by Ari McKay
“Come, then.” Carlos rose to his feet and held out his hand to help Jules up. “We will return home, and I will make you some tea so you do not get a chill.”
Putting his hand in Carlos’s, Jules let himself be pulled to his feet, then reached for his crutches before he could be overcome by the temptation to wrap his arms around Carlos. “Tea would be nice,” he replied, touched by Carlos’s desire to take care of him. “If you would like, I could read aloud for you.” He wanted to do something for Carlos in exchange for Carlos showing him the ranch, and for his patience.
“I would like that very much,” Carlos said, appearing pleased by Jules’s offer. “Perhaps something a little more cheerful than Poe this time,” he added with a teasing smile.
Jules chuckled. “I could read to you from the novel I’m writing,” he offered, feeling a bit shy. “If you would like to hear it.”
“You are writing a novel?” Carlos shot Jules a surprised look as he helped Jules back onto the seat of the buckboard. “I did not realize you wanted to be a writer.”
“I’d considered it for a long time, but it was Mary who really pushed me to do it,” Jules admitted. He settled onto the hard seat, laying his crutches in the back. “I’ve been working on it for years, off and on. I don’t know if I’d ever try to get it published. It’s mostly been a way to while away the time.”
“I would like to hear it, if you are willing to share your words with me,” Carlos said as he flicked the reins and set the buckboard in motion.
“I’d like to.” Jules hadn’t read it to anyone but Mary, but he thought it would be nice to see what Carlos thought of his work. He scooted closer to Carlos on the seat, telling himself it was mostly for warmth, but he knew he just wanted to have Carlos close.
He didn’t know how long it would take for him to learn to trust Carlos completely and without reservations, or if he even could. If it got to that point, however, he’d be able to tell Carlos the truth—he’d given his heart to Carlos ten years ago, and despite the pain and heartbreak, despite the doubts and fear, it had then and always would belong to Carlos alone.
Chapter Thirteen
CARLOS WHISTLED as he chopped jalapeño chilies up fine while the salt pork cooked in the huge pot he’d borrowed from Dave, who cooked for all the hands. Tomorrow was the annual Thanksgiving dinner in Mercy’s community hall, to which the entire town was invited. A committee consisting entirely of ladies planned the event. They were in charge of preparing enough turkey, chicken, and ham for everyone, but they delegated side dishes, breads, and desserts to each family—or in Carlos’s case, each person who could prepare a particular dish that people clamored for.
Gil had been given the responsibility of bringing cornbread, a task he had turned over to Dave, who was accustomed to cooking in bulk quantities. But the ladies of the Thanksgiving planning committee had asked Carlos to bring black beans. He had brought a small pot on his first Thanksgiving in Mercy as a gesture to show he planned to be an active member of the community. The pot had emptied in mere minutes, and ever since, Carlos’s black beans had been in high demand at town gatherings.
He’d borrowed Dave’s biggest pot, and Dave had helped him work out the measurements for a large batch. Then Dave handed over his second-biggest pot.
“Better make two,” Dave said dryly. “I won’t need them for cornbread.”
Gil had given Carlos permission to charge the cost of ingredients to the Bent Oak account at the general store, and on impulse, Carlos had invited Jules to accompany him to town. Since their tour of Bent Oak, Jules had seemed a little more relaxed around Carlos, although he was careful not to be too familiar when anyone else—especially Al—was around. Carlos timed the visit so they could get the shopping done and have lunch in town. He had rested his hand on Jules’s knee during the long, empty stretch of road between the ranch and town, but other than that chaste bit of contact, he had been discreet.
As much as Carlos wanted to whisk Jules off to bed, he wanted Jules’s love and trust even more. Sex would be easy and enjoyable, but it wasn’t enough. Carlos wanted more, and he was content to wait until Jules could offer his heart as well as his body. In the meantime, he planned to keep taking care of Jules and reminding him of how compatible they were even out of bed in hopes that Jules would decide he was ready to risk trusting Carlos again.
