“But dang it all, I understand the language so well!” McDade insisted. “And I like it, I truly do. Danged if I know why I can’t get the hang of it.
“I thought you did a little better,” Dell consoled him. “A little,” she repeated firmly, as the secretary’s mouth fell open. “But look, if you don’t want to do it — why don’t you just get an interpreter, Mr. McDade?”
The big man rubbed thoughtfully at his face again, then glanced over at his secretary.
“Oh, no.” The raven-haired woman pointed a spoon at her boss. “I haven’t spoken formal Spanish in years — I’m not going to go make a fool of myself in front of all those government officials in Monterrey! No way.”
He sighed and looked mournfully back at Dell. “Can’t pay her enough to change her mind, either,” he complained. “Twenty-three years, I haven’t gotten her to once. The fool woman won’t even marry me, can you imagine that?”
“Secretaries shouldn’t marry their bosses,” Carmela retorted, but her eyes smiled at him.
Dell smiled, too. “So quit,” she suggested, and they laughed.
“Don’t go giving Carmela any ideas,” McDade protested. “She’s got too damn many of her own.” They were silent a minute. Around them, the soft murmur of voices and laughter filled the room. The lunchtime crowd was gone, and the restaurant was unusually quiet. Suddenly McDade straightened, slapping the white linen cloth so hard his unused spoon rattled against his plate. Carmela jumped, and Dell flinched.
“By God, what a good idea,” he boomed, and then reached out and patted Dell heartily on the shoulder. “You’re a genius — an absolute genius.”
Dell’s befuddlement gave way to a piercing suspicion. “Look, Mr. McDade — ”
“You’re perfect,” he interrupted, cutting off her protests. “Isn’t she, Carmela?”
The older woman smiled at Dell. “It was your idea,” she said. “And yes — you’d do a great job. Who better than you?” She lifted a piece of pie to her mouth, effectively leaving Dell and her boss to hash out the issue of who the man’s interpreter should be.
“You’ve represented me before,” he pointed out quickly. “That was just a wonderful presentation you made over in Houston about the retail opportunities in northern Mexico. And we’d only be there a couple of days at the most,” he added as her frown deepened.
“That isn’t the point.” Dell shook her head and then tapped her fingers on the table, searching for ways to explain. “Mr. McDade, until recently, I did represent several firms. I was very active in the trade situation here because it was my primary interest. But I’ve moved into other areas. I really can’t afford the time — ”
“Look, I know you’re helpin’ out some girls who got messed up. And I’ve heard rumors you’re tryin’ to get your horses back into a paying business. And you picked up an odd job or two in the business already.”
Dell’s brows arched, and McDade’s bark of laughter turned several heads in their direction.
“Honey, I know people see me as somethin’ of a fool.” He grinned. “But I’m not on Forbes’ list by accident. I know most everything, ’bout most everyone, to boot.” His face softened, and he leaned toward her, lowering his voice and placing his big hand over hers in a fatherly gesture. “I even know about your maw and grandpa. Reason enough for anyone not to want to go.”
“Then?” Dell asked, her voice remarkably composed.
He pulled his hand away and shrugged. “You’d make a lot of money for a little work — not that you mind hard work, I’m not implyin’ that. You’d keep your foot in the door in case you ever want to get involved in a big way again.” And then his weathered face broke into a wide grin. “And you might just knock that bastard Lionel De Cordova on his bony can.”
Carmela laughed, and even Dell smiled at the vision of the stately, silver-haired millionaire falling on his backside.
“Don’t you do business with him, though?” she asked curiously, wondering at McDade’s apparent dislike of Lionel De Cordova.
He shrugged again. “Course I do, girl. Play golf with him now and again. Sold him his two best Angus bulls, too. But I don’t like the man, and he don’t like me. Still, we smile at each other like two life-long friends any ol’ time we have to. That’s just business.”
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“Nope.” He drained his coffee cup in a gulp and waved off the waiter who hurried over to refill it. “Does it bother you? Me talkin’ ’bout your family?”
