"You trying to back out?"
"No, just giving you a final window of opportunity." She smiled and plucked a wildflower of her own to keep from touching his face with her fingertips.
"I've already come to care about Betsy," Rick said. "And not just for Jon anymore." He plucked a flower and twirled it in his fingers. "Betsy almost said something at the birdhouse. You've got to back off and let her fly, Allie."
Allie's contentment disappeared like the cottonwood fluff dancing around the meadow. "You're not her father," she said. "You can be her friend, but that's as far as it goes."
"What if I say that's not enough?"
"It has to be. That's all there is. I'm not letting you or any mantake Jon's place with her."
"Even if it's not what's best for Betsy? Where's your trust, Allie? In me, in God for bringing us together? You going to toss that gift back in his face?" Rick turned his gaze on her. "There's something else I've been meaning to talk to you about," he said.
The solemnity in his face made her want to run. He was going to say he wanted a divorce sooner than a year. She didn't blame him. For a man like him who could have his pick of women, the thought of being saddled to a widow and her kid must be daunting.
"I don't want a divorce," he said. "Did you notice I hesitated before I said my vows?"
She nodded. "I'd wondered if you were about to back out."
"It wasn't that. As a Christian, the thought that we were planning on breaking the vows we took bothered me. Before I said them, I decided I would say them and mean the promise. I'd like us to think about working on making our marriage real. I don't want a divorce in a year."
"Real?" she echoed. Something inside, some last dying bloom of hope, lifted its head.
"I know it's a shock, and maybe I shouldn't have sprung it on you so fast." He took her small hand in his big, warm one. "I'm not saying we move fast, just that we inch along in the right direction."
Allie wasn't sure what to say, how to react. She'd dismissed his strange comment the night of the wedding when he hadn't said any more. And how exactly would they work on it? Wasn't love supposed to bloom by itself without being coaxed? Still, she thought she could learn to love Rick.
And she wanted Rick to love Betsy, to nurture and care for her, but a tiny twinge of longing for the same thing rattled her. If she plucked his other hand from his lap and held it to her lips, what would he do? For a moment she was tempted to find out, but then the cold light of reality washed over her. She wasn't in the market for more pain.
"What do you say?" he prodded, his thumb running in circles against her palm.
She found it hard to think with the way he was looking at her, the plea in his blue eyes. "I -I don't know," she faltered.
The light in his eyes dimmed. "Fair enough. But let's try it out."
Before she could react, he leaned over and took her shoulders in his hands. His head bent down, and he claimed her lips in a gentle kiss. His mouth coaxed her own to respond, and her fingers wrapped themselves in his shirt. She clung to him, and a passion she didn't expect flared between them.
His arm came around her back, and he pulled her closer. She didn't resist. The smell of him, the hard muscles under her fingers, the tenderness of his kiss broke through the defenses she thought she'd reinforced with grief and heartache. Her fingers trailed up to run along his roughened jaw. She cupped his face in her palm and kissed him back with all the loneliness of the past two years.
Dimly, she realized someone was tugging on her shirtsleeve. Betsy. Grasping for some shred of control, Allie pulled away and smoothed her hair. Her hand trembled.
"I think that might be a yes," Rick whispered.
She couldn't look at him. Was he laughing at how easily he'd battered down her walls? Her lips tingled and felt warm. She wanted to touch them but didn't want him to see. Swallowing hard, she gathered Betsy onto her lap.
The thought of sharing a life with this man was an oasis in the desert to her soul thirsting to belong.
16
THE SKY SHONE BLUER AND THE GRASS GLOWED BRIGHTER AS RICK RODE along the trail back to the ranch, with Betsy on the saddle in front of him and Allie riding her mare beside them. He hadn't planned on saying anything yet, but her response gave him hope.
And scared him to death.
He'd loved his mother, and she hurt him worse than any enemy. His back itched with the memories. For two cents, he'd call Brendan back and tell him he'd changed his mind and would be glad to help solve the world's problems.
