California Girl

by Rice, Patricia

  “I think it’s a ranch house.” Relief colored Elliot’s voice. “Now, if no one shoots at us . . . ”

  Lucia glanced out the windshield, murmured “Bisabuelo” once again, then buried her face in Alys’s shoulder. This time, her little body seemed to relax. Alys wished she’d never have to let her go. Dangerous, her mind screamed.

  “It’s going to be all right. I can feel it.” Thinking positive meant believing Lucia would be safe here, and not fretting that she’d never have a child of her own to hold. She would shed these maternal instincts once she had a life and career. “Look, there are trucks and cars in the drive. There are people here. And Lucia isn’t frightened. Maybe there’s a phone.”

  Thinking positive also meant not worrying that Elliot would have a heart attack while they were stranded out here in the middle of nowhere. She cast him a surreptitious look. He seemed tense but fine.

  She wasn’t so certain she was fine after watching him in action. She had badly underestimated the good doctor. She’d thought him a slightly cranky teddy bear she could cuddle and enjoy for a little while. Now that she knew what he was capable of, she had to adjust her whole view of him.

  He’d acted swiftly, thoroughly, and deliberately, endangering life and limb in the process. He’d made a life-and-death decision right there in the middle of the road, and he’d come out the winner. He’d been terrifying. And wonderful.

  “I’ll leave the car running and go to the door.” Elliot parked the Caddy behind an ancient pickup missing its cargo gate.

  That sounded eminently practical and more like the world as she knew it. But before she could relax, Lucia pulled loose of the seat belt, leaned over to open the door, and ran after Elliot. Well, so much for practical.

  She wasn’t even wearing a coat! None of them were. She’d had no idea climates and weather could change so rapidly. Well, this was how one learned.

  Turning off the car and pulling the key from the ignition, Alys climbed out and opened the trunk while Elliot and Lucia ran to the ranch house. She’d packed sweaters. She didn’t think they’d fit Elliot or Lucia, though. At least she knew how to be prepared for the unexpected. She just needed to learn to prepare for everyone else as well—for now, until she was alone again.

  Finding a short-waisted, short-sleeved cardigan for Lucia and a cable-knit pullover for herself, Alys shut the trunk, fished around inside the Caddy until she found Purple, and hurried up the path toward the house. A rectangle of yellow light opened through the gloom, but she couldn’t see past Elliot to the occupant. She heard Lucia’s squeal of delight though. They’d come to the right place.

  After a brief exchange with whoever opened the door, Elliot turned to wait for her to catch up, and Alys imagined she saw relief and something softer in his features as he held out his hand to her. Obviously, her positive thoughts had inflated to ridiculous proportions, but she wouldn’t pop her balloon right now. She let him wrap his arm around her and haul her inside as if he had every right to do so. Purple clawed to be free, but she was afraid to let her go.

  To Alys’s shock, Lucia was chattering in a rapid spate of English, Spanish, and some other language, obviously reciting everything that had happened to her in the entire five years of her life. Very little of the tale was immediately coherent, but the elderly gentleman crouching beside her nodded understandingly, holding her as if she were a precious gift.

  A woman of an age to be his wife hovered in a doorway, wringing her hands and sending them nervous glances. If Alys had to guess from her limited experience, both were Native American.

  “I’ve apologized for the intrusion and asked for a phone,” Elliot whispered against her ear, “but I haven’t been able to squeeze a word in edgewise since.”

  Alys leaned into the comfort of his strength and let his arm tighten around her in almost the same way she cuddled the kitten. She had been shaking half the morning. Right now, she wanted to soak up the pleasure of safety and Lucia’s happiness. “I’m warm and there aren’t any muggers at the door, so I’m not complaining.”

  Finally settling Lucia’s extended monologue, the elderly gentleman stood up. His thick gray hair was woven into a long braid. His gnarled brown features expressed neither curiosity nor welcome. He merely nodded at their presence and gestured at Lucia.

