by Ari McKay
Apparently the arrival of the new schoolmaster had given the town something of an excuse to gather. The large community meeting hall had been chosen as the location, and long tables lined the room, filled with a variety of foods donated by the guests. People were decked out in what appeared to be their Sunday best, even the children, and it was obvious from the flirting he saw going on among some of the young people that the occasion was an acceptable one for courting. Between the number of people in attendance and the plethora of candles and lanterns providing light, the room grew quite warm, despite the way the temperature had dropped after the sun had set. It was very different from the elegant drawing room gatherings of Jules’s days at university, louder and more lively, but he liked it. The smiles were unforced, and if the conversation was less intellectual, there was no vicious, condescending edge to it either.
“This is great,” Al said once there was a small break in the line of people. Jules turned to regard his tall, blond, broad-shouldered stepson, seeing the laugh lines that exposure to the sun was already bringing out at the corners of his blue eyes. “I’ve heard of some of these people when I was asking around town today for places looking for hands.”
“Just remember not to act too eager,” Jules replied, his smile feeling more natural as he turned it on Al. Although they were no blood relation at all, and Al’s blond hair was straight rather than curly like Jules’s, people often mistook them for father and son. Not that Jules minded; he was proud of Al, who was well-mannered, well-educated—Jules had promised Mary to make certain of that—and an all-around nice young man. Even though Jules couldn’t take all the credit for how Al had turned out, he felt he’d done well enough by Mary’s son that she’d be proud too.
Al grinned, his teeth flashing. “Don’t worry, Pa,” he teased. “I’ll rein in my enthusiasm. I’m just excited about learning to be a real cowboy!”
Jules shook his head in fond amusement. He’d hoped Al might consider becoming a teacher, but Al loved horses and cattle and being outdoors. Stafford had been in farming rather than ranching country, however, so Al hadn’t been able to get any of the experiences he’d craved.
More people approached, so Jules reluctantly turned his attention back to the gathering. He smiled and shook hands with a man who was introduced as the local doctor, tall and brown haired, his gray eyes kind behind spectacles.
“And this is my wife, Jeanie.” Dr. Robert Carruthers introduced the woman at his side, who was nearly as tall as her husband and slender despite being pregnant. She, too, had brown hair, and her hazel eyes were intelligent and direct as she offered her hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wingate,” she said.
“And you, Mrs. Carruthers,” Jules replied. “Dare I hope you were named after the Stephen Foster song?”
“Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair” had been one of Mary’s favorite songs, and he’d sung it for her sometimes to distract her from her pain.
Jeanie Carruthers’s smile widened. “Indeed I was! I take it you’ve heard it?”
“Oh, yes.” Jules nodded. “Mr. Foster’s lyrics are quite poetic, and I’ve a fondness for poetry. Although I do hope you fare far better than your namesake and that you don’t leave us quite so soon.”
“Amen,” Dr. Carruthers said, tightening his arm protectively around his wife’s shoulders.
Mrs. Carruthers chuckled. “I made you wait long enough for me, Robert. You’ll not be rid of me so easily.” She looked back at Jules. “It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Wingate. I do hope you’ll be with us for a long while. Robert intends us to do our level best to help fill that schoolhouse!”
Her teasing comment—which was rather more direct than Jules would have expected from a town matron—amused him, and he decided he liked her. “I hope so as well,” he replied.
“Move it, Beanie, and stop talking the man’s ear off.” A man spoke up from just behind Jeanie Carruthers, and Jules caught a glimpse of amused hazel eyes in a tanned face as a man peered over her shoulder.
“I swear, Matt, if you make any more comments about me waddling like a pregnant mare, I’m going to borrow one of Robert’s scalpels and use it on your tongue!” Jeanie retorted, then smiled at Jules wryly. “Pardon my brother. He’s a rough cowboy with no proper manners.” But she and Robert stepped aside so Matt could approach.
