“I don't know. I'll call him up right now at his office and ask him.” She walked away from Sam then and stepped to the phone on her desk. Sam listened in agony to the entire conversation, and it was clear at the end of it that Bill knew nothing at all, and he was sorry that Tate had gone too. He had been counting on him to take over for him cone day when he was too old to run the ranch. But now that would never happen. He knew that Tate was gone for good.

“What did he say?” Samantha looked at her dismally as she came back and sat down.

“Not much. He said that Tate said he'd be in touch one of these days, but Bill says he wouldn't count on it. He knows the way these men are. He left no forwarding address.”

“Then I'll have to find his son at the Bar Three.” She said it almost with desperation, but Caroline shook her head.

“No, Sam. The boy quit and went with him. That much Bill knew. They packed the truck up together and then left.”

“Oh, my God.” Samantha dropped her head into her hands and began to sob again, softly this time, as though her heart were already shattered and there were nothing left.

“What can I do for you, Sam?” There were tears now in Caroline's eyes too. She realized how easily it could have happened to her years earlier, and the conversation Sam had related sounded exactly like an argument that she and Bill had had for years. Eventually they had resolved it differently, but Bill was a good deal less stubborn than Tate. He was also just a shade less noble, a fact for which Caroline was deeply grateful as she sat helplessly and watched the agony of her young friend.

Sam looked at her now, in answer to her question, “Help me find him. Please, oh, if you could do that…”

“How?”

Sam sat back against the couch and sniffed as she thought. “He'll go to a ranch somewhere. He Won't want any other kind of work. How would I get a list of ranches?”

“I can tell you all the ones I know in this area, the men can tell you others. No, let me ask them, we'll cook up some excuse, some reason. Sam”-Caroline's eyes lit up-“you'll find him.”

“I hope so.” She smiled for the first time in hours. “I won't stop until I do.”

18

By mid-April Sam had contacted sixty-three ranches. At first she had called the ones in the area, looking for Tate, then those farther north, some farther south, then she had begun to call other states. Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada, Texas, Arkansas, she had even called one in Nebraska that one of the men had suggested. He had talked to Tate about the place and said the food and the pay were real good. But no one had seen Tate Jordan. Sam left her name and address and Caroline's number and asked them to call her if Tate should appear. She used Caroline Lord's name everywhere and it helped her, and the two pored hourly over directories, want ads, listings, advertisements, and the names they got from the men. She had long since asked her office for an extension and had promised them some kind of definitive answer by May 1. If she wasn't coming back to New York, they wanted to know by then. Until then the job would be hers. But she didn't give a damn about her job, all she wanted was Tate Jordan, and he was nowhere to be found. It was as though a month before he had dropped off the face of the earth never to be seen again. He had to be somewhere, Sam knew, but the question was where? It was becoming an obsession with her. She no longer rode with the men, no matter that that began rumors or confirmed their suspicions. From the day that he left she rode with them no more.