They'd be a lot easier than solving his own.
When they reached the barn, he dismounted, then unsaddled the horses while Allie went inside with Betsy. She hadn't spoken a word on the trail. Maybe she was as taken aback by what happened between them as he was. They had a long road to navigate if they were going to stay together.
He poked his head in the house long enough to tell Allie he was going to town for a while. She was sitting at the desk with the bills spread out in front of her. Everything smelled of lemon polish. Betsy was in the big chair by the window and was already asleep. Squinting at the papers, Allie didn't look up when he spoke.
"You okay?" he asked.
"It's just hard to read these things," she said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I used to have tinted glasses that helped, but they broke."
"So get some more."
She looked up then, and a smile chased away her ferocious expression. "They're expensive. I get by okay. It just takes a little longer."
He heard the forced optimism in her voice. Maybe he could find out something about those glasses while he was in town. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. I've got some errands to run. Anything I can get for you while I'm there?"
"No, we're fine. You'll be back in time for supper?"
"Sure." He grabbed a paper and jotted down his cell number. "You can call me if you need anything."
She took the paper and tucked it into her jeans pocket. "Thanks."
An awkward silence fell between them. The dance of relationship was one Rick had never learned, and the crash course was beginning to wear him out. "Okay then," he said, backing out of the room.
On the way to town, he called Grady. If he wanted this marriage to work, they had to start out right. "Hey, buddy, got a favor," he said when Grady picked up the phone.
"Hey, Cowboy. How did you know I just walked in the door?"
Rick didn't want to even tell his friend he'd entered into a mockery of a marriage. "You got time to do some marriage counseling this week?" he asked, plunging right in.
Grady was an odd combination, a vet who pastored, but the tiny church couldn't support a full-time man, and Grady had stepped into the position with all the accompanying duties.
"But sure, and who is it?"
"Me."
There was silence on the other end of the line. "I'd heard something about this. You really married the woman, Rick?"
"Yep. If we want it to last, we're going to have to figure some things out about each other. I thought the best place to start would be with you. I'm going to adopt Betsy, and we have the hearing a week from tomorrow at nine. Would you have time later in the morning?"
"How about eleven?"
Rick wanted to thank Grady for not launching into a lecture, but he just agreed and marked it down. Time enough later to hear all the reasons he shouldn't have done what he did. It was too late to regret it now. "We'll be there. Oh, did your assistant get a chance to take a look at that new mare?"
"He did. He wormed her and gave her a shot of antibiotic. He thinks she'll be fine, said she looked like she's gaining weight." He cleared his throat. "Rick, you sure you know what you're doing?"
"Nope, but I'm winging it."
Grady sighed. "I'll be praying for you, bucko. Will you be in church this week?"
"We'll be there. And thanks for the prayers. I need them." Rick closed his phone and went to see the sheriff. He slowed and gawked at an accident along Dead Gulch Curve, bu
t the pickup involved wasn't familiar, and an ambulance was already on the scene.
He found Barry Borland in his office. The big man was kneeling in front of a filing cabinet that overflowed with papers. He lumbered to his feet when Rick rapped on the doorjamb.
"Have a seat, Rick." He gestured to the green chair in front of his desk.
Rick dropped into the chair and fished out his notebook. "I need your help, Sheriff "
"You know we don't have the manpower to station someone out there," Borland said.
"No problem, I've got that covered. But could you tell me if there have been any other break-ins in the area? Any reports of illegals being moved through here? Any strangers hanging around town? I reported some suspected illegals to border patrol last week."
The sheriff scratched his huge belly. "Well, now that you mention it, we did get a report of a vanload of Mexicans being detained by the border patrol. Seems a coyote had told them they could slip right through here without a problem. There was another truck seen speeding away when the van broke down. No one got a good make or description, though. And the folks aren't talking about who the coyote is. They were deported pronto."
