"I was trying to help you and Elijah."
They were glaring at one another like two kids quarreling over the last piece of candy in the dish. Allie leaned her head against the back of the rocker. The day had sapped every bit of her ability to cope. "I'm sorry I said that," she said. "If there's one thing I know, it's that you loved Elijah like a father. Betsy having the ranch doesn't change much of anything as far as Jon's parents are concerned. They'd want her even more if they knew the ranch came with her."
He pulled out his knife and a piece of wood. The shavings flew as he applied himself to the whittling with a vengeance. "You've kept too many secrets from me, Allie. If we're going to stay married, we have to keep communication open."
Stay married? She eyed him. "It's only for a year or so. We can stand it for that long."
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. She wasn't quite sure what the expression on his face meant, and she was afraid to ask him.
Betsy's dead weight made Allie struggle to stand. "I think I'll put her to bed."
"Let me get the door." He strode to the door and opened it. "She's pretty big for you to carry all the way upstairs. Let me take her." He scooped Betsy out of her arms and went ahead of Allie.
She climbed the steps behind them. Betsy stirred but didn't awaken. It had been a busy day for her too. At the top of the stairs, Allie darted around Rick into the bedroom and pulled back the covers on Betsy's bed. He laid her gently on the mattress and pulled the covers around her. They both stood looking down at the little girl as the moon gilded her hair and illuminated the sweet curve of her round cheeks.
"She's worth anything we have to do to protect her," Rick said.
He almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Allie nodded without saying anything. His masculine presence overwhelmed the room. Her mouth went dry when he turned to her and put his big hands on her shoulders. Surely he didn't expect them to have a normal marriage.
The heat of his hands soaked through her blouse, and she couldn't look away from the intensity of his gaze. The howl of a coyote echoed from the hills, and the sound broke the magnetic pull of his eyes.
She stepped away, and his hands fell to his sides. "Thanks for bringing her up to bed."
He cleared his throat but didn't move away. "I just wanted to tell you I meant what I promised in the judge's chambers."
Which part? Allie's thoughts flew back to what Rick had said on the porch. That whole thing about staying married. "Thank you," she managed lamely. She didn't want to explore that subject, especially not here in her bedroom. His gaze still mesmerized her, and she forced herself to look away. "Good night."
"'Night." He moved to the door and pulled it shut behind him.
The strength ran out of her legs, and she sat heavily on her bed. Did he mean their plan to divorce in a year was off? He couldn't just make that determination without her agreement. She didn't want to live her life with a man who despised her. Good thing she could divorce him even if he didn't want it.
Her hands shook.
Why did he unnerve her? He was just a stranger. But he didn't feel like it. She believed his eyes could see right inside her soul. And the way he cared for her and Betsy was like coming home. How could her life have spiraled so far out of control? Her identity as Jon's wife seemed to be slipping away right now. She was living someone else's life.
She stood and went to the door. Peeking out, she listened to the sounds of the kids downstairs playing card games. She could probably slip down the stairs and get to the library without being seen. She needed to hear Yo's voice.
She was so alone here. No one else knew everything she'd gone through. Rick still looked at her with suspicious eyes, and she felt like an outsider. Scrubbing the moisture from her cheeks, she lifted her head. Whining wasn't allowed in her life. She could handle this, especially if she could talk to Yo.
Easing through the door, she tiptoed to the stairs and moved noiselessly down to the first floor. Darting toward the library, she caught a glimpse of Rick's back, where he stood watching the kids. Emilio slapped his hand on the table and crowed his delight about winning. In the bedlam, she hoped no one heard the squeak of the door opening.
She just couldn't face Rick right now.
The lock snicked home, and she went to the phone. Listening to the dial tone, she wondered how upset Yolanda would be to hear she'd married a stranger. The phone seemed to ring forever. It was Yo's cell number, so maybe she was in a mall or something. Glancing at the clock on the desk, Allie realized it was too late for shopping. Maybe she'd left it at home.
