by Myra Johnson
His mother sampled a spoonful from the simmering pot, then added a pinch of something from the spice rack. “Well, I’m proud of you for taking the initiative.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Whatever she was cooking smelled a million times better than Spencer’s clothes. Tweaking her more-salt-than-pepper braid with one hand, he reached around with the other to snatch her spoon and steal a taste for himself. “Mmm, Lita’s chili recipe.” His late grandmother had made the best. “Needs more cilantro.”
“Now you fancy yourself a chef? Better stick to horses, young man. And please, go get cleaned up.”
He started toward the hall, then backtracked. The question about Charles Forrester’s horse had been nagging at him, and maybe his mother could fill in the blanks. “Hey, Mom, yesterday while I was helping put Audra’s horses in the barn, I noticed Flash’s brand.”
A knowing smile creased her lips. “The Navarro N. Yes, Flash was one of ours.”
“But how? When?”
With a quick glance toward the back door, his mother turned down the stove burner and swiveled to face him. “After Charles was wounded in Iraq, he went through several months of rehab, including a therapeutic riding program. Audra confided in me once that for weeks after he’d come home, she’d been terrified of losing him to the depths of depression. But after he was on horseback again—the freedom, the empowerment—he started coming back to life.”
Spencer gave a low whistle. “That’s pretty amazing.”
“Around the same time, I’d heard your grandfather carrying on about a young gelding he’d been trying to train. He claimed the horse lacked the Navarro spirit and would never be good for anything except some kid’s backyard pleasure horse.”
“I sort of remember that. Didn’t Dad and Tito argue about putting the horse down?”
His mother offered a grim nod as she gave the chili another stir. “Arturo is a charro through and through. You’ve heard the stories of how he grew up watching his father compete in charreadas.”
The Mexican horsemen and their traditional rodeos. “And then followed in his father’s footsteps.” It was a great source of pride for Tito. Though Spencer had personally never cared to participate, he respected the ritualized team competition for its roots in ranching and horsemanship skills. “But what does that have to do with Charles Forrester owning Flash?”
“Your dad had recently begun attending natural horsemanship clinics, and he and your grandfather were at odds over old-school versus new-school training methods.” As if it had been her own idea, Mom added more fresh cilantro to the chili. “Then one weekend Arturo’s charro team planned to compete in a charreada near San Antonio. He told your father not to waste any more time or Navarro resources on the horse and to get rid of him one way or another by the time he returned.”
“So Dad sold him to the Forresters?”
“Not sold. Gave. He had a sense the sweet-tempered horse would be perfect for Charles.”
Spencer was momentarily speechless. “And Tito never found out?”
“How would he?” With a roll of her eyes, Mom went to get something from the pantry. “Your grandfather hasn’t set foot on McClement land since the day he and Egan legally parted ways.”
Just then, someone rapped on the back door. Through the sheer lace curtain, Spencer made out Lindsey’s profile. Pulse rate increasing, he hauled in a breath and opened the door. “Lindsey. Hi.” He peered past her shoulder in hopes his dad and grandfather hadn’t finished yet with the horse they’d been training. Anything to shield Lindsey from Tito’s ill will toward the McClements. “Is everything okay?”
“Hanging in there. Audra’s been baking again and insisted I bring you some cookies.” She handed him a foil-covered paper plate, then leaned past him. “Hi, Mrs. Navarro.”
“Lindsey, honey. I’ve been meaning to pop over and say hello ever since you got to town. How’s your aunt doing?”
“She has good days and bad. If I could only get her to eat a full meal...” Lindsey’s mouth puckered in a troubled frown.
“Grief takes time, and she’s had a harder time than most, even before Charles took sick. Having you here is sure to be a blessing.” Spencer’s mother beamed a meaningful smile in his direction. “In more ways than one.”
Still holding the plate of cookies, Spencer shot his mother a pointed glance before returning his attention to Lindsey. “Hope you got my email. Did the photos come through?”
