Emmy's Equal

by Marcia Gruver

  Diego wrestled with his emotions so he could speak. Dropping his gaze, he rustled a mound of straw with the toe of his boot. “Thank you, sir. I’m not certain I’m worthy, but thank you.”

  They stood in silence, communicating their feelings with smiling eyes until Diego broke the stillness. “If you’ll pardon my boldness, sir, Cuddy longs to hear such words from you.”

  Mr. Rawson stared. “Cuddy? Nonsense. He couldn’t care less what I think.”

  Desperation shot boldness through Diego’s veins. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve watched him try to please you. I’ve watched him fail and seen what it does to him. If you would just try to see—”

  Mr. Rawson’s hand shot up. “Hold on there. Don’t you lecture me.” His face blotched like the skin of a cactus pear, and he shook his finger in Diego’s face. “Don’t mistake my fondness for you as a license to butt into my business.”

  Though his eyes still bored into Diego’s, something snuffed the furious fire. He sighed and relaxed his shoulders, and the purple hue faded from his cheeks. “You may have watched some things all right. I just don’t think you’ve seen.”

  Diego longed to ask what he meant but didn’t dare risk angering him further.

  Mr. Rawson returned his attention to the horse. “Don’t you think I want to be proud of my only son? I tried for years to turn Cuddy into the man he should be, longed to teach him everything I knew, but he wanted no part of my lessons ... or me. His interests lie elsewhere, namely at the bottom of a bottle when he’s not perfecting the art of chasing skirts.”

  “Forgive me, sir, but Cuddy has many other interests. He’s always talking about politics and travel, and he studies a lot on what’s going on in the world.”

  Mr. Rawson snorted. “What does any of that have to do with raising cattle?” He fiddled with Faron’s mane, smoothing and combing it with his fingers. Faron edged closer, grunting his approval.

  Diego joined them by the gate, lifting Faron’s brush from its hook on the wall. They ministered together in silence, both men tending the horse they loved.

  Mr. Rawson glanced over. “Want to know something funny?”

  Diego smiled. “What’s that?”

  “The truth is you have Cuddy’s stubbornness to thank for the turn your life has taken.”

  Diego’s brows met in the middle. “How so?”

  “When you showed up at the ranch, fresh and green as a spring shoot, I saw great potential there. So I took you under my wing, groomed you into what I longed to see Cuddy become, partly because I wanted him to see how his life could turn out if he’d let me help him, what great things we could accomplish together.”

  Diego scowled. “You used me?”

  Mr. Rawson looked startled. “Used you? Yes, I suppose I did in a way.” He latched onto Diego’s forearm. “But along the way I grew to love you, came to respect the kind of man you are. I caught myself wishing we were blood relations. Then I noticed the way Greta looks at you, and I thought my wish might be fulfilled through my grandchildren.”

  He raised one busy brow. “There’s a spark of expectation in my old heart yet.” He nudged Diego with his shoulder. “Well, come on ... do I still have reason to hope?”

  Diego’s smile wilted. He lowered his gaze and said nothing.

  When he raised tortured eyes, Mr. Rawson nodded. “I feared as much. It’s Emily Dane, isn’t it? That girl could turn any man’s head.”

  “Sir, I—”

  The man took a ragged breath. “Don’t say a word. It’s not your fault, son.” The chewing on his cheek intensified, and he blinked away sudden brightness from his eyes. “I guess that’s it, then. I had hoped to die with some assurance the Twisted-R was in capable hands. Instead, I’ll die disappointed.” He turned on his heel and left the barn with sagging shoulders.

  Diego followed and stood watching his back. He opened his mouth to call out, prepared to assure Mr. Rawson he’d marry Greta, give him grandchildren, tend the ranch the rest of his days. He longed to tell the man whatever it took to remove the hopelessness from his eyes, but the words wouldn’t crowd past the lump in Diego’s throat.

  Feeling eyes on the back of his head, he spun.

  Emmy stared at him in shocked silence.

  Cuddy’s vacant eyes were fixed on the ground. He seemed smaller, as if the pain etched on his face had caused him to shrivel. His trembling hand groped for a fistful of hair and gripped until the knuckles turned white.

