It was an impossible situation.
Chapter 8
The Annual Sandera Fiesta was held shortly after church at one of the largest ranches in Sandera, where Elena and Diego Castillo gladly shared their home and grounds for the occasion.
Stores and restaurants were all closed; food, wine, and beer were plentiful; and the mode of dress included everything from peasant skirts and blouses and lively folklorico costumes to Mexican vaquero attire for the Charreada, the oldest form of Mexican rodeo. Similar to an American rodeo, but with more show and flourish, it was a Mexican passion that had originated on the old ranches in Mexico in the early 16th century, and had grown to be a national sport. Now it was becoming popular in Texas. The skills required were basically the same as American.
Rodeos—bull and bronc riding—but the rides were not limited to eight seconds. They were completed only when the animals were ridden to a halt.
The fiesta was in full swing by the time Consuelo, Josie, and Michael arrived. A large tent next to a courtyard provided shade for several long tables, while another sheltered a bar. The aroma of smoked beef and pork hovered over a group of men who watched Ray McKinnon as he added mesquite to a large barbecue pit.
“Mmm. Something smells good,” Josie said.
“Fajitas,” Consuelo said, sniffing the air. “I’m going to take this food on over to the table. Be right back.”
Josie watched Consuelo, envying the fact that she could wear anything and look great. For the fiesta she had chosen black western pants, a black silk shirt, and a black, flat crowned, western hat circled by a band of silver Conchos. Dangling from her belt was the whip Josie had seen hanging on Consuelo’s bedroom wall.
With Consuelo’s prodding, Josie had decided to buy new clothes for the occasion. That Consuelo had heckled her into buying something different from what she usually wore was an understatement. “No more sissy colors,” she’d intoned dryly. “You have beautiful skin, and although white looks wonderful on you, let’s get you something bright, something that will make you feel alive.”
Josie glanced at her clothes, wondering if she’d been wise to listen. The western onyx-colored pants were a snug fit all the way to the ankle, and the blouse Consuelo had chosen was an off-the-shoulder, fuchsia, peasant blouse. Josie blinked. All she needed was a cigarette hanging from her mouth and Olivia Newton John’s voice singing, “You’re The One That I Want.”
She looked down at Michael. “There’re children playing over there. Would you like to join them?”
“Sure.”
On their way to the playground, Josie glanced around the property, wondering if Logan had arrived. She’d seen no sign of him so far. She didn’t want to think about why she wanted to see him.
In the courtyard, the Mariachis switched from a ballad to playing something more lively. Elena and Diego Castillo had certainly spared no expense for today’s festivities.
“Hey, I just saw Dylan,” Consuelo said from behind them. “The charreada is about to begin. You wanna go?”
“I’m not sure. I hate to see cows get roped like that.”
“At least come on over and see the floreandos,” Consuelo pressed.
“Rope tricks?”
“Yeah. Come on.”
“I’m not sure Michael should see all that.”
Several women stood close by, watching their children. One of them said, “I’ll be glad to watch Michael for you. Besides, you’re not going to be that far away.”
Josie glanced toward Michael. He seemed intent on winning at horseshoes at the moment. Josie walked over to tell him where she’d be.
By the time they approached the corrals, the charreada had started. Josie watched as a chute on the opposite side opened and a steer began its quest for freedom. A rider poised at the edge of the gate raised his right hand to his wide-brimmed hat, then saluted the fleeing animal just as it shot past him. Then he spurred his horse in pursuit.
Within moments he drew near the steer’s flanks, leaned from his saddle, and grasped the animal’s tail in his right hand. In a single fluid movement he pulled the tail against his horse’s shoulder, whipped his right leg across the tail, and reined his horse to the left. The steer was pulled off balance, his heels flipped overhead. Then he bounced once, and came to rest in a cloud of dust.
Josie flinched at what she considered cruelty to the animal.
“What’s the matter? You don’t like the show?” a husky voice drawled from behind.
Josie peered over her shoulder and saw Logan standing behind her. She felt a nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach.
