Native Silver

by Helen Conrad

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  Copyright © 2013 Helen Conrad

  Cover Copyright © 2013 DoorKnock Publishing

  Cover images from Shutterstock.com

  First Edition October 2013 published by DoorKnock Publishing

  Native Silver

  Destiny Bay Romances -

  The Ranchers Book 1

  By Helen Conrad

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Info

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE~IF YOU WERE A GENTLEMAN

  CHAPTER TWO~SHY MAIDENS AND CABALLEROS

  CHAPTER THREE~THE SANTIAGOS ALWAYS WIN

  CHAPTER FOUR~MEETING THE ANCESTORS

  CHAPTER FIVE~LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON

  CHAPTER SIX~DRAWING FIRE

  CHAPTER SEVEN~REALITY CHECK

  CHAPTER EIGHT~A SUMMER PICNIC

  CHAPTER NINE~TRAINING DAYS

  CHAPTER TEN~SHOW TIME

  CHAPTER ELEVEN~ABOVE ALL, HONOR

  CHAPTER TWELVE~’TIL THE END OF TIME

  Cast of Characters

  Destiny Bay - The Ranchers

  Also in the Destiny Bay series

  Excerpt from Destiny Ranch

  Author, Helen Conrad

  CHAPTER ONE

  IF YOU WERE A GENTLEMAN

  A refreshing swim in a cool mountain stream. The thought of it haunted Shawnee Carrington as she rode her silver stallion. The early July day was hot and dusty in the mid-California coastal valley. A swim was just what she needed.

  Should she, or shouldn’t she? She raised her face, trying to catch the hint of a breeze, but there was only the heat, the dry, pounding heat, pressing against her like a smothering cloak.

  Shawnee stretched in the saddle, a tall, slim young woman with a natural athletic grace to every movement. Bright sunlight glistened along a curtain of hair as black as obsidian and reflected off the surface of eyes the color of antique sterling, her coloring a direct complement to that of her silver horse with his jet-black mane and tail. She and the horse seemed all of a piece, perfectly attuned, one almost the extension of the other. Even their movements were coordinated, as though they had a perfect rapport, unspoken but unshakable.

  “A nice, cool swim,” she whispered, leaning down near her horse’s silky mane, “all naked and free, just like I used to.”

  The horse snorted a soft response and Shawnee chuckled, rubbing her hand along the animal’s neck. “I only wish I could let you go in too, Miki. But we can’t take chances.”

  Chances. She smiled wryly, knowing every day was a chance, every ride they took together. Something could so easily happen. She had to be on her guard every moment. She had to be more than Miki’s rider. She had to be his eyes.

  “Come on, big boy,” she said softly, letting the pressure of her knees tell him what she expected him to do. “You’ll get a drink out of this, at the very least.”

  She turned him up into the tree-covered hills, climbing higher and higher through the chaparral, until she found the place among the oaks she’d been dreaming of. She’d been away for five years, but it was still the same, still as cool and charming, the sunlight coming down in dappled splendor through the dark green leaves, the water tumbling in noisy celebration. She swung down off Miki and led him to the edge so that he could have a drink.

  Granite boulders lay scattered all up and down the stream, and near to where Shawnee Carrington stood, three very large ones had piled up to form a dam, making a nice swimming hole. She’d spent a hundred summer afternoons here, diving and sunning and sorting out her life.

  “Drink up, Miki,” she said softly, running a gentle hand over the patient animal’s velvet nose. “This used to be my special place when I was young. I want you to love it, too.”

  There was just the suggestion of a catch in her voice. She didn’t feel young any longer. Twenty-three was hardly at the edge of venerable old age, but the last few years had taken their toll. So much had changed since those carefree teen days, so much had been lost. She was glad that this, at least, had stayed the same.

  When the horse drew back from the water, she led him away and tethered him to a tree, then turned back to the stream. The day was so hot, and there was no one around for miles and miles. No one would ever know. Why shouldn’t she have a swim, for old time’s sake, if nothing else?

  No reason she could think of. Suddenly happy as a child on her first outing to the seashore, she kicked off her boots, pulled off her jersey top, then wriggled out of her faded jeans and panties, leaving her clothes tossed carelessly across the brushy expanse of a manzanita bush. A few quick steps across the mossy bank, and she was plunging into the icy water.

  “Oh!” The gasp came bursting out as the cold water hit her skin. She laughed with delight, splashing and diving into the shimmering water. This was wonderful, a lifesaver, just what she needed. Her body felt alive again. Why had she hesitated?

  She dived deep once, twice, then again, this time kicking off from the bottom and rising with a happy cry, shooting up out of the water like a dolphin from the sea.

  Then, for just a moment, time stood still. She seemed to hang suspended in the air, only waist deep in the stream, water sheeting from her naked body and flying from her long hair, as her eyes locked with the dark gaze of the man standing on the shore.

  At first she was sure she was seeing things. Her mind couldn’t seem to connect with reality. There couldn’t be a man here. There’d never been a man here before. It was impossible.