“They were perfect. Thank you.” Urgency darkening her brown eyes, Lindsey lowered her voice. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Sure.” He set the cookies on the counter, then motioned her into the family room and slid the glass-paneled double doors closed—less chance of Tito walking in on them. “What’s on your mind?”
“Remember the idea I told you about?”
Guessing where this was headed, he kept his expression neutral. “You mean for turning the ranch into an event venue?”
She fingered a lock of her hair. “I’m starting to think it could actually work, but I’m about to come apart at the seams trying not to say anything in front of my aunt for fear of getting her hopes up.”
How about your own? he wanted to ask. “If anyone has the smarts to make it happen, it’s you, Lindsey. But...aren’t you running out of time?”
“Exactly why we’d need to get started right away. I know what a huge undertaking it would be. But I’ve talked with a couple of friends—Holly runs a successful catering business, and Joella, who’s building your website, is a corporate event planner—and they’ve made me believe it’s doable.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “So I guess what I’m asking is, would you be willing to help? I’d figure out a way to pay you somehow...eventually...”
“Pay me? No, not after—” Booming voices from the kitchen drew his attention. Dad and Tito must have come in. He hated to imagine his grandfather’s reaction if he found out what Lindsey was hoping to do next door. “You should go. We can talk about this later.”
Mouth flattened, she looked toward the door, then back at Spencer. “It always comes back to the feud, doesn’t it? Want me to climb out a window so your grandfather doesn’t see me?”
“No. I’m only trying—”
“What is wrong with the Navarros that you can’t let go of this senseless grudge? Arturo’s resentment has infected all of you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? Maybe not your mother—she’s never been anything but kind.” Her voice rose with every word. “But the rest of you—”
“Lindsey, please.” He stretched one hand toward her.
She backed away, her eyes narrowing in a look that stabbed like an ice shard. “What was I thinking? You said it yourself twelve years ago—Navarros and McClements don’t mix.”
Chin held high, she shoved the doors apart and marched from the room. Spencer unfroze his feet to follow, only to catch her quick goodbye to his mother as she barged past Dad and Tito and out the back door.
Chapter Five
“Was that the McClement girl?” Jaw clenched beneath his silver mustache, Tito glared at Spencer. “Haven’t I told you again and again that you should not be associating with her kind?”
“Her kind?” Bile rose in Spencer’s throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know very well. She’s the granddaughter of the man who stole everything I had worked for—everything that mattered to me.” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the McClement ranch. “That land will be mine in repayment if it is the last thing I do.”
Spencer’s dad laid a hand on Tito’s extended arm. “Papi...not now.”
“Why not? Doesn’t your son have a right to know of my intentions to reclaim his inheritance?” Casting a haughty smile toward Spencer, the old man narrowed his eyes. “This grandson, at least, has not completely turned his back o
n his heritage.”
Choosing to ignore the veiled reference to his twin, Spencer squared off with his grandfather. “It’s true, isn’t it—you’re looking to buy the McClement ranch out from under Audra Forrester. Don’t we have plenty of land already? Why can’t you leave her alone, give her a chance to recover and make a go of things?”
“Boys, boys,” his mother interrupted in the cajoling tone only she could get away with. “Don’t make me send you to your rooms without supper.”
“Apologies, mi amor.” Outside Tito’s line of vision, Spencer’s father shot him a look that said, Drop it. “Come on, Papi. Let’s wash up.”
Mom handed Spencer a ladle and pointed to the bowls she’d set on the table. “You can dish out the chili.”
Grabbing a bowl, he muttered, “How do you put up with him?”
“Because he’s your father’s father and also because I know beneath all that bitterness is a tender heart that hasn’t forgotten how to love.”
Spencer would have to ponder that statement awhile longer. He served some chili from the pot on the stove, then took the bowl to the table and brought over another empty one. “What really happened, Mom? All my life, I’ve felt like I haven’t gotten the whole story.”