“Not particularly, no.”
“Why don’t you come and sit in the stands? Dylan and Ben are up there. That should get you to agree.” Although his lips curled in amusement, a gleam of interest shone in his eyes.
Josie studied the way his dark brown hair blended with the sunlight behind him, turning it mahogany.
“Why not,” she said. She wasn’t going to let him get under her skin, scare her off, or ruin her day. For once, she was determined to have fun.
“I’m game, too,” Consuelo said.
Josie glanced up at the stands. Dylan and Ben waved, gesturing for Josie and Consuelo to join them.
When they reached a bleacher and sat down, Josie found herself seated next to Logan. Each time the crowd cheered, their shoulders touched. He seemed unaffected by it, but Josie took a nervous breath every time she felt him brush against her.
Ben passed a beer over to her. “Here, this will quench your thirst.”
Josie hadn’t eaten, and she wasn’t used to drinking. She stared at the beer for a moment, intending to say no, but something, some part of her, thought, Why not? It was a beautiful day, the air was filled with an electric contagious excitement, and Josie secretly felt herself a part of it. Consuelo had been right. She did feel alive.
“Thanks,” she said, accepting the Corona.
For the next thirty minutes they watched bronc riding, and Josie winced each time a rider was thrown.
The floreandos were next, with their looping rope tricks. Using longer lariats than U.S. cowboys and swinging a larger loop, they did the rope dance, whirling the lariats around themselves and their horses, making the ropes float and hover just above the ground and then sending them high over their heads. This, Josie enjoyed. She turned to tell Consuelo, and caught Logan staring at her.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I was just thinking that you looked different today.”
“New clothes.”
Logan shook his head. “No. It’s more than that.”
“I’m wearing my hair loose. It’s probably that.”
“Maybe.” He said, then leaned over and muttered softly into her hair near her ear. “It’s beautiful.” He inhaled softly. “You smell good, too.”
Josie jumped slightly as tiny electric currents ran along her throat and neck, spreading goosebumps and warmth down her spine. For a moment she forgot to breathe.
“Uh...thanks,” she said, then she accepted another beer from Ben.
Several Coronas later, Josie was definitely glad she’d come here. It was time she started having fun, something she hadn’t experienced much since her marriage.
“Have you eaten today?” Logan studied her closely.
Josie had been staring at his big hands, wondering how they’d feel branding her bare body. She really shouldn’t be thinking those things about him but she couldn’t help herself. Her lids lifted to his eyes, then lowered to his lips, and her eyes turned dreamy.
His eyes lit with amber fire. “Oh, sweetheart, you’d better stop that.”
“Or what?” she answered with more bravado than she felt.
He leaned close again and said in a husky voice, “Or I’m going to take you out to the barn to finish what we started the other day.”
His voice vibrated through her skin. Some powerful emotion made a beeline to her heart, and she passed it off as lust. What else could i
t be? Happily ever after didn’t exist in Josie’s world.
“And would that be so bad?” she asked, trying to clear her head. Could anyone hear them?
His gaze turned smoky as it traveled from her mouth and then fastened on her chest, where two delicate tiny strips of cloth tied the blouse together. He reached down, and pulled up the top of the sleeve that had slipped off her shoulder.
“Let’s go eat,” he said, with some effort.
“Yeah, let’s go chow down,” Dylan added.
No one gave him any argument, and they all filed down the wooden steps. Josie picked up Michael on her way, and by the time they all joined the others at one of the tables she found she was hungry—but not for food.
She ate only half of what was on her plate before pushing it aside, then drank the last of her Corona, vowing not to have another drop. Her bladder was screaming, and she excused herself.
When she returned, Don Diego was giving a speech.
“All right, folks, are you ready for our new contest this year?” He smiled broadly before continuing. “We’ve set up three tables over to one side, and we need three teams of two. That’s a gent and a lady per team, please.”
Someone shouted, “That should make things interesting.”
Jeers went up from the crowd.
