The horse and boy swung their heads toward him. Wide eyes stared at him from under the rim of the oversize battered hat. The boy wore quality clothes, but they were worn and ill fitted. The scuffed boots looked to be a size too big, going all the way up to his knees.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He lowered the gun, but scanned the stables to make sure the boy was alone.
No answer.
He took a couple of steps closer and switched to Spanish, asking the boy what he was doing. “¿Qué estás haciendo?”
The boy’s eyes went wider, obviously surprised he spoke the native language. The kid’s lips remained shut tight.
“¿Qué estás haciendo?” he asked him again.
“El caballo quiere correr.” The voice was so low it was hard for Jackson to hear.
Was the kid trying to be funny? Jackson replied again in Spanish. “The horse told you he wanted to go for a run? Kid, that’s still stealing. I should turn you over to the sheriff.”
“No.” The boy’s hands fisted in the dark mane. He kept his head down, cleared his throat and coughed. “My... Señor De Zavala wouldn’t mind.”
“That’s my horse. If Señor De Zavala gave his permission, why are you—” Jackson searched for the word he needed “—sneaking around in the dark?” Approaching the horse, Jackson slipped the gun into his waistband. “Should we go get your boss?” A quick jerk of the boy’s head confirmed what Jackson already guessed. “Kid, do you even belong on the ranch?”
“I belong.” Chin up, he looked so small on the big stallion. Patting the horse’s neck, the boy relaxed his shoulders and turned away.
Jackson reached for the leather reins. “This stallion could have killed you. Don’t think your ma would appreciate losing you over a ride.”
“My mother is dead, señor.” The youth tried to pull the reins from Jackson.
His hands looked too smooth to have ever done any real work. Jackson growled in frustration. The poor kid was an orphan doing what he had to do to survive. He continued in Spanish. “So who’s waiting for you?”
“Nadie.”
Nobody. Such a simple word to describe a devastating existence for a child.
“Right.” Jackson fought down the urge to offer the kid a safe place. He didn’t have the time or resources to take on a lost boy.
Helping people never worked out anyway. His hand felt huge circling the boy’s upper arm as he pulled him off the horse. The warmth coming through the cloth surprised Jackson.
Once on the ground, the kid barely reached Jackson’s chest. The youth’s wide-eyed stare stayed glued on the front of his shirt he had left open. Turning red, the boy jerked his head down, then tried to yank his arm free. The underdeveloped muscles weren’t much of a contest to Jackson’s strength.
“When was the last time you ate?” For more times than he could count, Jackson was glad he had learned his grandmother’s native tongue. She had been proud of her homeland of Spain.
“I am not your concern, señor.” He tried to jerk his arm back again. “Release me.”
The boy’s Spanish sounded educated. “So you can steal something else?” With his hands wrapped around the small arm, Jackson pulled the boy closer. Just because he wasn’t turning the youngster over to the law, didn’t mean he couldn’t scare him. “What’s your name?”
The boy glared up at him with his lips pulled tight into a thin line. He had a fresh scrape across the left side of his face.
Jackson gave him a slight shake. The kid was going to end up in a bad way if he wasn’t careful. “You want to dangle from a rope? They hang horse thieves. They won’t care about your age. What’s your name?”
The small jaw locked down and the muscle flexed, stubbornness written all over the soft face.
“Fine. You can tell the sheriff.” He started pulling the boy toward the old tack room. Jackson hoped the kid didn’t call his bluff.
“Santiago! My name’s Santiago.” His voice cracked. The boy started coughing as he fought Jackson’s grip.
Jackson stopped and stared down with one eyebrow raised, waiting for the rest of the name.
The kid shuffled his feet, looking at the ground. The narrow shoulders slumped. “Smith.” The single mumbled word disappeared into the floor.
“Really? Smith?” The kid either didn’t know his last name, or he lied. Knowing how harsh the world could be, Jackson figured it might be a bit of both.
“Listen kid, why don’t we talk to the boss and see about getting you a job?”
Santiago’s head shot up, his dark eyes large. With a short growl, the boy swung his leg back and kicked Jackson hard in the shin. Caught by surprise, he loosened his grip. The ragtag boy took the opportunity to run.
Straight to Dughall. The stallion still stood in the middle of the barn, ground tied when one of the reins dropped in a coil on the dirt-packed floor.
As if he did it all the time, the small body flew onto the bareback of the horse as he grasped the leather reins. With a kick the stallion bolted out the large barn door, past the corrals and into the moonlit pasture with the kid.
Jackson bit down the angry thoughts as he ran after them. The kid was going to get them both killed. At the door, he placed two fingers in his mouth and let out a loud whistle that covered the night sounds.
To Jackson’s surprise, Dughall didn’t stop right away. He whistled again.
At the edge of the tree line, the big black stopped and looked back at him. The boy’s seat never wavered. The kid knew how to ride.
The stallion swung his head around, back to the trees. Santiago dug in the back of his heels and slapped the leather reins against Dughall’s rump, urging him forward.