There was a thump at the doorway to the parlor, and he glanced up to see Jules standing there, balanced on his crutches and watching Carlos. When Carlos’s gaze met his, Jules smiled rather sheepishly. “I smelled cooking. I must have dozed off while reading, and now I feel guilty. Do you need any help?”
“You need not feel guilty,” Carlos said, offering a reassuring smile. “I have done this before.”
“Of course, but from the way you described it, there’s a lot of work involved, especially since you’re making so much.” Jules moved carefully into the kitchen. “I can chop for you, if you’d like. Or pick over the beans, or anything else you need.”
“I soaked the beans overnight, but you could sort through them while I prepare the chilies and onion,” Carlos said. “I will set you up at the kitchen table so you need not remain standing too long.”
“All right.” Jules made his way to the table. He propped his crutches against the wall behind himself, then pulled out a chair and lowered himself carefully into it. “I want to feel like I’ve contributed in some small way. You and Al take such good care of me, I’m feeling horribly spoiled.”
Carlos divided the soaked beans into two smaller pots, which he placed in front of Jules, and then he put the second large pot next to Jules’s chair. “This is for the good beans,” he said, pointing to the large pot. He rummaged through the cabinets and found a small mixing bowl, and he put it on the table as well. “Throw any debris or bad beans in here, and I will dispose of it when you are finished.”
Jules nodded, then set about the task. “If I may ask, who taught you to cook?” He raised a brow, obviously curious. “I don’t remember it being one of your interests.”
“I had no need to cook,” Carlos said, returning his attention to the jalapeños. “I was a ranch hand, and my meals were provided. But I do know how to cook. My mamá taught me as well as my sisters.”
“Sisters?” Jules stopped what he was doing, staring at Carlos in surprise. Then his cheeks grew flushed and he dropped his eyes. “I didn’t know you had sisters. I guess we didn’t talk about things that were important all those years ago, did we?”
“Between your work and mine, we had little free time together,” Carlos said, slanting a mischievous smile at Jules. “When we were together, our time was occupied mostly by lessons or sex. But I am happy to tell you anything you wish to know about my family.”
Jules was quiet for a few moments, brow furrowed as he thought. “Well, I remember you said your father is the one who taught you about horses. So, tell me about your mother and sisters. Are they older than you, or younger?”
“Gabriela is three years older, and Rosa is five years older. I am the baby of the family.” Carlos gave Jules a sardonic look. “I suppose now you will say that explains much.”
Jules chuckled and shook his head. “I’m an only child, so I have no real basis of comparison. Though I can imagine you were doted upon, since you were probably as good-looking and charming as a child as you are as a man.”
“I was, and I was adored by all the women in my family, including my aunts and cousins,” Carlos said without a trace of shame as he peered into the pot on the stove to check on the salt pork. “My parents were taken by a fever that swept through my hometown the year after I left. My sisters survived, thank God,” he added, crossing himself. “They are now married with children of their own. We write to each other often, but I have not seen them in over ten years.”
“Really? That long?” Jules tilted his head to one side. “Is it that you don’t want to go back, or something else?”
“I would indeed like to go home and see th
em and the nieces and nephews I have not met,” Carlos said, feeling a pang of loneliness for his family. “But it is not a quick or inexpensive trip, and I have not wanted to risk losing a job over it.”
“Somehow, I don’t think Gil or Matt would deny you the pleasure of seeing your family,” Jules pointed out. He smiled sadly. “I envy you. My family was very small, and once my parents passed away, I had no one. You should try to see them. Life is too uncertain, and then you’d have regrets if you didn’t.”
Carlos had been giving some thought to asking Gil about the possibility of taking some time to visit his family, especially if he went before foaling began. He could show Al what to do, and as long as nothing serious went wrong with any of the horses, Al could likely handle the responsibility. If not, there were plenty of other hands who had experience with horses, and they could help in Carlos’s absence as well.
