by Linda Style
“I don’t know.”
“I can’t believe that between the two of you, you couldn’t manage to take care of one small dog for a few hours.”
“It was a whole day, and it didn’t happen because we were careless.”
He stopped dead in front of her, his expression incredulous. “Really. Zelda’s gone because you were so conscientious?”
“She’s gone because Benito jumped from the truck and left the door open.”
Incredulity switched to puzzlement. “Why would he do that?”
An ironic laugh escaped her lips. “I wish to hell I knew. One minute we were driving along and the next he was gone.”
“Just like that?”
Maddy sat on a kitchen chair and crossed her arms. “Not exactly.”
“Then what exactly?” His voice was loud again.
“Everything was fine until he asked me to drop him off near some field outside Los Rios. I felt responsible for him since I’d brought him along. I couldn’t just drop him off on the road. I told him to ride back here with me and once I got Zelda settled, I’d drive him home. That way I could talk with his aunt and uncle, too.”
He frowned.
“Does that matter?” J.D. walked over and dropped into a chair next to her. “No, not really. What matters right now is finding Zelda. Otherwise I can kiss this place goodbye.”
“What does finding Zelda have to do with the ranch?”
“Two things. One, there’s a stipulation in the will that requires me to keep Zelda safe and healthy. If anything happens to her before a one-year deadline, aside from an act of God, I forfeit the ranch and everything goes to Aunt Ethel’s favorite animal shelter. And two, Zelda’s residuals pay for this place. If she’s gone, that money goes, too.”
“Residuals?”
“Residuals from some television commercials she was in a while ago and a stint she did on one of those short-lived sitcoms.” He gave a sarcastic laugh. “Zelda was Aunt Ethel’s cash cow.”
That explained Ethel Devereaux’s reasons for keeping Zelda when she hadn’t kept any of her other animals. And without Zelda, J.D. was screwed.
A knot formed in Maddy’s stomach. She felt sick. This was all her fault. She pushed forward on her chair, elbows on the table. “I can’t imagine you’d lose the ranch if you explain that losing Zelda wasn’t your fault.”
He took a cigarette from his pocket and tamped it on the table. A few seconds later he flicked it into the trash. “No need to imagine anything. It’s all laid out in the will. I guess dear Aunt Ethel thought that would guarantee her beloved Zelda would be cared for.”
Tears welled behind Maddy’s eyes. She couldn’t let J.D. lose the Tripplehorne because of her. And poor little Zelda needed her medicine. She could get worse; she could starve to death or get hit by a car. She wasn’t used to running wild. Maddy had to do something. “Can I borrow your truck?”
“What for?”
She bolted from her chair. “I’m going to look for Zelda.”
His expression said he didn’t believe it would do any good, or maybe he was just resigned to his fate. But after a moment, he sighed and stood up himself. “C’mon, we’ll go together.”
THREE HOURS LATER, they were back at the ranch—without Zelda. Maddy went to bed feeling as if the world had collapsed around her. What was she going to do? Maybe if she talked to Harold Martin he’d have an idea about what to do. Maybe that clause in the will only applied if J.D. was at fault. He couldn’t be held responsible for something she’d done, could he? But getting in touch with the attorney wasn’t going to happen until Mr. Martin returned J.D.’s call.
Maybe Zelda would turn up—maybe even come home on her own. Maddy had read stories about dogs being lost hundreds of miles from their homes and somehow finding their way back. Apparently dogs had a keen sense of direction. Maybe they’d wake up in the morning and Zelda would be there.
Maybe Maddy would wake up and find this was all a dream.
More like a nightmare. Everything she’d accomplished could be wiped out in one fell swoop. Her stomach churned. She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t let that happen.
Awakening at dawn with a renewed sense of determination, Maddy got up, walked to the French doors and opened the blinds. Varied tones of sky-blue and pink layered the horizon and in the center, a tiny crescent of gold slowly inched upward. Sunrises in the desert literally took her breath away, the combinations of colors like none she’d seen before.