“Okay, here are the rules, amigos. Each table is set up with all the ingredients you will need. We’re going to see which couple can make the best tortillas, and how promptly.”
Cheers and laughter erupted from the crowd.
“Now, if no one volunteers I’ll have to pick someone, and I’d rather not do that.”
Sarah Gonzalez spoke up. “I make tortillas every day, and I’m not about to make them on a day I don’t have to.”
Most of the women in the crowd shouted agreement.
Diego nodded in understanding. “I’m sure we’ll find enough volunteers. Now, men, one of the rules is that you can’t refuse the first woman who asks you to join her team. All right, do we have any volunteers? No, Consuelo, you are not eligible. Anyone else?”
Sophia and her boyfriend, Fernando, broke from the crowd and raised their hand.
“Wonderful.” Diego smiled. “Anyone else?”
Josie and Logan stood side by side. All of a sudden, they both stiffened. Ben was heading straight for Josie.
Logan flinched as he saw Maya bearing down on him.
They turned and looked at each other. Josie grabbed Logan’s hand. “We’ll do it!” she shouted.
Hearty cheers and clapping broke out again. Ben slowed his stride. Maya’s eyes narrowed until they became mere slits. She tossed her head back and grabbed Ben’s hand. “Count us in!” she shouted.
“Good,” Diego exclaimed. “One more thing. As soon as you’ve made the dough and flattened it, you will take it to the comal on the pit at the end of the row, where it will cook before it’s passed on to Juana, who will be one of our judges.”
On hearing Juana’s name, Josie said, “Oh great! I don’t have the slightest chance of winning.”
“All right, teams, take your places. Remember, the contest will be based on taste and speed.”
Ignacio Flores spoke up. “What’s the prize?”
Diego Castillo’s lips lifted into a Cheshire cat grin. “I’m leaving it a secret.”
Josie scowled. “Well, that isn’t much of an incentive,” she muttered under her breath. “We don’t even know what we’re working for here.”
“I don’t think it matters,” Logan said. “Not having to listen to Maya for fifteen minutes is reward enough.”
Recalling Ben lumbering toward her, Josie agreed.
“All right, let’s get ready. One, two, and
Three—go!” Diego yelled.
The crowd cheered and whistled. The Mariachis broke into their rendition of “Tequila,” and when they came to where they were supposed to shout “Tequila,” they chanted “Tortilla.”
“Let’s see,” Josie said slowly, “first the flour—”
“You have made tortillas before, haven’t you?” Logan scowled.
“Of course.” After a pause, she said, “Except that Doug didn’t exactly like tortillas, so I quit making them.”
A dark brow shot up. “You mean he didn’t like tortillas, or he didn’t like yours?”
“I’m just a little out of practice, that’s all. How hard can it be? It’s like making biscuits.”
The Coronas were sloshing around in Josie’s belly.
“Move over,” Logan ordered. “I’ll make them, and you can flatten them with the rolling pin. You remember how to do that, don’t you?”
Josie looked up at him. My, but he looked really tall and gorgeous. “My grandmother used her hands.”
“Well, she’s not here.” Logan grabbed the pitcher of water from Josie’s hand and poured a small amount into the pan, then started mixing the flour and water.
“How come you know how to make tortillas?” she spouted, feeling a little woozy.
“I’m a bachelor. I can do anything. Now hand me the baking powder.”
Josie reached for a shelf beneath the table to grab the baking powder. As she straightened up, a big blob of wet flour hit her in the chest.”
“Crap,” she snapped. “Logan, you creep.” She reached in a sack, grabbed a hand full of flour and threw it at him.
“What the hell are you doing!” Logan glowered at her. He had flour all over his face and hair.
“You hit me first,” she accused.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where’s the baking powder?” he asked, shaking flour out of his hair.”
“Look what you did,” she said, pointing to her chest.
At that exact moment another blob hit her on the shoulder, and her eyes widened. She turned toward the direction the hit had come from.
Maya and Ben were at the table next to them, not ten feet away. Maya had a contented look on her face as she stared Josie down.
