by Keta Diablo
She shouldn't pause. Of course she loved him. How could a woman not love a man who saved her from a life of misery, poverty and shame? She loved him, all right, but did she love him with passion, with wild abandon, with, dare she say lust? No, it wasn't that kind of love, the kind a woman pins all her hopes and dreams on, the kind a woman hungers for or the kind that turns her knees to mush whenever he enters a room.
"You know the answer, Cain. You were my husband, my friend, the father of my son, and the kindest man in the world."
And I loved you. That's why I returned. It has to be the reason. I can't seem to walk away, find that peace that is supposed to come when we leave our mortal bodies. Not until I know you and Grange will be all right.
"But you must leave. You deserve that peace."
Time enough for that. A short chuckle filtered through the air. An eternity as they say. So, as I was saying, you have to convince Coy this is where he belongs. He might believe his calling is in Utah but it's not.
"How do you know?"
Call it ghostly intuition.
"That's not funny. And not enough to convince me I should even try to change his mind. You know the problems we have with the Torres brothers, the cattle rustling, the unpaid taxes. Lord knows I could use help, but is it fair to him when I know what he's walking into and he doesn't?"
Don't underestimate Coy. Believe me when I tell you he can handle himself.
"But it wouldn't be right. If I think black luck is hanging over us like a cloud now, well...."
Then tell him, tell him everything.
She fell quiet for a time while weighing her late husband's words. "No, I can't do that. It wouldn't be right. He says he's leaving in two days, and I'm not going to try and stop him." The sound of footfalls in the kitchen reached her. "I have to go." Pushing from the bed, she set the hat on her head and walked through the doorway leading to the kitchen, straight into Coy Santos.
A prominent crease appeared between the perfectly arched brows. "Everything all right?"
Dear God, how long had he been standing there and had he heard her talking to...well, talking to a ghost? Worse, did he think she was talking to herself? He stood so close, she felt the heat emanating from his body, smelled his distinctive scent, leather, horse and pure male. She couldn't seem to drag her eyes away from that sensual mouth. What was it about him that drew her, had drawn her from the moment he rode in (even though she knew nothing about him, who he was or where he'd come from)? She couldn't explain this magnetism he possessed, this dangerous aura that warned her to run. But run was the last thing she wanted to do.
He searched her face, his own guarded and unreadable. Lord, he'd asked her a question and here she stood, gawking at him like a pubescent schoolgirl. When she found her tongue, the words came out shaky, like her legs when she skirted around him to head for the garden. "Everything is fine, perfectly fine."
She dropped to her knees, a row of beans on one side, several rows of corn on the other. If she thought to escape from the man, she was sorely mistaken. His tall shadow loomed over her. "Why didn't you tell me about the missing cattle?"
"What difference would it have made?"
"How about the Torres brothers?"
She shook her head. "Same answer."
"What about Niall? Have you bothered to tell him they're rustling your cattle?"
"Sheriff Jessup? Yeah, I've filed the usual complaints. He can't do anything unless someone catches them in the act. I got the feeling he'd like nothing better than to put Domingo and Benito in jail but without proof, his hands are tied."
"They have your cattle and Grange tells me they're wearing the Santos' brand. What other proof does Jessup need? Besides, if half this ranch is mine, don't you think I have a right to know when someone's stealing my property?"
That did it. She stabbed the hoe into the ground, bounded to her feet and faced off with him like a rabid badger. "Are you insinuating I'm not taking very good care of your investment? I didn't think you cared one way or another. After all, you didn't waste any time telling me you had no intention of sticking around. You're headed to Utah, remember?"
"I didn't want you to get your hopes up, start thinking because I was Cain's brother I'd feel obligated to—"
"Help the poor widow and her son?" She blew a long breath of air to calm herself but it only seemed to fuel her fire. "Well, don't do us any favors. We got on all right before you rode in with your fancy guns and-and your monstrous horse."
