by David Archer
“It’s Gabriella. Gabriella Vasquez. And yours?”
“I’m Chance,” he said. “Chance… Davidson.”
“It’s good to meet you, Chance,” she said.
“Same here,” Chance replied.
They chatted a bit as they rode along, and Gabriella told Chance about her ranch. She was managing to grow a few vegetables in the sandy soil, but her business was actually built around raising goats and horses, and she had a herd of cattle that roamed the range. The cattle and goats were somewhat popular around the area for both meat and milk, and the horses brought her some extra income from the nearby Native American communities.
“That’s kind of interesting,” Chance said. “That’s what we did when I was a kid, raise horses. I got to be pretty good at it, before I finally got fed up and walked away. Now, goats will be a whole other story. I’m afraid I don’t have any experience with goats at all.”
Gabriella laughed, and Chance thought it was one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard. He caught himself smiling, and quickly reminded himself that he was here to kill this woman, not find her alluring.
“Horses are easier to handle, that’s for sure,” she said. “They can be very entertaining at times, however. You see, goats have it in their heads that they are smarter than you are. And until you really have some practice in dealing with them, they just might be right.”
SIXTEEN
It was almost six o’clock in the evening when they turned in to the driveway of the farm. The lane stretched out for about five hundred feet, with a wire fence bordering the right-hand side. The barrier ran all the way from the road front right up to the old wooden barn.
The structure seemed to have held up pretty well over the past years. It boasted a new aluminum roof and the walls looked fairly sturdy. The huge front doors sat facing the house, although they were a good hundred feet beyond the dwelling.
As for the house, it was an old, two-story farmhouse. The red-brick veneer seemed to shout out the age of the building, as if it were either proud of its age or begging to be torn down. An enormous front lawn ranged all the way from the driveway for about one hundred and fifty feet to the west, where it was bordered by another wire fence.
“Well, here we are,” said Gabriella, smiling.
“It looks like a nice place you’ve got here.”
“Thank you. We like it here. The boys should be hungry by now, so I’d better hurry up and get inside and start supper. I’m sure you must be pretty hungry too.”
“I sure am,” he said as they stepped out of the vehicle, and he couldn’t help admiring how fit and shapely she looked as she came around the truck.
If he was going to be honest with himself, Chance was already starting to wonder if he could go through with it. There was a part of him that craved the sense of power that came from taking a life, but the thought of harming this beautiful woman was difficult for him to wrap his mind around.
“I got a spare room in the back of the house,” she said. “That’ll be your room, for as long as you need it. There’s a TV in there, but I’m afraid we only get two channels out here in the middle of nowhere. I’ve got satellite Wi-Fi set up for Internet, and the big TV in the living room is connected to that. We watch a lot of Netflix stuff out here.”
She opened the door, and two little boys came running to wrap their arms around her legs and almost make her fall. “Hey, hey,” she said. “Slow down, guys, let me get inside the house before you throw me on the floor and beat me up.” There was a laugh in her voice as she spoke to them, and she dropped her big purse on the floor as she scooped one boy up under each arm.
An old Mexican woman stepped into the hallway and smiled at her, then glared at Chance. “Gabriella,” she said, “is everything all right?”
Gabriella smiled. “Relax, Carmelita,” she said. “This is Mr. Davidson, he’s going to work for me for a while. With Alonzo gone, I need somebody who can help me deal with all the work around here, and he was passing through and needed a job.”
Carmelita shook her head. “And now you are taking in strangers? Oh, Gabriella, I worry so much for you.”
“Relax, Carmelita,” Gabriella said. “Everything is fine, I promise. Mr. Davidson just needed a job, and it just so happens that he has lived on a horse farm before. I think he’ll be a big help around here.”
Chance went back to the truck and started carrying in the supplies, while Gabriella went into the kitchen to get started on supper. It took him several trips before he had all the bags lined up on the kitchen floor, and he was sure that a few of those items should have gone out to the barn. He made one last trip and picked up his own belongings. Dropping them on the floor along with everything else, he accepted her invitation to sit down in one of the chairs.
He surveyed the kitchen. It was unusually large, but this was an old ranch house, and a lot of the houses of that era had kitchens that were built that way. The outside door opened in to the northeast corner and directly to the right was the cooking area, with the refrigerator and stove along the south wall. From the entranceway, the first thing that one saw was the round dining table in the northwest corner, and behind the table on the west wall was a six-foot-long closet. There were two doorways exiting from the kitchen, and Chance guessed that one of them led to a washroom, with his own room probably behind that, and the other to the living room. There was also a short hallway running westward from about the center of the room.
From here, two more doors were evident. One probably opened up to the cellar stairs and the other either to a storage room or to a back porch. At the end of the hallway was a small window.
A sound toward the back porch area wrenched his attention away from the décor. He almost jumped, before he realized it was the older of the two little boys. He looked to be around eight, or maybe nine, and the look he gave Chance made it clear that he was used to being the man of the house.
“Hi, Mommy,” he said. His gaze never wavered from Chance as he gave his mother the bag of potatoes she had apparently sent him to fetch.