  Oh, it must be impossible. Please, make it be impossible.

  She closed her eyes and breathed the hopeless prayer as she sank back down into the water. But when she settled, chin grazing the moving surface of the stream and all the rest of her safely hidden, she opened her eyes and he was still there.

  He didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle, and she stood very still, wondering what to do. If only there was some way to get to her clothes. If only she’d never been so crazy as to think she could relive the past just the way it used to be.

  She wasn’t a kid any more; she was a grown woman. And grown women shouldn’t act like children, especially in front of men like this.

  Why, oh why, did it have to be David Santiago, of all people who’d caught her this way? She’d recognized him immediately, even though it had been five or six years since she’d last seen him. David was a hard man to forget, and there’d been a time when she’d thought about him a lot.

  Long and lean as the racehorses his family bred, he had dark hair and eyes, along with an arrogantly arched nose, that gave evidence of a family background stemming from the early settlers of this coastal California valley, and maybe even further back, to the proud, helmeted conquistadores who’d first conquered the New World.

  He stared at her and she stared back, willing him to turn away, to walk back down the mountain road, or, failing that, at least to evaporate into thin air, which seemed the least he could do under the circumstances.

  “Hi, there,” he said at last, his hand moving toward the brass buckle of his leather belt. “How’s the water?”

  Her silver eyes widened as she realized what he was doing. “You’re not coming in here!” she gasped.

  His eyes were grave and watchful. “Why not?” He slipped leather through brass and unclasped the opening of his slacks, then pulled his shirt up over his head with one qui
ck snap. The broad chest he

  exposed was tanned with a light covering of dark hair and was much more muscular than she would have guessed. She stared for a

  second, fascinated, then forced her gaze to meet his again.

  “I... I don’t have anything on.”

  Oh brother. Did she really think that was going to persuade him to leave the area?

  His mouth twisted, almost smiling, but his eyes were still dark and serious. “You’ve already made that quite clear,” he answered softly, and she cringed, wishing she could walk back in time and erase this whole incident.

  His shrug cast away any further objections. “I thought I’d join you. And just to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable, I won’t have anything on either.”

  He dropped his slacks and she could see that he was about to slip out of his briefs too, right in front of her. She swung her head around and stared at where the water narrowed into rapids, bouncing down out of the swimming hole. That was obviously not an escape route, not if she wanted to live through the effort.

  This was an impossible situation. She had to think of some saving miracle, and very quickly.

  “If you were a gentleman . . .” Her embarrassment choked off the words, but his sudden chuckle would have done the same.

  “If you were a lady,” he countered, “you wouldn’t be skinny dipping in my stream.”

  “I’m not . . .” she started to protest, because she couldn’t be. Shawnee Carrington just didn’t do things like trespassing and swimming naked in front of a man. But it was pretty difficult to convince even herself of that now. Here she was, after all.

  And here he was—probably naked as a jaybird by now. She didn’t dare look to see. But she didn’t want to leave him with the impression that she was some sort of minor criminal. After all, there were extenuating circumstances for her being here. This stream had belonged to her family at one time.

  But to him, she must seem like a nervy woman. He might even think she was a town girl with a crush on him who’d dropped in to try her luck. She’d have to disabuse him of that notion once and for all.

  “I’ll get off your land if you just look the other way,” she began, but the sound of his body cutting the surface of the water drowned out her words. He was in the stream with her. Now what was she going to do?

  She glanced back in time to see him come back up, water flattening his black hair about his head. She could make a run for it, but he would see her! She was stuck here, paralyzed by her own modesty and embarrassment. And now that he was in the water too, what exactly was he planning to do?

  “You stay right there,” she warned, backing towards the far side of the stream. “Don’t come any closer.”

  He smiled and this time the humor reached his eyes. She stopped, not really sure what he thought was so funny.

  “What sort of wild scenario do you have floating around in your head?” he asked, his voice a mocking echo across the water. “Do you think the sight of your body has driven me mad with uncontrollable lust?”

  He waited for her to answer, gazing at her silently, but she didn’t have a thing to say. She could deny it, but her flaming cheeks would give her away.

  “I guess you must,” he said softly. “I’d hate to disappoint you.” He began to move towards her, slowly sloughing through the silver stream, while she began to back away again, her heart pounding in her chest. The water was peeling away from him, curling like the opening of a flower, and she watched, almost spellbound by the shining wake that came nearer and nearer.

  “Do you expect me to take you here, right in the water?” His voice was low and rich, like aged brandy from a crystal snifter. “Or would you prefer I drag you out onto the bank and make passionate love to you on the rocky shore?” He grimaced. “Sounds painful to me, but I’ve always been an accommodating sort.” He tilted his head to the side as he came closer. “Whatever you want, lovely trespasser.”

  The sound of his voice seemed to seep into her consciousness with maddening seduction, like a stealthy drug. He was coming too close. She should be frightened, angry. Why was she feeling excitement instead? She was going out of her mind!

