by Linda Style
After that she found a couple of T-shirts in size small, one pink with a roadrunner on the front and one army green with the American flag and some kind of gun emblem espousing the right to bear arms. Not exactly what she’d hoped for, but right now she couldn’t be choosy. She also picked up two pairs of boxer shorts and a man’s white undershirt, the kind without sleeves. She decided it would work as a tank top and grabbed three of them before she went to the back where the bib overalls were hanging.
“You’re not staying long, are you?” The sheriff suddenly appeared beside her. He leaned against the wall, his manner disturbingly aggressive. Power trip.
“Just the time specified in my contract,” she answered casually, wanting him to know she wasn’t easily intimidated. She continued thumbing through the overalls, looking at tags for the size.
“Might be wise not to stay too long. Considering.”
Annoyed at the sheriff’s obvious bullying, she faced him directly. “Considering what?”
“That employer of yours. Bad temper. Unpredictable. He was a troublemaker when he lived here before, and I don’t see that he’s changed much. Got kicked out of the military after he killed a man.”
Oh, God. She couldn’t suppress her shock, and from the sheriff’s satisfied expression, that was exactly the response he’d wanted.
“Couldn’t prosecute him for it because no one knew what actually happened. But since you’re new here, I figure you ought to know what you’re getting yourself into. Might want to be extra careful while you’re staying out there.”
The military? Yes, she could’ve guessed that from the precise way Rivera dealt with things, his no-nonsense way of getting things done. His pride.
She pulled the items she wanted and laid them over one arm, taking her time going to the counter. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Sheriff, so no need to worry.” She turned to Clyde. “My employer needs a few other things, too.” She pulled out Rivera’s list and handed it to him.
Clyde shoved it back at her. “Sorry, ma’am. We’re outta all that.”
The hair on the back of Maddy’s neck bristled. She pointed to the shelf behind him. “Then I’ll have that box right there.”
“That one’s reserved,” Clyde said without even glancing behind him. “I sure feel awful about this, ma’am. Your boss probably won’t like it much either.”
Her annoyance mushroomed into anger, but she held herself in check as she paid for the clothing. When Clyde put the change into her hand, she said sweetly, “No problem at all. I’m sure Mr. Rivera will get the items elsewhere, just as he did his lumber. I’ll tell him about your concern, though.”
Bag in hand, she sauntered toward the door, and as she did, she heard the sheriff say, “If I were you, I’d be careful out there, ma’am. I’d be very careful.”
Though she wanted to get away as fast as possible, Maddy made herself stroll to the truck. Earlier, she’d planned to do a little sight-seeing, investigate the town, perhaps even stop for a coffee and meet a few of the locals. But after her experience at the general store, she didn’t feel much like socializing.
Climbing into the truck, she saw Clyde and the sheriff standing in the doorway. Two men walked over from the barbershop to stand with them, and they all watched her fumble with the keys.
The engine started immediately, and thank God, the truck didn’t jerk when she put it into gear.
Driving down the narrow highway, she fought the urge to believe the worst. She didn’t like either of those men, but she didn’t know Rivera all that well either. According to the sheriff, J.D. was a hothead, prone to violence and not to be trusted.
In the little time she’d spent with Rivera, she knew he was carrying a heavy burden. Had he really killed a man?
What reason would the sheriff have for lying or for wanting her to distrust J.D.? Why wouldn’t Clyde sell her the supplies? Why would Ms. Devereaux bequeath the ranch to her nephew with such strange stipulations? Questions and more questions. All without answers.
Passing the same gas station as before, she saw the man who’d been waving at her, but this time he was pumping gas in someone’s car.
She couldn’t just drive on by without finding out if something had been wrong, so she pulled into the stall next to him, rolled down her window and waited. When he finished what he was doing, he came over.
“Hello,” she said. “I saw you waving at me when I drove by earlier. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop just then.”
He gave her a curious look and a big white smile. “I saw the truck and thought you were my friend James. Now I’m wondering what a beautiful woman is doing with his truck.”
“James? Oh, do you mean J.D.?”
“James Devereaux Rivera. One and the same.”
“You’re friends?”
“Since we were kids.” He leaned an elbow against the truck door. “Didn’t see much of him between then and now, not till he moved back a few weeks ago.” He was looking at her with open curiosity. “You must be the teacher.”
She nodded. “Yes. I’m Madeline Inglewood.” She reached out to shake his hand. “People call me Maddy.”
“Grady Holt, gas station owner and father to be.”
Maddy smiled. “Congratulations.” It was a relief to meet a nice friendly man. Especially compared to the two she’d just left.
“Maybe you can help me. Do you know if there’s another store nearby where I might be able to get some items for my boss?”
“Well, that depends on what he needs.”
She pulled out the list and showed it to him.
Two deep lines creased his forehead. “Clyde didn’t have any of these?”
She shook her head. “No. Not any he was willing to part with.”
Grady chewed on his bottom lip, then snatched the list from her fingers. “Can you mind the station for a few minutes?”
“Me? I wouldn’t know what to do.”