She left the blinds open, showered and pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and one of the white sleeveless T-shirts, hurrying to leave before J.D. arose. Within fifteen minutes she was in his truck and on the road.
At the field where the dog had run off, she pulled to the side, parked next to the La Mancha sign and climbed down.
“Zelda,” she called out. “C’mon, girl, it’s time to go home.” She glanced at the tilled earth, hoping to see tracks she might be able to follow, but all she saw were the footprints she and J.D. had left the night before.
While the crops in this field weren’t any higher than her thighs, they were tall enough to hide a small dog. She started her search systematically on her left near the spot where Zelda had disappeared. She would cover each and every row until she was certain poor Zelda wasn’t lying limp in the field somewhere.
Her heart ached just thinking it. The dog had an infection, she needed the medicine the vet had given her. She could get worse if she wasn’t taken care of properly. She needed water and food and loving care.
As Maddy searched, the sun rose higher and higher and sweat trickled down her face and neck. Her flip-flops kept coming off, her legs were itchy from brushing against the crops, and she was thirsty and tired and distraught. Despite her discomfort, all she could think of was poor Zelda out there somewhere, sick and alone and afraid.
And it was her fault. J.D. would, no doubt, fire her now, and with good cause.
Well, she didn’t care about that anymore. What mattered was finding Zelda.
“Zelda, sweetheart, please come to Maddy.” Please, please, please.
Two hours passed and still no Zelda. Maddy’s throat was hoarse from calling, her legs were scratched and sore and her feet felt raw. She’d finally taken her flip-flops off. With every step she took, her spirits waned. She’d covered this field twice and Zelda was nowhere to be found.
It was past breakfast time at the ranch, and by now, J.D. would know she was gone with his truck. She should go back, but she couldn’t—not without Zelda.
The crossroad bisected four different fields, and so far she’d only covered one. What were the chances that Zelda had made her way to one of the other fields? She couldn’t leave without checking them, too.
By the time she finished the second field, it was noon, and she felt something wet underfoot. She plodded on, and when the water covered her feet, she realized the irrigation had come on and all the spaces between the berms would fill completely.
Not that it mattered. She wasn’t going to quit until she’d scoured every inch of every acre.
Mud squished between her toes, and the sun beat like fire on her head and bare arms. “Zelda, where are you? C’mon, it’s time to go home.”
Sometime around 2:00 p.m., with her shorts and shirt caked in mud and sweat, tears welled in Maddy’s eyes. It was hopeless. Zelda was gone, and J.D. was going to lose the ranch. She didn’t know which was worse.
She dropped onto the ground at the edge of the last field and let the tears run down her cheeks. She was an utter and total failure. No one should ever count on her for anything.
She’d wanted so much to take control of her life. She’d wanted people to have confidence in her, to believe in her, and she thought J.D. had begun to. But now he’d know his faith in her wasn’t justified. Even if he didn’t fire her, the ranch would be sold and there’d be no employees for her to teach, so what was the point?
No one to teach. By helping Carlos, Juana and Mariela’s family lea
rn English, she was giving them a skill that could better their lives. That was important—more important than her other goals, which suddenly seemed selfish and insignificant in contrast.
She wiped the back of her hand across her wet cheeks, brushing mud over her mouth in the process. She spat on the ground to get rid of the gritty taste, closed her eyes and took a long breath, and as she did, a deep, dark despair settled inside her.
She had to go back and tell J.D. that she’d failed to find Zelda.
As she sat there mustering the energy to get up, she felt something move next to her. She froze. Snakes and lizards and tarantulas were common here and everything she’d read about desert survival said to remain still. But she couldn’t stay like that forever, and whatever it was, wasn’t leaving. Slowly, she pried open one eye and then the other. Her heart rocketed to her throat.
A muddy, bedraggled Zelda snuggled closer and finally crawled onto Maddy’s lap. “Oh, thank God! Thank God. It’s you, Zelda. It’s really you!” Even in her excitement, Maddy quickly felt around for Zelda’s collar to make sure she had a secure hold on her. No way was she going to give the animal the opportunity to run off again.