"Someone recommended this area?"
Yep.
"Robberies, transients?" Rick asked.
Borland shook his head. "Nothing unusual. Mary Beth Lucas had a window broken by a baseball. A few tourists wandered in and out of town without incident."
"Thanks, I just thought it was worth a shot." Rick hesitated and let his pencil rest against the notebook. "Anything new on Elijah's death?"
The sheriff's expression grew sober. "Sorry, I can't talk about that."
"It was murder?"
"Quit fishing, Rick." The sheriff shot him a long, hard look. "The autopsy report isn't back."
"Have you checked out Stuart Ifera? He was trying to strong-arm Elijah into selling the ranch."
"I've got it covered." Borland shuffled his papers. "Beat it, kid. I've got stuff to do."
"Ifera a friend or something?" Rick shot back.
Borland scowled. "Look, he's my brother-in-law, okay? He had nothing to do with Elijah's death. Now get out of my face."
Rick leaned forward. "Just do your job, Sheriff. Check it out."
"I did! You want me to arrest you, Bailey? I said get out of here." The sheriff looked like he was about to have a stroke.
Rick bolted to his feet and stormed from the room. What a joke the law enforcement was here. The breeze did little to cool his mood. Sitting on a stone wall, he called Brendan. "Hey buddy, did you find out anything on Hernandez's family?"
"Cowboy, you never let up, do you?" Brendan laughed with a trace of annoyance. "That's what made you such a good operative though. And, yeah, I ran a check. It's pretty interesting. You might be onto something with him. He had a brother, Luis. A small-town bully who's been arrested a few times for drunk and disorderly and assault. After Hernandez died in prison, Luis went on a drinking binge. He threatened to get `the bopper' who killed his brother."
Rick stood and paced along the sidewalk. "So he could be our man. Any idea where he is now?"
"We lost him in Albuquerque. I've got the police keeping a lookout for him there."
"So he's close. He could be in the area. Could you fax me a picture?"
"Sure, no problem."
"I've got two other guys for you to check out. Mark Haskell and Ted Rediger, both from El Paso." Rick gave him the details Allie had given him. "Haskell stalked her once, maybe he's back."
"I'll see what I can find out."
Rick put his phone away. The library was across the street. He dodged the cars and bounded up the steps of the stone building. There were several computers free, so he stopped at the first one and began to look for information on Allie's vision problem. The information astounded him. No wonder she hated doing paperwork. An hour later he'd ordered pinkish lenses and colored overlays for reading.
The thought of her delighted smile when she got them made him grin as he strode back to his truck.
ALLIE SWATTED THE DUST FROM HER JEANS AND SHIRT AS SHE WATCHED the kids ride. Rick should be back from town soon, and she couldn't help glancing toward the lane every few seconds. The realization of how important he was becoming to her scared her.
"Good form, Bets," she called. Her daughter sat with her back straight and her knees hugging the mare's body. Her dark curls flew around her laughing face.
The child could ride anything with four legs. Allie had never seen anything like her daughter's ability with animals.
Allie hadn't been able to think about anything but Rick all after noon. His desire to stay together had rattled her to the core. Watching her daughter's carefree face, she knew she couldn't take the security Betsy felt here away from her.
And she didn't want to leave either.
The promise of the future was as joy-filled as a glimpse of Betsy's bluebirds. No place had ever been permanent though, and Allie couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that maybe this time could be forever.
What if she fell in love with Rick and he left her too? Jon hadn't wanted to leave, but God had taken him just the same. There were no guarantees in life.
"They're doing good," Charlie said, putting a boot on the fence beside hers.
"I can't believe how well. Look at Fern. She's got her head up and is smiling from ear to ear. And even Latoya doesn't seem to care about getting dirty."
"They go home in another couple of weeks. We'll see if they keep what they've learned."
Allie glanced at him curiously. "You sound a little jaded, Charlie. Don't you think the ranch helps kids?"