“Just sit over there and look pretty. If anyone comes, you tell them to do it themselves, or come back in a half hour when I get back. Or—” he winked “—you can pump gas if you want.”
“Okay,” she agreed. She could certainly pump gas if she had to.
Grady opened the door for her and took her arm as she stepped down from the truck. He handed her a key. “That’s for the door. If you have any problems, just lock up. Anyone comes by, tell them I’m closed. Just don’t let anyone get gas and leave without paying.”
She nodded, not sure how she’d stop someone if they decided to do that.
“Great.” He winked at her again, turned and strode over to a shiny new, red pickup. “By the way, my wife, Annie, is supposed to be here any minute. Keep her company, will you?” He hopped inside the truck and in seconds was spitting gravel down the road toward Los Rios.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BY THE TIME she returned to the ranch, Maddy was feeling quite pleased with herself. She’d met Annie Holt, and they’d gotten along well. Eager to tell Rivera what she’d accomplished, she drove the truck around the house to the back.
Carlos was on a ladder pounding nails on the side of one of the buildings, and Juana was standing below handing him something Maddy couldn’t see. J.D. was nearby, next to a pile of lumber. He was gesturing to a young Hispanic boy.
She got out of the truck, and as she did, the boy, who appeared to be about ten, stumbled over a pile of wood and let out a string of expletives in Spanish. J.D. helped the boy up and brushed him off.
“Hi,” she said, walking over to them.
The boy slipped behind Rivera, who wiped the smile off his own face the moment he saw her.
“You shouldn’t swear like that,” Maddy said to the boy in his own language. “It’s not respectful, even if the person doesn’t understand you.” His eyes got big. She turned to Rivera and smiled.
“How’d you do?” he asked.
“Great! It’s all in the back.”
He strode toward the truck, and as he did, the boy took off in the oth
er direction toward Carlos.
“No problems?”
Maddy followed, trying to keep up with his long strides, but she remained a couple paces behind. “Yes. The man at the store, Clyde, I think his name was, wouldn’t sell me any of the items on your list.”
J.D. kept walking. “I thought you said you got it all?”
“I did. But only because when I was driving back, I went into this gas station and talked to your friend.”
“You saw Grady?”
“Uh-huh. I didn’t know he was your friend when I stopped. He was a big help in getting your stuff.”
She caught up to him just as she finished her sentence.
He rounded on her. “You asked Grady to help you?”
She flinched at his harsh tone. “No. I didn’t. I told him what happened at the general store and asked if he knew where else I could go to find what you needed. Then he took it upon himself to go and get everything on the list. I thought it was very nice of him to do that.”
Rivera slammed down the tailgate, dragged out a bag of cement, slung it over his shoulder and looked her in the eyes. “What you think doesn’t matter. I asked you to do something, not have someone else do it.”
She stiffened. “He’s your friend and he wanted to help.”
The scowl on his face deepened. His lips thinned. “If I need his help, I’ll ask for it.”
She stifled a sarcastic retort and gritted her teeth. How could anyone be so ungrateful? So rude? So…so awful.
She took a deep breath and studied the man in front of her. How deep was his hurt that he couldn’t let anyone get close to him—not even someone he considered his friend?
Maddy felt his pain almost as if it were her own. She knew what being alone was like—knew how isolation could destroy a life. The need to help him grew more intense.
But no matter what she did, she couldn’t seem to avoid upsetting him. Well, maybe that was okay. If expressing her opinion was the only way to get a rise out of him…so be it. An emotional reaction, even an angry one, was better than no reaction at all.
Besides that, she rather liked her new persona. It was refreshing not to play the senator’s daughter all the time. She liked saying what she thought and doing what she wanted.
Smiling to herself, she grabbed a small sack from the truck and followed Rivera. Coming up behind him, she asked, “Where do you want me to put this?”
He jumped at her voice, apparently not expecting her to follow. When he turned to look at her, she thought the hardness in his eyes had softened a little. He shook his head and pointed to a shelf next to the building. “Over there.”
She carried her bag to one of the shelves and set it down, then went back to fetch another load. She made a few more trips until all that was left were the heavier bags. She walked over to where Carlos was working. “Who’s the little boy?”
“Benito Perez,” Carlos said, continuing to pound nails. “Mr. Rivera gave him some money, and the boy didn’t want to take it without doing some work.”
Rivera’s charity surprised her.
“He can’t be more than ten. Shouldn’t he be in school?”
Carlos shrugged. “His parents are in Mexico, and he’s staying with relatives.”
“I guess the schools in Mexico have a different schedule, huh?”
“I don’t think he goes to school.”
Maddy glanced at Rivera. Perhaps he wasn’t aware of the boy’s situation. She crossed to where he was working on one of the other outbuildings.
“What now?” he asked when she reached him.
“Did you know that little boy doesn’t go to school?”
J.D. looked at Benito. “He’s learning a trade.”
“But he’s too young for that.”
“A kid’s never too young to learn how to take care of himself. And if he’s going to remain in the States, he’ll need a trade.”
“There are child labor laws.”