  She turned to look for an escape route along the bank, grasping at straws. The rocks were slippery, but she managed to balance from one to another, still shoulder deep in the water. She heard him close behind her and made a lunge for the bank, but this time the rock beneath her foot slid out from under her. Before she knew what had happened, she was careening down under the water, her arms flailing.

  “Right into his lap,” she thought with dismay as he reached out and pulled her up again, setting her to rights but keeping a firm hold on her wrists that he didn’t release once she was on solid footing again, coughing the water out of her lungs and feeling an utter fool.

  He was in no hurry to release her and she couldn’t even run a quick hand across her hair to smooth it down and press out the water. She risked a glance into his eyes, trying to assess how she looked to him, angry at herself for caring, but caring anyway.

  That turned out to be a mistake. His eyes shone with amusement. Was he laughing at her clumsy fall, her naked body, or her disheveled appearance? She couldn’t tell.

  “Let me go,” she managed to force out, but not with the conviction she wanted to show.

  “Not a chance,” he replied with easy arrogance.

  She pulled as hard as she could, but his grip didn’t slacken. The harder she pulled, the wider he smiled.

  She was fuming by now, almost sure that he meant to do nothing to harm her, but still harboring the tiniest doubt.

  “I’m sorry I ever came to your stream,” she hissed at him. “If you’ll just turn your head, I’ll get out of it and off your land.”

  “Turn my head?” His gaze dropped deliberately and she squirmed, knowing he could see much too much through the crystal-clear water. “But then I wouldn’t get another look at your lovely body.”

  She’d been hoping he wouldn’t bring up just how much of her he’d already seen. If he hadn’t said anything, she might have been able to pretend she’d forgotten herself. She hoped her glare was as ferocious as she felt.

  “That is precisely the idea,” she informed him. “It’s only fair.”

  “No.” He shook his head slowly. “I won’t agree to that.”

  He tilted his head back as though to get a better look at her, narrowing his eyes against the filtered sunlight. The drops of water caught among his thick black lashes looked like diamonds. His broad shoulders rose from the surface of the water looking strong and tanned, evidence that he’d already been getting a lot of sun this summer.

  She wished she could keep her mind off just how attractive he was. She wasn’t afraid of him--not exactly. Not afraid that he would do anything to her against her will. But she was disturbed by him, by this situation. He was a Santiago. She was supposed to hate him. It was family tradition. Instead, here she was, wishing . . . Oh no, she couldn’t admit that, even to herself. Her pulse was racing, beating a crazy rhythm in her throat. She had to make a retreat as quickly as possible.

  “Be fair,” she repeated stubbornly and he smiled.

  “Fair,” he whispered softly, musing over the word. Suddenly, he dropped her wrists and took her face between his hands, studying her as though she were something new to him. She found herself staring up into his eyes, wondering what she would do if he were to lower his wide, finely etched mouth to kiss her.

  Instead, he spoke and she felt a traitorous flutter of disappointment.

  “What’s your name, water sprite? And where did you ride in from?”

  She hesitated, wondering if he would recognize her by her given name. But there was no spark of recognition in his eyes. He’d obviously not connected her with his own history. And she doubted very much he would remember the one time they’d met before.

  “Shawnee,” she told him at last.

  “Shawnee.” He rolled the name across his tongue and smiled, still holding her.
“It fits you.” He glanced up on the bank to where her horse stood quietly waiting, his ears pricked forward as though listening for her return. “I don’t remember seeing you, or your horse, around here before. Are you just passing through, or are you here to stay?”

  How could she go into all the circumstances of her life standing here, naked, talking to this man? “I’ve told you my name,” she said as firmly as she was able, “and that’s enough.”

  He grinned, threading his strong fingers into her wet hair. “I’m David Santiago, water sprite. My family owns this land you’re swimming on. And I’m not going to ravish you, tempting as that may be.” He drew back, letting her go. “I’m setting you free. My only condition is that you finish the swim I interrupted. And I’ll do the same.”

  With a casual salute, he dived away from her, and she watched him go, his body brown and shimmering under the water, while relief wrestled with some unnamed emotion for control of her mind. Her first impulse was to scramble up the bank and run for Miki, but she realized that would lead to a Lady Godiva act even more embarrassing than the Venus Rising from the Sea part she’d just played. And, sad to say, she didn’t quite have the hair for it.

  Besides, she whispered to herself, a Carrington wouldn’t run from a Santiago. So she moved about in the cold water, pretending to be having the swim of her life, and all the while, every nerve in her body was carefully tuned towards the man who splashed it the other side of the pool, aware of everything he did without ever actually looking fully at him.

  What would her grandfather think of this, she wondered suddenly, biting her lip. He’d trained her against the Santiagos. She was pretty certain he would consider it consorting with the enemy. And in the war between the two families, that wouldn’t be condoned.

  She sighed, shoulders sagging. Not back a full day, and already thrust right into the midst of it again. She’d forgotten how strong the emotion could be, how much of her life had been consumed with bitterness towards the people who had stolen the Carrington land.