Coming out into the clearing by the cabaña, Dell reined up in shock, gasping. The river had already flowed over its banks and was pushing up near the front porch of the building. In the river, debris floated by — trees, torn up by the water, unidentifiable pieces of flotsam and, incredibly, some rancher’s water tank, bobbing and turning crazy circles as the currents rushed it along. Dell closed her eyes in a brief prayer as she thought of the damage and grief this flood was going to cause. Just that heavy tank, born along like a surfacing torpedo, could collide with the struts of any of the international bridges downstream and cause serious damage.
Seeing the tank also made her think of the few surrounding neighbors, people on the adjacent properties, whose houses were situated closer to the river. Getting into Laredo was impossible, yet staying in their own homes might prove deadly.
Grimly, Dell turned the mare around. She would shelter her neighbors in the house, if they could get over. It was high enough and far enough to be safe. Rosa would understand, and the girls could help. And Jovi. Surely he wouldn’t mind. The mare was eager to head home, and snorted in disgust when Dell reined her to a stop beside the cabin. But in the face of the imminent flooding, chances were good this old remnant of her past would be swept away. She could say goodbye.
She climbed off and looped the reins around the nearest post, then walked to the front window and peered inside. Nothing moved in the shadows of the cabin, but if she closed her eyes, she could remember her father’s bulky figure moving around, calling her to come out and join him in some adventure on the river banks. Her mother, when she came at all, would pull on a hat and spray herself from head to foot with insect repellent then shut herself inside the cabin, waiting irritably for her husband and child to tire of their games. Dell shook her head and swiped at her hair in frustration. Samuel Rosales had deserved a simple life and the happiness it could have given him. He certainly should never have married cold, rich, and spoiled Erika De Cordova. What fools people in love were.
She untied Sugar’s reins and patted the broad red head absently, casting a last, forlorn look around. What had her grandfather said? That she should know better than to sleep with a horse-handler? She frowned. How strange that her grandfather should care whether or not she was involved with Jovani Treviño if he’d sent him here to begin with. In fact, it was strange he’d bothered to send someone to watch her at all. She gave her head a slight shake. Nothing really made sense. Unless, she thought, it wasn’t really about her.
She looked around the clearing again, her frown deepening. Maybe Jovi’s main concern, his main job, was to be sure that only the right people had access to this long-forgotten part of the ranch. Before she could spend much time thinking through that possibility, Sugar tensed, throwing her head up and looking around alertly.
Dell gripped the reins more tightly and stepped closer to the mare, wondering what she’d heard. She had come unarmed and without a phone, and mentally cursed herself for her carelessness. Murmuring a soft word to the horse, she stepped off the porch and edged toward the corner of the cabin. She heard nothing, but she knew from Sugar’s interest that something — or someone — was nearby. Drawing a deep breath and straightening, she turned the corner of the cabin.
She almost walked into Jovani Treviño, flattened against the cabaña wall, pistol drawn.
Chapter Twenty
For long, silent seconds, neither of them moved.
“Are you alone?” Jovi hissed, and then, before she could answer, he moved past her, still keeping against the sheltering wall, and peered around the corner to where Sugar still stood, waiting, and down to the river below.
“What in the name of God is this all about?” Dell asked, still shocked, staring incredulously at the stubby black pistol and the hard, angry stranger holding it.
He didn’t answer at first, and although he lowered the gun, he didn’t immediately put it away. When he finally put the gun away and turned back to face her, the cold fury gripping his face was frightening.
“So.” The word was somewhere between a threat and a sneer, a low, snarled word that spoke volumes. Dell could only gape at him, unsure what was she was supposed to do or think.
Suddenly, another possibility for his presence on the ranch occurred, and she shuddered. Her mother and grandfather wanted the ranch, and both she and Samuel Rosales had refused to sell it. Her grandfather could pay for virtually anything, from river front property to murder. If she were out of the picture, the ranch would probably belong to her mother.
Immediately, she made herself discard that idea. Lionel De Cordova couldn’t want this piece of underused property enough to kill for it. Jovi was simply pursuing some criminal intent of his own. Straightening, she took a single, deep breath.