  Diego took a step toward him. “Cuddy?”

  Cuddy whirled away from them and disappeared behind the barn.

  Tears sprang to Emmy’s eyes. Without a word, she tore out after him.

  CHAPTER 16

  Head drooping, Cuddy sat on the sun-dried bank of the Nueces with his arms resting on his knees, his hands dangling from his wrists like dead fish.

  Emmy had found him in the same posture outside his room, only this time the pain shining from his eyes wasn’t self-inflicted. She eased onto the ground beside him.

  A ragged release of air was the only acknowledgment he gave that he noticed her there.

  Miserable for him, she reached for his hand, but he shrugged her away. She decided not to push, but not to leave either.

  They sat together, Emmy watching the wind rippling across the water, Cuddy staring at the ground between his knees.

  She jumped when he snatched something from his shirt pocket and sailed it across the river. It hit the far bank then tumbled down the slope and into the water with a splash. Emmy caught the glint of sunlight on metal just before the flask settled to the murky depths.

  She touched his arm. “Bravo, Cuddy. Now you’re thinking, and that was the smartest decision yet. You don’t need that foul stuff, and you know it. You’re much better off without it.”

  His head still sagged, but the corners of his mouth tipped slightly. “It was empty.”

  She withdrew her hand. “Oh.”

  Glancing at her at last, the hint of a smile bloomed to an outright grin. “You’re something else, you know that?”

  She squeezed his fingers. “You are, too, Cuddy. I just hope you know it.”

  He sneered. “You and I know exactly what I am, honey. A fatal disappointment. You heard it straight from the one who decides such things, the great John Rawson.”

  Emmy leaned against his shoulder. Her next words spilled unplanned from her mouth. “It’s not your father’s right to decide such things, Cuddy. We’re judged by God and no other.” Shocked by her own words, she sat quietly, waiting for him to respond.

  He didn’t tense beside her, or laugh with scorn, or seem offended in any way. Instead he continued pulling up bright green blades of grass and tossing them into the water. “If that’s the case, my goose is cooked.” He sighed. “I’m told God knows more about me than my father does.”

  Emmy sat up and looked him over. Cuddy appeared to feel as worthless as she had felt before God showed up and changed everything in her life. Since the day she blundered into the sheltering arms of grace, she hadn’t feared Papa’s opinion so much. The only thing left was living with the pain of his rejection.

  She tried to picture hearing Papa use the term “disappointment” to describe her. He could rant and rave, shake his head, glare at her with scorn, but until he actually said the word aloud, she could pretend he didn’t consider her a failure.

  Cuddy twisted his head to peer at her. “Why so quiet? Have I depressed you?”

  “No. Just trying to imagine how you feel.”

  “I could describe it to you, but you’d be shocked at the language.”

  She laughed. “Oh, Cuddy! What am I to do with you?”

  Mischief danced in his eyes. “You could kiss me.”

  She swatted his arm. “I believe praying for you would serve you best.”

  He seemed surprised. “You really believe all that God stuff, don’t you?”

  Scooting around to face him, she pinned him with her eyes. “I didn’t used to. I found the wh
ole thing a frightful bother. I watched people herd through the door of the church like sheep because it was expected of them, not because they found anything valuable on the other side. Most of them came out the same way they went in, miserable through and through. The man singing “Amazing Grace” the loudest kept a girl named Grace on the side. It left a bitter taste in my mouth, and the things of God seemed hardly worth my time.”

  Cuddy slapped his leg. “I never figured you for a cynic! So what changed?”

  She bit her bottom lip. “Me.”

  He tucked his cheek between his teeth and seemed to ponder her answer, until finally, as though he found it too simple, he shook his head. “No, I mean what changed you.”

  “God changed me, but not until I let Him. Once I allowed Him close to me, I saw the truth of who He is.” She grasped Cuddy’s hands. “You see, the same things bother God about the church. He wants my devotion, not merely my attendance. Does that make sense?”

  Cuddy gazed at her, unflinching. “Well, I’ll be. Forgive me for saying this, but you’re not the sort of girl I expected to be saying such things.”

