Except, of course, she admitted honestly, that he’d been one missed opportunity away from being her lover. She shivered a little at the thought, in spite of the blazing summer heat. All the girls wore wide-brimmed hats and sunscreen, and Becky glowed with the remnants of the sun lotion. But she supposed they probably should head back to the house, if only for the horses’ sake. Funny, she chided herself wryly, how quickly a stray erotic thought could ruin a perfectly lovely day.
She eased back on the reins, and Sugar slowed, then stopped. Ahead of her, she caught Jovi’s eye and saw him circle the girls back around toward her. Maribel moved her horse alongside Jovi, leaning too close to him to say something. Apparently what she had said had irritated him, because even at a distance, Dell noted the frustrated shake of his head, and he kneed his horse into a quicker pace to get away from her. Dell’s lips tightened. What kind of fool was she, not to send the belligerent — and apparently brazen — girl back to authorities who might be better able to help her? Or at least control her.
Maribel lagged behind as the others caught up to Dell.
“We’re not going back, are we?” Michelle protested, wiping a hand across her forehead, sweaty in spite of the hat’s shade.
“I think we should.” Dell patted Sugar’s neck. “The horses don’t have much of a voice in this, and it’s hot out here.”
“But, Dell — ”
“Dell’s right,” Jovi said firmly, and the girls exchanged disappointed glances but didn’t argue with him. “There’s always another time — if we don’t overdo it today.” He headed his Appaloosa back toward the drive that led to the home pasture. “Anyway,” he went on, as all the girls except Maribel trotted along close to him, “we need to be back before seven.”
“Do we?” Dell resettled Becky. “What happens at seven?” She kept her tone light and smiled pleasantly across at him, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. He was pushing her away, and had been since they’d returned from the beach.
He forced a smile of his own and shrugged. “Business,” he said. “Mine, not yours,” he added, as if teasing, and the girls giggled. But Dell caught the slight challenge and arched an eyebrow at him.
“Maybe we should define terms,” she muttered, reining Sugar in between Amy’s pinto and Jovi’s horse, turning toward him so she could speak privately to Jovi. “On my ranch, on my time — my business.”
“Maybe we should define terms,” he concurred, but the concession was an undisguised taunt. “I answer to you about horses, and I put in enough hours to oversee the stable’s affairs. Anything else — my business, not yours.”
“So what are they whispering about?” Maribel demanded, edging closer. Selina, Amy, and Michelle drew their horses closer together, slowing them and forming a barrier that kept Maribel out of earshot, much to the girl’s disgust.
“We wouldn’t know,” Selina said loftily. “They’re having a private conversation, and we have manners.”
Maribel snorted profanely, but the other girls, unperturbed, just laughed and refused to yield any ground.
Dell fumed silently over Jovi’s refusal to talk, but she said nothing, and her expression remained unchanged as the horses’ hooves churned up small explosions of dry soil. The girls rode with confidence, pointing out skittering lizards or clumps of browning wildflowers to each other, happy with the day’s outing. She wouldn’t upset the girls or herself over some stupid argument with the help, she told herself bitingly, even as she admitted Jovi never had been just help. He was annoying and arrogant and not easily enough managed, and she wasn’t sure exactly what he was or wasn’t. But he wasn’t just an employee. And that was a shame, she thought grimly, because if he were just the ranch foreman, she could fire him in a minute. Damn Jovi Treviño, anyway, she thought, not for the first time.
As if feeling her scathing condemnation, he turned back and cast her a long, appraising glance. For a second his face softened, as if he were going to relent and treat her with the old mix of friendliness and innuendo, but when he did finally smile, it was at the sight of Becky, fast asleep in Dell’s arms. With a slight shake of his head, he turned and went on ahead to open the gate leading up to the barn.
• • •
The girls had argued over coming back, but once the horses were cooled and stabled, they seemed to agree two hours in the afternoon heat was more than enough and headed almost immediately for the house to change into swimsuits.