Dell considered his question before shaking her head. “No. It does surprise me, though. I didn’t know you knew.”
“I’ve always known, girl. It’s my business, knowin’ things.” He looked abashed. “Remember the first time I asked you to make those calls to that Monterrey firm three or four years ago?”
She nodded.
“I thought you’d play on your name, truth be told, or that folks knew who you were. But you did a good job all on your own, and since you never told me who you were, I pretty much guessed you didn’t care to acknowledge old Lionel any more than he does you. Pity, that he and your mom’d give you up. Sure doesn’t say much for them.”
In spite of herself, Dell had to ask. “You know my mother, then?”
Beside her, Carmela breathed in sharply. Dell glanced at her and saw pain flash across her face, then disappear. Hal McDade’s fingers were tight around his water glass as he emptied that, too, before answering her question.
“Yeah, I know Erika,” he said. “Beautiful woman, your mom.” He shook his head. “No offense, girl, but she’s also the coldest, most heartless bi — woman I ever saw.”
Dell thought of her father, plodding through his hopeless last years, but said nothing.
“I fell for her … some years ago,” the oilman continued, almost in a monotone. Carmela stood up, stretching, and excused herself to go to the ladies’ room.
“Poor Carmelita. She’s put up with a lot,” McDade said when she was out of earshot, using his pet name for her. “Your grandfather probably would have loved Erika and me to marry, even though he don’t like me. We’d have owned a sizeable part of two different countries. Hell of a lot of power in that.” He moved his empty water glass back and forth methodically. “I came real close to proposin’, too.”
“But you didn’t?” Dell asked, her voice barely audible.
“No.” The older man stretched, twisted his head from side to side, then massaged the back of his neck. “Thank God for that. I might have given up my pride and Carmela’s love for a well-dressed, snotty little girl in a woman’s body.”
“I’ve never heard anyone refer to Erika De Cordova that way,” Dell mused.
“I really don’t blame her. I s’pose she grew up the way a lot of rich women do, cloistered and spoiled.” He was silent for a few seconds before continuing. “I’d been growin’ apart from her for some time before we officially quit ‘seeing’ each other. But something happened … One of her maid’s kids came to spend his birthday with his ma at the De Cordova house. He was helpin’ do dishes and cut his hand pretty badly. The boy’s mom was hysterical — I don’t blame her. She didn’t know what to do. We were goin’ out, Erika and I, both in our evenin’ clothes. She was furious when I helped tie up the cut until an ambulance came for the kid. I got blood on my shirtsleeves. We didn’t go out, and I told her adios the next mornin’. We speak if we meet, but not too warmly.” He shrugged, “I woke up. I think that’s when I realized Carmelita hadn’t spent all those years being my secretary, confidante, and conscience for a little paycheck.”
“I think I’ll see if she’s all right,” Dell said, blotting her lips and pushing her chair out. “She can’t like hearing about my mother.”
Carmelita was touching up her makeup when Dell found her, and she smiled into the mirror.
“Usually I
don’t get like this,” she said. “He caught me by surprise, I guess. It’s been so long since we mentioned her.”
“I can see why the memories are unpleasant.” Dell patted her own hair into place. “If it helps, my memories of her aren’t any better.”
“I’ll never understand,” Carmelita sighed. “Women like me, who’re never mothers … and women like her, who never should have been given the blessing.”
“Hmmm.” Dell hesitated, then decided to ask. “Carmelita, would it bother you if I do go? Would you be there, too?”
“No,” the secretary replied, turning toward the door. “Hal likes me to keep things going when he’s away, and it’s just a short trip. Go.” She smiled serenely at Dell. “Hal has a lot of faults, but one thing he is, is loyal. Piece of paper or not, he’s been true to me since he decided he loved me.”
“That says a lot for both of you,” Dell said. Carmelita patted her on the shoulder.
“Every woman should find a good man, and that’s no easy chore. So when you get one, you darn well better hang on!”