The corner of his lip turned up in a smirk. "You don't like Deuce?"
"Who?"
"My horse."
"I don't know anything about Deuce but if he's anything like his rider, I'm not feeling all warm and happy about him right now." She swiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "God, remind me to tell Grange not to air our dirty laundry in front of every stranger who rides in."
"He's just a kid, didn't mean any harm. Might be he needed someone to talk to."
Another long sigh. "What else did he tell you?"
"He told me about Kajame and the old Indian's beliefs about ghosts."
"Yeah, well, Kajame shouldn't be filling Grange's head with all these crazy superstitions...candles, buzzards and God knows what else."
"Candles and buzzards? He didn't enlighten me about those."
"Well if you're here long enough no doubt you'll see Grange light a candle and watch the flame. According to Kajame, you can tell which room the ghost is in by the direction of the flame."
Coy removed his hat and twirled it around in his hand. "And the buzzards?"
She glanced toward the house lest he see the worry in her eyes. "If they circle the roof, someone's going to die."
"I told him the tribes have a lot of strange beliefs, always have, always will."
"I suspect by now he doesn't know what or who to believe. Losing his pa has been hard on him."
"You look tired. How about we talk about all this another day?"
She toed the dirt with her boot. "We best talk fast then since you're leaving soon."
"Maybe I'll stick around for a spell, safeguard my investment."
She tried to mask her surprise, and she had to admit, her relief at hearing those words. Since the ranch hands ran off, the Torres brothers saw it as an open invitation to steal her cattle on a daily basis. And what could she or Grange do about it? She didn't want Coy or anyone else to take on their battle but maybe his presence would discourage them. "Don't say that unless you mean it."
"I didn't say I'd stay forever; I said for a while, until I can figure out what's going on. At one time I was pretty good with a hammer and a bucket of nails."
She gave him a firm nod. "Look, guess I'm a little done in. I shouldn't have been so hard on you." Looking up at him again, she added. "Why don't you put your things in the bunkhouse, I'll finish my gardening and see you at supper?"
"All right. I need to see about Deuce anyway." He offered her a faint smile, the first she'd seen from him. She couldn't help but think it softened his sun-weathered face, made him more handsome if that was possible. "In the meantime, why don't you think about what I can do around here to help?"
"Oh, that. I think about it all the time." She looked away with a smile. "If I tell you, you might withdraw your offer."
"Not likely. I'm not in a rush to get to Utah and, besides, it's the least I can do for my brother's wife and my nephew."
She watched him walk away and continued to watch him until he untied his horse from the post and then head toward the barn. Dropping to the ground again to finish her gardening, her thoughts turned to the conversation that took place between them. He wasn't anything like his brother in demeanor, and yet, she'd seen another side of him just now that in some ways reminded her of her late husband. Cain had a high regard for family, tried to instill it in their son. The last thing she expected to hear from the tall, dark, gunfighter (that's how she thought of him) was the same commitment. Didn't seem to her a man like Coy would give one whit about
his brother's wife and her son.
Forcing the conflicting musings from her mind, she concentrated on the weeds at her knees. She hadn't allowed herself to think of Coy Santos as anything but a stranger passing through. Until now. She made a mental list in her mind of what he might be able to help with, mend fences, replace broken boards in the barn, shoe horses, grease the axles of the buckboard and a hundred other tasks. Don't go getting your hopes up, girl. Take one day at a time.
Chapter Five
Two weeks had passed since Jesse's discussion with Coy in the garden, and with every new day, logic warred with her fragile heart. She repeated his words, 'I'm heading north to Utah,' a thousand times, a constant reminder that a man like Coy Santos never stayed in one place too long. She told herself not to fall for the false sense of security she felt with him, and told her brain to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat whenever he entered a room. She pulled weeds in the garden with vengeance, churned butter until her fingers bled and galloped over the rock-encrusted terrain at breakneck speed to rid thoughts of Coy from her mind.
