Someone to visit her? Had Papá or José Luis come looking? Joy quickly gave way to fear. What if Don Joaquín had joined the search?
“I think you miss her.” Chris crossed the room and stood next to her chair, waiting.
“Who?” Her voice trembled, and she saw a flash of concern in his eyes.
“It’s a good surprise,” he assured her.
If she told him she didn’t want anyone to find her here, would he hide her or would he turn her over to the first person who came to claim her? Before she could ask anything else, she heard a low nicker from the door he had left partially opened. A white nose pushed the door open the rest of the way.
“Tesoro!” Without thinking, she stood so quickly the room spun.
“Careful there.” Chris wrapped an arm around her middle. Smells of sunshine, freshly tilled earth, horses and something uniquely him filled her senses. The world righted and she stood still, breathing deeply. The light-headedness she felt must have come from her quick movement. It couldn’t have had anything to do with the handsome man who took such good care of her. “Better?” The exhale of his words teased the hair at her temple as if it were a soft caress.
“Sí.”
“Then I think we should get you to Tesoro before she makes herself at home in here.”
“You keep that horse outdoors where it belongs, Master Chris,” Nana Ruth ordered from her perch on the side of her bed. She had been getting around better the last few days, but her knuckles were doing poorly again today.
“Yes, ma’am.” Chris saluted with his free hand. Nana Ruth reprimanded him about something, but her words were too fast for Vicky to make any sense of them.
On the threshold of the cabin, Chris stood back a step and let Vicky lean her head into Tesoro’s neck. “Oh, Tesoro, I’ve missed you so much.”
“Not fair, telling Tesoro secrets in Spanish,” Chris teased.
“No secret. I say I miss Tesoro.”
“I could tell you were missing her. She’s been missing you, as well.”
“Does he feed you well? Are you warm and safe at night?” As if understanding her questions, Tesoro nodded her head and then nipped Vicky on the shoulder, blowing air on her as if demanding an answer for her absence.
“Someday soon we’re going home, Tesoro. Rest up well because I will need you to get me there.” She scratched Tesoro’s darker patch right behind her ear. When would she be able to mount up again? She missed riding and the freedom it gave her. But getting better meant leaving behind her newfound friends. Would she ever see Chris or Nana Ruth again once she returned to the hacienda? If she stayed on the hacienda and didn’t marry, she might be able to convince Papá or Berto to bring her back to visit from time to time, but if she were still forced to marry... Shuddering at the thought, she forced herself to focus on Tesoro.
“Here.” Chris must have felt her shiver and attributed it to the cool breeze. He slipped his jacket around her shoulders and lifted her hair out of the collar in a move as natural as breathing. Did he feel the strange tingle she felt when his fingers brushed her skin?
“I don’t want you to wear yourself out, Vicky.” He slid his arm around her waist and waited, standing beside her to support her weight. “I think it’s time to go back in.”
“I no want in,” she insisted. Now that she had finally come out and felt the sun’s warmth on her face and the cool breeze in her hair, she hated going back inside. “Please, unos minutos más.”
“Fine.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Let’s get you settled then.” Without warning, he picked her up and strode out to the barn, Tesoro following behind as if unwilling to be separated again.
Resting her against the barn wall, he ducked inside and emerged with a milking stool. Setting it out next to the corral fence, he helped her walk the ten paces and then sit down with care. “Does this hurt?” he asked, his eyes not missing anything as his gaze bore into her.
“No. I like sol...sun?” She pointed just in case she had the wrong word.
“I suspected as much, Miss Vicky.” He stood back and then climbed the corral fence with the agility that she had taken for granted only two weeks ago. Before his feet even touched the ground, all the horses ambled his direction. He patted or scratched each of the animals, calling them by name and whispering sweet nothings to them.
Tesoro nickered and nudged her on the right shoulder, unaware of how much it hurt. Almost toppling off the stool, she gritted her teeth against the cry the sudden movement brought to her lips. Chris started to climb the fence before she could get her left arm up in a motion to stop him. “I bien.” She shook her head at him, willing him to understand how good it felt to be outside so that he would let her enjoy the outdoors and his horses a few more minutes.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He halted his climb, his hands on top of the fence, and waited.
“Yes, I okay.” Forcing a smile that hid her shortness of breath, she held his gaze. He nodded, turning back to his horses.
“Be careful with me, Tes. I can’t play today, but soon,” Vicky confided in her dearest friend while burying her fingers in Tesoro’s mane. She watched as Chris pulled himself up bareback on one of the horses. Raising his hands in the air, he guided the animal with gentle nudges of his knees. They raced around the enclosure, turning quickly or skidding to a stop. He had trained the animals well. They would make very valuable partners for any vaquero on a ranch working with cattle.
Thinking back, Berto normally bred and broke all the horses on the hacienda, but in the last few years, every spring he had added two or three to the stock that had not been born on Hacienda Ruiz. Had he been buying those from Chris each year? Had Chris had a chance to come to her Quinceañera and chosen not to? If he had, would he have vied for her hand?