  She laughed. “I wasn’t for many years. Now, knowing Him is the dearest thing in my life.”

  His eyes widened in amazement. “Girl, you’re lit up like a candle. You’re pretty serious about this God of yours.”

  She cocked her head. “Why does that surprise you? Papa said your parents are Christians. And your best friend—”

  He yanked a weed and snapped it in half. “No, sweetie. Diego’s not a Christian. He’s more like a saint.”

  ***

  Diego bit back a curse, shocked it had entered his mind. He’d left everything—work that Cuddy had been ordered to do—and searched the whole ranch, exhausting the last ounce of his energy praying for Cuddy’s safekeeping and Emmy’s comfort. Only to find them whispering together, their heads close and bobbing like a pair of silly lovebirds.

  He had feared finding Cuddy wearing a noose, poised to kick the chair from under his legs. To find him cooing with Emmy instead was an insult. To hear their laughter stretched the boundaries of Diego’s understanding. Madder than he’d been in his life, he gritted his teeth and rode toward them.

  Watching Emmy snuggle with Cuddy, a sweet smile on her face, went a long way toward helping Diego understand the man’s rapid recovery. Having a woman like her so near would comfort a dying man.

  For her his anger blazed. She had deliberately strung him along with her dimples and sultry voice, her teasing laughter and meaningful glances, until he came to believe there was something between them. The glow of adoration on her face as she leaned close to Cuddy told Diego just what he needed to know. She’d have no more trouble from Diego Marcelo.

  Engrossed in each other’s company, they didn’t notice Diego until he was practically on top of them. Emmy saw him first and nudged Cuddy. Something flashed across her face when she saw him riding toward her, a tenderness that started in the softness of her mouth then spread and settled in her eyes, somehow different from her earlier expression.

  He jerked his gaze from hers and pronounced himself a desperate fool. He had read too much into something that was obviously his imagination.

  Cuddy stood and helped Emmy to her feet. With his hand at her back, they walked to meet him. Cuddy’s jaw hardened. “If he sent you after me, I won’t go.”

  Diego dismounted. “Your father doesn’t know you overheard.”

  Cuddy angled his face from sight, but not before Diego glimpsed the raw pain that twisted his features. A vein bulged in his neck, and a scarlet flush crept up from his collar. The man was fighting tears.

  Diego’s affection for Cuddy rose to the surface, displacing his ire. “I’m glad to see you’re all right.”

  Cuddy leaned against the horse, fiddling with the saddle. “Oh, you know me ... indestructible.”

  Still watching Diego’s face, Emmy patted Cuddy on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you to talk.”

  Cuddy latched onto her arm. “Remember to be careful.”

  Emmy nodded. “Snakes. And scorpions.” She smiled. “How could I forget?”

  She strolled to the water’s edge, just out of earshot.

  Diego placed a hand on Cuddy’s arm. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Your father spoke out of pain.”

  Cuddy lifted flashing eyes. “Pain?” He spat on the ground. “You must be joking.”

  “He feels rejected by you. If you’d listened to his reason, you’d understand.”

  Visibly trembling, Cuddy gripped the saddle horn. “I listened plenty good. He said I’m the biggest disappointment in his life and he’ll take that to the grave. What’s there to understand about that? John Rawson doesn’t feel rejection. He gives it. Defend him all you like, I’ll never see things any other way.”

  Diego ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m telling you, Cuddy, you’d feel differently if you’d listened to everything he said.”

  “I wasn’t invited to hear all he said, brother, but I noticed you were.” He lifted his chin. “Come to think of it, I did hear something I won’t soon forget.”

  Diego ducked his head and asked what he already knew. “What was that?”

  “You’re prepared to toss my little sister aside because you’ve set your sights on Emmy.”

  “I didn’t—”

  Cuddy held up his hand. “You didn’t have to say it aloud. The old man’s disappointment said it for you.”

  “So Emmy ... did she...?”

  “You already have my father, Diego. Now you want my girl?” He swelled his chest and took a step closer. “I love you like a brother, amigo, but you stay away from Emily or you’ll answer to me. Understood?”