She couldn't dispute his claim of being good with hammer and nail, but she'd also noticed the bond forming between her son and the aloof, mysterious man. Grange took to him like a flea on a blue tick hound while she spent hours trying to assess why. Had she underestimated how much Grange missed his father...or had she underestimated Coy Santos? On more than one occasion she'd witnessed his patience with a boy full of innumerable questions and his calm voice and gentle manner with the horses.
When her favorite mare, Tansy, had trouble foaling, Coy stepped in and took control, no doubt saving both horse and colt from an agonizing death. Grange couldn't stop singing his praises over that event, and even she had to admit, losing Tansy and her foal would have delivered a crushing blow to them right now.
Today, when she'd entered the barn, she overheard a conversation between Grange and Coy about setting the baby owl free. She had tried on several occasions to convince her son the owlet wouldn't fall out of a tree again nor would the creature starve. But Coy's reassurance the owl had mastered flying and scavenging for its own food must have gotten through. Minutes later, Grange scurried past her, apparently intent on granting his prized possession freedom.
That left her staring at a shirtless man while he mucked out stalls. She shouldn't be ogling him and she shouldn't allow such lustful thoughts to run rampant in her brain. How could she ignore the broad shoulders, well-muscled torso and flat, hard abdomen? She found herself wildly attracted to this man, and didn't think she could blame it on abstinence or loneliness anymore. Her feelings were more visceral than that—as potent and painful as a toothache—that often wandered into daydreams no decent woman should be courting.
So lost in thought, she didn't see him turn to face her, like he was now with his large, strong hands wrapped around the pitchfork, his expression telling her not only could he read her mind but had entertained similar thoughts of her. If it's one thing she learned while working at Two Bits, it was the way a man looked at a woman that said he wanted her. He narrowed his eyes, his head-to-toe slide down the length of her body sending thrills and heat rushing through her veins. For the first time in her life, she wished she was an inanimate object, a pitchfork of all things.
With heat rising in her cheeks, she withdrew her scrutiny of the pitchfork and searched his face. "I've been meaning to thank you for fixing the wagon and for replacing the broken boards in the barn."
"No thanks needed; just trying to get you ready before winter sets in."
"Thank goodness that's a few months out yet."
If only he'd stop looking at her with those hungry eyes. "Comes sooner than we think."
She should look away, before she fell into a deep, dark well she couldn't crawl out of. "I think you convinced him to set the owl free, something I've been unsuccessful at."
"I told him to let him go by the stream, a place where he's most likely to find his next meal, a frog or a snake."
"That's all it took?"
He scrubbed a hand over his chin. "Well, my lecture on the importance of freedom for man and beast alike might have swayed him."
"You know a lot about that, Coy Santos?"
He scrunched his lips together and nodded. "More than I'd like to admit, yes."
She tilted her head to the side. "Too bad Cain didn't get to see you again before he...before he passed. I think he would have liked what he saw."
"I regret I didn't make it sooner, but it is what it is."
An easy silence lapsed between them while they looked at one another. Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke. "I'm low on supplies and headed for town in the morning. Thought you might like to see how Red Butte has changed in the last fifteen years."
"Is that an invitation?"
She smiled, aware of the electric current suffusing the air between them. "Yes, guess it is."
"I'd like that." Draped over the half-door of a stall, he grabbed his shirt and pushed his arms though the sleeves. "I promised Grange if he cut the owl loose, we'd ride out and check on the cattle."
"All right. Supper will be ready when you return."
She pivoted and walked from the barn, doing her best to still her runaway heart.
* * *
By the time Coy tacked and saddled Deuce and Belle, Grange's sprightly mare, the kid was standing outside the barn searching the sky. "I thought the owl would have returned by now."
"I'm proud of you, Grange, for letting him go." Coy handed him the reins to Belle. "I know it wasn't easy."