Of course not. He was doing his Christian duty by taking care of her until she healed, but he could not have any affection for her. Not with her skin so dark and her lack of feminine charms.
With a sigh, she watched his herd circle the corral behind him, following him with undaunted faith. Having grown up around the stables, Vicky knew that animals had a sixth sense about people. Tesoro had never misjudged a person. If Tesoro shied away from someone, sooner or later the mean streak would show.
All too soon, Chris dismounted and hopped the fence. “It’s time to get you inside for today.”
“Come again tomorrow,” she insisted. Her side ached terribly, but now that she had felt the fresh air on her face, she couldn’t bear the thought of being stuck inside again.
“We’ll see how sore you are come evening.”
“Evening?” They had come to an unspoken understanding: any new word Chris said, Vicky would repeat and he’d give her a definition.
“At the end of the day. Morning is when the sun comes up. Noon is in the middle of the day. Evening is when the sun goes down.”
“Evening night?”
“Evening is when the sky is getting dark and night is coming soon.”
Saving away the new word and its meaning, she stood on shaky legs and tried to stifle a moan. From Chris’s frown, she might not have managed to keep it completely quiet.
“Here, let me take you back inside.” He scooped her back up in his arms. Unable to help herself, she laid her head against his chest and listened to the strong beat of his heart. She knew that this man was as steady and true as his heartbeat.
Closing her eyes, she breathed in the scent of him and the pine trees that surrounded his cabin. No matter how far away her life took her, this time at Chris’s ranch would be a memory she would revisit when she needed to feel safe. He might not find her lovely, he might see her skin as too dark and her hair too thick, but he treated her like a woman to be sheltered and protected. On the hacienda, everyone had wanted to keep her out of harm’s way because she was Don Ruiz’s daug
hter and Berto’s princesa, but here, Chris took care of her because she needed the help and nothing more. Somehow that made her feel even more cared for.
* * *
Finished with the milking, Chris sat back on the stool and breathed deeply. He figured dinner should be ready by now. Truth was he had been looking for excuses to go inside and check on Vicky and Nana Ruth all afternoon. Even the horses seemed to sense his thoughts weren’t with his work.
The day before, Nana had convinced him that it was time to let the lady take a soak in the washtub, since Vicky had been with them for a total of ten days. Lacking the perfumed French soaps his mother and sister would have insisted on, he had offered the cake of lye soap. She had thanked him profusely in an excited mix of Spanish and English. A person would have thought he’d given her a king’s ransom instead of a tub of warm water and some privacy.
Last night he had moved his bedroll and his few belongings out to the smaller cabin that they had originally built for Jeb and Nana Ruth. The buildings were built within sight of each other, but they were far enough away that he’d be winded before he sprinted the length of the yard if anyone rang for help. Torn between propriety and keeping the woman safe, he’d waited until Vicky had gone two nights in a row without a nightmare. Surely she’d be fine. After all, Vicky could now get out of bed without aid, and if she moved slowly, with care, he noticed she barely grimaced. The girl was a power to be reckoned with.
A nudge on his shoulder brought him back to the present in the barn. “Go on, Bessy, you did a good job today.” He patted the cow’s side and stood, almost toppling his stool behind him. Shaking off the feeling that his body and his mind had somehow become separated, he picked up the milk pail and headed toward the house. If he were being truly honest, the moment he had picked up Vicky to take her back into the house after her visit with Goldenrod earlier in the day, something had shifted in his chest. She laid her head against him, and he hoped that she couldn’t hear how she caused his heart to speed up like a horse going from a canter to an all-out gallop.
“She’ll be leaving soon,” he said out loud, as if the words would get his head cleared once and for all. But instead of relief that things would go back to the way they had been before, he frowned at how the prospect of that left an empty hole in his chest.
Surely once she was back with her family he would take the horses out on the trail all day like he used to and get back to his normal self. Although, Vicky would probably love to take a ride on one of the many trails he’d worn down around the ranch. In fact, it might be wise to take her on a short ride in a few days and test her endurance so that they could plan their trip back to the hacienda. If his guess was right, she’d be more comfortable on Goldenrod’s graceful back with her gliding stride than on the hard wagon bench for hours on end. And since there was no way to get a wagon out to the road a few miles to their south, taking a wagon would mean days of clearing a path. Not to mention that he’d have to build the wagon.
Without meaning to, he began to form a plan. They’d take a picnic basket along and spend a few hours out on the trail that led to the small meadow across the stream overlooking his humble ranch. But what would be the point of making a trek with her that would leave permanent memories of a lovely lady in his desolate land?
His description stopped him short. His land was breathtaking, astounding proof of a Creator’s handiwork. When had he started to see it as desolate?
Since a beautiful young woman had taken up temporary residence in his cabin, that’s when. Maybe she had found a way into a corner of his heart, as well.
Chapter Nine
The light spring breeze blew a tendril of Vicky’s hair across her face as she sat on a milking stool, watching as Chris slid the halter over Moonbeam’s soft head.
“When go Vicky?”