Chance looked down at the little boy and smiled at him. He wanted to think of something friendly to say, something to win the little boy’s trust, but then he remembered the real reason he was there. Someday, he was sure, that little boy was going to do everything possible to hunt him down. Chance was sure that he would have done so, if his parents had died under similar circumstances as the fate that awaited Gabriella.
“Hi, Tommy,” answered Gabriella. “Were you a good boy for Carmelita today?”
“I’m always a good boy. Mommy, who is this man?” he asked, pointing at Chance.
“This,” she replied, turning away from the counter where she had begun peeling the potatoes already, “is Mr. Chance Davidson. I hired him today while I was in town. Chance, this is my oldest son, Tommy. He’s nine years old.”
Chance grinned at the little boy. “Hello, Tommy. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your mommy tells me that you do most of the work around here.”
“I help out some. She does most of the work, and me and my brother do what we can. Are you gonna quit and steal a bunch of tools like Mr. Alonzo did? He took off with a lot of mommy’s tools and stuff.”
“No, I sure won’t,” Chance said. “I can promise you that.”
“Okay. Mom, can me and Andy show him the horses while you’re making supper?”
Carmelita came in with the other little boy and sat at the table across from Chance. “This is Andy,” the old woman said. “How old is Andy now, Gabriella?”
“He’s almost seven,” Gabriella said. “Okay, boys, you can show him the horses, but don’t go in the corral. Okay?”
“Okay, Mom,” Tommy said. He reached up and grabbed hold of Chance’s hand and gave it a tug. “Come on, come on.” Andy followed.
Chance glanced at Gabriella and saw her looking at him with a grin. “I’ll keep an eye on them,” he said, and then he let the little boys lead him out through the back door.
“We got a lot of horses,” Tommy said. “I think some of them ought to be racehorses, because they can run really, really fast.”
Chance couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped him. He remembered his earliest years on the farm, when he often dreamed of riding one of the horses in the Kentucky Derby. “I’ll just bet they are,” he said. “Of course, racehorses are worth a lot of money.”
“Yeah, I know,” Tommy said.
“Our horses always go to the Indians,” Andy put in. “They say Mom raises the best horses around here.”
“Well, that’s nice to know,” Chance said. “If I ever need a horse, I know who to come to.”
“Yeah,” Tommy said. “You could come get one from Mom.”
“Now, that is exactly what I had in mind,” Chance said. “Especially if you guys will be there to help me pick the best one.”
“Sure,” Tommy said. “That would be Felicity. She’s the fastest horse we’ve got, there’s not a horse alive that could catch her.”
“Okay, then,” Chance said. “Can you show me which one she is?”
The three of them walked out toward the barn, with little Tommy chattering the entire way. They entered through a regular doorway just to the right of the huge sliding doors that served as the main entrance. Inside, at the end of the central runway stood a large diesel tractor and on either side were stacks of hay which were already considerably depleted after the long winter that had only recently passed.
“This way,” said Tommy, leading the way down past the stalls. He came to a stop in front of a beautiful palomino mare, and pointed up at her. “That’s Felicity. She’s probably the best horse I’ve ever seen.”
Chance smiled and held out a hand, which the horse nuzzled. “She’s definitely a beauty,” he said. “Definitely one of the finest I’ve ever seen.”
Tommy looked up at him. “Hey, you want to help us feed them?” asked Tommy. “We can give them each a big scoop of oats, if you will fork in the hay.”
“Okay,” replied Chance. He turned and spied the pitchfork, then started flinging hay into the deep feeding troughs while little Tommy scooped oats into feed bags that Andy hung on the horses’ noses by standing on an upturned bucket.
Ten minutes later, all the work was finished. They removed the empty bags from the horses and hung them on their pegs. A muffled shout from the house caught their attention just as they were ready to return to the warm confines of the main living quarters.
Chance followed the boys into the kitchen and then to the bathroom. They washed up quickly and then made their way back to the kitchen, to sit down at the table. Chance sniffed the air, because something smelled fantastic.
“If I didn’t know better,” he said, “I would swear you’ve cooked a roast in the few minutes I was outside.”
Gabriella smiled at him. “You’d be half right,” she said. “Carmelita put the roast in the oven for me when I left to go to Clarksville, so it’s been cooking all afternoon. All I did was boil up some potatoes to mash to go along with it. I hope you enjoy it.”
“If it tastes half as good as it smells,” Chance said with a grin, “then I just hope there’s going to be extra.” He leaned down and whispered conspiratorially to Tommy. “Are we allowed to go back for seconds?”
“Oh, yeah,” Tommy said. “I always do.”
SEVENTEEN
Gabriella carried the food over and placed it on the table, then looked at Chance. “I carried your bag out to your room, just off the back porch, there. It was pretty heavy. What do you have packed in there, blocks of lead?”
“No,” he replied, “just my few personal possessions, that’s all. It’s rolled up pretty tight, though, that probably makes it heavier.”
“Well, if you are lugging that along while you are out there walking, it’s no wonder you are working up a sweat, that’s all I’m saying. That sucker was heavy.”