“They’re throwing flour at us!” Josie cried.
“Ignore them, we have to hurry.”
A sense of whimsy overtook Josie’s usual good sense. She beamed with almost comical happiness, like a four-year-old waiting for Christmas. Smiling, she reached into the batch of flour Logan had mixed, grabbed a large chunk, and pitched it at Maya. It hit her on the side of the head.
The next moment the two women were throwing flour dough back and forth. At one point, Josie poured more water into the mixture, making it stickier.
“Hey,” someone shouted, “the real show is over here!”
People shuffled closer to get a better view of the warring couples.
From somewhere she heard Consuelo’s voice over the laughter. “Give it to her good, Josie!”
Perspiring, Josie scooped up some more dough. Damn! They were running out of flour. Then a sudden thought crossed her mind. Damn! She’d forgotten all about Michael! He probably thought she’d lost her mind.
She was momentarily startled as she looked at Logan, then at herself, then at Ben and Maya. There wasn’t a spot on their clothes or faces that didn’t have some clump of flour on it.
All four of them stood there, breathing heavily, staring at each other.
A slow smile played along Josie’s lips. Guided by a feeling of euphoria, she began to laugh. She laughed so hard that she had to hold her stomach. She couldn’t stop. It was if she’d had all the laughter bottled up for a very long time. And it felt so good to release it all.
Then they all joined her. The Castillos, Ignacio Flores, Jaime, Sophia, even Juana. Josie caught sight of Michael. To her surprise, he gave her thumbs up. Even Ben and Maya cracked grins.
She chanced a look at Logan. He was grinning. And she saw something else. He watched her with steady, dangerous eyes, and her heart tilted wildly.
She felt enormously alive.
Later, she’d had to go home and change for the dance that evening. For her return to the hacienda, Josie chose a new, fitted, emerald green sun
dress with spaghetti straps, and green sandals. She’d opted for cool and comfortable.
Several couples were already dancing on the Texas-size platform, which had been built in the courtyard on the spacious grounds. Lights and lanterns illuminated the area, while Jasmine delicately scented the air
Josie searched the area, half-hoping to see Logan, annoyed because she’d forbidden herself to care about him.
Sophia and her partner danced by, keeping time to a vigorous Mexican polka. She barely had time to wave before her partner whirled her around the room.
The buffet tables were again ladened with food, and to one side was the outdoor bar, where most of the men stood.
Consuelo nudged her. “Here come Dylan and Ben.”
Josie smiled as Dylan’s hand shot up in a greeting, while Ben wore his usual amiable grin.
“We wondered where you were,” Dylan said. “Come on, someone’s holding us a table.”
Josie sat between Michael and Consuelo and scanned the crowd again, then groaned inwardly. Sitting across from her, Logan raised his glass in a toast. Josie’s face flamed. Had he caught her looking for him?
Drinks arrived and Josie pretended to watch the dance floor. It wasn’t long before people began to stop at their table to chat. One of them was Juana.
She looked directly at Michael. “Sweetheart, there are a lot of children in the house playing games and watching TV. Would you like to join them?”
“Can I, Mom?”
“Sure.” Josie started to get up, but Juana stopped her. “I’m on my way back there. I can take him.”
Michael allowed Josie to kiss him on the cheek, and she smiled. “I’ll come over in a little bit to see you, okay?” He nodded and took off with Juana.
“Look over there.” Consuelo gestured toward Sarah Gonzales. The middle-aged, energetic woman was standing near the musicians. She looked as if she could eat nails, but she stood smiling, tapping her foot to the time of a polka.
Consuelo lowered her voice. “Don’t go near that one. She’ll talk to you for hours. About how you should go to church regularly, and light candles before the saints, and kneel with your arms spread to form a cross for hours at a time, and take communion every month.” Consuelo shrugged. “I got fed up with it. I finally told her that she might have found a husband if she hadn’t been so busy talking to God.”
Destination: Love (The Sandera, Texas Series) Page 9