  “My great-granddaughter tells me you have saved her from villanos, as she calls them. We offer you our humble hospitality in return.” He turned to the woman in the doorway. “Kaya, do we have coffee?”

  With a silent nod, she turned back to the kitchen.

  “We do not mean to intrude upon your hospitality, but the weather is dangerous. Like I said, we need a phone so we can call for road conditions ahead. May we use yours?” Elliot asked.

  “No phone. Please excuse my bad manners. I am Sam Wolf, Lucia’s maternal great-grandfather. Kaya is my wife. We will not talk of what brought you here just yet.” He indicated the child hanging onto his knee and his every word.

  “I’m Elliot Roth, and this is Alys Seagraves. I’m not certain I can even explain what we’re doing here.”

  “The gods work in mysterious ways. Come, warm yourself by the fire.”

  Thrown so far into a different world she may as well have dropped from a tornado, Alys stayed at Elliot’s side and took everything in. She thought maybe she knew how Lucia had felt when left in their care. What could she say when her whole world had turned inside out?

  She drank steaming chicory coffee in front of an ancient fireplace in a kitchen that had come straight out of the early 1900’s. A tin sink with a pump faucet, an old-fashioned icebox, and a woodstove were the major appliances. Kaya moved efficiently from one to the other while Sam spoke with shadowy figures out the back door, and Lucia played with Purple in front of the fire.

  Hot dishes of food appeared on the old pine table in front of them. Alys followed Elliot’s example and dug into them. They weren’t sweet or chocolate, but they were delicious. Lucia climbed up on a bench and ladled the food into her mouth in between excited chatter about kittens and snow and her tía. Alys thought the child might have also mentioned Mame a time or two, but she was operating on sensory overload and couldn’t be certain.

  Once Lucia had cleaned her plate, Kaya bundled her off to another room. Purple slept on a rag rug in front of the fire, and Alys wished she could join the kitten. None of them had slept much last night.

  Instead, she toyed with the camera from Lucia’s backpack. Elliot had retrieved the pack so Lucia had her nightshirt and fresh clothes. The camera still had film in it, and Alys snapped a picture of Purple.

  Ice coated the windows, and they could still hear the ping of sleet on the roof. She didn’t want to go out again. She wanted to sit here beside Elliot, sipping hot coffee, until it was time for them to go to bed. Together.

  So much for her independence. If she desperately needed a warm body to snuggle up to every time the going got rough, she was in trouble.

  Sam stomped his boots free of ice on the back porch, then entered and hung his heavy woolen coat over a coat tree. Kaya handed him a mug of coffee as he entered.

  “The road is not passable,” he announced, settling on the bench where Lucia had sat. “No one can find you now.”

  “But they can once the weather clears,” Elliot added, bringing the problem out in the open now that Lucia wasn’t around.

  Sam nodded. “Our granddaughter was hit and killed by a car recently, and her husband took his own life shortly after. They do not tell an old man everything, but I hear and I listen. Lucia’s paternal grandfather claimed her, and he has the wealth and power to keep her, but Lucia does not belong with a man who bears hatred in his heart. The younger ones have spoken of rescuing her, but they have families of their own to worry about. We thank you for saving Lucia from such a man.”

  “We didn’t save her,” Alys said, thinking it time all the facts were laid on the table. “Elliot’s aunt left her with us with a note saying we were to take her to her family o
n a reservation in Albuquerque. But bad things kept happening, and we’re kind of off the route now.”

  Sam waited, but Elliot didn’t attempt to explain his aunt. Alys watched him worriedly, terrified he’d strained his health today, but he didn’t appear fatigued, just thoughtful.

  “The reservation is the safest place for her until the courts rule,” Sam agreed. “I have one daughter who chose to live on the reservation after her husband left her, but her children and her sisters and brothers are scattered throughout Texas and New Mexico. My grandchildren, like Lucia’s mother, have made lives for themselves all about here. We are not a small family. We can protect our own.”

  So it wasn’t entirely a miracle that they had found a relative of Lucia’s, Alys thought sleepily, leaning against Elliot’s shoulder. Lucia could have pointed out the residence of any number of relatives anywhere along the route. She had just waited for the right moment and the right one.

