips.

Miguel folded his arms and shook his head. "They are not the same men, Sofia. And even if they were, it would not be your role to settle our affairs with them. That is my duty and mine alone. Your mother, God rest her soul, would not have it any other way. As you well know, young lady."

The Mormons tactfully found something interesting to look at off on the horizon while the surviving members of the Pieraro clan played out their small confrontation. Miguel did not glare at his daughter. Indeed, he was proud of her for wanting to exact vengeance with her own hands. But although a life of hardscrabble farming had given her great strength and fitness for one of her age and sex, she remained at heart a young girl, and he would do all he could to protect her innocence as much as her life. While she fumed and pouted, he merely stared back at her, waiting her out. After a few moments she expressed her exasperation in the time-honored manner of all teenage girls, rolling her eyes and muttering loudly about the unfairness and indignity of life.