They were still smiling when they rejoined Hal at the table, but Dell kept turning the other woman’s remarks over in her mind. A good man … no easy chore. Jovi Treviño was devastatingly handsome. He liked the arid ranch that was her home, he made a living with horses … all things she wanted in any potential mate. Of course, he seemed determined not to show his interest in her now. But she saw the way he watched her, knew the desire and attraction were still there. Was Jovi really intent on protecting her by not loving her? She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t think he was being honest about his motives. And his apprehensions about her grandfather troubled her. She certainly didn’t worry about Lionel. Why should he, unless …
She frowned. Unless he envisioned being able to profit, someday, from Lionel De Cordova. What kind of man was Jovi, anyway? A good man, the kind Carmela had urged her to find, or just someone else out for a fling — or a fortune?
“So, Dell … ” Hal’s voice jerked her back to the present. “You’ll go give my speech, won’t you?”
She sighed. Going to Monterrey was the last thing she wanted to do right now. But he’d pay well. The girls wouldn’t suffer from her brief absence. Karla would jump at the chance to spend a day or two on the ranch helping watch the girls. And she just might have an opportunity to look her family in the eye and tell them, silently at least, where they could all go. “Call me,” she said after a moment, more to Carmelita than Hal, “and we’ll work out the details. I guess I can leave the girls for a day or two.” She was getting up from the table when she realized, with an unpleasant pang, that she would also be leaving Becky — and Jovani Treviño.
• • •
Hot wind blasted against Dell’s face as she bent over the thoroughbred’s neck, urging her on. The mare flattened out, seemingly enjoying the unusual chance to run as much as Dell was enjoying the ride. The afternoon was still searingly hot, though, and after a few more exhilarating yards, she reluctantly stood in her stirrups, easing the mare back into a lope, and then a trot. Finally, she reined the bright chestnut to a walk and laid a hand against her neck. It had a slight sheen of sweat, but Josie was breathing easily and wasn’t lathered. Relieved, Dell guided the horse onto the path leading down to the river.
Jovani wouldn’t approve, she knew. She hadn’t come for years, but now that she’d come home to the ranch, she couldn’t stay away. At least now she was mounted and carried a rifle in the handmade scabbard hanging behind the English saddle. She didn’t automatically shoot rattlesnakes and coyotes as so many ranchers did, but she was prepared to protect herself or her stock from any unexpected danger. Thanks to Pete’s handiwork, the flat saddle also secured a small bag, which held her cell phone.
She smiled. People in this part of the country viewed her penchant for English saddles as treason, if not insanity. But she didn’t see how people could enjoy riding if they had to sit in those bulky Western rigs, all leather and no horse. They entered the shaded part of the path, and she looked around in surprise. There had been some obvious clearing out, and the path had been reclaimed from the undergrowth.
The mare broke into a trot as they descended toward the river, then suddenly spooked and flung herself sideways. Dell found herself sprawled on the ground, still hanging on to one of her reins. She stood up gingerly, checking her arms and legs to see if everything still moved. She should get a helmet, she reminded herself sternly. Especially since she rode so seldom now. She never would have been thrown a few years ago.
Speaking gently to the nervous mare, she shortened the reins and looked around to see what had spooked the mare. Nothing moved off into the trees or slithered across the ground. She looked carefully, though, and listened, but heard no telltale dry buzzing from a rattler.
Cautiously, Dell swung back into the saddle and urged the mare toward the cabaña. She pulled the horse up by the front door, noticing at once that the padlock had been replaced and the brush had been cleared away. The wooden shutters that had protected the glass from vandalism and storms were open, allowing a blurry look into the front room from her vantage point on the mare. Except that someone had been doing some unauthorized cleaning, apparently nothing was amiss.
