“Son of a bitch.” He walked his horse forward the two steps it took to tower over her. “Screwing me won’t keep you alive. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re white and I’m Indian.”
He was doing it on purpose, trying to intimidate her. Using crudity to push her away. Was this the real man? Did it even matter? He was right: she was a mother. She was right: she was crazy. Whatever she did to feel alive, it couldn’t involve using this man. He wore the pain of his life on his person and in his eyes. It wasn’t her place to add to it.
“I’m sorry,” Ari said, hearing Josefina call to her from the house. “Miguel is awake. I have to go.”
Tracker backed up the horse. “So do I.”
Her stomach dropped to her toes. Was he leaving? Panic must have shown in her face because he swore and the horse shifted.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be back. I haven’t forgotten what I promised.”
She felt guilty at the relief that flooded her. Helping her meant putting his life on the line. It was wrong to ask someone to do that, but she had no choice. She needed him. Without him she had no way to protect those she loved. And to save those she loved, she needed this man to risk his life. It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t. She pushed back the curl that fell over her eye. With an annoying stubbornness, it bounced back. She inhaled a breath.
Tracker’s anger struck her like a blow.
She took a step forward. His hands tightened on the reins. If he turned away now he’d never know how she felt, because she’d never get the courage to say it and he would always think her a coward. Formless memories howled behind the wall as she took that step. He scared her and he drew her.
But she owed him. That was all that mattered.
The horse tossed his head as she placed her hand on his rider’s thigh. Tracker controlled the nervous prancing with tension on the reins and the pressure of his knees. Muscle flexed against her palm. He was a very strong man with a reputation that made the worst outlaws cower. They said he was lethal with a knife, deadly with a gun and brutal with his fists. But looking up at him, all she saw was a man with the same haunted look in his eyes that she saw when she looked in the mirror. She wore a calm facade to hide her turmoil. He wore anger. But beneath both facades was pain. Common ground.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
He snorted and backed the horse up. “Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?”
She closed her fingers around the lingering warmth from his skin. Both. She couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m not afraid of you.”
He gave a curse she couldn’t understand, then muttered, “I’m going to get that drink.”
She didn’t have anything to say to stop him. Ari watched as Tracker walked the horse out of the barn, ducking his head to avoid hitting the lintel. Not for the first time, she missed the freedom to vent her frustrations that men had. Since her husband’s death she’d often wanted to pound on something or someone. And failing that, drink away the pain of memory she couldn’t recall.
Josefina called again. Before she left the barn, Ari grabbed Tracker’s untouched plate of food. Because of her, he was going hungry. Why did life have to be so complicated?
When she got to the yard, she could just make out rider and horse in the distance. Blowing errant curls off her forehead, she sighed and muttered, “Have one for me, too.”
Miguel was his normal cheery self. After tying his nappy, Ari blew on his plump little belly before tugging his shirt down. His toothless smile and happy giggle were as familiar as the routine. If it hadn’t been for him in those bleak months following her husband’s death she wasn’t sure she would’ve survived. Until his birth, her nights had been plagued by nightmares and her days with the struggle to remember.
But the day Miguel was born, she found an anchor for all the emotion inside, a reason to live that had nothing to do with needing to remember. Miguel was her future. She followed it. Josefina had been worried about her getting up to nurse the baby. She’d felt that maybe it would be too much for Ari to handle, and had suggested they put him on a bottle. But Miguel’s frequent need to feed had been a blessing, breaking the pattern of nightmares and allowing Ari to start a new, healthier pattern.
She touched Miguel’s button nose now and smiled into his deep brown eyes. She loved him so much. He gave her so much. She slid her hand down his cheek, marveling at the perfection of his much darker skin, searching as she always did for some familiarity in his features, checking the shape of his eyes, the sound of his laughter for some reminder of the man she had married. As always, there was nothing.
She picked him up, not finding her usual peace in his presence. “Your daddy would’ve loved you very much, cutie pie.”
“Sí, he would have been a very proud father.”
Settling Miguel against her shoulder, Ari turned to Josefina. “I wish I could remember him. It would be good to be able to tell Miguel something of his father.”
The woman smiled. “Vincente and I will tell him what he needs to know.”
There was that possessiveness in Josefina’s voice again that had been showing up more and more of late. Combined with the wording that eliminated Ari’s importance, it made her uneasy.
Josefina held out her hands. “I will take the little one.”
Ari turned away, not missing a flash of displeasure beneath the other woman’s smile. She refused to feel guilty. Miguel was her son. “Thank you, but I thought I’d take him outside to play.”
“It is dirty outside.”
“I’ll put a blanket down.”
“You are still unsettled from this morning.”
No, she wasn’t. She was actually doing quite well. Better than she had in a long time. And that was because of Tracker. The man had blown into her life like a tornado. All she knew of him was from legend and their brief interaction, but she felt she’d known him forever. Felt as if she needed to know more.
Are you sure you’re getting the right answers?