She ruffled the dog’s head, scratched behind her ears. “Zelda, Zelda, Zelda! I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. Are you okay, girl? You’re not hurt or anything…” She quickly checked the dog, feeling for cuts and bumps. Nothing that she could tell.
Relief coursed through Maddy. Oh, God, she was happy! As happy as she could ever remember—and all because of Zelda.
A dog.
She smiled to herself as the irony sank in. If her mother could only see her now. She looked to the sky and laughed out loud. “Right!” she chortled, then cuddled the furry dirt ball in her lap.
“Zelda, Zelda, Zelda. I’m so happy to see you.”
“DAMN WOMAN!” J.D. paced across the back deck, his gaze pinned on the road for any sign of her.
He’d gotten up at 5:00 a.m., and she was already gone—along with his truck. That was fourteen hours ago. Fourteen hours in which his emotions had run the gamut from anger over her stealing his ride, to worry about losing the ranch, and dammit, worry about Maddy herself. Where the hell was she? She couldn’t still be looking for Zelda, could she? You’d think after six or seven hours, a person would give up.
Yeah, that would be a normal person. Madeline Inglewood was anything but normal. He’d never seen anyone so determined. She’d nagged him to death about helping. In the end, she’d gotten what she wanted. He had to admire her persistence.
But he didn’t want to feel that way about her. He couldn’t afford to feel anything for anyone, especially a woman who’d be gone within a couple of weeks. She’d made no bones about that. Adventure and excitement, that was what she was after. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to get it at the Tripplehorne.
The way it looked right now, there wasn’t going to be a Tripplehorne much longer.
But none of that managed to keep him from thinking about her warm body next to his, and how she’d kissed him, long and deep and sensual. She hadn’t held back at all.
God, he hoped nothing had happened to her. If only he hadn’t told her he’d lose the ranch without Zelda, she’d be here right now. He should’ve been the one to go looking for the animal, not her. He knew the area. And he could defend himself if need be.
He whirled around, his mind spinning. She could’ve gone off the road, run out of gas or gotten lost somewhere in the desert. She could’ve stumbled on drug smugglers or coyotes…
He squeezed his eyes shut and stood with his hands flat on the porch railing. If something had happened to her… God. He couldn’t even imagine…
But then, bad things always happened to the people J.D. cared about. The thought took him by surprise. He cared about her. Yes, he actually cared about her.
Damn!
Just then, he heard a sound, saw a cloud of dust spiraling up the road. Though he couldn’t see the vehicle, it had to be his truck. He felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his chest.
He paced some more, then stopped. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and waited. When she pulled up and got out, his mouth fell open.
She had Zelda. She actually had the dog!
But that wasn’t nearly as important as the fact that she was okay. Filled with relief, he walked over to her and said, “You stole my truck.”
She hurried past him toward the kennel, pausing only long enough to say, “So call the police.”
He did a double take. What the hell? Hey, she’d lost his dog and put the ranch in jeopardy. She’d stolen his truck and hadn’t bothered to call or let him know what the hell was going on for fourteen hours. He had a right to be upset.
He followed Maddy to the kennel. “Where’d you find her?”
Opening Zelda’s gate, Maddy looked up. Tear tracks stained her mud-smudged cheeks. Bloody scratches covered her arms and legs. Her clothes were wet and filthy and she was barefoot. He wanted to give her a hug.
“In the same place she ran away. It just took her a while to come back.”
“Are you all right?”
“Do I look all right?” She tossed his own words back at him.
Okay, he deserved that. “No. You look terrible.”
“So do you.”
Sheesh! He pulled back. What had gotten into her? He was concerned, that was all.
She let Zelda down inside the kennel and closed the gate. “I’ll clean her up in a minute.”