J.D.’s shoulders visibly tightened. “Do you know anything about Benito’s situation?”
“No. But I do know that a ten-year-old should be in school getting an education that just might get him a better job than pounding nails for minimum wage for the rest of his life.”
J.D. banged in another nail. “He can’t go to school here because he’s just visiting.”
True. But if what Carlos said was true, the boy didn’t go to school in Mexico, either. “Maybe he could come along with Juana and Carlos in the evenings. It wouldn’t be any harder for me to have another student sitting in, and it would benefit him to learn English, no matter what he does in the future. I’d be happy to talk to his guardians about it.”
A long silence ensued, until finally J.D. said, “I’ll ask. If he wants to do it, fine. If not, then you’ll drop the idea.”
“Okay, that’s fair.” She smiled and then added, “So what else can I do?”
He stopped his raised hammer in midair. “You never quit, do you?”
She shook her head and smiled. “Nope. So you might as well give me a job.”
“You have a job.”
“Something more.”
“Taking care of Zelda and teaching isn’t enough?”
“No. I have hours to spare.” She gave him a big-eyed pleading look.
He frowned and turning away, grumbled, “If I can think of anything, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, stay out of my hair.”
AFTER RIVERA TOLD HER to get lost, Maddy went into the house, smiling to herself because—despite what he’d said—he’d definitely acquiesced a little.
The rest of the afternoon she busied herself, checking on the dog first, and then trying on the clothes she’d purchased at the store. She made herself a new wardrobe by cutting off the legs on one pair of bib overalls and the bottoms off all three of the men’s sleeveless undershirts so they didn’t hang down to her knees. After locating an ancient washer and dryer in a storage room, she washed and dried everything, including her jogging outfit. The bib overalls, though a size small, were still big and baggy, so she washed and dried them a couple of times hoping they’d shrink.
So much for being a fashion plate, but at least she’d be comfortable. When she brought her load of clothes into the kitchen to fold, she found Juana cleaning the oven.
“What are you doing?” she asked the woman. “I thought you weren’t going to use the kitchen until it’s renovated?”
“That was his idea,” Juana said, angling her head toward the window and J.D. outside. “Not mine. I figure if I clean it, there’s no reason not to use it.” The woman spoke Spanish, sprinkling in the few English words she’d learned in Maddy’s class.
“I agree with you,” Maddy said in English. Immersion really was the best way to teach a second language.
Juana repeated what Maddy had said, then translated it into Spanish. She smiled widely.
“Great,” Maddy said, going back to the language they both knew. “Can I help? If we work together, we can get it done in no time.”
“No, no.” Juana shook her head. “Señor Rivera wouldn’t like that. He won’t like me doing it, but he’ll get even angrier if I let you.”
“What’s with him?” Maddy said hotly. “Why on earth is he so stubborn?”
“He’s a proud man,” Juana said. “If a man’s pride is all he has, he must be careful to protect it.”
“I don’t understand. He already has others doing extra work, why won’t he let me?”
“You’ll have to ask him that. He doesn’t confide in me, either.” Juana smiled and shook her head.
“What do you know about Benito?” Maddy asked, pointing out the window at the little boy.
“Benito?” Juana answered. “He says he’s staying with relatives. Lots of people come up from Mexico to work for a while, then go home. Or they stay and send money to their families.”
“But he’s a little boy! He shouldn’t be working. He should be in school.”
“If he has a family and he earns money, he�
��ll send it to them. It’s good for him to learn how to work hard while he has the opportunity. If he learns a trade like carpentry, it’s even better. Mr. Rivera knows that.”
Maddy still couldn’t accept the idea that a child of ten was working anywhere, except maybe mowing lawns or taking out the trash at home.
“Have you ever been to Mexico?” Juana asked.
“No.” She’d gone on vacation with her parents every summer to a cabin in northern Minnesota because her dad liked to fish.
“Sometimes,” Juana continued, “it’s hard to understand another culture without experiencing it.”
Maddy felt her face go hot. It was true. But while she might not understand the culture, she knew without a doubt that the boy would have a better chance at almost anything if he learned some English. “Maybe I should visit Mexico while I’m so close,” Maddy added. “And learn firsthand.”
Juana smiled. “Puerto Peñasco is only a few hours away.”
“Really? That close.”
“Mexico is very different than where you come from.”
To Maddy, the differences were the exciting part. But she didn’t think that was what Juana meant. And though she’d love to visit Mexico, it wasn’t likely she’d be going anywhere during her brief stay at the ranch. Not without a car or someone to drive her. “I probably won’t get a chance to do that, though. And when this job is finished, I’m moving to New York.”
“New York,” Juana repeated. “You can fit many towns like Puerto Peñasco into New York City.”
Maddy had barely thought about the move or the new job in the past few days, but with the reminder, a fresh shiver of excitement skittered through her.
“I’ve heard it’s dangerous there,” Juana said with concern.
Maddy’s mother’s harangue about that very thing echoed in Maddy’s head. Life was definitely different since 9/11, but no matter what anxiety she felt about that, she agreed with those who said people’s lives must go on as usual.