Читать книгу What A Rancher Wants - Sarah M. Anderson - Страница 11

Four

With Joaquin in the driver’s seat, Gabriella arrived at McDaniel’s Acres at 9:55 a.m. They drove under the rustic gate that welcomed visitors before they continued up a long, winding drive of blacktop.

Gabriella leaned close to the tinted windows in the backseat, trying to take in the magnitude of the land they were crossing.

Hills rolled in all directions. Clusters of trees followed what was probably an arroyo or creek, but there weren’t the old-growth forests that ringed Las Cruces. Instead low shrubs and those famous tumbleweeds dotted the landscape.

What would the hills look like in a few months? Would Texas bluebells cover the ground, color exploding everywhere? Or would grass grow in, deep and green—like Chance McDaniel’s eyes?

She straightened in her seat and glanced at Joaquin’s silent form in the front seat. She was not here to think about Mr. McDaniel’s eyes and she would not be here in a few months to see the spring bloom. She would be back at Las Cruces, riding her own horses and making jewelry and not attempting more pancakes under any circumstances. Alejandro would be safe and things could go back to normal. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Everything to return to normal?

She thought back to her conversation with Alejandro. This was the most animated she’d seen him since...since Papa had told him they would all be returning to Las Cruces as soon as the hospital had released Alejandro. Alejandro had snapped to life for a brief moment to say that under no circumstances was he leaving his home or Royal, Texas. Then he had lapsed back into his blank silence.

What if Alejandro did not want things to return to normal? What if, despite his abduction, he wished to stay in America?

That may very well be the case. But why? That was the question that Gabriella had little hope of answering on her own.

She smiled. Today, she was not on her own. She was going riding—with her brother’s stilted blessing—with Chance McDaniel. She would find out as much as she could about her brother’s life in Texas—and about Mr. McDaniel himself.

Joaquin slowed as they approached a sign. Its four arms pointed in two directions. The Bunk House, Swimming Pool and Deliveries pointed west; Trail Rides pointed north. Joaquin kept heading straight north.

Off to the west, she could see a large building that appeared to be made out of rough-hewed logs. It stood three stories tall, with a wide porch that looked as though it probably saw a great deal of activity during the summer. Even from this distance, she could see workers hanging garlands from the beams. Those must be for the wedding, she thought. It looked lovely, but if she were to get married here, she’d make sure to wait for the spring bloom.

Then the road took them farther away from the house and deeper into the ranch. A series of buildings appeared. Within moments, they were parked in front of a massive barn, its bright red color a beacon in the otherwise gray surroundings. Several smaller buildings were arranged behind the red barn. Some horses were loose in paddocks around the barns, some were scratching against posts. They all had that fuzzy look of animals in late winter.

Joaquin pulled up next to a deep blue pickup, got out and came around to open Gabriella’s door for her. Upon exiting the vehicle, she walked over to where one horse was rubbing its head on a post. “Itchy?” she asked, and was rewarded by the horse—a palomino—leaning his head into her hands.

Gabriella smiled as some of the weight seemed to lift itself off of her shoulders. The breeze, while cool, felt fresh on her face—hinting at the spring that was coming. The horse groaned in appreciation as she rubbed his ears. A great deal of fur was coming off in her hands, but she didn’t mind. Oh, how she had missed her horses—the smell was enough to lift her spirits.

“Lucky horse,” a deep, slightly raspy voice said from behind her.

Gabriella spun to see Chance McDaniel tying a horse to a hitching post. His fingers moved smoothly, but his eyes were trained on her.

Oh, she thought with a small gasp. The man who had come to the door a few days ago had looked like a cowboy, yes—but almost a formal one. But the man who stood in front of her today? Pure cowboy. He wore a denim shirt under a light brown barn jacket. She was sure he was wearing jeans, but they were obscured by the worn black leather chaps that hugged his legs. Those weren’t show chaps—no, the leather had that broken-in look that said he’d worn them often. Daily. The hat was the only thing that was the same—brown felt.

That and his eyes. The green was more vivid than she remembered. And the way he looked at her? Not as if he was a wolf and she the lamb. Too many men had looked at her that way—as though she was to be sacrificed on the altar of her father’s business, a merger to be made between bottom lines and not between hearts.

No, Chance McDaniel looked at her without a single dollar sign in his eyes. Instead there was something else. Something that was almost... Well, certainly not joy at seeing her. That would not be possible. Nonetheless, it was something that made her body warm, despite the breeze.

Gabriella could not help the wide smile that broke over her face. “Mr. McDaniel.”

He notched an eyebrow in clear challenge. “What’s it going to take to get you to call me Chance, Gabriella?”