“Am not,” Matt said, and then he grinned at Jules in a friendly fashion and held out his hand. “I mean, I’m a ranch foreman these days, not just a hand, and I do have manners,” he added. “Matt Grayson. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Jules said. Then he inclined his head toward Al. “This is my stepson, Al. He’s looking to become a cowboy.”
“Is that so?” Matt looked Al over, shook hands with him, then stepped to the side so that the man behind him, who was much shorter with curly auburn hair and green eyes, could move forward. “Well then, you need to talk to Gil Porter here. He’s my boss and owner of Bent Oak Ranch, which is the biggest and best spread in these parts, if I do say so myself.”
“Nice to meet you.” Jules clasped Gil’s hand, but he froze when he caught sight of the next person in line. Jules hadn’t laid eyes on the man in ten years, but there was no mistaking the black hair, flashing dark eyes, and ruggedly handsome features of someone he’d once known well.
Or thought he had. At least until Carlos Hernandez had broken his heart.
The blood drained from his face, and he couldn’t look away from Carlos as his heart lurched painfully in his chest, crying out in both denial and longing for the man who had hurt him more than anyone else in his life.
Carlos’s face lit up when his gaze fell on Jules, and he didn’t hesitate to step forward and stand beside Gil, who was wincing and trying to tug his hand free of Jules’s iron grip.
“Jules.” Carlos’s voice was just as deep and smooth as Jules remembered. “What a pleasure it is to see you again.”
Jules released Gil Porter’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, tearing his gaze away from Carlos. He could feel the blood rising to his face once more, and he was glad of the excuse to focus on something other than Carlos. “I do beg your pardon, Mr. Porter. I had a bit of a surprise seeing Mr. Hernandez again.”
Gil glanced back and forth between Jules and Carlos, regarding them speculatively. “It’s quite all right, Mr. Wingate. I imagine it’s a pleasant surprise to find an old friend here in Mercy.”
“It certainly is for me,” Carlos said, his gaze never leaving Jules’s face.
Jules had never been good at lying, not even polite, social fibs. He knew his smile looked strained, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances, and he tried to keep his attention on Matt and Gil. “We weren’t friends. Mr. Hernandez was a student. I improved his English. I doubt he has much reason to remember me at all.”
Matt shared a look with Gil, and something passed between them that Jules couldn’t name. “Oh…,” they breathed in unison.
“On the contrary, I have every reason to have fond memories of my time spent as your pupil,” Carlos replied, ignoring his companions. “But I hope we may meet on more equal ground now and build new memories.”
How Carlos could lie so glibly was beyond Jules. He straightened his spine and lifted his chin, donning the mask of schoolmaster that had served him so well over the years when facing situations where he had to maintain a stern persona, no matter his inner turmoil.
“I’m certain you have a great deal to occupy your time, Mr. Hernandez, as do I,” he replied, then turned his attention once more to Matt Grayson and Gil Porter. He could see the way they were looking at him, like they knew something, and Jules felt sick, thinking of the tales Carlos might have spun about him.
A warm hand touched his shoulder, and Al spoke up. “My pa takes teaching very seriously,” he said. Jules could sense Al’s confusion, but his stepson was coming to his defense. “He’s very good at it. I think I let him down, wanting to be a cowboy.”
“There’
s nothing wrong with wanting to be a cowboy, Al,” Jules said, smiling gratefully at his stepson. “Which is what I was about to say to Mr. Porter. Al is a fine young man, intelligent and hardworking. If you have any openings on your ranch, I suspect he’ll be interested in applying.”
“We can always find a place for a hard worker.” Gil turned his attention to Al, offering a friendly smile. “What sort of work are you most interested in?”
“I would like to work with horses, sir,” Al said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “I learned to ride back home in Stafford, but there wasn’t much opportunity to do more since we couldn’t afford horses of our own.” He said it as a fact, not a criticism, but Jules couldn’t help but feel guilty that he hadn’t been able to do more for Al.
“Ah, well, then you’d be working with Mr. Hernandez,” Gil replied, shooting an uncomfortable glance at Jules. “But we could use more help with the horses now that we’re moving away from raising cattle and focusing more on breeding horses.”
