She had seen plenty of dead animals. Growing up on a ranch, Catalina knew all too well the rancid stench that followed after an animal suddenly dropped dead in the night and wasn't discovered until the next morning. It was unmistakable. It was overwhelming. Once you smelled it, you could never again forget it. 

It was the scent of loss. Of scarcity. Of another night without dinner and another winter without enough to eat. 

Covering her mouth and nose with her scarf, she nearly gagged at the sickly sweet odor that burned her nostrils. There was a time when she was a child where she would have emptied her stomach at the slightest whiff. If it wasn't the smell that made vomit, it was the sight. 

Swarms of black flies would gather over the lifeless body- their loud buzzing ringing in her ears until that was all she could hear. Plump, white maggots would crawl around the blank eyes and into the closest orifice. Usually, that would be the nostrils or the mouth. 

Usually. 

Yes, Catalina had seen many dead animals before, but none like this. 

The row of dead goats scattered before her was already confusing in itself. Never before had their livestock just died unless a disease had been going around. But Catalina knew this had been no disease that killed them- this had been done by an animal.

But this was no animal she knew. Everything about the scene was too clean. The goats were left completely intact, something she had never seen before. There was no mess of entrails, much less a drop of blood anywhere in the pen. If it hadn't been for the two small holes on their necks, Catalina would have thought they had simply fallen ill and died.

"What the..." She leaned over one of the goats and touched the holes. Except for the dried blood encrusted around the rims, there was no other trace of the liquid on the body.

Even though she already knew what she would find, Catalina checked each body- five in total- and found the same two holes on each of their necks.

~

"Mamá!" Catalina ran into the house, letting the wooden door slam behind her. "Papá!"

"Shh, Catalina." Her mother appeared, carrying her infant brother in her arms. "You'll wake Ernesto."

"Sorry, Mamá." She dropped her voice down to a whisper. "But I have to tell you something. It's important. Where's Papa?"

"What is it, Catalina?" As if on cue, her father hobbled into the kitchen behind her mother. 

"Something killed the goats," she blurted out. "When I went to feed them this morning, I found them dead. But..." The girl shifted her gaze downwards, afraid of what she was about to say next. "There was no blood. No signs of an attack. Nothing. Except for two holes on their necks." Catalina twisted her neck to the side, pointing with her two fingers where the wound was.

Her father's eyebrows furrowed together. "What?"

"Here, I'll show you!" Catalina started for the back door. "It's the strangest thing-"

"Could it have been a coyote?" Her mother asked, turning to her father. 

"No," Catalina answered. "If it had been a coyote, it would have left something behind. Blood, bone, guts. Anything!"

"I'll go take a look." Her father heaved a great sigh. "Maybe it's those other ranchers harassing us again."

Holding the door open, Catalina watched as he limped out of the house and into the dirt. "I don't know what it could be," she said, following closely behind her father.

"Whatever it is, we'll kill it." His voice was gruff like the gravel that covered their land. While her sister and brother found it intimidating, Catalina liked the sound. She wished her voice was rough and stern like his instead of the fluctuating tone she was stuck with.

"There, look." She pointed to the littered bodies. Her father slowly made his way over to the closest one, and Catalina had to help him as he bent down. 

"No, it wasn't a coyote." He pressed his forefinger against the holes before bringing it up to his eyes. "Or a bobcat."

"What else could it have been? A fox?"

He shook his head. "No, foxes don't drain their prey."

Catalina's dark brown eyes widened. "What?" She glanced down at the goat, unable to believe she had heard him correctly. "Its blood is gone?"

The man nodded; a glassy look having glazed over his sunken eyes. "Yes. Look." With a grunt, he grabbed the legs and held it upside down. Catalina watched, anticipating the thick blood to dribble out onto the dirt any second now.

But no blood came out. Nothing had.

"Go get the shovels from the shed," he ordered, tossing the corpse back down. "Now."

Without further delay, Catalina hurried over to the nearby shed and grabbed two shovels. One shovel was something she could barely hold, much less two. Carrying one in each hand, Catalina was forced to drag them, leaving a trail behind her in the sand.

They carried the goats over to an empty area- Catalina holding the front legs and her father holding the back ones. It took a while to bring all five of them over there, and by the time they had done so, it was no longer dawn. The sun was now hanging in the pale blue sky, beating down over them.

The rest of the house should be awake by now.   

Knowing he couldn't with his leg, Catalina struck the dirt with her shovel and began to dig. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it seemed to move painfully slow. With every strike, her palms rubbed raw against the uneven handle, and her spine felt like it was going to snap.

"I'm going to go after it," her father finally spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "I'm going to track it and kill it."

Catalina stopped and wiped her brow. Although she could hear the frustration in his voice, she knew there was a sense of fear behind it. They couldn't afford to lose any more animals, not with winter coming so soon upon them. "No, Papá. You have to stay here. I'll go."

His glare burned like the desert sun above them. "Foolish girl, you know nothing of tracking and hunting! You'll only get yourself lost or killed." He picked up his shovel and started helping his daughter, albeit at a much slower pace than her already strenuous one. After just a few strikes into the dirt, he had to stop and rest. 

