That wasn’t why Isabella was frowning. His nearness felt far too comforting. The night before he’d left town, she’d set down some rules for herself. One of them had been to step aside and give Trini her blessing with regard to pursuing this man. Not that Trini needed her older sister’s okay. She’d always done as she darned well pleased.
Intent on getting the glove-finger nipples into the mouths he was supposed to be feeding, Gabe didn’t realize Isabella had left to get a warm towel to wrap around the lamb he’d brought in. Nor did he think it odd that she’d let their conversation lapse. He was content to be in her company, and he felt relieved that his feelings for her hadn’t changed, considering the badgering he’d gotten from Marc. Reggie had even landed a few verbal punches the night he phoned. Prompted by Marc, Gabe didn’t doubt. He knew his friends thought he’d lost his mind, as buying a ranch had never figured in his plans. In Coltrane’s and Reggie’s, yes, but not his. Yet here he was, happy as a pig in slop, miserably wet, feeding greedy lambs out of a rubber kitchen glove.
Unable to contain a sappy grin, Gabe glanced over at Isabella. “These guys have polished off all the milk in my glove. Where do I fill it up again? Or do they get more? Their little bellies are so round I’m thinking they’re gonna burst.”
Isabella seemed to be having problems getting the lamb she’d taken from Gabe to eat. She had a pile of other bleating creatures fighting to grab the glove finger she was making an effort to preserve for the listless baby. “I should’ve told you to push them away and feed five more. These lambs are all premature. They’ll eat often, but we shouldn’t give them too much at once. The milk needs to be warm so we’ll only fill two gloves at a time. You’ll do that by milking the goats in the four stalls on your left at the back of the barn.”
“You milk goats?” Gabe thought he might have heard her wrong.
“Goat’s milk is richer than cow’s milk. If you’ve never milked a goat before, you may think it’s harder than milking a cow.”
Gabe hadn’t milked anything before. Not ever. But he had a streak of stubborn pride that wouldn’t allow him to admit it. After making sure the glove he held was bone-dry, he climbed slowly to his feet, determined to do this. Men had been performing the chore of milking since heaven knew how far back in time.
“Angel referred to these lambs as orphans,” he said. “What happened to their mothers?”
“Hard to tell. When the weather gets this bad, panic runs through a flock. It’s why so many lambs are born prematurely. Sheep are not the brightest creatures on earth. They tend to follow the leader, even if it means leaving their offspring.”
“I have a lot to learn,” he said. “Oh, before I forget, I brought you something from Utah.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small sack. “It’s not much, but when I saw it in a store, it sort of said buy me to watch over Isabella.”
She accepted the sack awkwardly. She wasn’t used to receiving gifts for no reason. Finally, she opened it. The small filigree angel pin she pulled out brought a soft gasp to her lips. “I…it’s beautiful.” She rubbed a thumb over the wings several times before tucking the pin in her pocket. “Thank you, Gabe. I’ll wear it every day at the trial.”
Gabe knew she’d been touched by his gift. But the tender moment they shared was soon over; there was work to be done. He made his way around the tumble of lambs, headed for the goats Isabella had directed him to.
The deeper he went in the barn, the dimmer the light. Peering over the last stall door, he saw a pair of bright eyes staring back. “Uh, Isabella, do I need a bucket of some sort, or do I squirt milk right into the glove?”
“There’s a bucket hanging on the back wall,” she called. “You may prefer to use it. I don’t like wasting milk, so I milk into the glove.”
If she could do that, so could he. Nonchalantly waving so that she’d know he’d heard, Gabe used his free hand to unlatch the door. The next thing he knew, the door flew open and something hit him square in the knees. A rush of air left his lungs seconds before his butt hit the concrete floor. During Gabe’s next view of the goat’s eyes, his own were crossed and he stared directly into a curious black pair. The animal’s wiry beard tickled Gabe’s nose.
“Gabe, I said the stalls of the milking goats were on your left. You opened one on your right. That’s Herman, Papa’s oldest billy goat. Hurry and get him back in his stall before he comes out and tramples some of the lambs.”