"I always thought of the owl as her."
"Guess that's not important, but what does matter is you set her free." He stepped into the stirrup, swung his leg across Deuce's back and looked down on the boy. "How about we ride out and check on the cattle?"
Grange mounted and as usual, picked up his usual chatter. "I saw Kajame this morning when I went hunting."
The midday sun coiled around them like a thousand slithering snakes. Coy removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. "You should have asked him to perform a rain dance. Damn, hasn't rained all month."
"He said it's coming soon."
"In that case, I might change my mind about him being full of manure."
"Maybe you'll get to meet him one of these days, and he's not full of manure."
"Sorry, kid. Guess I should follow my own advice; hold off on judging someone until you've had a chance to get to know them."
In the distance a coyote called out, a once familiar sound Coy hadn't heard for years. Fetch responded with a long howl and circled the riders in a nervous prance.
"When I asked him how he knows a storm is coming he said, 'When snakes and frogs climb trees, rain comes.'"
"Guess that makes sense."
"He said if a black chick is born it brings bad luck, and if a man sees his shadow at sunrise without his head, death will follow."
Coy rolled his eyes and hoped the kid didn't notice. "Yaqui legend and lore, huh?"
"You don't believe him?"
"I have to think about the last two...black baby chicks and headless shadows."
Without missing a beat, he jumped to another topic. "Do you think my ma is pretty?"
As pretty as the sun rising over the mountains, prettier than a field of wildflowers kissed by morning dew. Hell, he didn't want to talk about his wild, crazy feelings for this woman, his late brother's wife. How could he explain to a boy that every cell in his body told him he should ride out of here and never look back, but his heart would be wrenched from his chest when he did?
"Well, do you, Coy?"
"She's a good-looking woman, yes."
He cast those gray eyes on him. "Maybe—"
"I know where you're headed with this and it isn't going to happen."
"Why not? I see the way she looks at you and I think you like her some too."
"It's not in my plans, all right? I got a little piece of land waiting for me in Utah and, besides,
I'm not the sort of man to settle down." He'd never seen Grange look so crestfallen; unless one counted the last time they discovered the Torres brothers had stolen more of their cattle. "Look, you're too young to understand, but one day you'll realize it's for the best I move on."
"Don't tell me I'm too young to understand. I see a lot more than you or Ma think I see. You know what I think?"
"No, and I don't want to."
"You're scared, scared you can't cut it, scared you'll make a mess of things. You told me to set the owl free, said everyone deserves freedom, but you're not free. You're locked in a cage of a different sort and it's called fear."
"Look, I don't want to talk—"
The kid's gaze flicked to the cattle grazing up ahead and then to a post lying on the ground. "I swear I'm gonna kill those bastards one day."
Coy reined in Deuce, slipped from the saddle and scanned the terrain in all directions. "How many did they get this time?"
After taking a quick tally, Grange whispered the words, "Looks like four."
"Well, hop on down. You can't fix the fence from up there."
Grange grabbed his wire cutter from the saddlebag and stomped forth. "They're trying to starve us out. They know we need to sell our stock to make it through winter."
Coy let him fume and stew, doing his best to keep his own emotions under control. When they finished repairing the fence line, he clapped the boy on the back. "You go on home now."
"What do you mean? Aren't you riding back with me?"
"Saw a wild turkey nosing around that copse of prickly pear a minute ago. I aim to bring him home for supper."
"I'll wait for you."
"No, you and Fetch go back to the ranch. I'll be home before you know it." He recognized suspicion in the kid's eyes, but he wasn't one to disobey his elders. "Might take me some time to corner that gobbler and we don't want to give your ma another thing to worry about, do we?"
"Guess not," he said with a lift of his shoulder. Grange mounted and caught his gaze again. "Watch your back while you're hunting. I wouldn't put nothin' past Benito and Domingo."
"They're long gone by now, but I promise to be looking over my shoulder."