One last whistle pulled the horse’s attention back to Jackson. As the big animal turned and moved toward the barn, he hung his head low.
The kid jumped from the stallion’s back and ran into the trees. The big brute paused as if he wanted to join the little thief.
“Get over here!” Jackson scolded his horse.
A lit kerosene lamp came from the house, swinging as the carrier came closer to the barn. Jackson recognized Rafael De Zavala, the ranch owner.
“What is all the noise about? Is everything all right?” His smooth Spanish accent enriched his crisp English.
“There seems to be a little thief running wild.”
“Híjole, more gangs have moved into the area. Is everyone safe? Did they take anything of value?”
“Tried to run off with Dughall.” The horse stood next to him now and nudged him with his soft muzzle. Jackson wasn’t sure if he was apologizing or asking to leave with the boy.
From the other side of the barn, a few of the ranch hands joined them, guns drawn.
“I’ll send for the sheriff.” De Zavala turned.
“No, don’t worry about it. The kid was beat up and half starved. He didn’t get away with anything. Everyone should go back to bed.”
“Diego.” De Zavala called out. “Stay in the barn and stand guard. Estevan, make sure we have someone every night to watch the horses.”
The men left. Jackson turned to De Zavala and held his hand to midchest. “He was about this tall. His name was Santiago. Do you know him?”
The older man’s mouth fell open, then he shook his head. “No, it couldn’t be. Are you sure? My son, who drowned during a storm, is Santiago.” De Zavala gave him a tight smile and shook his head. “I’m being foolish. My son is gone, and he would be taller. He was a man, not a boy.”
He walked over to Dughall and placed a hand on Jackson’s horse. “You have a very fine stallion. Is it too late in the night to talk business? I’m unable to sleep, and I have an idea to give you.”
That sounded promising. More so than anything else Rafael De Zavala had said since they started
corresponding months ago. Jackson nodded.
“Settle your horse then, and come to the back of the house through the kitchen. We will meet in my study. Everyone is asleep, and we can finish our talk of business.”
“I’ll be there.” His plans were falling into place.
“Good. I have given much thought to what you want, and I think you can take care of a problem I have. It will be a good partnership.”
Jackson watched the man make his way back to the big hacienda. Arrogance and shrewdness radiated off him, much like Jackson imagined it did off the conquistadors of old.
Dughall looked with longing in the direction the boy had disappeared. “I know there was something about the kid, but we can’t save them all, old man. Come on, we offered him a job and he ran. I’ll take you out for a run tomorrow.”
Jackson had one goal, and that was to get De Zavala to sell him a few of his broodmares. Their bloodlines were as old as those conquistadors. There was also a perfect property on the edge of town.
He brushed down Dughall and thought of the ranch he wanted to build. He visualized a place much like this one, but smaller. He wouldn’t need such a big house for just him, and he wasn’t going to marry. Not ever again.
He gave one last look out to the trees. Should he try to go after the kid? He had to be hungry. He sighed and threw the brush back in the bucket. Santiago would know the countryside better than he did. In the morning, he’d ask the ranch hands. Someone had to know the kid’s story.
Chapter Two
Sofia leaned against the giant oak. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her pounding heart. Eyes closed, she forced her lungs to relax.
Despite the horror of being caught, she had experienced pure joy for a moment. The big stallion’s muscles flexing under her, all the raw power ready to be unleashed.
The imprudent man had to call him back. The American cowboy didn’t even have the manners to button and tuck in his shirt.
Growing up on the ranch, she had been around plenty of men, but the man her father was doing business with made her uncomfortable in ways she didn’t understand.
She never realized how sheltered her father had kept her even as she ran free over the ranch, or maybe she’d just been too young to notice the men. But she noticed him, and he was a distraction.
For a bit, she had forgotten she was supposed to be a boy. That would’ve been disastrous.
He had said the horse was his. That didn’t make sense. She thought he was some cowhand delivering a new stallion for her father’s stables. How did a poor cowboy get such a magnificent stallion?
Her breathing slowed to normal as she pushed herself off the rough tree bark. Her hands ran down the bottom of her oversize shirt. The ease of movement in her brother’s old clothes was liberating. The thought of being trapped in a corset and dress again depressed her.
She could have her own clothes fashioned in such a way that gave her freedom of movement. Just because she was a female, her mother had convinced her father she needed to stay in the house, but she was different from her mother.
Sofia closed her eyes and bit hard on her lower lip, clearing her thoughts. The back of her head bumped the trunk. Above her, stars danced through the tree branches, winking at her.
Life was too short to live by someone else’s expectations. She loved the land. Running the ranch with her father was all she wanted. She could be his partner.
He needed her. With her mother and brother gone, it was just the two of them. This was her legacy also.
The light was still coming from inside the barn. First, she needed to convince him to buy that stallion. She would find a way to go for a real ride on the horse the cowboy called Dughall. Maybe the man could stick around, too.
She would love telling him what to do. As his boss, he would have to follow her orders. She touched her arm where he left his handprint. The warmth of his touch lingered.