Then a click came finally. "Hello." It wasn't Yolanda's voice.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I must have the wrong number."
"Allie, that you?"
Allie realized the voice was that of Yolanda's mother. "Mrs. Fleming? Yes, it's me. Is Yo around?"
A long pause hissed back at her. "You don't know?"
"Know what?" Something in the woman's voice made Allie clutch the phone and sink into the chair.
"MyYo, he killed her. She's dead, Allie." The woman's voice rose in a sob.
Allie's hand spasmed around the phone. "What are you saying?" she whispered. Dead?Yo couldn't be dead.
"Stabbed, she was stabbed." The woman's cries grew louder, near hysteria.
NotYo, oh please God, notYo.
Allie closed her eyes. She couldn't force any words past her frozen lips.Yo's laughing face flashed through her memory. She was going to win the barrel race this year. It wasn't fair.
"She called me, said the man said she was next. He say that you love her too much for him to let her live. I send her father to her house, but it is too late. The man, he get there first." Mrs. Fleming was wailing, her sobs piercing Allie's heart as well as her ears.
Allie's tears felt hot with guilt. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "When did this happen?"
Mrs. Fleming's sobs tapered off. "Last night. Wait, wait, my husband, he want to talk to you."
Mr. Fleming was a big African-American truck driver who had met the pretty Mexican waitress and married her thirty-eight years ago. He'd always made Allie feel like part of the family. He probably hated her now.
"Allie? Stay there, girl. Don't come home."
"Mr. Fleming," she choked. "I'm so sorry. I lovedYo so much."
"I know, Allie, I know. And she loved you. This is not your fault, you hear? Don't try making it about you. Whoever he is, it was his evil that killed my baby, not you." His voice thickened and broke. "You stay put. Don't make Yo die in vain."
"I -I can't talk. I'll call you tomorrow." Allie clicked off the phone and buried her face in her hands. No matter what Mr. Fleming said,Yo wouldn't have died if it wasn't for Allie. He had taken everyone she loved.
Everyone but Betsy.
Allie shuddered, then jumped when someone rattled at the door.
Rick's voice came from the other side. "Allie, are you in there?"
She scrubbed at her face and rushed to unlock the door. It opened as soon as she clicked the lock, and she hurtled into Rick's arms, not stopping to question why she needed his comfort, his strength.
"She's dead," she sobbed against his denim shirt.
His arms came around her, and a big hand smoothed the back of her head. "Who's dead?"
His shirt muffled her words. "My friend Yolanda. He's taking everyone I love." She clutched his shirt in both fists. "She can't be gone."
The scent of creosote clung to his clothing. He must have been clearing some of the bush out of the yard this afternoon. She hadn't been close enough to him to smell it before this. The aroma always made her think of summer rides across the desert with Jon, and the spring rains in El Paso that brought the pungent scent to life. It reminded her of sage and cactus, roasted marshmallows around the campfire.
And love later in the tent. But now there was only death all around her.
The thought made her cheeks burn, and she pulled away, swiping the back of her hand across her cheeks. "Sor
ry," she gulped.
Rick's hands moved to her shoulders, and he didn't let go. "So he doesn't know where you are. That should set your mind at ease that Elijah wasn't killed by him."
Allie hadn't thought of Elijah. "Then who killed him?"
"I'm going to check out this developer guy, the one who wanted to buy the ranch." He finally dropped his hands. "But we might be barking up the wrong tree. It might have been an accident."
"Maybe." Allie had found that most things in her life were interconnected. This probably was too, once they figured it out. "I should call the police in El Paso, tell them whatYo's dad said."
"I'm sure he's already talked to them. They'll be looking for you and might make you go back as a material witness. We can't risk that. You and Betsy are safe here." His eyes narrowed, and his mouth took on a determined pinch.
Allie was suddenly very glad he was on her side. Rick wouldn't let anything happen to her or Betsy.
Fatigue and grief weighed her down. This day seemed like it would never end. She told Rick good night and headed to her room. Walking back upstairs, she twisted the ring on her finger. She was a married woman.
