by Janet Dailey
“Thank you again,” she offered tautly. He nodded curtly in acknowledgement and Natalie tightened her hold on Ricky’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go watch the parade.”
Her forced smile immediately changed into one of genuine loving at the sight of the bright brown eyes gazing back at her.
“Would you —” a hesitant voice began, stopping Natalie and Ricky as they began to turn away. “Would you like to watch the parade with us?” Missy faltered.
Natalie saw the sharp look of reproach that the man gave to his daughter and knew he wanted to be rid of them. She had guessed correctly. Gold fires flared for an instant in her eyes before she quickly banked them to meet the girl’s wavering gaze.
“Thank you, but I don’t think so,” Natalie refused.
At the sideways look the girl gave her father, Natalie was aware that Missy had guessed the reason she had refused. There was a rebellious urge to stay just to spite the man, but Natalie knew she would be uncomfortable in his presence.
With more haste than was necessary she led Ricky through the crowds to the footbridge. Their previous vantage point near the river was occupied, much to Ricky’s dismay. Natalie succeeded in finding a spot along the short, guarded rock wall where she could sit with Ricky perched on her lap. The minute she relaxed, that aching tiredness swept over her, throbbing through every muscle and nerve.
The parade had started out as a treat for Ricky and a brief respite from her problems. It had barely begun when Ricky had become lost. What little energy she possessed had been expended in the search for him. She knew the stranger had silently condemned her for leaving the boy in the first place. Natalie acknowledged that he was partially right. But their vantage point for the parade had been such a good one and she had always been able to count on Ricky doing as he was told, so she hadn’t dreamed he would stray from the spot. But what had gone right for her lately?
His small brown head leaned against her shoulder and Natalie rested her cheek against his silky fine hair. Her lashes fluttered tiredly down. If only she had someone to lean on, she sighed heavily. Her exhaustion was mental as well as physical. Sinking her teeth into the bottom of her lip, she tried to hold back the waves of despair.
That terrible weekend three years ago when her brother Ned and his wife had been killed outright in an automobile accident, then it had seemed so logical and natural for Natalie to take her little nephew Ricky to raise. It was either that or make him a ward of the courts to be placed in a foster home. At the time she had thought she had a good job. She couldn’t have guessed that the firm would go out of business within a few months, nor did she realise the constant expense of a small child.
As the clothes, medical, and baby-sitter costs mounted, Natalie was forced to take nearly any kind of work to try to make ends meet. The last job she had worked through an agency that provided daily help to homes in the area. On Friday they had fired her when she was falsely accused of stealing from one of the homes. Her weekly pay check, no matter how frugally she spent it, had never succeeded in lasting till the next one. The few groceries in their tiny apartment would last out the week and no longer. She simply had to find another job soon.
The weight of the small boy on her lap seemed to increase, numbing her legs into leaden sticks. When the last float emerged from under the footbridge, Natalie realised that Ricky had fallen asleep. As she smoothed the straight brown hair from his forehead, she knew all her efforts had been worth it, and all the future ones, too. Ricky was strong and healthy, intelligent and happy, trusting and loving, and supremely confident that she loved him. There was no hint of the shyness, unhappiness, or uncertainty in Ricky that she had seen in Missy.
Gently Natalie turned Ricky into her arms, his hands automatically circling her neck in sleep and hugging her tightly. There was a warm sensation of love in the way the small body clung to her. Rising to her feet and carrying the heavy burden of the sleeping child that strangely felt lighter, Natalie followed the milling crowd that had begun to leave the riverwalk area.
The street leading to their apartment was much travelled and well lighted, one of the main thoroughfares to downtown San Antonio. As Natalie walked past the parking lot congested with cars attempting to leave, she wished she could spare the money to take the bus. It was going to be a long walk home.