With slow steps, she moved back toward the hacienda. Inside the courtyard, she eased along the adobe wall. As she got closer to the window that provided her escape earlier, her father’s voice drifted through the air.
She groaned. Getting back into the house would not be as easy as leaving now that he was awake. Sofia flattened against the wall as a light moved across the room.
Trapped.
She crossed her arms and slid down the rough side of her home. Her father’s voice carried through the night. He didn’t usually talk to himself. All the political upheaval had him more stressed than she thought.
“Thank you for taking my offer into consideration, Señor De Zavala.” The rough baritone voice joined her father’s.
Sofia’s hand covered her mouth. The cowboy was having a late-night meeting with her father? Maybe he had seen through her disguise. Her heart jumped in her chest.
Staying low, she peeked over the windowsill and watched as the tall cowboy shook hands with her father.
A dark jacket covered his shoulders now, and leather boots had him standing taller than he was earlier in the barn. Her father was not a small man, but he lost some of his size next to the cowboy.
They turned, moving closer to her. She dropped to the ground, waiting to see if they were coming to the window to call her out. Instead, she heard the chairs at the small table scrape across the wood floor. They settled in and started talking about horses.
The cowboy wanted to buy some of their top broodmares? No way would her father sell his best mares to this man.
“Mr. McCreed, I have a trade in mind that would get us both what we want. With all the uncertainty of Texas winning its independence from Mexico, many of my people have fled back to our homeland.”
A pause followed, as if her father needed to gather his thoughts.
“Texas is my home, and here is where I want to build my legacy. Losing my wife and son leaves me desperate to secure my land, my daughter’s future and the future of her sons, my grandsons. I have a cousin in Galveston, and I need to send her to him in order to set my plans in motion to marry her to a well-connected American.”
Sofia’s stomach twisted. Her father intended to send her away, to marry her off. Not to Mexico this time, but it was just as far. She had hoped he changed his mind, but the only thing that changed was he no longer talked to her about his plans for the future.
“Sir, I completely understand the need to protect one’s family. Especially a daughter, but what does this have to do with our deal?”
Her father gave a deep short laugh. It sounded as if he hit the cowboy on the arm or shoulder. “Forgive me. If you are ever burdened with a daughter, you will understand my worries. I love her, but she needs protection.”
Burden? Slow tears trailed down her cheeks. She heard the familiar tapping her father did when he was thinking. “I have a buyer for cattle in New Orleans. With so many of my families leaving for Mexico, I’m shorthanded. I need a range boss I can trust to get them to that point. You have driven a herd to market, sí?”
There was a pause in the conversation. She tilted her head to see if she could get a visual of them.
Her father continued. “The cash will fund my daughter’s trip to Galveston. I also have a small herd of geldings I’m selling. The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can settle her future and the future of the ranch.”
A cold sweat on her skin battled with the burn in the pit of her stomach. She tightened her arms around her middle. Her father wasn’t even considering her request to stay and help him on the ranch. He was in a rush to marry her off. To get rid of his burden.
Pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes, she tried to stop the tears. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. It would just prove her father right. She was not weak.
The stranger’s deep voice carried through the window again. Making sure to be silent, she leaned in to hear more of
the conversation.
“We haven’t been acquainted long, Señor De Zavala. I’ve been on a couple of drives, but never as the boss. What makes you think I can be trusted with your cattle, horse and cash?”
“You have more experience driving cattle than anyone else. I like to think I’m a good judge of character, and I know how important a man’s dream can be to motivate him. You have one of the finest stallions I’ve ever seen. He will be well taken care of in my stables while you drive my herd to New Orleans.”
Sofia heard the scraping of the chair. Her father was moving to his desk from the sound of it.
“Mr. McCreed, I have written out what I need in order for a trade to happen between us. As you can see, I’m being very generous. I have included five mares if you allow me two guaranteed breedings.”
The men moved away from the window, so she couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation.
Her stomach twisted. She had always thought of them as her horses, as well. How was she going to stop this?
* * *
Walking through the kitchen, Jackson picked up an apple from a wire basket. At the back door, he made a sharp turn to the left. The kid had been spying on them. Had he planned to steal something else, or was he sleeping in the courtyard at night?
Pausing at the edge of the rock fence, Jackson waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
He spoke out in Spanish. “Santiago, I saw you at the window. I know you’re here. Come out.” He allowed silence to hang in the space between them. “I’m not leaving until I talk to you.”
He leaned against the stone wall that enclosed the little bit of Spanish garden. The bright moon highlighted a fountain in the center, surrounded by exotic flowers and three giant oaks to sit under. It was a good place to hide. He tossed the apple up and caught it. Waiting.
Using his grandmother’s language, he spoke loud enough for the boy to hear, but soft enough to not alert anyone in the household. “Does Señor De Zavala know you are sulking in his courtyard? Maybe I should go get him.”
A few more minutes of silence, and the boy left his hiding place. Head down, he made his way to Jackson.
Lone Star Bride Page 2