One in name only. Was there anything more pathetic?
11
THE HOUSE WAS QUIET EXCEPT FOR THE TICKING OF THE GRANDFATHER clock in the hall. Rick sat in the leather desk chair with his feet propped on the desk. He still hadn't been able to take in the reality that Allie was Elijah's granddaughter. Elijah hadn't trusted him with the information, and the betrayal left some cuts that would take time to heal.
And Allie. Rick should have put two and two together when he saw the resemblance between her and Maria. Had she always planned to come in here and worm her way into Elijah's graces?
He decided to call Brendan again. His friend might have found some new information. The stakes had just escalated. If someone was coming after Allie and Betsy, he couldn't wait for the guy to show up.
It was after midnight on the East Coast, but he knew Brendan would be up working anyway. He listened to the ringing with one ear and to the noises outside with the other. Nothing stirred, a good sign.
There was a click on the line, then Brendan's voice. "Rick, you know how late it is? What if I were all toasty in bed?"
"You never get to bed before two," Rick said. He was in no mood for small talk. "Anything new about Allie?"
"Oh yeah, I meant to call you. We had a crisis pop up that we've been scrambling to fix."
The old familiar tug of interest waylaid Rick, but he squelched it. "Spill it."
"The crisis or the information about your woman?"
"She's not my woman. She's my ... wife"
Brendan whistled. "Talk about a whirlwind courtship."
If Brendan only knew. Rick could hardly believe it himself. "Look, things are happening here. Elijah is dead, and someone is out to get Allie and Betsy."
"The FBI is looking at her now, buddy, and not just for kidnapping. They suspect her of being the ringleader of the immigrant smuggling ring."
The ringleader? Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's a crock, buddy. No way." He told Brendan about the man who had killed Yolanda Fleming, and the calls Allie had gotten. "Could this guy have planted evidence?"
"Maybe. According to my sources, immigration was tipped off about the ring using the rodeo for a front. And here's the funny thing. Your woman testified against someone doing this about a year and a half ago. Because of her testimony, he got sent to jail. Then here we find she was involved all along. I gotta say, I wonder if they were lovers or something. Maybe he dumped her and she turned him in"
"She's not the type," Rick said. He hoped that was true, but what did he really know of her? "How'd they become suspicious of Allie now?"
"Someone faxed pictures of a bunch of Mexicans climbing out of the back of a pickup. The license plates were Allie's. Does she have an old Ford truck green?"
"Yeah. Could the pictures be doctored? Don't you think this sounds suspicious, Brendan? Maybe it's revenge for sending the kingpin to jail."
"I thought that too. But the guy who went to prison Jimmy Hernandez is dead. He got caught up in a prison riot about a year ago and was stabbed."
"So it couldn't be him. Anything else?"
"The other thing they have on her is that bank account records show deposits of money in and out of her account. Like a quarter of a million dollars."
Rick leaned back and rubbed his eyes, his stomach taking a nosedive. He should have known not to trust her. He was such a patsy. "She showed up here penniless."
"I'm just saying.You check out her purse to see if she really had no money? Women can lie while they're seducing you, buddy. I gotta say I'm shocked you fell for her line."
"She's Jon's widow."
"Look, when are you going to let go of that guilt?"
Rick's jaw clenched down in a painful spasm. "I killed him, Brendan. If I hadn't been drunk ... I rushed in when I should have known better, and he came in after me. I think he knew how unlikely it was that he'd walk out again." Brendan was the only one who knew, and only because he'd been there.
"When was the last time you took a drink?" Brendan's voice was soft.
"Two years." Rick clipped his words. What difference did it make? All the sobriety in the world couldn't restore Jon to life.
"So live your life in the present. It's easier that way."
Rick knew better than to try to argue with Brendan. "Thanks for the help. You'd better get to bed."
"I've got hours of paperwork ahead of me yet."