Her name sounded differently when he said it—gone were the smoothly flowing vowel sounds. Instead he stretched the ah into a harder a. It should have sounded grating, but she liked the rougher sound. No one else spoke her name like that. Just him.

Joaquin stepped in front of Gabriella before she could formulate a proper response to Chance McDaniel’s familiarities.

“Howdy, Joaquin.” Again, Chance was not seemingly put out by the bodyguard’s presence. “Let me go get Beast.” Then he patted the beautiful roan quarter horse he’d hitched to the post. “This here is Nightingale— although we call her Gale for short. I hope you like her.”

Then, with a little nod of his head, he turned and headed back to the barn.

Joaquin gave her a look that said, Is he for real?

Gabriella responded by shrugging. It would be lovely if Chance McDaniel was “real.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the bag of carrot bits she’d mutilated in the kitchen last night. She walked up to Gale and held out a carrot. Gale sniffed, then snatched the treat.

“Ah, hello,” she said as Gale sniffed her hair. “Would you like another?” She palmed another carrot, which Gale all but inhaled. “That’s a good girl.”

She heard the sound of hooves—large hooves—clomping on the ground. Gabriella looked up to find Chance staring at her. That warmth coursed through her body again, but she wasn’t about to let anyone know that. Not even the horse. “Yes?”

“Making friends?”

“But of course.” Gabriella’s cheeks flushed hot as he continued to stare at her. “It worked,” she added as Gale nudged her with her nose.

Then she noticed the animal he was leading. Gale was perhaps sixteen hands high, but the mule—Beast, Chance had said—made the quarter horse look like a child’s pony. It wasn’t that the animal was that much taller than Gale, for he wasn’t, perhaps another hand—no more than four more inches. But Beast clearly outweighed the quarter horse—perhaps by as much as half a ton.

She gasped, more than a little afraid of an animal that large.

Chance grinned at her. “Nothing to be scared of. Beast is as gentle as a kitten.” He patted the big animal’s neck before giving Gabriella a look that had nothing to do with horses. “You should make friends with him, too.”

Far more than her cheeks flushed as Gabriella took a few hesitant steps toward Beast. His long ears—almost twice as long as Gale’s—swiveled toward her. “Hola, Beast,” she said, holding out a carrot on the flat of her palm. She’d long ago learned it was best to keep her hand as flat as possible. Holding a carrot or a sugar cube by her fingertips had gotten her nipped quite badly on the finger when she’d been six.

Beast’s enormous lips scraped the carrot off of her hand, causing her to giggle. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“One of the best,” Chance agreed. He was almost shoulder to shoulder with her, his voice far smoother than she’d heard it yet.

One of Beast’s plate-size feet stamped at the earth, which caused Gabriella to jump. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought she’d felt the shock waves from the impact. Chance laughed. “He likes you,” he said, that twinkle in his eye.

“How can you tell?” She’d been stepped on by horses before, but Beast looked as if he would break every bone in her foot. She was in no mood to find out.

“If he didn’t, he’d back up. He’s predictable like that.” Chance handed the reins to Joaquin. “There’s a mounting block over there.” Then he turned to Gabriella, that same twinkle shining brightly. “Let me help you up.”

He crouched next to Gale’s side and laced his fingers together. Gabriella hesitated—she could swing into the saddle by herself—but if she wanted to make friends with Chance, she needed to be friendly. So she placed her foot in his hand and let him boost her up onto the horse’s back. Once she was in the saddle, he put his hand on her calf, right above her riding boot, and guided her foot into the stirrup.

Her breath caught at the too-familiar touch. She hardly knew this man and still had not ascertained if he was a danger to Alejandro or to her—but the way his hand had felt strong and sure against her leg had not felt like a risk. Instead it had felt...safe. Which was ridiculous. She did not need his help getting settled into the saddle. He started around to the other side of the horse, but Gabriella quickly put her foot in the stirrup.

Then he untied the reins and handed them to her. “Be right back,” he said, leaving her in a state of unfamiliar confusion.

People, as a rule, did not touch her. To do so was to invite Joaquin to beat them senseless. And yet, Chance McDaniel had put his hands on her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She turned the horse until she could see Joaquin, who had indeed used the mounting block and was now sitting astride Beast. He gave her a look that said, “Are you okay?”

“I am fine,” she replied, although she wasn’t sure how true that was. “You?”

Joaquin looked down at the ground and managed to nod his head.

“You okay up there, big guy?” Chance came trotting out of the barn on a dappled gelding. When Joaquin nodded again, Chance asked, “What do you ride at home?”