A white El Dorado pulled out of the parking lot, accelerating by Natalie. She had a fleeting glimpse of a thin, sensitive face pressed against the window and staring at her before the street lights reduced the two occupants of the car to silhouettes, one large and one small. Red lights from the rear of the car flashed a secret danger signal as the car braked and turned into the sidewalk curb ahead of Natalie. She shifted Ricky in her arms, her heart pounding with fear or pride.
The driver’s door was opened and violently slammed shut. As Natalie drew nearer to where the car was parked, she saw the arrogant stranger’s long impatient strides eating up the distance that separated them. She could only guess that his daughter had insisted they stop when she recognised Natalie and the sleeping Ricky.
For all the seething fury she had sensed in his movements, the chiselled features that looked at her were remarkably cool and aloof. He stopped directly in her path, forcing her to halt and acknowledge him.
“May we give you a ride to your home?”
The offer was blandly made. Natalie decided that it had been a long time since this man had revealed his true thoughts in his facial expression.
“No, thank you.” She spoke concisely and with no hesitation.
She didn’t want him to believe for an instant that she might be impressed by his obvious wealth or attention.
“With your son and my daughter as chaperones, I’m hardly likely to do you any harm,” he said briskly.
Natalie started to correct him by explaining that Ricky was her nephew, then changed her mind. Let him think what he liked. He probably wouldn’t believe her if she told him the truth.
“My daughter is most anxious that you arrive at your home safely.” An undercurrent of sarcasm in his voice.
“It was her idea and not yours to stop, too, wasn’t it?” Natalie flashed.
“Of course,” he agreed, letting her know that the thought would never have occurred to him, just as she had guessed. “And I don’t look forward to the prospect of sitting up half the night trying to convince her that you and the boy had come to no harm.”
Natalie glanced at the car. The street light illuminated the apprehensive expression of the young face that watched them. It was conceivable that a sensitive young person might be so much concerned.
“We’ll accept your offer,” Natalie submitted ungraciously.
The slight twist of his mouth informed her that he had expected no other decision. He didn’t wait for her as he walked to the car and opened the passenger door. There was a darting smile of gratitude from Missy to him as she scrambled into the back seat, leaving the front seat vacant for Natalie.
The cheap cotton of Natalie’s dress slid nearly up to her thigh as she tried to negotiate getting in without disturbing Ricky. Tugging her skirt into a more respectable place, she felt her cheeks stinging with embarrassment, conscious of those cold, watchful eyes that observed everything. Then her door was closed and he was around to the driver’s side, sliding behind the wheel.
“Is he asleep?” Missy leaned forward on to the leather armrest in the middle of the front seats.
Natalie pushed back her hostility to answer quietly, “Yes, it’s past his bedtime.”
The car was in motion, the aristocratic profile concentrating on the traffic and ignoring Natalie completely.
“The parade was nice, wasn’t it?” the girl suggested hesitantly as if she wasn’t sure of her own opinion.
“Yes,” Natalie agreed. “Ricky enjoyed it. It’s the first time he’s ever seen one.”
“Me, too. Except on television,” Missy qualified.
“Where do you live?”
Natalie was brought up shar
ply by the masculine voice, hating herself for forgetting to tell him her address, a situation she quickly corrected.
“Do you know where that is?” she inquired as an afterthought.
“I’ve lived near San Antonio all my life. There are few places I don’t know,” he replied evenly.
And yet it was the first time his daughter had been to a Fiesta parade, Natalie added to herself. Her arm brushed the expensive leather upholstery. The failure couldn’t have been due to a lack of money, of that she was certain.
“Have you lived here long?” the girl whispered — Natalie had the impression that it was because of her father and not the sleeping child.
“For the last few years,” Natalie admitted in an equally quiet voice.
“It’s nice. I like San Antonio.”
Then Natalie remembered the slight qualification when the man had said that he lived “near” San Antonio. “Ricky said your name was Missy, is that right?”
“Missy Langston, short for Melissa,” she explained. Her hand made a slight, hesitant movement in her father’s direction. “Th-This is my father, Colter Langston.”