"Then let me come!" she pleaded, nearly dropping her shovel. "I want to help. I have to! As the eldest child-"

"That is exactly why you must stay." He sighed, leaning his hands on the top of the handle. Sweat dripped down his ashen face and neck. "No, I will go alone. In case anything happens, you can take care of the ranch."

By taking care of, Catalina knew he meant that she marry a wealthy rancher and secure her family's future. She had heard her parents discuss it before in secret. And each time she did, she felt no better than the livestock her family bred and raised.

With nothing else to say, Catalina went back to digging the mass grave. Her father was a stubborn man, much like the animals they were burying. Once he had made up his mind on something, it was already set in stone.

**

For the rest of the day, Catalina could not get the images of the dead goats out of her mind. No matter what she did to distract herself- whether that be feeding the horses or plucking the feathers off the quail- every time she closed her eyes, their limp, bloodless bodies returned. What secrets did their lifeless eyes hold? What had they seen before their stare was fixed permanently into nothingness? The gaping jaws of a predator? Or the malicious grins of a couple of ranchers?

These were the questions that she mulled over, tossing them over in her brain as she tried to pin down an answer. But no matter how long she wrestled with them, no answer ever came.

When lunchtime finally came, a sense of uneasiness permeated the air. Mamá kept glancing at Papá, who had been quieter than usual. Catalina stared into her bowl of soup, stirring it aimlessly with her spoon. But if her sister and brother noticed, they did not show it since they carried on, as usual, squabbling and teasing one another.

Catalina wouldn't have been surprised if her parents hadn't told them about what had happened. Isabella- the spoiled child she was- was too much in her own world to care. And Tomás, being still a child, would surely be frightened. It was probably for the best if they were kept in the dark. They didn't need to know the danger they were in; the danger of going hungry during the long and brutal winter. 

Catalina's eyes scanned their bony forms and the way their clothes hung around their bodies like curtains. Had they always been this skinny? Glancing down at her own figure, Catalina couldn't remember the last time she had filled out her blouse. Hell, she couldn't even remember the last time she had been full. 

She couldn't remain in the dark with her siblings, not after everything she had seen. She didn't have the luxury to. So while Isabella and Tomás went out to play, she stayed back and cleaned up the table, preparing once again to demand her father to take her with him.

But the sound of her mother's hushed from the other room made her pause. "You can't go alone. It's too dangerous."

"I can handle it," her father replied.

Slowly putting down her washrag, Catalina crept over the wooden boards and into the hall. Two large shadows loomed on the wall, facing each other as they argued back and forth.

"No, Tomás. Not with your leg," her mother begged. "Take someone with you. Please."

"Who?"

"Go to town and pay someone! I don't know!" Mamá's shadow jerked as she readjusted the baby in her arms.

Her father scoffed. "You know they won't help us. No matter how much I offer."

"Then maybe we should leave..." 

The arms of Papá's shadow shot up in the air. "Leave the ranch? Woman, are you crazy?!"

"Tomás! Be quiet, or Catalina will hear!" Mama hissed. "If it's the ranchers again, what if they do something else next? What if they come after the children?"

"I am not leaving this ranch. Not for anything." The shadow's head bobbed side-to-side. "This is our ranch. Our land. If it is the ranchers, then I'll kill them before they ever touch our children. Trying to starve us won't work, and neither will running us off."

Having heard enough, Catalina backed away from the hall and into the kitchen. If she wanted to get to town by dusk, she would have to leave now. Taking a few furtive glances as she ran out of the house, she saw Isabella and Tomás were nowhere in sight. They must be off playing by the arroyo, and thank God for that. If they had seen her sneak into the shed, they would have surely squealed on her like the pigs they were.

Snatching the machete off its hook, Catalina carefully placed it under her belt and covered it with her long cardigan. She peered around the door, looking to see if anyone had returned. Nothing but a lone tumbleweed rolled across the dirt.

"Hey, Cortez." She greeted the golden stallion as she approached the stable. Nuzzling his face against her hand, Catalina smoothed his glossy black mane. "We're going on a little trip, okay? So I hope you ate well this morning."

With one last look around, Catalina opened the gate and climbed onto her horse's back. She had had this horse for nearly all of her life. He had been her father's gift to her when the foal was born. She still remembered that warm summer night he came into the world, stumbling around the stable as he tried to walk.

Wrapping his mane between her fingers, the turquoise ring suddenly caught her eye. "Abuela's ring," she muttered. A deep sigh left her body as the realization dawned on her about how she would offer payment. She had no money or gold to offer. She had nothing but this silver ring with a turquoise stone in the middle.

"Forgive me," she whispered, knowing her mother would wring her neck if she ever found out what she planned to do. But there was no other way. She couldn't- No, she wouldn't let her family starve because of some damned animal.

Taking a final glance at the ranch, Catalina tugged on Cortez's mane and rode off towards where the mountains touched the sky- towards where someone's last hope could be bought with a shot of tequila.