  “On the reservation, the law is ours,” Sam continued. “If Lucia’s grandfather calls on the authorities for her return, it is best that she is with my daughter where our laws prevail.”

  “I don’t know how we can take her there if her grandfather is looking for us,” Elliot admitted. “Our car is too distinctive. I can’t imagine anyone’s grandfather driving a semi, but if Lucia’s is, he can find us too easily.”

  “Her grandfather owns the trucks. I don’t think he drives them anymore.” Sam sipped his coffee and thought about that. “His drivers, or even Salvador, won’t know of our existence. You are safe here for now.”

  “But we cannot stay here,” Elliot answered. “We must find my aunt and see that she is safe.”

  “From what Lucia tells me, it sounds as if your aunt is with one of my grandchildren,” Sam said dryly. “Lucia’s mother asked her sister to be Lucia’s guardian. Dulce is very attached to the child. Lucia spoke of her aunt taking her. Two and two usually makes four. Is it possible that they left Lucia with you, thinking to draw Salvador’s thugs away from her like a mother quail protects her young?”

  “Very possible,” Elliot said grimly. “If so, their ploy failed. Someone must have followed them and seen them leave Lucia with us.”

  “Salvador Mendoza owns a very large trucking company. His drivers travel up and down the highway every day.” Sam tapped his fingers against the table in thought. “I am astounded that he even cares enough to look for Lucia.”

  Kaya refilled their mugs and finally spoke in loud, heavily accented English. “He does it from spite, because his only son died hating him. He eases his pride by saying we destroyed his son’s life, and that we tore up the will his son made appointing him guardian.”

  Alys had wondered at the woman’s silence since Sam seemed so talkative, but she hadn’t liked to question another culture. Now, she suspected that English was not only Kaya’s second language, but that she was hard of hearing. Her mother had refused to buy a hearing aid and had often spoken abruptly and loudly like this.

  “It does no good to speculate,” Alys said, projecting her voice slightly and receiving a nod of affirmation in reply. “First, we must think of Lucia and figure out how to get her to safety.”

  “Any of her relatives would be suspect,” Elliot pointed out.

  “My children all have young families,” Sam said slowly, appearing reluctant to involve them. “But this is a family matter. I could send one of my men to my grandson—”

  “I don’t have children,” Elliot interrupted. “If you think it is best for Lucia to continue on, it’s better if she hides with strangers.”

  Sam nodded his head thoughtfully. “That is generous of you. I do not know how long it would take to drive Lucia to her uncle in this weather. He lives far off the road, back toward the interstate. It would be faster if you could continue on this route, but you will be a target if you continue driving your . . . car,” he said, obviously hesitating over describing the pink elephant sitting in his yard. “We must hide it in the barn for now. If we decide to do this, you can take my truck. It is not as pretty, but it is serviceable and unremarkable. It will get you there safely.”

  Alys covered Elliot’s hand with hers and squeezed. “It’s less than a day’s drive. We have to go in that direction to find Mame.”

  She thought Elliot far more capable of looking after the child than an old man with slow reflexes, or a younger man who couldn’t handle a car as well.

  Elliot nodded in agreement. “I’m always inclined to finish what I set out to do.”

  “Excellent.” Sam rose from the table and began giving orders as if he were a general in the field. “You will stay with us tonight. The weather is not fit for man or beast. We have an empty cabin you can use. If anyone is looking for you, they’ll be searching the towns and not find you here.” Sam headed for the back door to throw out more orders.

  “It’s not Santa Fe,” Elliot whispered against Alys’s ear, looking for her approval.

  “It’s better. Motels all look alike. This is the real New Mexico.” Happily, Alys held Elliot’s hand while they followed Sam out of the house to the one-room cabin near the stock barn.

  She assumed it must have been meant to house ranch hands, but it echoed of emptiness when they entered. A quilt-covered featherbed occupied the biggest part of the space. Firewood was stacked on the front porch, ready for the woodstove that filled a corner of the room. A sturdy wooden table bearing a stack of paperbacks, two chairs, an oil lamp, and an old wardrobe completed the interior. Shades of the Old West.