“It began long before I met your dad, of course.” She took a pan of corn muffins from the oven and emptied them into a napkin-lined basket. “He was barely five years old when Arturo and Egan had their falling-out. Your aunt Alicia was only two. It’s not a subject your grandfather willingly talks about, so all they really know is what little they’ve pieced together over the years. Apparently, the disagreements had been building for a long time before something happened that severed the friendship forever.” Setting the basket on the table, she gave a weary shrug. “Whatever that something was, your grandfather hasn’t been able to let it go. Then after the ranch was divided, he believed the McClements cheated him out of the best grazing land and water resources.”
Just then, Spencer’s dad returned to the kitchen. “Lois, what are you telling our son?”
“Only answering his questions as best I can.” She looked past him toward the hallway. “Is your father coming to supper?”
“He said he’s too upset to eat and was going to bed.” Dad rubbed his jaw. “Papi hasn’t been looking well lately. I’m going to try to get him in soon to see the doctor.”
“Stubborn old coot. I’ll believe it when I see it.” With an annoyed shake of her head, Mom motioned Spencer and his dad to the table.
While his father offered the blessing, Spencer’s mind drifted to remnants of stories he’d heard about the friendship gone sour between Arturo Navarro and Egan McClement. According to one version, Egan had shown no respect for the charro traditions of Arturo’s Mexican ancestors and refused to diversify into breeding quarter horses. Another rumor suggested there may have been a romantic rivalry, which, having seen firsthand how devoted both men were to their loving wives, Spencer had a hard time believing. In any case, it sounded like they were both too bullheaded to admit fault or to compromise.
But was stubborn pride reason enough for two best friends to so spitefully part ways? For Arturo and Egan, apparently so.
* * *
Lindsey should never have trusted Spencer’s apology, much less his attempts at friendship. Naturally he’d choose loyalty to his family over any regard for her. It was about time she accepted there’d never be an end to the differences between Navarros and McClements.
She refrained from saying as much to Audra, though, and had no intention of mentioning her blowup with Spencer or the indignant glare the elder Navarro had shot her as she’d hurried past him on her way out. Knowing it would be impossible to keep her emotions under wraps, she called it an early night and went straight upstairs to her room.
The next morning, she awoke to a quiet house and a wintry sun already high on the horizon. Sitting up with a jolt, she mentally scolded herself for sleeping so late and leaving Audra to tackle the early-morning ranch chores alone. After pulling on a flannel shirt, jeans and boots, she tucked her phone into her pocket and jogged down to the kitchen.
Audra was coming through the back door, Spencer right behind her. “Coffee’s hot. Help yourself.” She slipped out of her coat and gloves, her smile warming when she saw Lindsey. “There’s our sleepyhead. Mornin’, sweetie. I left you some oatmeal on the stove.”
Casting Spencer an uneasy glance, she turned to her aunt. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You looked so exhausted last night, I didn’t have the heart. Anyway, Spencer came over bright and early insisting on lending a hand, so we were done in a jiff.” Audra took the carton of half-and-half from the fridge. “Cream, Spencer?” When he declined, she stirred a dollop into her own mug.
Pouring coffee for herself, Lindsey watched Spencer from the corner of her eye. He sipped his brew while standing near the door, as if uncertain whether he should go or stay. Go would suit her just fine.
Audra took a bowl from the cupboard and served oatmeal for Lindsey. “Sit down and eat while it’s hot. How about some raisins and brown sugar?”
“I can get it myself.” Lindsey immediately regretted the sharpness in her tone. Why, oh why, did Spencer have to come over, and why didn’t he leave?
“Spencer, hang up your jacket and take a seat. Lindsey won’t bite.” Audra motioned them to the table. With a meaningful smile, she excused herself and left the kitchen.
Lindsey eased into the chair farthest from Spencer’s. “Why are you—”
“About last night—” he said at the same time.
They both grew silent, Spencer staring into his coffee mug and Lindsey poking a spoon into the oatmeal she had no appetite for.
