Tracker’s Sin by Sarah McCarty Page B

a rhythmic bal et. Somewhere in the stil ness of the night, Shadow waited.
    Tracker struck a sulfur on his boot and lit a smoke. It’d been a hel of a week, in which one puzzle had been solved and another
    developed. The solution to the first puzzle was good. Ari was found. The second was not so good. Vincente was insisting he marry her. Josefina was
    against it. For seven days he’d suffered burned meals and angry looks. Where Ari stood was a question mark. As soon as he’d protested the notion,
    she’d fal en back into politeness, as if it were a shield against rejection.
    She believed herself to have been married to a Mexican. She had a child who looked more Mexican than white. To her, there was no
    reason for the flatness of his refusal. She didn’t know the truth and he couldn’t give it. A white wife for a man like him would be more trouble than she was
    worth in most cases, but when that woman was Ari? Shit. He flicked the smoke into the water. That would be a dream come true. And Vincente had known
    it and announced the bans despite Tracker’s protests.
    “You never did have any respect for a good smoke.”
    “Hel o, Shadow.”
    Buster tossed his head and whickered a greeting of his own.
    His brother stepped away from the tree he’d been leaning against and crossed to his side. “Took you long enough to figure out I was
    here.”
    Tracker shrugged. “Guess that means I’m buying next time we get to town.”
    They’d been playing this more sophisticated form of hide-and-seek since they were kids.
    Shadow motioned for his fixings. Tracker handed them over. “Consider my forgiving the debt a wedding present.”
    “You heard?”
    “Not much else anybody’s talking about around here. There’s al kinds of stories about how it happened, but somehow Ari Morales landed
    as a groom the great Tracker Ochoa.”
    Landed? That was an interesting way to put it. “I’ve been waiting for the lynch mob.”
    Shadow smiled. “This would be a good spot for hanging. Not many trees around these parts big enough to hang a man your size, but that
    one over there could probably do it.”
    Tracker’s gaze fol owed Shadow’s pointing finger to the tal oak. Yeah. It probably would. “Thanks for the sympathy.”
    Shadow sprinkled tobacco on the paper. “I wasn’t aware you were looking for any.”
    Tracker wished he hadn’t been so quick to toss away his smoke. He had nothing to do with his hands. “I’m going to be the number one
    attraction for a shotgun wedding.”
    Shadow rol ed the smoke, ran his tongue along the edge of the paper and twisted the ends. He put the cigarette into his mouth. “To a
    woman you’ve been half in love with ever since Desi told you about her. There have been worse reasons to marry.”
    “Shit.”
    Shadow struck a match. Light danced over his face as he applied it to the tip of the cigarette. “You denying it?”
    Hell yes. There was no future for him with the woman. “Go home, Shadow.”
    His brother shook out the match and smiled. “When you do.”
    “I told you I had a bad feeling about this.”
    “Al the more reason for me to stay.”
    One of the problems with having a twin brother was he often had some of your same qualities. Like stubbornness.
    Tracker pushed his hat back. Frustration gnawed at his gut. “This isn’t your destiny.”
    “It’s always been you and me against everything. Might as wel add destiny to the list.”
    “No.”
    The end of the smoke glowed red in the night. “Not your cal .”
    “The hel it isn’t. I don’t want you here.”
    Shadow blew out a stream of smoke. It faded like Tracker’s patience into the darkness. “And here I was counting on being your best man.
    ”
    “Son of a bitch, you’re a stubborn bastard.”
    He smiled. “I am, aren’t I?”
    “I wouldn’t be bragging on it.”
    “Then I’l brag on my new sister-in-law instead. She’s a looker.”
    Tracker snatched the smoke from Shadow’s hand, took a deep drag. The smoke