Rick closed his phone. The most damning evidence would be money in her account. How did he check that out? If she hadn't just been through such a trauma, he'd march upstairs and drag her from her bed to question her.
Had he been completely duped?
A sound caught his ear, and he stood to look out the window. A pinprick of light danced and bobbed through the trees. Someone was out there. As far as he knew, everyone who belonged on the ranch was tucked inside.
Rick rushed to the door, grabbing a flashlight on his way. Jem met him on the porch and whined. "Quiet, boy," he whispered. "Come with me." He went across the yard and stepped into the coolness of the trees.
A twig snapped somewhere to his right, and he followed the faint noise. Creeping through the dark, he didn't dare flip on the light. That would only alert whoever it was to being spotted. He knew this ranch like the back of his hand, though, and didn't really need the light.
He skirted a big boulder and looked around to see a line of dark shapes moving low and fast toward the top of the hill. Now was the time to flip on his light. He aimed the flashlight at the nearest figure and pressed the soft button. The beam of light zeroed in on the face of a Hispanic man. He shouted in Spanish, and the rest of the people turned to run. He saw three men and two women carrying children. They streamed up the hill and disappeared.
Illegal immigrants, he was sure of it. And the first he'd seen since coming to work here. He didn't want to believe Allie had anything to do with this, but it sure fit.
It was too late and too dark to catch those poor souls tonight. He'd put in a call to the border patrol, but that was the best he could do.
And tomorrow he and Allie would have a talk.
ALLIE'S EYES WERE BLURRY, AND HER READ ACHED. SHE STOOD ON THE first rung of the corral fence and watched Emilio direct the teenagers on how to groom the horses. A dust storm was supposed to hit late today, but right now only a light breeze lifted her hair away from her face and filled her nose with the good fragrances of horse and hay.
Rick had been acting weird all morning, and she was tired of dancing around his strange glances. What was bothering him? At first she thought he'd been wondering how she was reacting to the news of Yolanda's death, but it wasn't that. There was no sympathy in his eyes, only speculation, and maybe even a pointed suspicion.
She'd been careful not to be alone with him. Finding out what was biting him was less urgent than avoiding any discussion
of a real marriage. Surely he couldn't think she was keeping anything from him. Everything was out in the open now.
Emilio approached the fence, pushed his hat back off his forehead, then leaned against a post. "The kids are doing a pretty good job," he said. "I'm amazed at how well they've taken to ranch life."
Allie nodded. "Even Latoya is acting like a normal kid. She hasn't even been wearing makeup, let alone unbuttoning her blouse to the navel."
Emilio's eyes sobered. "She had a pretty rough go of it. Her mother sold her to the first man when she was ten."
Allie put her hand over her mouth. "I had no idea. That poor kid." Her gaze traveled to the other girl. "What about Fern?"
"Her parents and younger brother were killed in a boating accident in the Gulf. She's been in foster care for three years. She and her mother were really close, and the trauma of her whole family being wiped out about destroyed her." He gestured to the horses and kids. "She's really taken to that colt. I've seen a few smiles."
Fern and Allie shared the same heartache. If Allie had been that young, maybe she'd be as downtrodden as the girl. Allie vowed to do whatever she could to help the teenager regain goals and focus.
Allie was sure the boys' stories were equally horrific, but she couldn't face hearing them right now. Not with her own life weighing her down. "How'd you get into working with these kids?" she asked. "Have you done it long?"
His dark eyes flickered, then danced away, but not before she saw a shutter come down. "Just happened to fall into it," he said. "I'm big enough to scare some sense into them. No big story." He nodded toward the Rio Grande. "I thought I saw some guys on top of the hill. You ever get illegal aliens coming across?"
"Not while I've been here. I imagine it could be a problem though. I haven't even seen any border patrol around. Immigrants from Mexico could get on a boat and float down the river until they found a good landing spot."
"There aren't that many good places to land. A lot of the way is blocked by sheer cliffs that are impossible to climb. The patrol probably chooses to focus on the easiest spots."
Lonestar Sanctuary Page 11
