As she walked around the table, she moved her hand from chair to chair until it lighted on Miguel's shoulder. Beaming with triumph, she pulled out the chair and sat gracefully. That the one she'd taken happened to be right beside Lee's usual place at the head of the table was unsettling.
Juanita walked in from the kitchen carrying a crock of beans. "What are you waiting for?" she asked. "Sit."
His brothers eased past him, taking chairs, leaving the one beside her empty.
"Are you going to join us, Lee?" Angela asked innocently.
He narrowed his eyes. "How do you know I am not already sitting at the table?"
"Because you have big feet, and I know the sound of your footsteps. They always sound angry."
"They do not sound angry." He started toward his chair and stopped. His footsteps did sound angry. Treading more lightly, he reached his chair and sat. "And I do not have big feet."
"Yes, you do, Lee," Jorge said. "You are bigger than all of us. That is why you could never wear anyone's hand-me-downs."
"Jorge! You have said too much."
"You're a little over six feet tall and weigh approximately one hundred and seventy-five pounds," Angela said calmly.
Anger boiled within Lee. "Who told you this?" He glared at each of member of his family. "Who has been telling her these things?"
"You told me," she said with irritating tranquility.
"I told you nothing."
"When you held me … I know where my head comes against my father's chest and how tall he is. I know where the top of my head touches your chest. I merely had to calculate the difference. He's not quite as tall as you are. I'm familiar with the breadth of your chest, the width of your shoulders, the corded muscles in your arms—"
"Enough! You have made your point." He reached for the basket of tortillas and extended it toward her. "Take a tortilla. Tomorrow we leave for Fortune."
She took it, removed a tortilla, set it on her plate, and handed the basket back to him. He reached inside.
"I can't do that," she said softly.
He stilled and glared at her. "What do you mean, you cannot do that?"
She took the bowl Eduardo offered her and began to scoop beans onto her tortilla. "I mean I can't leave. I promised Miguel that I'd be here for his birthday."
"That is not for two more weeks!"
"Then I guess I'll be here for two more weeks." She set down the bowl.
"I thought you wanted to go home."
"I do, but I keep my promises."
"What about your mother and father, who are supposedly worried about you?" he asked sarcastically.
"We'll send them a telegram to let them know that I'm all right."
He slapped his hands on the table. "Why did I not think of this before? We'll send a telegram telling them you are here and then everyone will know. The posse, any men your father hired, the Texas Rangers … they will all know right where to come."
She sighed as though she were dealing with a dull child. "The telegram will simply say, 'The two of hearts wins all.' Then no one will know that I'm here."
"What does that mean? 'The two of hearts wins all'?"
She turned her head so that if he didn't know better, he would have sworn she was looking at him. "My parents know what it means and they'll know that I'm safe."
"But you will not tell me what it means?"
"I was under the impression that our relationship was one of secrets."
"We have no relationship, querida."
"Then don't call me 'querida.'"
"I don't call you—" But he did … God help him, he did, without thinking, because somewhere along the way she had become a part of his heart.
"Lee, I could send the telegram tomorrow when I go to town for supplies," Roberto said.
"You are not sending the telegram, Roberto. She is not staying."
"But I want her here for my birthday," Miguel said.
Lee shifted his gaze to Miguel. The boy had such large expressive chocolate-colored eyes, just like his mother's. "We cannot always have what we want, Miguel."
"Why?"
"Because there are mean men—"
"But you are not mean."
Miguel looked at him with innocence, trust, and the belief that he was a better man than he was. He didn't know about the wanted poster, the bounty, or the man Lee had killed. The boy would probably hate him when he did learn everything, but right now, he simply wanted to believe that Lee was a good man.
His brothers' and sister's gazes bore into him. No one ate. He wasn't even certain anyone breathed. "I will not risk my family by sending a telegram. For Miguel, though, we will have the birthday celebration early."
"When?" Miguel asked, with the naiveté of a child who could not detect that much more was at stake.
"When I decide." He shifted his gaze to Angela. She wore a satisfied smile as she rolled her tortilla. He wished he did not enjoy her smiles so much. A man could easily be convinced to do anything to have one directed his way.
* * *
Chapter 11
« ^ »
Angela lay on the bed with Juanita stretched out beside her. Lee's family apparently had an afternoon ritual of taking a siesta after the noonday meal. She knew this room belonged to Juanita because her vanilla fragrance hovered in the air. She supposed that when one could not afford perfumes, one made do with what could be found. With all the money Lee had stolen, he could at least have purchased his sister a bottle of scented water.
Miguel had walked her around the bedroom so she could become familiar with it. Angela hadn't been surprised to discover that Miguel slept in the same room. Juanita was the only woman in his life, a sister who was more of a mother.
As quietly as she could, she eased off the mattress and slipped across the room to the small bed where Miguel slept. She inhaled his child's innocent scent of milk, cat, hay, and earth. It was reckless, agreeing to attend his birthday celebration. She didn't know why she'd been determined to accept his invitation, unless it was because she feared she'd never have children.