Dell refused Jovi’s offer to take Becky up to the house, although by the time she laid the toddler in her crib, her arms ached from the strain of carrying her the whole distance. The girls urged her to join them at the pool, but Dell regretfully decided on a shower and change, knowing she had work stacked up on her desk in the study. A glance out her window showed her Rosa was sitting on a lounger, a glass of tea in her hand, watching the girls, so they were safe enough. With no real excuse to waste more of the afternoon, Dell headed for the study.
The room had always been her favorite, and she was surprised at how little time she’d spent there recently. The girls needed attention badly, but Dell realized when she glanced at her bank statement that finding a source of income wouldn’t be a bad idea.
She wasn’t desperate, she acknowledged, noting with mild surprise how much she’d spent on the girls. The state sent minimal reimbursement for the girls’ lodging, but she had decided on the summer classes herself and had gladly provided more than necessities. She didn’t begrudge any of the money, and the energy bills always soared during the summer anyway. This year, with the higher fuel prices, the electricity bill was almost frightening. Still, she’d received four thousand for Snow Mist. Jovi had driven a good bargain, given the mare’s temperament, and he’d deposited the money in the ranch account for her. There was interest income on her inheritance, too. She frowned at the thought of her father’s legacy. It was so much more than she had supposed he would have. Until she knew more about it, she hesitated to use it. She drummed her fingers absently on the polished wood. There had been stories circulating — rumors Lionel De Cordova had become involved in the lucrative drug trade. She didn’t believe it. The man had millions of dollars. What need for more could he possibly have?
The younger De Cordovas were another story. The lure of fast money had certainly enticed many, and she was sure many of her unknown cousins and assorted distant relatives were as greedy as her mother and grandfather. But she knew nothing of the De Cordovas. She didn’t want to know. Turning the past over again in her mind always led to the same heartache, and she wished wondering about her father’s money weren’t so painful.
Blood money, she decided, again, pure and simple. Money paid to Samuel Rosales so that he wouldn’t go to the Texas courts to make community-property claims against any of the De Cordova money. Hush money, to be sure he didn’t go around reminding the world that, at least briefly, Erika De Cordova had been his. Maybe Lionel had provided Samuel with the money as damage control, too, hoping Dell would be well enough satisfied with her inheritance, paltry as it was compared to the bulk of the De Cordova money, that she wouldn’t seek more.
Her lips twisted, and she stood up, agitated. She would work tables or clean toilets before she’d take a penny of Erika or Lionel De Cordova’s money, and surely they knew it. But if she didn’t want to touch her father’s inheritance right now, she thought, dragging herself away from the hurt, she’d better consider going back to work.
She reached over to straighten the framed photo of her father. The horses wouldn’t pay for themselves for some time, she knew. Given the economy and her lack of concentration on the ranch, the horse operation was between pitiful and non-existent. The sale of some of the stock would go toward ranch bills and the purchase, hopefully, of another good mare or two. And a stallion. In a year or two, maybe the books on the horses would improve.
Her commitment to the girls would actually end when sch
ool started, except, of course, that Becky’s placement was indefinite. Not indefinite, she told herself, permanent. Even as she thought it, she breathed a prayer for success with her adoption bid. And, even though the teenagers would be finishing up their programs soon, Judge Ovalle-Martinez had left open the option of keeping them for a longer time, or accepting new teens who might need a temporary home.
She still had contacts in the trade industry, she reminded herself, walking over to the window. A tiny hummingbird darted by, an iridescent blur that hovered over the bright flowers outside. She watched it absently, ticking off previous successes. She’d helped set up offices in Monterrey and Mexico City. Her services had been in demand. Of course, the world she had known was now in free fall, with the economic chaos and the horrific violence as drug cartels ran over anyone in their way as they plied their trade. The environment was toxic, and she had the girls to consider. Traveling as much as she had was out, clearly. Still, Mexico’s biggest cities beckoned investors, and many of the people she’d worked with were undoubtedly still running businesses. In all likelihood, much of her job could be done electronically. If it could — problem solved. The horses she loved, the girls — and good use of her negotiating skills. With sudden excitement, she went back to her desk and started jotting down notes.