“I have considered it,” he said at last. He glanced at Jules, one eyebrow raised. “Would you accompany me if I go? I would like you to meet my family even if they do not know the true nature of our relationship, and they will adopt you as soon as they learn you have no family of your own.”
Jules looked surprised. “You’d really want them to meet me?” He bit his lip, his indecision clear to see on his face. “Perhaps, if by the time you go, we’re… together again. But I wouldn’t want you to delay seeing them on my account.”
“Right now, my priority is you.” Carlos put down his knife and went to kneel beside Jules’s chair. “I mean to remain here until your leg is healed and you no longer have need of my care,” he said, resting his hand on Jules’s thigh and giving it a warm squeeze. “Perhaps by that time, you will also know whether you can trust me again or not.”
“Perhaps.” Jules’s voice was low and husky. “You’ve taken wonderful care of me, Carlos. It makes you even harder to resist, as unbelievable as that may seem.”
“That is not why I did it, but if that is a side effect of my caretaking, I will not protest,” Carlos said, chuckling, and then he leaned in to brush a light kiss against Jules’s lips.
Jules’s breath caught at the kiss, and then his eyes flew wide and he glanced at the doorway, almost sagging in relief. “We must be careful,” he murmured, although he touched Carlos’s cheek with gentle fingers. “I don’t know how I would explain this… us… to Al.”
“Al is riding the fence today and will not be back until much later,” Carlos said, leaning into the touch. “I would not risk discovery in such a way.”
Jules smiled crookedly. “I suppose it’s just that I’m not used to hiding anything from him. Of course, I’ve never really had to.” The smile faded, and then he sighed. “I hope if I ever do share the truth with him, he won’t feel I’ve somehow betrayed his mother, or that I loved her any less than I did.”
“Al is an intelligent young man,” Carlos said, stroking Jules’s thigh gently. “I am certain he will understand that it is possible to love different people in different ways. If all else fails, you could point out that his feelings for Tabitha McManus do not diminish his feelings for you.”
“Not quite the same thing, but I see your point.” Jules smiled again and brushed Carlos’s hair away from his forehead. “You should get back to work on those chilies. And tell me more about your sisters, in case I ever do get to meet them. Do they speak any English, or will I have ample opportunity to show off my skills in Spanish?”
“You will be able to show off all you like,” Carlos said. “I learned English because I wanted to leave. They never had any desire to stray far from home.”
“I always dreamed of traveling to Mexico one day,” Jules replied. “Is your village very small?”
“It certainly seemed so to me when I was seventeen.”
Carlos smiled wryly, and he fell silent as he gazed at Jules’s familiar, beloved features and thought about taking Jules to the town he still thought of as home even though his parents were no longer there. He wished he could arrive with Jules on his arm and proudly introduce Jules as his beloved. He wished they didn’t have to hide how they felt unless they were with Matt and Gil or Jeanie and her husband. He wanted the freedom to show how deeply he loved Jules, but that was an unrealistic dream.
“I will return to my chilies, and you may return to your beans,” he said, giving Jules’s leg one last squeeze before he stood up. “I will tell you about all the trouble I got into when I was a boy because, as my sisters would tell you, I was too curious and clever for my own good.”
“Now, that I can believe,” Jules replied tartly, reaching for the neglected beans. “Especially after helping raise Al!”
“I imagine Al and I had much in common.” Carlos grinned as he picked up his knife and began chopping the jalapeños again. “For example, there was the time I tried to ride my father’s favorite horse—the stallion that cared for no one but Papa.”
Carlos continued the story, embellishing here and there in an attempt to make Jules laugh, and he was pleased when he succeeded. He wanted to share his past with Jules, not only so Jules would understand him better, but also to forge a connection with Jules, one he hoped would lead to their shared future.
Chapter Fourteen
THE LATE November wind was quite chilly, but Jules was warm enough in his coat and with blankets tucked around him. It was cozy in the carriage, and Carlos’s nearness no doubt added to the warmth.