  No phone, no electricity, no television. No distraction. Just each other. She was in really deep trouble now.

  Without saying a word, Elliot followed the older man out to collect their belongings from Beulah, leaving Alys to contemplate the gray day out the window.

  Odd, how one little choice led to another and another and before she knew it, she was traveling down a path she’d never considered.

  She would be back on track once they reached Albuquerque. One more day couldn’t hurt. Or one more night.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Want to go horseback riding?” Elliot asked, returning to the cabin wearing his snow-covered Stetson and carrying bags under both arms.

  The sight of Alys curled up on the bed with the oil lamp on the table beside her and reading a paperback as if she’d lived in these primitive conditions all her life shook him into saying the first inane thing that had come to mind. He was being sarcastic, but it didn’t seem to faze her.

  She smiled as she took in the assorted gear he carried in. “No, thank you. I’m in hibernation mode right now. I’m thinking of not emerging from my cave until the sun comes out.”

  “I left Purple’s cage in the car. I figure here’s as good a place as any to leave her, if you like.” He dropped one of her suitcases near the wardrobe and his beside it, but he watched Alys in the process.

  Her smile disappeared, and her face closed up. “Okay.” She buried her nose in the old book.

  She didn’t want to leave the cat anymore than she wanted to leave Lucia, but she was stubbornly sticking to her decision to go it alone, Elliot realized. Under the circumstances, he supposed that was the right choice. He just didn’t like it.

  “I left the orchid with Sam. I thought it might be warmer in the kitchen. Think we should leave the plant here, too?” Thanks to Mame, they were carrying around everything but the kitchen sink. They’d be able to set up housekeeping in the Caddy at this rate.

  She shrugged and pretended to continue reading. “I can keep it, if they don’t want it. Plants aren’t much trouble.”

  “Liar.” He dropped down on the end of the bed and began removing his boots. “You want the plant and the cat and the kid, and they’re all three a lot of trouble.”

  He had no right to be so certain of someone he’d known less than a week, but Alys was as transparent as glass. Everything she thought and felt showed up in her expressive features or in her actions. The lady had no hidden agendas that he could find�
�except when she was fooling herself.

  The problem here was him.

  She kicked her socked foot at his hip, but with no real force. “You’re a lot of trouble,” she said, echoing his thought. “And I’m not abandoning you.”

  “That’s because I have other uses.” Boots off, Elliot kneeled on the sagging mattress, propping his arms on either side of her head. “Like this.” He leaned over and caught her luscious bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled. She might have won the battle last night by default, but he never gave up without trying.

  To his joy, Alys grabbed his arms, dug in her fingers, and responded fervently, with a desperate need to match his own. Then equally fervently, she shoved him away and scanned his face. “Shouldn’t you be resting? That’s what they told Mame to do. We’ve had a really bad day.”

  “And you’re not making it better.” Elliot rolled over on his back and glared at the cabin ceiling. A tattered spider web hung across the far corner near the woodstove chimney.

  She was right and he was wrong and he wanted to howl at the unfairness of it. He felt better than he had in years. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest. He wanted to take advantage of every minute with Alys that he was granted. He hungered for her in so many ways that he thought he was more likely to die of denial than heart failure.

  But he couldn’t hurt her by using her like that. She had warned him that she didn’t want attachments. He could see how easily she formed them. Had he been a perfect specimen of health, he would have scoffed at her fears and proceeded to show her that she needed him as much as he needed her. But he wasn’t. He was the worst possible risk for a woman who had wasted too much of her life nursing an invalid. He gagged at the idea of her standing anxiously over him while he measured his life in doctor’s visits, surgeries, and pills.

  “All right, then,” he said crossly. “What do you want to do? Play charades?”

  He couldn’t look at her but waited to hear her pronouncement of how they would go on. Resentfully, he rubbed at the fire starting to simmer in his midsection.