The question caught him like a kick to his stomach as he cinched the saddle buckle tighter under Moonbeam’s belly. Surely she didn’t expect to ride a full day and a half back to the hacienda if she hadn’t even been in the saddle once since her accident.
“You need to take things easy still, Vicky. If we try to take you back to the hacienda right now, you wouldn’t make it more than an hour or so.” He finally dared to raise his gaze to find her staring at him. “I know you must miss your family something fierce, but you need to have a little more patience. You’re just not ready yet.”
“I no ready go hacienda. I ready Tesoro. When Chris make Tesoro take Vicky in corral?”
A breath of relief filled his chest. His response to her words should have warned him that he had already become too attached to the woman, but he pushed those thoughts aside. There’d be more than enough time to deal with that once she returned to her life and people. “You want to ride Tesoro?”
“Si!” She clapped her hands together like a small child delighted with a Christmas gift. “Gracias, Chris!” In an instant she had jumped up and all but thrown herself at him, squeezing him around the middle. His arms caught and held her without his permission.
She belonged there. Right in his arms. She fit. She fit under his arm against his chest as if God himself had made her for that purpose. As if Chris had been made to protect her and hold her within the shelter of his own arms. Of course, that was nonsense. Thinking that way only spelled disaster and would lead to a broken heart in the best of scenarios. Or someone close to him dying in the worst.
God had made her to be a hacienda princess and him to be...to be a hermit. Because there was no way he could stand to live within “polite society” again and not fight against the hypocrisy that he saw everywhere. And to give her the things she deserved, he’d need to live in a large community where he’d have resources close by. No, he couldn’t be her protector or anything else.
As soon as she healed he’d take her back. Back to her life on the hacienda and all her friends, for surely a woman as lovely as Vicky had quite a line of suitors waiting for her when she returned. Just the thought of some fancy Spanish nobleman holding her close for a dance or courting her caused the morning’s breakfast to turn sour in his stomach.
Forcing his arms to loosen, he dared to gaze down at her and froze. Her coffee-colored eyes, wide with silent questions, studied him, then blinked slowly before she pulled out of his grasp.
“I’m sorry, Vicky. Did I hurt you?” He ran a hand around the nape of his neck to keep from reaching out and pulling her back again.
“No, no hurt me.” She stood watching him. The long silence stretched out awkwardly. Finally, a horse behind them whinnied and broke their tension. “I sit on Tesoro?” She took a tentative step toward the stall and held out her palm for her horse to nuzzle her.
“Yes, you can sit on Tesoro. You can even see how you feel riding.” He shook off the feeling of holding her close and headed to the tack room for her saddle and reins. A memory. That’s all he would make of that. A good, precious memory that would keep him company on cold winter nights when he was alone in his cabin and she was somewhere else, married, having forgotten all about the strange American and her short convalescence in the small cabin in the woods.
* * *
Heat flooded her cheeks as Vicky waited for Chris to come back. What must he think of her? Would an Americana have thrown herself in his arms as she had? Surely not! The Englishman who had taught her so many years ago said that the English stood farther apart than the Spanish. He said that a proper man and woman should touch only glove to glove—never even hand to hand—much less indulge in a tight embrace unless they were betrothed. “The space between a lady and gentleman should not be less than the sum of the length of both of their forearms extended at all times.” He had reminded her time and time again that if she were ever to be in the presence of a true Americano or English gentleman that she should act demure and mature.
Her older brother had joked that the Englishman looked like someone had stu
ck him in the backside with a hat pin and he feared he’d be stuck again if he dared to bend his form even just slightly. Granted, Chris had not been nearly so formal, but his remark about her returning spoke clearly about his wish to send her back as soon as possible.
Now she had gone and hugged the Americano like she would have José Luis or one of her younger brothers. And try as she might, she couldn’t lie to herself and believe that she felt the same kind of affection for Chris that she felt for her brothers. No, he held her attention and her affections in a way no other man ever had. And now he must see her as uncouth and uncivilized.
What if he had a young lady he courted? He had never hinted about having a sweetheart, but living so far out he might be able to court her only a few times a month, and with Vicky and Nana needing constant attention maybe he had missed his chance to go. Could she, even right now, be interfering in his plans to court some Americana?
The idea should not have pleased her as much as it did. After all, he had done all he could to make sure that she was safe, comfortable and taken care of. A true Christian would want the best for him, and that would be for him to be free to court and marry a young woman of his own country.
But the heathen in her heart cheered for her to continue the interruption for as long as possible.
The port city where Spanish priests had built a monastery and mission some sixty years before, calling it San Francisco, had grown in population, especially now that the Mejican government had built a fort there. Rumors said that many of those newer residents were Americanos. Could one of those new Americanas hold Chris’s affections?
Before she could settle her emotions, Chris came back with her saddle and quickly set to putting it on Tesoro. His movements were skilled, controlled, but he didn’t meet her gaze. She moved to hold on to Tesoro’s bridle, rubbing the horse’s sweet spot, trying to ignore her own discomfort.
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