“So, what?” she asked, challenging him. “How funny — and how convenient for you, I’m guessing — that we always seem to wind up here together — alone.”
“Convenient?” His tone was laced with quiet menace. “I doubt you’re really finding it convenient. It’s a little hard to conduct business when outsiders keep showing up, isn’t it, Ms. Rosales?” His mouth twisted. “Or should I say Ms. De Cordova?”
The sarcasm in his question was unmistakable, but nothing he said made sense.
“I don’t know what your problem is, Jovani. But I think it’s pretty obvious that you have your own designs on my property. Illegal designs.” Unexpectedly, she remembered something Maribel had said when the girl had complained that Rosa wouldn’t want her to stay. And someone else — “the drug guy.” She swallowed, aware of the danger confronting her, but unable to bite back the sudden revelation. “It wasn’t just Danny, was it? It wasn’t about him at all. Maribel was right when she said ‘the drug guy’ wouldn’t want her to stay. Rosa told me you encouraged her to get Maribel sent away, Jovi. But it didn’t click at first. Maybe because I didn’t want it to! You’re ‘the drug guy’ — not some trafficker I thought must have been calling Danny!”
The expression in Jovi’s face didn’t change. The grimness didn’t ease. But his mouth twisted. “That’s right, Dell. I am the ‘drug guy.’” He raked a hand through his rain-darkened hair. “DEA. And I was here to find out if this ranch was still being used to funnel drugs north.” He was silent for a moment, then shook his head. “When I said I’d come, I pretty much figured it was. Didn’t mind a bit, trying to close the gate.” He stopped again, then continued flatly. “But then I met you. And I almost — almost — let you make a fool of me. Because I wanted to, I guess.”
Dell stared at him blankly, struggling to sift through the information he’d just provided. She, too, shook her head. “DEA? I don’t believe you still work for them. I don’t believe you’re still a cop. Do you have a badge? Proof?”
“I’m not an agent, Dell. And if I were, I wouldn’t be carrying a badge around with me out here on a flooded riverbank. Not where I might run into people who wouldn’t much respect a badge.” He regarded her steadily, and the accusations were still there in the dark depths of his eyes.
“If you’re not an agent — ”
“I’m a paid informant. Sort of,” he explained. “You knew I used to work for the DEA — it was on my resume. And I told you.” He shrugged minutely. “They called me in because I was from the area, and they knew I’d help them out.”
“No.” Dell said the word slowly, definitely. “No. I don’t buy that. Because there’s one little item that contradicts that. I found your picture in my grandfather’s desk, Jovi. I don’t know why, but he must have paid you. To watch me — check up on me — I don’t know.” She paused again, noticing that a new look — of caution, or of masked surprise — flitted across Jovi’s face.
“So if you link my picture in your grandfather’s desk with me, and with drugs — you’re aware the De Cordovas have moved into — at least — money laundering?” he asked sharply.
“No. I don’t know anything about the De Cordovas,” Dell retorted furiously. “But it stands to reason — ”
“Give me a break,” Jovi muttered grimly. “It stands to reason that a woman as intelligent as you are would know the money in Sam Rosales’ account isn’t legit.” He held up a hand, forestalling her protests. “I know you were much younger, and some of the money was deposited after you left for college. I did a lot of checking into your father’s financial records and into your whereabouts and activities at the time. But even so … ” He shook his head with finality. “A quarter of a million dollars, almost. Before the insurance settlement you received after his death. Where the hell did you think your father got that money?” Sarcasm crept back into his voice. “Selling quarter horses in south Texas?”
Sudden, heavy drops of rain splattered them.
“My father was not a drug dealer,” Dell whispered, hardly aware the small, separate drops were becoming an insistent shower.
“No.” Jovi sighed heavily, glanced up at the sky, then quickly at the river before turning his attention back to her. “I don’t think he was. I think he allowed the De Cordovas — whatever part of them may be involved — to pay for his silence. And to use this cabin and this ranch as a staging area. Danny was an emissary. Pete was too busy with the horses and too unaware of the threat to know. I’m convinced it was only Danny. And I think he was placed here on purpose.”