Right now the beast was trampling Gabe. His knees still felt numb, as did his butt and the back of his head. He slapped at the goat’s head with the glove he still held. Herman hooked the glove with his horns, ripped it out of Gabe’s hand and tossed it into the stall where Gabe should have gone.
He tried rolling to the side, but Herman’s head rammed him hard in the shoulder and sent him sprawling again. “Dammit,” Gabe muttered. “I’ve had about enough of being your punching bag.” Clenching his teeth, Gabe called on his hand-to-hand combat training. Feinting left, he distracted Herman. When the goat fell for the fake, Gabe grabbed him around the neck and by one horn. There ensued a tug-of-war. At one point, Gabe took a kick to his ribs and feared he might lose the battle. Always a man of grit, he hung on, literally bulldogging Herman back into his stall.
“What’s all the scuffling back there?” Isabella yelled. “Gabe? Do you need me to help put Herman away?”
Gabe had released the goat and they were back to a staring match, with Gabe now standing solidly between Herman and freedom. They both lunged for the opening. Luckily, Gabe came out the victor. Panting hard, he slammed the door shut and heard the crack as the goat butted the door. Even though Gabe’s hand shook as he dropped the latch in place, a satisfied grin kicked up one side of his mouth. “Mess with me, will you,” he warned in a low voice. “Herman’s back in quarters,” he reported to Isabella. “Now I’m going to get the bucket and enough milk to fill the glove.”
Another feat that proved easier said than done.
Two smaller, hornless nannies resided in the opposite stall. Instead of coming at him as he expected and as the billy goat had done, the nannies split and circled behind Gabe the minute he bent to retrieve the glove Herman had tossed inside. He swung around fast on knees beginning to tingle with life again, then swore more loudly than he’d intended. Again the nannies pulled the same trick. Plus, one kicked the bucket out of his hand. He saved it before it hit the floor.
“Hold still, you she-devils,” he ordered in a quieter tone than he would’ve used had Isabella not been in the outer room.
One nanny approached him, seeming to react favorably to the softer rumble of his voice. So he kept talking to her, and thought he had it made even though his knees creaked as he reached for a swinging teat. Quick as lightning, two sharp hooves hit Gabe smack in the chest. Once more he landed flat on his butt in the corner.
Sore, aching and growing damned tired of coming out on the short end, Gabe shrugged out of his coat, dropped it over the smallest goat’s head and man-handled her crossways into a corner. There, he proceeded to fill his glove, although it took him several tries to get the hang of it and the rhythm of coaxing milk from the nanny’s full udder.
Triumphant—and sore—Gabe practically strutted back to Isabella with his prize.
“Gabe, good. The other lambs have drained my glove dry. I can’t get the one you brought in to eat much at all. Do you mind letting me have the glove you just filled and go fill mine for yourself?”
Battered and bruised he might be, but could Gabe refuse Isabella Navarro anything when she asked so sweetly? Not on your life. Gathering his resolve, he blithely handed over the glove he’d almost killed himself to fill. He took the empty one from her, knowing that to repeat the process again meant doing battle with nanny number two. She was bigger and had butted him out the stall door.
Isabella’s thanks followed Gabe. He was damn glad his buddies weren’t around to see this insanity. He’d never hear the end of their ribbing.
Tarrying outside the stall
, Gabe wondered if anyone had ever been killed trying to milk a goat. Since his jacket already smelled, he chose to use the same method to subdue nanny number two.
She was older and wiser. She promptly threw off Gabe’s suit coat, grabbed it up in her mouth and shook it wildly as she raced around and around the stall. Before Gabe was able to snatch back his jacket, she dropped it on the floor and stomped on it with both feet. When she tired of that exercise, she lowered her head and munched contentedly on one sleeve.
“Hey!” Gabe’s protest was met with stony indifference. “Ah, what the hell?” His jacket was already ruined. Sidling up to the little witch, Gabe dropped down on one knee and, ignoring the bucket he’d brought in again, he felt around with one hand and eventually squirted milk straight into the opening at the top of the glove.
So, he became the conqueror again. Or maybe not, since it had cost him a chunk of machismo, and an Armani suit coat.