The name registered vaguely in Natalie’s memory as belonging to someone of importance. She glanced briefly in his direction and found lazy green-blue eyes returning her look. The knowing glitter forced her to look away. He had seen the faint glimmer of recognition cross her face.
“My name is Natalie Crane,” she identified herself for no other reason than to fill the suffocating silence.
“Ricky calls you Nonnie, doesn’t he?” Missy replied.
A small smile pulled up the corners of her mouth as her fingers touched the head of the boy sleeping against her shoulder.
“When he was smaller, he couldn’t say Natalie. That was the closest he could come to it.”
“Which of these places is your home?” Colter Langston had made the turn off the main thoroughfare on to the side-street where she and Ricky lived.
“The third house on the right,” Natalie answered.
The windows of the large structure were dark except for one small light in the rear. Natalie was glad. Lights would only make the old monstrosity of a house, the upper floors remodelled into apartments, look as shabby and neglected as the darkness hinted. She wished now she had asked to be let out on the corner. She had caught the faint note of derision in his question.
The car stopped next to the curb. Natalie was fumbling for the door handles as the headlights and motor were switched off. Her startled gaze watched Colter Langston get out of the car and walk round to her side. As she realized that this show of courtesy was for his daughter’s benefit, her mouth tightened grimly. When her door was opened, she swung her legs around to step out.
“Give me the boy,” Colter Langston ordered, his strong hands reaching for Ricky’s small waist.
“I can carry him,” she asserted firmly, drawing back from the outstretched hands.
“And get your key out of your purse and fumble with the door,” he mocked, drawing the boy away from her. “I sincerely doubt that you want me rummaging through your purse for the key.”
Without being encumbered with Ricky, Natalie was quickly out of the car, glaring resentfully at the man so casually holding her sleeping nephew. She walked swiftly and familiarly over the broken concrete walk to the door, long, catlike strides keeping pace behind her. For once the key didn’t stick in the lock, but turned instantly, opening the front door. A step inside, Natalie turned to take Ricky.
“He’s fine,” Colter stated. “Just point out your apartment.”
“It’s upstairs,” she sighed, wondering if it gave him some sensation of superiority to see how humble her home was. She was simply too tired to care.
As she started towards the stairs, a door into the hallway opened and the iron-grey eyes of her landlady peered out. A brow arched upwards as she spotted the man with Natalie.
“I have told you repeatedly, Miss Crane, that I will not allow you to entertain men in your apartment. This is a respectable house!” Her landlady’s voice rang out harshly.
Through sheer force of will, Natalie held her temper. The first of the month was coming shortly. If she hoped to gain a couple of days’ grace to raise the rent money, she couldn’t afford to become angry.
“He’s only carrying Ricky to my room. He’ll be leaving immediately, Mrs. Thomas,” Natalie answered, her gaze flickering briefly to Colter Langston.
“Well, see that he does!” the woman snapped and closed the door.
Natalie didn’t want to guess what construction Colter Langston had put on the exchange that he had so aloofly observed. If she knew, she would almost certainly tell him just what she thought of his lordly ways.
At the top of the stairs, she unlocked the door to her one-room flat and reached for Ricky. Colter handed him to her without protest.
“Thank you for the ride,” she offered grudgingly.
“I’ll pass it on to Missy. It was her idea.” A subtle reminder that she truly hadn’t needed, and he was going back down the steps.
TWO
“YOU SIT here quietly, Ricky, and eat your sandwich,” Natalie instructed. “And don’t bother anybody.”
“I won’t,” his bright voice promised as he crawled on to the long bench, his chin barely above the wooden counter. “Aren’t you going to eat with me, Nonnie?”
“No, honey, I have to work.” Honey-brown hair was curling about her face and neck from the heat of the grill. She tried pushing it away from her face, but it was too thick and full to stay there.