  Diego swallowed against his suddenly tight collar. “You’re my best friend, Cuddy, but threatening me is uncalled for.” He brushed the blustering burro aside and swung into the saddle. “And dangerous.” He laid his spurs to the horse’s flank, needing to get as far from them as possible. Away from Cuddy before he had to hurt him. Away from Emmy before she caused him more pain.

  She called out to him as he rode over the rise.

  He didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER 17

  Magda eyed the mountain of supplies Bertha had piled on the counter of McCaleb’s Mercantile Store. Since John Rawson had decided they would travel to Catarina by wagon after all, they had room to carry more supplies. He never should’ve said such a thing to Bertha. After twiddling and touching every item for sale, she bought three times the amount John suggested they needed for the trip.

  Once her business was settled, Bertha was ready to leave, so the wait made her fidgety. John finished his conversation with the clerk of the impressively large store then led the way outside. After enduring a half hour of Bertha twitching and sighing, Magda was relieved to step onto the sun-drenched porch.

  John had mentioned at breakfast that they’d been his guests for a full week but hadn’t yet been to town. As soon as they laid aside their forks, he loaded Magda, Willem, Bertha, and Kate into his wagon and proceeded to usher them through Carrizo Springs, giving the grand tour.

  Holding the door of the mercantile, John smiled at each of them as they filed out. “Have I mentioned the name of our newspaper? It’s called The Javelin. After the animal.”

  He pointed inside the store. “Got its start right in there, owned and edited by J. L. McCaleb. That little paper saved our town during the drought of ’86 and ’87. A gentleman sent McCaleb an ad stating he’d pay good money for javelina hides.” He chuckled. “Well, there was no shortage of javelinas around these parts. McCaleb made a deal with a fellow in San Antonio who traded cash and groceries for hides. It’s the only way these people survived.”

  “That’s quite a story, John,” Willem said.

  John gazed across a nearby field, his mind clearly in the past. “The drought lasted so long that the cattle overgrazed the natural grassland. It never returned to what it was before. Thousands of cattle died of starvation. It al
most meant the end of ranching in these parts. Ranchers took to burning the stickers from prickly pear to feed their stock.” He shook his head. “A hard time indeed for Dimmit County.”

  In a brighter mood, John gripped his chin. “Now then, I’ve shown you the churches and the school.” He turned to help Kate onto the wagon then offered his hand to Bertha. “Next we’ll see the courthouse, an imposing structure built in ’85. The new bank sits across from it, established just last year.”

  Bertha groaned. “If it’s all the same to you, John, I’m up for missing some of that.”

  Magda gasped. “Bertha Maye Bloom! The very idea...”

  She scowled right back. “My feet hurt. I told you I didn’t want to wear these shoes.”

  Kate Rawson covered her mouth with her gloved hands and had herself a good laugh. When she recovered, she twisted on the seat to smile at them. “That’s all right, dears. I’m a little tired myself.” She patted her husband’s shoulder. “This man is as proud of Carrizo Springs as he is our children. If I don’t stop him occasionally, he talks my ear off.”

  John glanced back, looking sheepish. “Sorry, folks. I get carried away sometimes.”

  Furious, Magda buried her elbow in Bertha’s side.

  Pouting, Bertha scooted as far as her little body could fit into the corner of the seat.

  Beaming at Bertha, John cleared his throat. “I see you’re a woman of action. How about we dispense with all this nonsense and start making plans for our cattle drive? I say we leave first thing in the morning.”

  Bertha shot forward and pounded him on the back. “Now you’re talking straight, John. Put the whip to that horse’s behind and let’s see how fast we can get to the house. We’ve got some packing to do.”

  ***

  With a creature as proud as Faron, Diego had to let the horse think breaking him was his idea. Every small accomplishment, each tiny step forward had gained Diego progress.

  First, the reins of braided horsehair draped gently on Faron’s neck. Then the snaffle bit, which he took to surprisingly well, considering it took a week for him to accept a blanket resting on his back. When he tolerated the saddle, tears stung Diego’s eyes. That fateful day Faron allowed him to mount, Diego had cried unashamedly.