They were on their way to the big Thanksgiving dinner in Mercy, and it was only the second time Jules had left Bent Oak Ranch since his injury. Everyone in the group traveling from Bent Oak into Mercy was in high spirits, the ranch hands piled into the back of the buckboard, singing songs about the joys and sorrows of a cowboy’s life, some of them surreptitiously sharing a bottle of whiskey, which no doubt contributed to the general gaiety. Jules even joined in the singing on “The Yellow Rose of Texas” and “Barbara Allen,” and listened with pleasure as Carlos sang along on “Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie.” Gil, Matt, Al, and a few others were on horseback, riding up ahead as though leading a parade into town.
It had been nearly four weeks since the fire, but it felt like much longer, and Jules had found himself surprisingly content with his unusual situation. He was getting around much better on his crutches, and he only used the wheelchair in the house for moving between the parlor and the kitchen in the evenings when he was tired. He was enjoying his adult students, and Matt and Gil had made every effort to provide anything Jules required. He’d thought he’d miss his young pupils and the hustle and bustle of town life, but he rarely thought of them anymore. During the day, he worked on his book now that he had more time than he’d ever had before to write and revise, and in the evenings, he worked with the hands-on reading and arithmetic. He got to see Al every day, too, which was a bonus, and Consuela Ortega seemed to have adopted him almost as a brother, bringing over food and chattering happily to him in Spanish. It wasn’t the life he’d imagined when he’d come to Mercy, but he was content with it, and there were moments of true happiness as well.
Then there was Carlos.
It had been almost three months since Jules’s arrival and the surprise of meeting Carlos again, but there too he’d found himself undergoing unexpected changes. After the first shock and pain of seeing his former lover once more, he’d gone through anger, denial, and sadness, but after Carlos’s declaration of love, Jules had been thinking a great deal about their relationship, both past and current.
He had accepted Carlos was a different man now. What he hadn’t been able to accept without any doubt was Carlos truly planning to stay with him rather than tossing Jules aside for the next handsome face that came along. He’d even tried to put Carlos off by mentioning his own age and the pitfalls of old age and illness, but Carlos had held fast to his assertion that he wanted Jules and no one else.
So he’d come to a crossroads. Carlos had laid his heart at Jules’s feet, and Jules had to decide if he could risk his own for a chance at forever with the only man h
e’d ever loved.
The past few months had done much to show Jules how deeply Carlos had changed and how much the life he’d built for himself on Bent Oak Ranch meant to him. But there was still Jules’s fear that Carlos would once again abandon him, so he’d felt at an impasse. It hadn’t been until Jules had been working on his book—a tale of a man searching for his lost love—that he’d recalled a conversation he’d had with Mary shortly before her death.
The wasting illness Mary had suffered from had left her pale and weak, a mere shadow of the woman Jules had first met, but it had done little to conquer her spirit. She’d loved for Jules to read to her, especially her favorite poem, “To Althea, from Prison.” Jules had always been drawn to darker works, but even after all these years he still knew the poem by heart. Mary told him that it gave her hope, and that she tried to always remember that if she surrounded herself with sadness and anger, it was nothing more than a prison of her own making.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s your body failing or the love of your life leaving you,” Mary had said. “You can choose to drown yourself in anger and hate or choose to look at the good things in your life, Jules. If you don’t, you’ll never take a chance again, and that would be horrible, wouldn’t it? To live forever in a prison of your own making?”
Jules hadn’t thought about that conversation in years. He also remembered how Mary had always said she wished she could have seen Al’s father again, just one more time before she died, but not to confront him with his sins in leaving her. Mary, who was as gentle and gracious a soul as had ever lived, wanted to thank him for giving her the son she adored and to tell him she forgave him for leaving her.
They’d discussed Jules’s relationship with Carlos, of course, and if Jules knew one thing, it was that Mary would have urged him to take what Carlos was offering. She’d been certain Carlos would come to regret his actions, and she’d encouraged Jules to find him.