“Yeah, I guess it is,” he said. “I’ve gotten so used to it, I guess I just didn’t pay attention.”
Tommy had grabbed the chair beside Chance, and Andy was sitting on his right, between Tommy and his mother. Carmelita seemed to have disappeared, so that put Chance right beside Gabriella. When she sat down, the three of them bowed their heads in prayer. He strained to hear what was being said, but the low whisper escaped his ears.
As soon as the prayer was over, Gabriella began dishing food onto their plates. She made Andy’s plate first, then Tommy’s, and then surprised Chance by putting some generous servings onto a plate that she set in front of him.
He looked at the woman beside him and saw a broad smile form on her lips as she watched her hungry sons dig into their supper. She turned and looked at him before filling her own plate, and even then she waited until after he had tasted the meal before making a plate of her own.
“Mmm… that’s good. I can honestly say that this is about the best meal I’ve had in a long time,” he said, sending a mental apology to his grandmother. Gabriella smiled at him and turned her attention to her own plate.
The little family chattered away in conversation as they ate, and when they were finished Gabriela served dessert, which consisted of a freshly baked apple pie and hot coffee for the two adults. Everyone dug in eagerly, polishing off most of the whole pie in just minutes.
“Can we be excused, Mom?” Tommy asked, his little brother looking at him expectantly.
“Okay,” she responded, “but please try not to make too big a mess. I don’t mind if you guys play in your room, but remember to pick up your toys.”
“Okay, Mom,” Tommy said, and little Andy echoed him. Andy climbed out of the highchair and the two of them ran into the other room. Their footsteps could be heard bouncing up the staircase.
“Your boys are real nice. I like them, but isn’t it hard for you to bring up two boys all by yourself?”
“Oh, they’re pretty good. They do what they’re told most of the time. My husband’s death hit us all very hard. You see, the kids like it here on the farm, and I suppose, even as young as they are, they realize that if we are going to stay here it’ll take a lot of work from all of us.”
Chance looked at her for a moment, and tried to think of what would be a natural thing to say next. “How did your husband die, if you don’t mind my asking? If it bothers you to talk about it I’ll understand,” he inquired. He was genuinely curious to see what kind of story she would give him, since he already knew the truth.
“No. I don’t mind talking about it, not anymore. It took me a long time to get over it, but it doesn’t bother me now. He died about two years ago in an automobile accident. He was killed instantly, thank God; at least he didn’t feel any pain. It was in the wintertime. He was on his way home from a business trip when his car hit an icy patch on the road. The car went out of control and he ran into a tree. I guess there is one fortunate thing out of it: no one else got killed in the crash.”
Chance was quiet for a moment, just thinking about what she had said. “I’m sorry about your husband’s death. It must have been quite hard for you to adjust to a new life, being left with the burden of raising two sons and making the farm earn enough money to provide for the three of you,” he said. “I take it your husband didn’t have any money put away for you? Life insurance, anything like that?”
She looked down at the table for several seconds before she answered. “It wasn’t all that bad. The emotional strain is certainly something that I wouldn’t want to experience again, that’s for sure. But there were—well, let’s just say that things weren’t always great between me and Benny. And no, there wasn’t any life insurance. The only money was the little bit we had saved in the bank, and that didn’t last long. If Benny hadn’t bought this ranch a few months before he died, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me and the boys.”
“Yes, you certainly seem to have done quite well with it.” He decided to try a slightly different tack. “Was your husband always a rancher?”
“Oh, no,” she said
. “To be honest, when he told me he had bought this ranch, I thought he was crazy. Benny was the kind of guy you would expect to see all dressed up in a business suit, working in an office, somewhere. He was quite a bit older than me, and he said having a ranch was something he always wanted to do when he retired.” She drained her coffee cup and set it down. “It’s one of the few good things he did for me and the kids.” She shook her head, as if regretting letting the words fall out of her mouth. “Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, though, right? I bet you’re tired. Come on, let me show you your room.”
They stood up and he followed her through a doorway to the right of the refrigerator. It led onto the back porch, which he had already seen when he followed Tommy out to the barn, but he hadn’t noticed the door on the left. Gabriella opened it, and they stepped into a neatly appointed room with an older, but decent looking full-sized bed. There was a small dresser, a table and a chair, and the old TV she had mentioned sat on top of the dresser. Beside the dresser was another door, and she opened it to show him a small bathroom. It contained only a sink, toilet and shower stall, but Chance nodded approvingly.
“At least it’s got its own bathroom,” she said. “Benny put that in when we bought the place, because he had a man who helped him with the chores even back then. I hope you like it.”
Chance smiled. “It’ll be fine. After all, what more does a man need than a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in?”
“I guess that’s true,” she said. “Are you tired? If you want to get settled in, I’ll go away, or you’re welcome to come watch some TV with me in the living room, if you want.”
“That actually sounds pretty inviting,” Chance said, “but I really am pretty tired. If you don’t mind, I’ll get myself a quick shower and probably go on to bed.”
“Oh, that’s fine, I understand. Well, good night,” she said as she walked out the door. “I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast, then.”