The Moraleses had given her a safe haven in which to heal and to have her child. She hadn’t questioned anything in those early months, just accepted the past as it was painted for her by Josefina. But with the rising tension in the household during the last few weeks, she’d begun to do some thinking on her own, because something was wrong and no one was talking. Josefina had become snappish and possessive of Miguel. And as a result, Ari had begun to notice how much of her life was controlled by the Moraleses.
And now they were going to send Tracker away under the pretext that he had upset her. Why? When he was the best protection they had?
Miguel grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled. She winced as she gently pried his fingers free before holding his hand in hers and bringing his fingers to her lips.
“He is getting muy fuerte,” Josefina praised, stroking his little arm.
Ari smiled. “Yes, thank goodness.” He was precious. The most precious thing there was. It didn’t make sense that Vincente would send away a Texas Ranger. And not just any Texas Ranger, but the legendary Tracker Ochoa, a man they said had once ridden into a blind canyon filled with outlaws lying in wait, and came out unharmed, with ten bodies draped over saddles. Men like that didn’t ride into their tiny town every day. They should be thinking of ways of keeping him there, not sending him away.
“I think we need to ask Tracker to stay.”
Josefina’s expression snapped closed. “No. He is a bad man. He will bring trouble.”
“We already have trouble.”
“Vincente will handle it.”
“Vincente is only one man.” And not a young one.
“It will work out.” Josefina patted Ari’s hand. “You will see. Vincente will talk to these men. We do not need the likes of that one.”
“That one is a respected Texas Ranger.” Ari didn’t know why she felt the need to defend Tracker, but she did.
“He has bad blood.” Josefina made a sign to ward off evil. “He attracts evil to him. You can see it in his
eyes.”
The only things Ari had seen in Tracker’s eyes were pain and loneliness. And desire.
Josefina squeezed her hand before taking Miguel from her. “Your illness affects your judgment. You must trust me in this.”
Must she? The inner discontent that had been growing this last month flared. Ari wanted to reach out and grab Miguel out of the woman’s arms. Lord in heaven, was she really so crazy that she would turn on her family?
Are you sure you’re getting the right answers?
The skepticism in Tracker’s question bled into her beliefs. What did she really know about the Moraleses beyond what they told her? And if she was their daughter-in-law, why was there nothing of hers in the house? She and her husband had lived elsewhere, but couldn’t someone have brought her things? If for no other reason than to stimulate her memory?
“I want to go home,” she told Josefina. There was the slightest hesitation before the older woman set Miguel down on the blanket on the floor of the main room.
“You are home.”
Ari licked her lips and tried again. It was so painful for the Moraleses when she brought up their son. She couldn’t blame them for always changing the subject. “I know this is difficult for you, but I need to go to the home that I shared with Miguel’s father. I know you think it’s only going to…upset me again, but it’s something I need to do. I need to touch something from Antonio’s and my life together.”
So it would feel real.
“You have proof of your life together in your son.”
Ari had tried before and never succeeded in convincing Josefina that Miguel had nothing to do with his father in her mind. He somehow seemed more connected with her survival than her past. Of course, she hadn’t tried very hard. But Tracker’s arrival had done more than stir feelings of being a woman. It had also stirred her need to find some part of herself that had been lost on that bloody day when her husband had been killed.
“When I look at Miguel, I see nothing of Antonio. When I look at my baby, I see Miguel’s eyes, Miguel’s nose, Miguel’s face. It’s almost like Antonio never existed.”
Josephine stumbled and bumped into the small table beside the horsehair sofa. The lamp on top rocked. Ari hurried over to catch it before oil spilled over the floor.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Josefina straightened and smoothed her hair with a hand that shook. The shaking might have been from the small fright, but that sick feeling in Ari’s stomach grew worse.
“Antonio did exist, didn’t he?”
Josefina made the sign of the cross. “How dare you ask me such a thing? My son was very much a man.”
Ari immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I keep trying to explain that he’s just not real to me. I need him to be real. I need to go home to touch that part of me that I lost.”
Josefina was shaking her head before Ari even finished. “No. It is not wise.”
“I wasn’t asking permission.”
For the first time in the eleven months since Ari had been here, Josefina looked angry. “You are ungrateful.”
“I just need to know.”
The older woman slashed the air with her hand. “You would open old wounds for everyone. Bring back the grief that we have just buried. For nothing.” She slashed the air again. “And your memory will not come back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know the Lord shields you from what you cannot bear. My son is dead. Your life with him, it is also gone as if it never existed, but you have a future here. We are your family now. Vincente and I will share memories of Antonio with you. You will share them with Miguel. It is enough.”
“No, it’s not.” Ari had never been more sure of anything in her life. She picked Miguel up off the floor and turned on her heel and headed for the door. “I need my life back.”
“You do not know what you do,” Josefina called.
She stopped at the door and looked back. The woman was completely distraught and there was a wildness in her eyes. “No, I don’t. That’s the problem, and if you won’t tell me, then I’ll have to go find the answers for myself.”