She listened again, cataloging the bird calls and rustlings in the trees. None of the sounds were foreign to the riverbank. She glanced over her shoulder at the wide, green waters of the Rio Grande, scanning the reeds on the Mexican side. Nothing moved there, either. No sign of people fishing, trying to cross — not even stray livestock, pushing down to drink. Chiding herself for her apprehensions, she swung off the horse and tied the mare’s reins securely to the post holding up the structure’s rusted tin awning.
Still a little wary, she stepped up on the porch and examined the new lock on the door. Frowning a little, she realized she no longer had a key to a building on her own property. She nibbled her lower lip thoughtfully as she fingered the padlock. Danny and Pete were pretty much confined to work with the horses. If either of them had been involved with this, it had to have been on Jovani Treviño’s instructions. Yet he had tried to dissuade her from coming down here. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced over her shoulder at the river again. Why was he cleaning this long-abandoned part of her past? And what was with his determination to keep her out of the cabaña? Her face grim, Dell moved to the window and stood on tiptoes, trying to see farther back into the shadowed building.
“Would this help?” Jovi asked, and she spun around to find him just behind her, a shiny brass key dangling from one bronzed hand. He reached out without invitation, brushing a dry leaf from her sleeve. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m not scared,” Dell retorted crisply. “Just startled.” She frowned at him. “And annoyed. Why do you have a key for a building I should be able to get into?” She waved a hand at the area surrounding the cabaña. “And what is all this about?”
“What, cleaning up a beautiful riverside campground?” His mouth quirked. “I thought I’d hear something along the lines of ‘oh, what a good idea.’ Go figure.” He shrugged, and then his mouth tightened. “Besides, certain people insist on ignoring my warnings about staying away. With the brush cleared out, you can at least see danger coming — if you’re lucky.”
Dell shook her head. “You just don’t get it, do you? This is my place, Jovani. I shouldn’t have to stay away. I won’t stay away.” Her frown deepened, and she plucked the keys from him. “And I won’t be kept out, either.”
He made no argument when she slipped the key into the lock and twisted it. She pulled the lock out then hooked it back in the hasp, opening the door and stepping into the front room of the old cabin. Dust carpeted the floor. Apparently Jovi’s efforts hadn’t extended to housekeeping. But there were no questionable packages stacked against walls, no indication anyone had used the room for any reason. Still, she didn’t think she was imagini
ng Jovi’s nervous tension as she moved through the room toward the small back bedroom. She pushed open the half-closed door, grimacing at the gritty dust that powdered her hand.
The bedroom was much as the front room, dusty and unkempt. But a frown knitted her brows when she saw the makeshift bed against one wall, a stack of blankets and old sheets folded into a rough resemblance of a cot. Two concrete blocks near the bed made a rough table, which held a book of matches, an empty, crushed pack of cigarettes … and a metallic hair band she knew belonged to Maribel. Sickened at the suspicions suddenly accosting her, she turned to confront Jovi.
“What is this?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
His face grim, Jovi shrugged again. “I’m not sure. But what it looks like is pretty obvious.” He waved at the room’s one window. The sill was partially clean, and when she walked closer, Dell could see the faint outline of a shoe in the dust underneath it.
“I changed the lock and opened the shutters hoping to keep people who shouldn’t be here away. Someone came in that window, though.”
“Someone?” Dell ran a hand through her hair. “Jovi, you’re the only one with a key. And don’t ask me why someone would come in a window — someone apparently did. It looks a lot like it was Maribel, too. How could she even know this place was here? When could she get away from Rosa — and from me?” She jerked at her collar, walked over and stuffed the band in her pocket. “Unless she snuck down here in the middle of the night — and even then — ”
“If you’re implying Maribel sneaked in that window to wait for me, don’t,” Jovi said curtly. He indicated the window. “I’ve already nailed it shut. Can’t be opened again. As far as the key, I’ll get you a copy. But I don’t think anyone else should have one, Dell.”
“Why do you need this key, Jovi? Why make a copy? Just give me the key, no?”
“No.” He shook his head, and moved toward the door, and after a final, disgusted look at the stack of bedding, she followed him out onto the porch. He turned and carefully closed and locked the door.
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