“I’ll do it. You go in and shower. I’ve got some first-aid stuff in the bathroom.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No. It’s my fault this happened, so I’d like to take care of it myself. Please let me do that.”
That sense of responsibility again. And again, he was impressed. She’d make a good wingman—or top gun. He reached out and brushed a smudge from her cheek with his thumb. “Okay. If you’d like.”
“I’d like,” she said more softly. “Thank you.”
His gaze caught hers and held. A moment of understanding passed between them. A moment of truth. He wondered if she knew that he cared about her.
As if she’d read his mind and was a little embarrassed, she lowered her eyes.
The woman was an enigma. He hadn’t thought so at first—he was certain he’d had her number. Rich daddy’s girl, used to getting everything she wanted and content to let others wait on her.
Man, had he been wrong. Dead wrong.
YOU STOLE MY TRUCK! Was that all he was concerned about? The man was infuriating. Wasn’t he glad to see that Zelda was home safe and sound? Couldn’t he have managed one little thank-you?
Irritated, Maddy ripped off her clothes. She’d bathed Zelda, given her the medicine and made sure she was comfortable. Now it was her turn for a shower.
Not one little thank-you. Not one. He was the most unappreciative man she’d ever met.
Fine with her. She wasn’t going to be around anyway, so what did it matter?
It didn’t. But somehow it did. Maybe because she’d seen his soft side. The side that helped immigrants and little boys, and treasured the memories of his parents and grandparents. But could that side ever outweigh the other? The side that was dark. Foreboding. Forbidding. The side that warned that one shouldn’t get too close.
As Maddy got into the shower, the warm water stung the cuts on her legs and arms, but after a few seconds all she felt was the gentle pulse of water massaging her weary muscles. She wished it was J.D. massaging her instead.
Where did that thought come from? Who was she fooling? She thought about him all the time and found herself waiting anxiously to spend time with him. Even when she was working or teaching, she was wondering what he’d think or what his reaction might be.
She lathered up with her favorite mango-scented soap, and when she’d finished showering, she toweled off and smoothed soothing lotion over her skin, avoiding the cuts. Then she shrugged on her white terry robe and lay on the
bed, debating whether to go out and talk to J.D. about dinner or simply take a nap.
“Maddy?” J.D.’s rich, deep voice came from outside her door.
“Maddy?” he repeated.
“Yes, c’mon in.”
As the door swung open, J.D.’s body was silhouetted by the light behind him in the hallway. Just looking at him stirred her blood.
“I brought some first-aid cream.” He came over and sat on the edge of the bed beside her.
She wrinkled her nose. “The stuff won’t sting, will it?”
“Don’t think so. Here, let’s try some.” He unscrewed the top and put a tiny dab on his fingertips. Suddenly, he was smoothing the cream over a cut on her ankle.
“Mmm. You’re right. It’s soothing.”
His eyes met hers. “Good. Now turn over, I saw some scratches on the back of your arms and legs.”
“You checked me out?” she joked.
“From day one.”
Desire fluttered in her stomach. She rolled over so he couldn’t see her face. So she wouldn’t give herself away. “If I remember correctly, on day one, you were desperately trying to get rid of me.”
He chuckled. “And here I thought I was being smooth about it.”
“Not.”
He laughed again. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t check you out. And as I recall, you did the same.”
Now she laughed. “You weren’t exactly invisible standing in front of me half-dressed,” she said softly, enjoying the rhythm of his hands massaging her legs.
“How does that feel?”
“Wonderful.”
His words were like a soft hypnotic suggestion. His touch—now high on her leg—soothed and thrilled at the same time. “It doesn’t sting at all,” she added.
“Good. But I’d better quit. I’m beginning to enjoy this a little too much.”
She rolled over onto her back. “I like it, too. You give good first aid.”
He handed her the tube of cream. “Yeah, I’m a real Dr. Kildare.”
For the longest time, they simply looked at each other, their eyes saying things that wouldn’t be vocalized. Then J.D. said softly, “Thank you for bringing Zelda home.”