“I would be more than happy to show you around the ranch and let you see what the work entails,” Carlos said. “A cowboy’s life is not an easy or a romantic one, despite what the stories and ballads might imply.”
Jules had to force his jaw to unclench, and he could have smacked himself for opening his mouth. If he’d realized Carlos worked for Gil Porter, he never would have suggested Al for a position there. Unfortunately, there was no help for it now, not without raising questions Jules had no intention of answering. At least Carlos wasn’t flirting with Al, which would have been more than Jules could bear.
“Great, thanks!” Al said, grinning from ear to ear and looking even younger than he was. “When can I come by? Pa said I could hire a horse from the local stables, so I could be there tomorrow, if that works for you.”
“Tomorrow morning, bright and early,” Carlos instructed. If he was aware of Jules’s stiff discomfort—and he likely was, given how he’d been scrutinizing Jules the whole time—he didn’t show it. “It will take most of the day to show you everything, but if there is time left over, I may set you to a few chores as well.”
“I’ll be there,” Al said. He held out his hand to Carlos. “Thank you, sir. I promise you won’t regret it!”
Carlos might not regret it, but Jules already did. “It was a pleasure meeting you,” he said to Matt and Gil. He looked at Carlos. “Good evening, Mr. Hernandez.”
Carlos had the unmitigated gall to give him a slow, sensual smile in return. “Good evening, Mr. Wingate. I look forward to our next meeting.”
Jules stiffened again, hating that Carlos’s smile could still affect him, even after all these years and all the misery Carlos had caused him. If there was one thing Jules had learned, it was that Carlos was not to be trusted, and he wasn’t about to let sweet words, warm touches, and heated looks turn him into a mindless bundle of need ever again. If Al hadn’t been standing there, Jules might have snapped a cutting reply, but instead, he dismissed Carlos with a curt nod and focused on the man behind Carlos. Still, he was aware of Carlos, and as the introductions continued, he had to force himself not to glance in Carlos’s direction. He had no desire to see awareness in Carlos’s dark, heated gaze. Or worse, amusement. Carlos had played him for a fool once before, and Jules wasn’t going to let that happen again.
He wished he’d never heard of Mercy, Texas, and their shiny new school. He’d rather have faced a dozen Sally Emersons than to have ever met Carlos Hernandez again.
Chapter Three
CARLOS MANAGED to avoid being questioned about his history with Jules Wingate at the reception due to the public venue and on the way home because some of the other hands had ridden into town with them. Once they returned to Bent Oak Ranch, Carlos had retreated to his little house too swiftly for Matt and Gil to collar him, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to dodge them forever.
Their knowing looks made it clear they had pegged Jules as the schoolteacher from Carlos’s story about how he had learned to speak, read, and write English as well as he did. The schoolteacher Carlos had subsequently seduced. But there were some details Carlos left out of that story in the retelling of it, such as the fact that he had broken Jules’s heart. He wasn’t a man to burden himself with many regrets, but the ones he did carry mostly involved Jules Wingate. But now fate had brought them together again, and Carlos hoped he could make amends for the selfish folly of his younger self.
In the meantime, he wasn’t eager to confess the full truth to Matt and Gil and risk losing their respect, perhaps even their friendship and goodwill. Knowing what he’d done to Jules would likely change their opinion of him, and not for the better.
When he headed to the stables the next morning, he glanced around to see if Al had arrived yet, but he saw no sign of the young man anywhere. Only Caleb was out and about, and he gave Carlos a lingering once-over as he led his horse out of the stables, but Carlos didn’t return the younger man’s appreciative look.
He spotted Matt exiting the big house, and he sighed quietly, knowing he couldn’t escape this time. He almost wished Gil were the one approaching the stables instead. His relationship with Gil Porter was far more friendly now that Gil was secure in his relationship with Matt, but despite his assimilation into ranch life, Gil was still very much a product of the Boston society he was raised in, and he wouldn’t have broached the subject of Jules until Carlos did.