Maybe Lee was right and her blindness wasn't a punishment; it had simply been a means to achieve her true penalty: a life without children of her own. For what man would trust her to bear his children and raise them? She'd failed when she had sight; how could she possibly succeed now?
With a feathery touch, she skimmed her fingers over Miguel's hair. She refrained from touching his face, although she dearly wanted to know the contours. Children were such a joy. How would she manage to live without her own to hold close against her bosom?
Slowly, she rose and carefully tiptoed from the room. She felt her way along the hall. She considered going into Lee's room, but for what purpose? She simply had a strong need to be held, and he was so damned skilled at holding. She hated to admit that she would indeed miss him once he returned her to Fortune. Was that the reason that she'd quickly agreed to stay? Because in truth, she didn't want to leave Lee?
Cautiously, she made her way across the front room, searching until she finally found the door. She opened it slowly and slipped onto the porch. She walked to the edge, located the beam, and wrapped her arms around it. Although it was warmed by the afternoon sun, it provided little solace.
"Why are you sad?" A deep voice reverberated behind her.
With a tiny squeal, she swung around. "Why aren't you taking a siesta?"
A rocker squeaked. Apparently Lee had stilled when he'd heard her open the door. She listened to his footsteps; he needed only three to cross the porch. Hearing the rasp of cotton against wood, she could envision him leaning against the beam opposite hers, his arms folded across his broad chest.
"I wasn't tired," he said.
"When Miguel voiced that same objection, you said that it didn't matter. It was time for a siesta."
"Miguel is a boy. I am a man."
His tangible presence made that fact obvious. Her mouth suddenly went dry. She wound one arm around the beam and skimmed her oth
er hand across the rough wood, anything to distract her thoughts. "Your brothers are sleeping, and they're men as well," she pointed out.
"Sleep brings them peace. They are welcome to it."
She stilled. "It doesn't bring you peace?"
"No."
She swallowed hard and asked hesitantly, "Do you dream about the man you killed?"
"You are searching for a conscience within me when none exists. I would kill him a hundred times if I could."
"It sounds as though he did more than aggravate you."
"He is not worth the breath it takes to discuss him. Why are you intent on staying?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know. Tired of traveling I guess." A lie. When he returned her home, she would never again hear his deep intriguing voice. She wished she could identify what it was about his accent that fascinated her. The manner in which he spoke, while carrying a Mexican accent, was still subtly different from his brothers'. She knew dwelling on his past would get her nowhere so she decided to try a different tactic. "I think my father would like you."
"I am just what every father wants for his daughter," he said, self-derision in his voice.
"More, I think you'd like him."
"A gambler who lets his daughter walk the streets at midnight, use profanity, play with marked cards—"
"They're only marked because I can't see them." She smiled with the fond memory. "Although before my blindness, he'd promised me that I could be a dealer at the Texas Lady."
"The Texas Lady…" His voice trailed off.
"My father's saloon."
He took a step closer as though suddenly intrigued. "I read a story once about a cattle drive and the venture was called Texas Lady."
"That was my father and mother … and Kit Montgomery. They were part of a handful of drives that successfully got cattle north in 1866. They wrote a dime novel about their adventure."
"Bainbridge."
She could almost hear the wheels clicking in his mind.
"Bainbridge." He snapped his fingers. "I knew the name was familiar the first time you told me. I read a story about a gunfight—"
"Duel Under the Sun."
"Sí! It was Bainbridge and Montgomery and another man—"
"Rhodes."
"Do you know him as well?"
"Of course, Grayson Rhodes is a very good friend of the family's. He, Kit, and my father came here together from England."
Lee chuckled low. "You should have told me that you know such legendary men. I would have thought twice before hauling you away."
"How was I to know you'd even heard of them? I certainly never would have considered that you were well read."
"I love to read. Anything I can get my hands on. Mi madre would tease me and say that I was like the ground in the desert when the rain comes, absorbing every drop of knowledge that came my way."
A description that suited her as well, because she was desperate to gain any scrap of knowledge about him. "Were you a good student in school?"
"The best. Alejandro and I had plans to attend the University of Texas together."
"What would you have studied?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know. Everything."
She suddenly realized with startling clarity that the night when his family was attacked, the men not only had killed his brother, father, and mother, but they had murdered his dreams. She ached for the young man who had wanted to learn, had desired a higher education. Now, he knew how to sneak into banks, steal money, and kidnap women.
"Since no one knows what you look like, you could still go."
"I am living on borrowed time, querida. Now that you cannot be a dealer, what are your dreams?"
She scowled in frustration. "You're very skilled at turning the subject off yourself."
"I am a man of many talents. Share your dreams with me."
She shrugged. "Now, I have no dreams."
"You must long for something."
She couldn't bare her heart to a man who was little more than a shadow in her mind. Shaking her head, she skimmed her hand along the pillar and felt the bite of a splinter. "Oh!"
The porch reverberated as he stepped nearer. "What is it?"
