"Well," he hedged, "it was Juan Chavez who brought the horses over, sixteen of them. We had to take them, Colby. He's paying top dollar and we need the money. You said your-self Clinton Daniels was pushing us about the mortgage."
"Not their money," Colby snapped impatiently. "Never their money. It's conscience money, for their sins. We'll find other ways to pay the mortgage." She shook her head to clear it of the anger welling unexpectedly out of nowhere. Slamming her hat against her denim-clad thigh, she muttered unladylike things under her breath. "Juan had no right to offer you the horses behind my back." She glanced at her brother's miserable face and instantly the anger evaporated as if it had never been.
She reached out to shove her hand affectionately through his jet black hair. "It isn't your fault. I should have expected something like this and warned you. Ever since that family showed up, that De La Cruz person has been nothing but trouble. I wrote the letter to the Chevez family for Dad nearly three years ago. Isn't it a blooming miracle they're finally getting around to answering it?" Colby swung around to face the chestnut, watching it carefully with wary eyes. "This horse is probably their way of getting rid of me so they can have you. With me out of the way they might have a chance at taking you and Ginny with them back to their South American hell-hole. And robbing you of your inheritance while they're at it."