Josefina’s small brown eyes narrowed. “I won’t allow it.”
For the first time since Ari had woken up in the back of the wagon to see Vincente and Josefina’s faces looking down at her, a sense of determination dominated.
“You’re not going to have a say.”
Being outside in the sunshine didn’t help chase the blackness from Ari’s spirit. The sun on her skin was just one more aggravation. She was angry. She was resentful. She was frustrated. Why couldn’t Josefina understand how badly she needed to know what had happened?
She walked around like a cripple because nothing made sense. Getting vague answers had been all right at first, but as her body healed, so did her mind. She couldn’t go on being a mother with only eleven months of life experience. Josefina should be able to understand that. Yes, Ari had lost her husband, but she was still living. She just wasn’t alive.
Are you sure you’re getting the right answers?
Damn Tracker and his insinuations. This was all his fault. He had to go and voice her own recent doubts, giving them weight. What if there was more going on than Vincente was telling her? What if they were important things she needed to know for her son?
“We have to know, baby.” She kissed Miguel’s soft black hair as she walked down the road. “We have to know.”
Miguel grabbed a handful of her blouse and dragged his mouth to it. He was such a happy child, rarely fussing. She was lucky to have him. She freed her blouse and gave him her finger instead, closing her eyes for a heartbeat to let the tension go. She needed to relax. Tension always brought on the flashing lights behind her eyes that were the first sign of a pending episode.
The sun was bright against her eyelids and warm on her skin, reminding her that it was a beautiful day. This was the prettiest part of summer, before drought turned the grass brown. Everywhere she turned there was blue sky, green grass and colorful flowers. Everywhere except around the Morales ranch. That was dry and dusty, the vegetation eaten by the cow and trampled under her feet.
There was no sign of Vincente, so no opportunity to ask him if he would take her to her old home. Wherever that was.
Supposedly, the home she had shared with Antonio was fifty miles to the east. She’d never gotten an answer from the Moraleses as to why she and Antonio had lived so far away from his parents. It certainly wouldn’t have been Josefina’s preference. There were lots of opportunities around Esperanza, but maybe Josefina had been too much in her and Antonio’s life? Maybe Ari had needed distance between them. New wives rarely got along with their mothers-in-law. The fact that theirs was a mixed marriage could have added to the tension. Maybe Josefina hadn’t been too happy to have Ari in the family.
Ari sighed. She didn’t know. No one would give her answers. Vincente would just tell her to count her blessings and to be grateful. She was tired of being grateful.
The sound of a gunshot carried in the afternoon breeze. It came from the direction of town. Her heart skipped a beat.
I’m going to get a drink.
Tracker was in town. He wouldn’t be so foolish as to announce that he was a Texas Ranger, of that she was sure. But his looks were Indian enough that someone might easily pick a fight. Sober, he’d be a match for anyone, she didn’t doubt. The man wore his experience like a cloak of honor. But drunk he would be fair game for any troublemaker.
She bit her lip. She couldn’t afford to lose him now. He was their only hope, and he really couldn’t know how bad town had gotten lately. Vincente was always telling how the gringos delighted in flexing their power in senseless violence.
Keep him safe, Lord. I need him.
For more than just her son’s protection. Something deep within her recognized Tracker.
Ari checked the watch pinned to her blouse. A gift from her husband, Vincente said. It
was a plain watch with no engraving. A simple gift. It could have belonged to anybody. Her husband must not have been a very romantic man. She wondered if she’d been happy with him. Was that what her memory was hiding? she wondered. An unhappy marriage? Did they worry that she’d remember interference on their part, and take her son away from them? She would never do that. Family was everything, but so was the memory of that family.
She couldn’t take this anymore. She couldn’t just sit around watching the days bleed, one after the other, into a senseless future because she had no past.
Ari hitched Miguel up on her hip. If she wanted to change what had always been, she needed someone strong enough to take her where she needed to go. That would be Tracker. The man she hoped would be her hero. The man getting drunk right now.
She sighed. There was nothing she could do about his drinking. Town was dangerous.
She’d just turned to go home when another gunshot sounded, followed by three more. Her heart skipped a beat. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she saw something even more terrifying: a rider was between her and the house.
She stopped dead. So did the rider. Backlit by the sun as he was, she could only make out his silhouette. There was nothing soothing about it. The rifle braced on his thigh, his long hair blowing about his face… Lights flashed behind her eyes. She pulled Miguel tight to her chest, holding his face to her in case he screamed. Any sound would be dangerous. They were like wolves in their ability to find her when she ran. Any sound was betrayal. She kissed Miguel’s head. She had to keep him safe. She couldn’t let them get her son. Had the rider seen her? Please don’t let him have seen see me.
There was no safe place to hide here. No one to help her. But Tracker was in town…
The rider turned, facing her. Oh, my God, she had to run! A scream welled, but she smothered it. She couldn’t fall apart. Couldn’t let him get her. She had to protect Miguel. She had to escape.
Tracker’s Sin Page 6