“Joaquin rides an Andalusian and I prefer my Azteca, Ixchel.”

“I know what an Andalusian is, but what’s an Azteca?” As he asked, he pointed his horse away from the barn. Gabriella fell in stride next to him, with Joaquin bringing up the rear.

“A mix of Andalusian, quarter horse and Mexican crillo,” she explained. “Ixchel is a paint. She is a well-trained animal. I always wanted to show her, but...” That had been another source of rebellion when she’d been fourteen and fifteen. Other girls in her social circle were making weekend trips to competitions and talking of Olympic dreams—all activities that were forbidden to Gabriella.

“Why didn’t you?” Chance kept his gaze forward. His posture was relaxed, but she could hear something in his voice that was far more than casual curiosity.

“Papa said that the competitions were not secure enough and he could not guarantee my safety if I went.”

That got a reaction out of him. “Beg pardon?”

“Joaquin is an excellent bodyguard, but in a crowded space filled with horses and people, he cannot control the situation the way he can at Las Cruces. That’s our family estate,” she hurried to add.

“Wait, so—are you telling me that you don’t have a bodyguard because of what happened to Alex?”

She could not decide if she liked the confusion in his voice. On the one hand, it was quite clear that Chance McDaniel had not known that—which was good because it meant that he had not done any surveillance or research into the del Toro family’s comings and goings.

However, on the other hand, the way Chance said it made it clear that the idea of constant security sounded like more than a little overkill.

“Joaquin has been with me for fourteen years,” she said, knowing that would only add fuel to Chance’s curiosity.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course. Mexico is not a safe place for the wealthy. People are kidnapped for exorbitant ransoms. It’s a business.”

He appeared to mull over this information as the trail lead them farther and farther away from the buildings. “Is that normal, then? To have a bodyguard for a decade and a half?”

“Oh, I have had a guard my entire life. Papa hired Joaquin after he bested my former guard, Raul.”

She felt as if she might be giving too much away—this was the sort of information that could be used to help formulate an abduction—but it didn’t feel as though she was feeding him the things he wanted to know. Instead he seemed genuinely shocked.

“What do you mean, ‘bested’?” His voice was level, but there was no mistaking the concern.

She warmed at his tone. Perhaps she shouldn’t find it comforting that he was worried about her. Perhaps this was him on a fact-finding mission about how the del Toro family operated.

But she didn’t think so. “All of the guards in our family have to withstand tests, if you will, of their ability to keep us safe. If they fail in their mission, they are replaced.”

Chance pulled his horse to an abrupt stop, which caused her horse to stop, as well. “What?” His tone was not pleased.

“It is not as bad as it sounds.” But this defense didn’t strike her as being particularly truthful.

“Doesn’t that scare the hell out of you?”

She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Usually the attempts are not very serious.”

“But not always.”

“No,” she replied softly. “Not always.”

The last time, the “pretend” kidnappers had taken their assignment a bit too seriously. Gabriella had been driving into Mexico City to meet with a gallery owner about showing her latest collection of jewelry when... Of course, their car was completely bulletproof, so Gabriella had not been in real danger. Or so she told herself time and time again.

“How bad was it?”

The sound of Chance’s voice—low and with a slight rasp to it—called her back from her fear. She looked into his eyes and again was struck with that odd sense of coming home. “Joaquin defended me with honor—as he always does.”

“How many times has this happened?”

The look on Chance’s face wouldn’t let her go. He was serious but underneath that was a different emotion—fury. “Usually once a year.”

Chance let loose with a string of curse words quite unlike anything Gabriella had ever heard—at least, not all at once. The sudden explosion of sound should have been alarming but instead Gabriella found herself grinning and then giggling. She cast a glance back at Joaquin, who was as impassive as ever.

“—lower than a rattler’s belly in a wagon rut!” Chance finished with a flourish. “Can you tell me why, on God’s green earth, a man would do that to his own daughter?”

“He had Alejandro’s guards tested, as well,” she told him, wondering when she had become the focus of his attention—and wondering if that was necessarily a warning sign. If it was, surely Joaquin would have rounded on Chance by now.

That statement did not seem to appease Chance’s temper. “You’ve got to be pulling my chain. Why?”

He didn’t know. She found a measure of relief in that—the more time she spent with Chance, the less she suspected him in Alejandro’s disappearance. Or, at the very least, the less she suspected him of targeting the del Toro family for its fortune. He may have still had a hand in Alejandro’s disappearance, but she could not believe that he had known that Alex Santiago was Alejandro del Toro.

Gabriella opened her mouth to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come. The memories were too hard to deal with, even after twenty-three years. But he sat there, still, those beautiful eyes of his staring at her, expecting an answer.