Still, he felt good about his victory when he walked back to where Isabella sat. At first he didn’t notice that his arrival had made no impression on her.
On second glance, Gabe noticed that she not only sat as silent as if she’d been carved from stone but that she’d dropped her rubber glove. Lambs were tugging and pulling and fighting over it. Milk spread across the hay all around Isabella’s knees. Her one pant leg was soaked.
Gabe had tied the top of his glove closed. He carefully propped it against a piece of farm equipment sitting off to the side.
“Isabella? Are you okay?” Gabe sank down in front of her, heedless of the sharp pains that reminded him of his encounter with Herman.
She opened her eyes and raised them ever so slightly. If Gabe thought he’d been stabbed through the heart when they’d first met, seeing the pain-filled expression in her dark eyes, this time was far worse. Her pain had risen to the surface and was stark and immediate.
Mere moments later, he realized her fingers were flexing almost madly in the woolly coat of the lamb she’d been trying to feed. The limp body of a now-dead lamb.
“Oh, Isabella,” Gabe murmured, as he tried to remove the lifeless animal from her arms. “It’s not your fault. You did your best to save him.”
She snatched her hands back so fast, Gabe was left grasping air. Still without word, Isabella cradled the creature to her breast and began a distraught keening. It was a tortured, gut-wrenching sound. Gabe didn’t know how in God’s name to help her.
Instinct said that someone who hurt this badly needed holding. Considering the distance she always maintained between them, Gabe didn’t know if he should be the one to offer comfort. But right now there was no one else.
When he managed to get his feet under him, Gabe reached out slowly, so as not to startle her. Curling his hands around her upper arms, he rose with her, little by little. His knees screamed, but something stronger drove him.
What struck him was how little meat she had on her bones, and how she weighed next to nothing for a woman of her height. Taking greater care once they were both standing, he wrapped her and the inert lamb in a gentle embrace. And he rocked her from side to side, crooning nonsensical words close to her ear, just loud enough for her to hear him over the sound of her distress.
She shivered violently, yet he knew it was warm enough in the barn to have dried his wet clothing. Clearly, Isabella’s coldness came from deep inside her. From the very depths of her soul.
It crossed Gabe’s mind that he should be relieving her of the lamb. But he didn’t know what the procedure was on the Navarro ranch for disposing of dead sheep. In an operation the size of theirs, he thought it’d probably be fairly common to lose animals for any number of reasons. And he doubted Isabella’s reaction was solely because of the lamb.
As her shivering lessened, Gabe discovered his inclination had been right. Over and over she moaned, “They’re not moving. Not breathing. My children,” she said pitifully. “Julian did this. He couldn’t have me, so he took what I loved most. My babies!” The sounds wracking her body grew more desperate.
“Shh.” Cupping her head in one hand, he tried to ease her agony.
Suddenly the barn door opened. Joseph Navarro, Isabella’s second-oldest brother, swept in on a shower of icy sleet. “What’s this? What’s going on here?” he demanded sharply, charging toward Gabe.
“Back off,” Gabe spat, sharper still. “A lamb your sister was feeding, a little bit of a thing, died on her.”
Easing back, Gabe studied Isabella’s face. She remained locked in pain from another time. From another place. He didn’t think she knew Joe had arrived. “I’m no psychiatrist, Joe, but I think the death of the lamb triggered memories of when she found her kids. I only did what I thought was best. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been alone with anyone when something like this occurred. In the military, we had nurses and doctors to handle PTSD incidents. At least, I think what she’s going through is sort of like that. Post traumatic stress disorder,” he said when Joe looked blank. “Flashbacks,” Gabe tried again.
“Right. The doctor warned us she might have those. Jeez, Poston, you should’ve taken the lamb away from her,” Joe hissed, his voice dropping nearly to a whisper.
“I tried. She’s holding on for dear life.” Gabe continued to rock her from side to side.
“How long do these type of episodes last? Shall I go get Papa?” Joe was close enough now to hear the wounded-animal sounds his sister made.
Gabe shook his head. “Maybe your mom. She’s at the house, Angel said.”
