Lights had been burning all night in the large ranch house a few miles south of the border. An eighteen year old girl watched the first glow of dawn in the eastern sky, and at a slight sound, she turned from the window. Her tear-reddened eyes fell on the face of an aged Mexican woman who motioned from a doorway. Betty Roberts nodded silently, rising from her chair and entering a bedroom. She dropped to her knees at her mother's bedside, and her mother finally told her the story of her father, Jim, of Texas injustice, and that her father had hanged there in Texas before Betty's mother had fled to Mexico.