“Lindsey,” he began softly, “will you please let me explain?”
“I don’t know what else needs to be said.” Sighing, she laid down her spoon. “Don’t worry, I’ll still make sure you get your nonprofit forms filed, and my friend’s already working on your website—”
He rapped his clenched fist on the table. “I don’t care about any of that right now. I just want us to be okay again.”
The quiet force behind his words made her blink. There was an us?
“I never meant to blow off your ideas last night,” he went on. “But I know my grandfather, and when I heard him come in, all I could think about was protecting you. I couldn’t put you in the position of having to deal with him.”
She hiked a brow. “You’re sure it wasn’t to spare your grandfather from having to deal with a McClement?”
“Uh, maybe a tiny bit.” He cast her a hopeful grin. “So can you forgive me? Again?”
Wow, he was making it hard to stay mad. Not to mention she still couldn’t get over the grown-up Spencer’s rakish good looks. “Guess I owe you an apology, too. As generous as you’ve been, doing things for my aunt without even being asked, I had no right to say the things I did.”
“So...truce?” Spencer came around the table and offered Lindsey his hand.
She gazed thoughtfully at him. “Enemies make truces. Friends forgive and move on.”
“Then I’m all for friendship.”
“Me, too.” Rising, she took his hand and gave it a solid shake. “If only...”
“Yeah, if only.” With a quick breath, he edged toward the door and retrieved his jacket and hat from the coat tree. “I should get home. My dad has a list of jobs waiting for me.”
“I’ll walk you out.” After donning her barn coat, Lindsey snatched her untouched bowl of oatmeal. “Just going to dump this somewhere so Audra doesn’t find out I didn’t eat my breakfast like a good girl.”
They moved onto the porch. “Speaking of which, how’s Audra’s appetite? Any better?”
“Maybe a little. Getting a consolidation loan approved yesterday eased her mind some.” A tremor squeaked up Lindsey’s spine. “Kind of
unnerving for me as cosigner, but at least it’s a start on paying down her debts.”
“Sounds like a big step for both of you.”
“Tell me about it! When I quit my job to come here, getting this deeply committed wasn’t even on my radar.” They’d walked to the edge of the yard nearest the barn, and Lindsey paused to empty her bowl behind a scraggly bush. Shouldn’t be long before birds or varmints made quick work of it.
“And now you’re talking about turning this place into an event venue.” Spencer whistled through his teeth. “I mean it, Lindsey. Tell me how I can help.”
“Even considering how your grandfather feels about McClements?”
“You shouldn’t have to worry about that. I’ll deal with any fallout.”
His cell phone buzzed. When he checked the display, his jaw tensed. “It’s the livestock deputy. I’d better take this.” He walked away to answer the call.
From Spencer’s side of the conversation, Lindsey gathered the deputy was on his way over with another rescue horse. Spencer said he’d meet the deputy at the ranch in a few minutes.
As he ended the call, Lindsey could sense his distress. “Is it bad?”
“The horse? Not nearly as bad as some. Just hoping my dad won’t say no like he’s been threatening to.” Frowning, he firmed his Stetson lower on his brow and started across the field toward the ugly barbed-wire fence.
Lindsey watched him go, her heart aching that his father would deny him the chance to do something he cared so much about. There might be some logic in Mr. Navarro’s concerns about exposing his quarter horses to disease. If only Spencer could stable his rescues at another location, well away from the Navarro horses but close enough that he could come and go easily...
She glanced over her shoulder at Audra’s immense barn, now home only to Skeeter, Flash and the occasional cow or calf that might need extra attention.
The sheriff’s department SUV and horse trailer had turned in at the Navarros’. Spencer met the deputy as he stepped from the vehicle, and moments later Spencer’s father charged over from the arena to intercept them. Though Lindsey couldn’t hear what they were saying, she could tell from their gestures that Mr. Navarro didn’t want the horse to stay.