When she could not give him one, she turned her horse back up the trail and urged her to a fast walk.

Apparently, Chance was in no mood to let her walk away from him—even if it was on horseback. He came level with her in moments, his mount easily keeping pace with Gale. “Who?” he asked, his tone more gentle than before.

“Our mother,” she replied, trying to keep her own voice level. She couldn’t risk a glance at him, though, so she kept her eyes focused on the land around them. “According to the police, she was killed when she tried to escape.” Very few kidnappings ended that way—dead people were worth nothing, while living people were worth money. And wasn’t money the whole point?

But Elena del Toro had not been a docile victim. “She had fought them.” That point made Gabriella proud of her mother but, at the same time, it infuriated her. Elena had not gone as meek as a church mouse—but if she had, would she still be here? Would everything have been different?

Would Gabriella have more than a few hazy memories of her own mother?

“When?”

“I was four. Alejandro was eight.” She’d always been jealous of Alejandro. He had memories that Gabriella never would, after all. He remembered birthdays and Christmases, trips to visit Tía Manuela and church. All Gabriella had was a random collection of images, the strongest of which had always been of helping her mother choose the beads for the rosaries she made for the staff’s Christmas presents.

That had been what she had been doing the day of the abduction—journeying to a market to buy beads and supplies for the rosaries that she and Gabriella were going to make that day.

An act of kindness that had gotten her killed.

“He never told me.” There was a touch of hurt in Chance’s words.

“He...” She took in another breath of fresh air. At least she wasn’t trapped in the house, she told herself. At least she was on a horse. “He remembers more than I do. It is painful for us.”

“Of course.”

They fell into silence after that. Soon, she could see nothing but wilderness around her. The ribbon of trees she’d seen earlier was winding its way closer to the path they were on. The trees were trying to bud out. She could see the tips of the bare branches turning red with new growth.

Gabriella put thoughts of her mother out of her mind. It was not difficult—she’d had a great deal of practice. “We don’t have winter in Mexico City. This is all so different here. Even the horses are different.”

“Wait until they start shedding,” Chance said with a chuckle. “The mess is something.” They rode on in silence, then he said, “That hill over there? Nothing but bluebells in the spring.”

“I would love to see them.” Would they still be here in the spring, barricaded in Alejandro’s house and hoping that today would be the day he remembered?

“If you’re still here, you’ll have to come back.” He cleared his throat. “Do you know if you’ll still be here?”

She shook her head. Was he asking because he was trying to pinpoint the best time to make another attempt—or was there something more genuine in his tone? “Alejandro does not want to return with us.”

That still confused her, but now that she’d gotten out of the house and was riding across Texas, perhaps she could see why Alejandro wanted to stay.

“How is he today?”

“The same.” Chance did not need to know that his name had caused a flash of recognition in Alejandro. Not yet, anyway.

They rode on, with Chance pointing out the features of the land and Gabriella trying to imagine how it would wear its spring coat. “Is it different than your ranch?” Chance asked.

They were still riding side by side, with Joaquin several feet behind them. For the first time in a great long while, Gabriella had the illusion of freedom. She was riding across land that was not surrounded by fences and patrolled by armed guards. No other signs of civilization crowded the view.

“Yes,” she answered as the breeze played over her face. “We have far more trees. We do not have winter as a season—it does not get below freezing, except in very rare cases. Right now is a dry time.” The ranch would be wearing its shades of brown. “I had hoped to see snow.”

“We don’t get a heckuva lot of snow,” Chance replied. “Although when we do, it’s real pretty. Makes the world look all new.”

She looked at him as he rode. He sat tall in the saddle, one hand casually resting on his muscled thigh. He seemed perfectly at ease riding next to her. A true cowboy, she thought with a small smile.

He turned his head and caught the smile. “What?”

She could feel her cheeks flushing, so she quickly came up with a response to hide her embarrassment. “You said Alejandro would ride here with you?”

“Yup.” Chance’s gaze darkened. “He liked to race. Franny, my cook, would pack us a lunch and then we’d see who could make it to this shady spot down by the creek first.”

It was obvious from his tone that the memory hurt him—not the pain of what had happened, though, but the pain of what he had lost.

Without thinking about it, she reached across the distance that separated them and touched his arm. “He will come back to us.”

Chance met her gaze with nothing but challenge. “Which he is that? Your brother or my friend? Because I don’t think that’s the same man.”

Then he looked back over his shoulder. Gabriella did the same. Joaquin was only a few feet behind them.

She sighed in frustration. Just the illusion of freedom. Not the real thing.