"Sure it does. Just not all of them. They have to plant their boots and refuse to be moved."
"Like you did?" She wondered why he never talked about his past.
"Sure, like I did. I figured out my course and stuck to it."
"Were you a foster kid?"
He shook his head. "I had both parents and a brother."
"So you weren't one of Elijah's pet projects."Allie smiled. "He was an interesting guy."
"I was at the rodeo looking for a job, and someone told me about him. The ranch is in the boonies, and not many cowboys want to work out here when it's hot. You wait until summer comes and you may run screaming for the city too."
"I'm from El Paso," she reminded him.
"Another desert jackrabbit," he said, grinning.
Stuck clear out here, he probably had little opportunity to meet young women, but at least he'd taken the hint after her marriage became open knowledge. The campers here were off-limits to staff, and she was too old. And married, to boot. Poor kid couldn't win.
"You still see your parents, your brother?"
"Sure. My brother especially. He's a congressman in northern Texas. He'll be president one day." His voice vibrated with pride.
Allie hid her smile. She guessed he had something to be proud of.
Leon cantered up to them and reined in his horse. "Dude! I wish I could take my horse back with me. The brothers would freak to see this big guy." He patted the black gelding on the neck.
"Scout out the riding stables in San Antonio," Charlie told him. "See if you can get a job there and stay around the horses."
Leon's dark eyes reflected interest. "They probably wouldn't hire me. Too chicken."
"I'll write you a reference," Allie said.
"Way!" Leon urged the horse forward and took off in a canter around the lot.
The sound of an engine made Allie turn, and she saw Rick's truck coming down the driveway.
The way her pulse rattled should have scared the horses.
17
THE MONDAY MORNING ALBUOUERGUE TRAFFIC WAS SNARLED WORSE THAN a mess of baby rattlers. Rick negotiated the rental car through the streets thick with the slush of a late-spring snow. It would take longer to get to his destination than it had taken him to fly the small plane from the ranch. He'd left before daylight this morning, and he hoped to be back by midafternoon, but no
t if this traffic had its way.
He found a small hole in the line of cars and zipped off the freeway. Glancing at the piece of paper on the passenger seat, he watched for the Raynolds housing addition. Five minutes later he parked at the address.
Trash littered the lawn of the small, southwestern-style apartment building. Gouges marked the front door, and a broken window upstairs blared the details of a knockdown, drag-out fight between a shouting man and a screaming woman.
Rick took another look at the picture Brendan had faxed him, then got out of the car and went to the door. He stepped inside and found the apartment number he was looking for. Doubling his fist, he pounded on the door.
The smell of onions and hamburger hung in the hallway. Behind the door, he could hear a baby crying. He knocked again, his knuckles scraping across the gouged wood. The door finally opened to reveal a young Hispanic woman with a baby on her hip. About twenty, she had the kind of beauty that made any man take a second look. Long black hair swung to her hips, and her skirt barely covered the tops of her thighs.
"I'm looking for Luis Hernandez," he said.
"Luis, a five-o is here for you," she shouted over her shoulder, her gaze never leaving his.
"I'm not a cop," he said quickly.
"No? You look like one." She stepped aside, and he entered the small living room. Everything was in perfect order, and the furniture gleamed.
A young man entered the room. Dressed in jeans and a clean T-shirt, his frown grew more worried when he saw Rick. "You looking for me?"
"If you're Luis Hernandez."
"Si. That's me," he said in a heavy Hispanic accent.
Rick introduced himself. "Do you know Allie Siders?"
"Si. She's the muchacha who wasted my brother. Sent him to prison, and he never come out."
"I heard you threatened to get even."
Luis shrugged. "Si, so what? Someone kill her?"
"No, she's fine. I want to make sure she stays that way."
"I don't care about the muchacha. My brother, he dead now anyway. I have my own bebe to raise. I stay out of trouble."