Matt was under no such constraints. As old friends and former lovers, he and Carlos shared a degree of closeness that allowed them both to be forthright and honest, even when it was inconvenient, like now.
Carlos headed to Corazon’s stall, pretending he hadn’t noticed Matt, in hopes there would be another hand or two in the stables so they couldn’t talk privately. But luck wasn’t on his side. Most of the stalls were empty, the other hands having saddled up and ridden out to attend to their tasks already.
“Running late today, are you?” Matt drawled as he sauntered up to the stall. “Didn’t sleep well?”
“I slept quite well, thank you,” Carlos replied, focusing on Corazon so Matt wouldn’t see the lie in his eyes. He had tossed and turned for hours, thinking about Jules, rehashing their past, and marveling at how damned good Jules still looked even ten years later.
“Uh-huh, and I’m the president,” Matt replied dryly, but Carlos knew him well enough to hear the concern in his tone. “I’m sure you weren’t thinking at all about Mercy’s new schoolmaster or the way he looked ready to faint when he caught sight of you.”
“Didn’t you know leaving men swooning in my wake is a common occurrence?” Carlos kept his voice light, trying to joke away the impending serious conversation, but he had a feeling he was delaying the inevitable.
“Swooning?” Matt shook his head. “Looked more like shock to me, specially seeing as Gil has a right impressive bruise on his hand from the man’s grip. Now, you don’t have to tell me nothing, Carlos, if you ain’t of a mind to, but I need to know if he’s gonna come looking for you with a gun in his hand. I’ve seen men act cold in my time, but he just about froze solid where he stood.”
“No, not at all!” Carlos shook his head vehemently. “Jules—Mr. Wingate—is not a violent man. He would not deliberately harm anyone or anything.” He paused and smiled wryly. “No matter how much they may deserve it.”
Matt leaned against the side of the stall, his hazel eyes intent on Carlos’s face. “Are you saying you do? Because it don’t take a Boston lawyer to figure out that was the teacher you talked about seducing. I know for a fact you don’t leave bad feelings behind you, but that man looked like he’d rather face the devil himself than you.”
“No doubt he would.” Carlos rubbed his forehead and released a long, slow breath. He’d never discussed Jules with anyone before, keeping his “schoolteacher seduction” story light and amusing, but now he had little choice but to confess the truth. “I prefer to part on pleasant terms with my lovers, but Jules was the exception. He did indeed teach me how to
read and write in English. I knew how to speak it a little when we met, but he helped me improve there as well. It is also true that I seduced him. We were lovers for nearly a year. But if you recall, I have also spoken of the man I lost because my eyes and my feet wanted to wander—and he is that man.”
Matt frowned as he considered that revelation. “Well, that explains why you seemed happier to see him than he did to see you.” His voice took on a note of disapproval. “But it seems to me if he was a married man, he didn’t have no call to expect you to stick around anyway. I would’ve thought you had more sense than to get involved with someone who was already committed.”
“He was not married when we were together,” Carlos replied quickly, not wanting Matt to form the wrong impression. “I know nothing of when or why he married, but it must have been after I left him.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I didn’t like the thought of you as a dog in the manger. As to why he married… well, I don’t think that’s too hard to figure out. Didn’t Gil almost do the same thing? You must have hurt him awful bad for him to take that drastic of a step.”
“I did,” Carlos said simply. As a callous boy, he hadn’t been able to take responsibility for his own selfish actions, but as a man, he acknowledged how deeply he had hurt Jules. “I make no excuses for it, for there are none to make. I was selfish, and I did not realize what I was throwing away at the time. I deeply regret the choices I made ten years ago and the damage they inflicted on a loving heart.”
Matt was quiet for a moment. “And you still love him.” It wasn’t a question.
Carlos’s heart constricted with an old, aching yearning as he nodded. “I do.”
Matt rested his hand on Carlos’s shoulder and gave it a supportive squeeze. “I remember you told me once the one you wanted was far away, and he probably didn’t want you. But he’s here now, so maybe that’s a sign. You ain’t young and foolish no more.”