She was engrossed in her planning when the phone shrilled. Absently, she reached for it, glancing at the caller ID information almost as an afterthought. Her hand froze when she recognized her grandfather’s Monterrey number. How many years had it been since someone from that number had called here? It was almost as though her reminiscing had conjured up all the old monsters from her past.
“Hello?” she said briskly into the receiver, her voice curt and cold.
There was a pause on the other end, and she supposed that whichever of the De Cordovas had deigned to call had assigned the menial task of dialing to a subordinate. After the silence, her mother’s voice, seeming surprisingly edgy, although Dell wasn’t sure she even remembered right anymore, addressed her.
“¡Hola, amor!” Erika paused, apparently already at a loss for words. “How are you, darling?”
“Why are you calling, Mother?” Dell asked baldly, ignoring her mother’s small sound of protest. “You haven’t for years.”
“Mi’ja — ” The endearment came through the line falsely. “I’m your mother. You really didn’t meet me half way after your father’s death. I — I’ve wanted to call. But I just haven’t.”
Dell drew a deep breath, pressing her eyes tightly shut. “But you did now, Mother. Why?”
The silence on the other end lengthened, and then Erika sighed noisily. “Just to say hi, I suppose.” Something about the conversation was all wrong, apart from the obvious fact her mother hadn’t called in all those years. After a moment, Dell decided it was almost as if she were being given instructions on what to say.
“We should consider getting together, Dell,” Erika went on. “We’re family, and we really shouldn’t have let things come to this.”
“Mother, you’re at home with your father. You’re surrounded by De Cordovas. You don’t need me. In fact, you haven’t needed me ever.” Dell’s tone was calm and unemotional, but her fingers tightened around the receiver with growing anger. Why this woman had called was beyond understanding.
“Dell, I’m not getting any younger,” her mother argued. “You’re my only child. We shouldn’t be strangers. We should talk.” When Dell didn’t answer, her mother sighed again. “Your grandfather would love to see you again, too. He was wondering just the other day about the horses, and how things were going … ”
Dell shook her head in bewilderment. Lionel De Cordova had asked about the horses? Nothing made any sense to her at all.
“Why would he do that?” she asked into the phone, not bothering to hide either her confusion or the anger she felt at this unexpected contact from her past. “Last I heard, I was a Rosales, not a De Cordova! And, as I remember, all he ever said about the horses was that my father wouldn’t know quality if he saw it.”
Erika was silent again, and Dell suspected she wanted out of this conversation, too. The faint sound of someone else speaking in the background confirmed her suspicions that Erika was being coached, although for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why.
“Mother, what’s going on?” she asked again, curtly. “Did someone — my grandfather — have you call? If so, why?”
“I already told you why.” Erika’s voice turned sulky, and Dell remembered that tone all too well. Samuel must have heard it most of the married days of his life, and when Dell had been old enough to defend him against her mother’s unreasonable demands, she, too, had been forced to listen. “You’re my daughter, Dell. You can’t escape that, no matter what. I made some mistakes, and now I’m trying to fix them. To make things right again.”
Dell massaged her forehead with her free hand, wanting to slam the phone down and cut off her mother’s petulant complaints. “Look, Mother, why don’t we just leave things alone?” she suggested as civilly as she could. “We really have nothing to say to each other. Maybe some day … ” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t honestly see a time when she would feel differently.