She moved her finger over her palm. "I caught a little sliver—"
"Here, let me see." He took her hand.
"Really, it's all right. It's just so small that I can't find it."
He pressed his fingers against hers, opening her hand fully. "Did you know that the tongue is more sensitive than the fingers?"
She felt the tip of his tongue trail over her palm like damp velvet. His hot breath created a silken mist over her flesh. If his hold hadn't been so firm, she would have curled her fingers against his mouth. His tongue roamed slowly, resolutely, sensually. She leaned back against the beam, seeking support as her knees weakened. Each stroke of his tongue sent desire cascading through her. She considered pulling her hand loose of his hold. Instead, she lifted her other hand.
He grabbed her wrist, and the sensual haze lifted like fog touched by the sun.
"Please?" she rasped. "Let me touch you."
"I'll take you inside."
She jerked her hands free. "Don't you realize that you've already given me enough information to betray you?"
"Enough perhaps, but I haven't given you everything."
"No," she croaked past her tightening throat. "You didn't give me everything." She moved away from him, her chest aching because for the smallest of moments, while he'd trusted her with his dreams, she'd forgotten that he didn't trust her with his face. "I can find my way back inside. But you, Lee Raven, you're more lost in the darkness than I am, and when they slip that noose around your neck, I hope you won't regret all that you sacrificed for revenge."
She turned on her heel, strode forward, bumped her shoulder against the doorway, but kept marching on. She wouldn't let him see how much he had hurt her, how she longed for what he wouldn't give her.
* * *
Kneeling in the dirt, Angela skimmed her fingers over the vine until she located the tomato. She cradled it between her hands, gently feeling for its ripeness. She'd offered to help Juanita in the garden because she'd desperately needed something to do. Like her mother, she'd never been one for standing still. When her finger touched a squashy portion, she grimaced with revulsion. There was something about the slimy feel of rotten vegetables that curdled her stomach. She plucked it loose and gauged its weight. It might work.
"That one is rotten, señorita," Juanita said.
"I know. I'm trying to decide if I want to throw it in your brother's face."
"Lee has made you angry."
Angela tossed the vegetable aside before beginning another search for a ripe tomato. "He has a habit of doing that," she mumbled.
"During the midday meal, he was upset that you did not want to leave."
Upset? Not angry? Angela was curious to know the reason Juanita thought he was merely upset that she wanted to stay. His voice had conveyed irritation, but she'd also noted something she couldn't quite identify. Angela rocked back on her heels. "Upset in what way?"
"I'm not sure. He almost looked as though he was … afraid, and I have never seen him look like that. He is the bravest of men."
He was also an outlaw, but his family seemed unable to acknowledge that. "He's worried that I'll discover what he looks like."
"Sí, he has told me many times not to tell you. But then, his appearance has always bothered him."
Her attention sharpened. "Why?"
She heard Juanita plowing her trowel into the ground.
"I have said too much already, señorita." Reaching out, she stopped Juanita's frantic efforts to dig herself a hole in which to hide. "I wish you'd call me Angela."
Juanita stilled. "It would not be right."
"But I'd like for us to be friends." She could sense Juanita's hesitation. "I promise not to ask you anything else about Lee."
Juanita released what sounded like a self-conscious chu
ckle. "I have almost forgotten how to be a friend."
"So no one visits you here?"
"You are the first. Alejandro is not happy that you are here."
"I don't think anyone is glad except maybe Miguel." She turned back to the plant, searching for another tomato. "I take it then that you don't have a beau."
"Oh, no. I would not want a beau."
Astonished by the determination reflected in Juanita's voice, Angela asked, "Ever?"
"I never want a man to call on me."
"What about getting married and having children?"
"I have Miguel."
Furrowing her brow, Angela turned her attention completely on Juanita. "But he's your brother."
"But I am able to love him and care for him as though he were my son. He is all I need. What about you, señorita … Angela? Do you want children?"
A soft smile played across Angela's mouth. "Very much, but first I have to find a man with the compassion to look beyond my blindness."
"I do not understand. If I did not know you were blind, to watch you pick tomatoes, I would not know you were blind."
"In Fortune, everyone knows, and my blindness tends to make men apprehensive. One man—his name was Marcus—took me for a stroll through town, but he was so nervous that I'd bump into something and embarrass him that he was the one who ended up bumping into something." Her smile broadened at the memory. "I guess he was watching me instead of where he was going, and he bumped into the wooden Indian statue that's outside the general store. It toppled over onto the bench that sits in front of the store. Mr. Farrington was sitting on the bench, and apparently he leapt up and backward to avoid being crushed by the statue … and he went through the window of the store."
"Was he badly hurt?"
The compassion Juanita exhibited touched Angela deeply. "No, miraculously, he came away with only a couple of scratches, but there was a stack of canned goods in front of the window. Every can crashed to the floor and rolled through the building. People were scrambling to get out of the way … thuds, bangs, and curses echoed into the street … I'd never heard so much commotion in my entire life."
THE OUTLAW AND THE LADY Page 11