“Yeah. Probably the doctor told her what to do. I’ll go get her and be right back.” Joe flew out the door.
Gabe tried again to pry the lamb out of Isabella’s arms. This time her fingers went slack, and he succeeded.
He’d have to leave her long enough to take care of the poor creature. But because Isabella began shivering uncontrollably again, he quickly wrapped the lamb in the soft towel she’d used to dry the animal earlier. Then Gabe placed the bundle well away from the lambs that remained underfoot.
Not really caring what Mrs. Navarro might think about finding her daughter locked in a near-stranger’s arms, he enfolded her again.
“I’m s-ooo c-c-cold.” Her teeth chattered.
Gabe was afraid to squeeze her any tighter for fear of cracking her fragile bones. Nevertheless, he turned up the collar on her denim jacket and drew his own tattered coat over her shoulders.
She wasn’t shaking quite so hard when Luisa barreled through the door followed by Trini.
“Gabe. I didn’t realize you were back.” Trini sounded pleased about the discovery.
“I blew in on this storm. Mrs. Navarro, has Isabella ever suffered a spell like this before?”
Nodding, Luisa snapped her fingers at Joe. She barked out orders in rapid Euskera.
It was only when he approached and stripped Gabe’s jacket from around his sister that Gabe realized Joe intended to wrap her in a heavy wool blanket.
Joseph Navarro, a man with large hands, tenderly cocooned his sister from head to toe. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and strode out the door, his mother hot on his heels. That left Gabe alone with Trini.
No longer responsible for Isabella’s care, Gabe felt his own knees wobbling. “She’ll be all right, won’t she?”
Trini glanced first at the door, then back at Gabe. “You do know about her children?”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “But Isabella. Will she be okay?”
“She found them, you know. Came home after work, hit the garage door opener and boom, there they all were.”
Gabe felt his stomach heave. “God, Trini. How can you sound so matter-of-fact about something so awful? I can’t begin to imagine what that was like for her.”
“It was horrible. For the whole family. And it’s going to get worse, I think, the closer it gets to Julian’s trial.”
“I’m surprised they’re trying him. Anyone who’d do something like that is certifiably insane.”
“Don’
t let Bella hear you say that. She’s determined to see Julian get a hundred years in prison.”
Gabe pondered Trini’s explosive admission. “I don’t blame her. For what he did, he should fry. But we don’t fry crazies. And won’t he be as safely put away in an asylum?”
“To you and me, yes. Not to Bella.”
“I don’t understand.” Gabe rubbed the back of his neck.
“But you’d like to. You care a lot about my sister, don’t you?”
Gabe’s fingers stilled. “Angel asked me to help Isabella feed orphaned lambs—he said I wasn’t dressed to work outside. He gave me a lamb to bring in. Isabella was feeding it when it died. I’ll bury him, if you tell me where.”
“Tonight?”
Gabe inclined his head.
Trini crossed her arms in a speculative manner. “Angel’s right. You aren’t dressed for working outside. Which includes digging a hole in half-frozen ground at 2:00 a.m.”
“I’ll go home first and put on jeans and boots, and a fleece-lined jacket.”
Trini tilted her head. A small dimple winked in one cheek. “Stubborn,” she announced. “You’re a lot like Bella, I think.” She bent over and picked up the glove her sister had been using to feed the lambs—the one whose milk had spilled. “Go on, Gabe. Bury the lamb. I’ll carry on here.”
“I’m coming back,” he said, donning his pathetic excuse for a jacket. “When I do, will you go check on Isabella for me? I won’t rest until I know she’s doing better.”
“Mama has medicine to give her. It makes her sleep. I recommend you go grab some, too. Sleep, I mean. Although John probably left the house a mess. Maybe you won’t want to sleep there until after your housekeeper cleans the place.”
Gabe halted in his tracks. “Housekeeper? I haven’t hired one.”
“How much would you pay?” Trini assessed him as if seeing him in a new light.
Gabe hesitated. Was she offering to clean his house? Nah. Surely her family wouldn’t approve. He supposed Trini could be inquiring for a friend. “I’ll pay the going rate for the area. Do you know someone?”
Someone To Watch Over Me (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 10