Erika apparently decided to give up the battle as gracefully as she could. “Bueno, mi’ja,” she sighed. “We’ll talk again, then. Later.” There was a lengthy pause, almost as if her mother were debating whether to lie baldly enough to claim maternal love. Then she just said “ciao” and hung up. Still somewhat stunned, Dell held the receiver to her ear for several long seconds — long enough to hear a faint but definite click somewhere off in the distance. Someone had been listening to the conversation. Rosa didn’t know how, and wouldn’t have, anyway. Besides, she was outside with the girls. Only one other name came to mind.
Frowning, she got up. And went to look for Jovani Treviño.
• • •
Pete was alone in the office when she stalked in, and his weathered old face showed his surprise when she asked for Jovi with unusual agitation.
“He went over to his house for a little while,” Pete explained, waving a hand in the general direction of the foreman’s comfortable house, set a short distance away from the barn. “I could call him.” He reached for the phone with a gnarled hand.
“No, don’t bother.” Dell laid a hand on his arm and managed a composed smile. “It’s really not urgent. I’ll just walk over. I’d meant to check with him and see if those repairs he needed on the kitchen sink were ever finished, anyway.”
“Well, all right, if you’re sure.” Pete still looked a little concerned. “If something’s the matter — si hay algo — ”
“No. Everything’s fine,” Dell insisted. She wondered what this man, who had been so loyal to her father for so long, would think of Erika’s call. He’d be furious, undoubtedly, and worried about her to boot. Pete was as loyal as anyone could be. He wouldn’t be particularly happy if he’d caught Jovi listening in on a private conversation, either, she knew. Frowning, she turned toward the door, then turned back, remembering the shovel in the barn corridor she had tripped over.
“Pete, who was cleaning the stalls?” she asked.
“Danny,” he answered.
“Well, he didn’t finish, and someone could get hurt with him leaving the equipment just lying around.”
Pete’s expression turned to disgust. “I’ll speak to him,” he promised, and went out of the office, mumbling under his breath.
Troubled, Dell followed him out of the small room, but turned toward Jovi’s house. She was a little surprised the tools had been left there so carelessly. Danny seemed responsible enough, and Pete had never mentioned anything to the contrary. The groom hadn’t worked for them nearly as long as Pete had, but he wasn’t new, either. Well, she’d have to take that issue up with Jovani Treviño, as well as a number of other concerns,
she thought grimly. After all, he was in charge, as he seemed quick to point out when it served him, so Danny’s mistakes were his responsibility.
She stepped up onto the small, neatly kept porch and rapped sharply on the door. There was no answer, and so, after a moment, she pushed the door open and went in. She hadn’t been in the foreman’s house in years, but little had changed. Apparently Jovi considered his mother’s house in Laredo his real home, because the furnishings here were still the original ones, without personal pictures or adornments to make the house Jovi’s. In spite of its spartan appearance, however, it was immaculate; Dell was a little surprised to see all the flat surfaces were spotless. Gritty caliche dust sifted in the windows in virtually any of the buildings in the area, and ridding a place of the white powder could be a never-ending job. Without fully realizing she was doing it, she ran a finger over the top of a small bookcase and held it up for inspection. It was clean.
“So do I pass muster?” Jovi asked sardonically. Blushing, Dell spun around, only to find her breath catch and her mouth go dry.
Oh, yes. He passed muster and then some. She stared at him, leaning against the doorframe, dressed only in tight, short denim cut-offs. His chest glistened, and there were tiny beads of water in his hair.
“I didn’t know we were doing dorm inspections, or I’d have come dressed,” he added, crossing nonchalantly toward her.
“I knocked,” Dell told him, regrouping. “You didn’t answer, but Pete said you were here.” She shrugged. “I was trying to find you.”
“Here I am,” he offered, with an expansive sweep of arms that rippled those sculpted chest muscles.
“I noticed. Jovi — ”
“Have a seat,” he offered, interrupting her to indicate one of the neatly kept chairs. “What can I get you to drink? Chilled wine? Followed by a pitcher of water?” Sparks of laughter danced in his eyes, and for a moment he was the old Jovi.
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