Under the influence of her encouraging smile, Ricky picked up the sandwich, cut into sections for his small fingers to handle, and began eating with his usual gusto. The smile faded as Natalie turned away. Her temples throbbed from the heat and excessive noise. The air was stiflingly still with little promise of coolness from the setting sun.
A country-western band was playing a rousing tune in the main square of La Villita. The music was loud to be heard over the steady din of voices and laughter of the milling crowd. “A Night in Old San Antonio”, part of the Fiesta week activities, transformed La Villita, a re-creation of the small settlement that once existed there, into four nights of perpetual chaos. Every available inch of space was used for booths to sell ethnic food, drink and gifts native to the various immigrant people who had settled the land.
It was in a stand located in the Frontier section that Natalie had at last found work. Temporary, only for the four nights, but it would be an income, however small. The owner-operator of the stand had raised no objections when Natalie had asked to bring Ricky with her as long as he stayed out of the way. It had saved the considerable expense of a babysitter even if it did mean keeping Ricky up much later than she liked. It was only going to be for four nights and he could always curl up on the bales of hay behind the stand if he became too tired.
Turning another ranch steak on the grill, Natalie wearily wiped the perspiration from her forehead. She had a sinking feeling that all her efforts were in vain. In the last year, everything had seemed to go from bad to worse.
She had grown to love Ricky tremendously and she refused to grumble at the awesome responsibility her love brought. If only she could have an hour’s rest from the pressure of her problems, she thought wistfully. If only she didn’t feel so unbearably tired and worn out all the time, maybe she could think of a solution. What fun it would be to join in the merriment of the hundreds of people roaming through La Villita, seemingly without a care.
Dully Natalie glanced over her shoulder to be sure that Ricky was still sitting at the counter. At the reassuring sight of the silky brown head, she started to turn back, only to freeze into stillness as her gaze became locked by a pair of aloof green-blue eyes. A wildfire of dislike raced through her veins, amber flames brightening her hazel eyes.
His indifferent study of her was disturbing and Natalie found it impossible to meet it any longer. She let her gaze swing from Colter Langston to his daughter Miss
y, who was sitting on the bench next to Ricky, smiling shyly and talking to him in a low voice.
Averting her head with a jerky movement, Natalie concentrated her attention on the small steaks on the grill. What bitter irony to see him again! The feeling was mutual, Natalie was sure, that is if the man possessed any feelings. His handsome face was chiselled into cold, ruthless lines, the deep tan of his complexion offsetting the glacial shade of his eyes and the streaks of sun-gold in his hair. Lean and supple, he had the sinewy build of an athlete, or more figuratively, the latent muscular power of a cougar.
Yes, Natalie decided grimly, there was a great deal about him that reminded her of a predatory cat. The nobly proud and withdrawn look in his impassive expression, the air of supreme independence, the strength that was held in check until it was needed, then to be unleashed with lightning swiftness, the dangerous claws that seemed to be sheathed for the time being, the indifference to others’ wishes unless it pleased him to indulge them, and, most of all, there was that hint of a primitive animal, undomesticated and disdainful of civilisation. Yet, in spite of it all, Colter Langston possessed a magnetic, almost hypnotic fascination, a kind of frightening lure of danger.
Natalie shook her head firmly to halt the fanciful imaginings of her mind. It was sheer chance that she had seen him again, chance and his daughter’s acquaintance with Ricky, and the Fiesta. Her mouth twisted wryly as she realized that for a few moments her money worries had been set aside.
“Nonnie?” Ricky’s voice rang clear and sharp, only vaguely apologetic for interrupting her.
After dishing up two more plates, Natalie self-consciously wiped her hands on the gingham checked apron and walked to the counter where Ricky was seated, deliberately ignoring the man standing behind him.
“Hello, Missy,” she greeted the girl quietly, and received a hesitant nod in return.
“I ate all my dinner.” Ricky pushed the clean plate forward for her inspection. Before Natalie could comment, he rushed on, “Missy said she would take me around and show me everything.”
