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disappoint you, but do you know anything about this Satterlee?”
    â€œNo, no I don’t. What’s the matter?”
    Smoke did not want the boy to go bad. He seemed to have some promise. So, he told Mac what he knew of Clifton Satterlee from the letter sent by Diego Alvarado. As he spoke, the youngster’s eyes grew big, and he produced an angry expression. When Smoke concluded, Mac shook his head.
    â€œI sure don’t want anything to do with someone like that. Sounds like he’s puredee crook.” Then he took on a sad expression. “But now I’ve burned my bridges, what am I gonna do to make a livin’?”
    â€œTaos is growing. And I have a friend. A man who owns a large ranch. Do you happen to speak Spanish? His name is Diego Alvarado; he’s a real Spanish gentleman.”
    Mac nodded enthusiastically. “Sure do. Learned it from the sons of our hired hand. I growed up with them.”
    â€œThen, if Don Diego takes you on, you’ll have lots of use for it. All of his ranch hands are Mexican.”
    Mac frowned. “I don’t know much about cows. We planted mostly hay, sold it to the ranchers, put in some wheat, corn. Pap wanted to try watermelons. They grow real good in Texas.”
    â€œAs I recall, Diego has some fields down by a creek that runs behind his house which he uses to irrigate them. He grows several kinds of melons, as well as corn, onions, beans, chile peppers, and a little cotton. He provides nearly all the needs for the entire ranch.”
    â€œHow—how big is this place?”
    â€œThree or four thousand acres, I’m not sure which.”
    Mac looked at Smoke in awe. “That’s the biggest spread I ever heard of. All we have is a quarter section.”
    Smoke took pity on Mac, though not much. “Diego has more land under irrigated cultivation than that. I’m willin’ to bet he could use an experienced farmer.”
    Over their meal, Smoke worried around another idea in his head. When Mac offered to wash up after supper, Smoke poured a cup of coffee and spoke his mind. “If Diego has no need for a farmer, there might be something else you can do. Something for me. Though it might prove risky.”
    New hope bloomed on Mac’s face. “Anything, so long as it’s legal, Smoke.”
    â€œI assure you it’s that. Don Diego asked me to come out and take a look at this Satterlee’s operation. I could use some help in doing that.”
    â€œHow can you poke into something crooked? That’s a job for the law.”
    Smiling, Smoke produced his badge and showed it to Mac. “So happens, I’m a deputy U.S. marshal. What I have in mind is that if Diego does not take you on, you go ahead and take that job with Satterlee. Only, don’t break the law yourself. Look around, keep your ears open. See what kind of sign you cut on his operation. Then, make arrangements to report anything you learn to me. You’d get regular deputy marshal pay, provided by the U.S. Marshal’s Office. That should give you a good stake after the job is over.”
    â€œWhat about the risk you mentioned?” Mac asked soberly.
    No fool this one, Smoke reflected. “If you are caught, Satterlee or one of his henchmen will try to kill you. Or at least hurt you pretty bad.”
    Mac cut his eyes to the six-gun in the holster on his hip. “I ain’t as fast or accurate as you, Smoke. An’ I never caught on to the trap of those three in Raton. But I am good with a gun.”
    â€œYou’ll have to be. What d’you say?”
    â€œOkay. I’ll do it.”
    Smoke looked Mac levelly in the clear, blue eyes. “Done, then. But you may not live to regret it,” he told the boy ominously.
    * * *
    A refreshing spring shower had brightened the yellow bonnets of the jonquils and purple-red tulip globes in the wide beds planted at the front of the main house on the Sugarloaf. A rainbow hung