Dell wiped rain, mingling with a few escaped tears, from her face. “This is all insane. I don’t know who you are. Why you’re here.” She turned away from him, tugging on Sugar’s reins, gathering them and swinging up into the saddle. “I don’t know why your picture was in my grandfather’s desk,” she said again.
“If it’s what I suspect, he knows I used to work for DEA,” Jovi said matter-of-factly. “I hope his sources have also told him I don’t any longer, but that’s something I can’t worry about right now.” He shrugged. “Maybe he was just checking to see if you were involved with someone. Let’s hope so.” He reached out, catching Sugar’s bridle before Dell could escape.
“Dell, I don’t want to believe any of the things I think I see here.” His tone was soft, urgent. “Tell me why you came here today. In the rain. The flood.”
“I had to.” Dell looked down at him, his face blurring in the rain. Through her tears. “I love this place, but it’s not going to make it through this one.” She glanced over her shoulder, squinting as the rain blinded her momentarily, unable really to see the river, but knowing it was there, then turned back to Jovi. “I had to say goodbye,” she said, her tone as soft as his.
“All right.” He took a step closer to the mare, laying a hand on her shoulder to quiet her; the driving rain was making her nervous. “Tell me just one more thing.” He paused, sorting out what he wanted to ask. What he needed to know. “We had a man down in Monterrey. Brock Hampton.”
“Brock Hampton?” Dell’s echo was shocked. “Hal McDade’s friend — the one trying to fund the water park?”
“That was his cover,” Jovi said dismissively. “That doesn’t matter. What I need to know is — why did you meet with your grandfather? What did you talk about? I thought you two weren’t even on speaking terms.”
Dell looked at him blankly. “We didn’t talk — unless you could call a five minute conversation with my mother and him a meeting.”
“But you weren’t in the ballroom for nearly an hour, Hampton said. Neither was he. He left right after you did. Hampton knows you went into your grandfather’s office — someone saw you. She didn’t see him, true, but — ”
“I spent an hour in my grandfather’s office trying to get away from the pain of being in that house again. I neither know nor care where Lionel De Cordova was.” She pulled the reins slightly, and Jovi’s hand slipped off as the mare tossed her head and took a tentative step backwards. “I’m going back to the ranch. This flood’s going to be devastating. I’m going to call the Wilsons and some of the other ranch families in the area and let them know they can stay at the house if they need to. Their property’s lower than mine.”
“I’ll ride back with you,” Jovi agreed, holding up a hand when she started to speak. “We’ll finish this later,” he said. “I know it’s not done. But you’re right about the river — let’s do what we can to help now. Our problems will have to wait.”
What he said made sense. Still, Dell frowned at him. “Sugar doesn’t ride double.”
For the briefest of seconds, his mouth relaxed in a slight smile. “Too bad,” he said, then shrugged and turned toward a thicket of bushes. “Luckily, I brought my own transportation.”
Realizing she could hardly boot her horse into a gallop and outrun him in this drenching downpour, Dell nudged the mare after him and waited while he swung up onto the bare, wet back of his own horse. Together they headed back toward the stable, their horses slogging together through the water and mud, the Appaloosa stumbling as they crossed one of the new arroyos snaking across the path.
Without thinking, Dell reached out, grasping Jovi’s wet arm, holding horse and rider up through sheer will.
“This is going to be bad,” she breathed, shrinking a little from the intensifying rain. He looked across at her, nodded, and grasped her hand, giving it a quick, hard squeeze.
“Que dios nos bendiga,” he said, the prayer almost washed away by the storm.
Dell heard, though, and sucked in a deep breath. “God bless us,” she echoed into the never-ending wetness.
• • •
Thank God for generators. Dell tucked a pillow under Mrs. Simmons’ head and smiled reassuringly at the elderly widow. “Don’t worry, Doña Alicia,” she soothed, using the Spanish term of respect for the woman. “You’re not any trouble at all. The river should crest tomorrow by noon, they said. And the rain is supposed to stop. Everything will be fine.”
The eighty-year-old woman nodded her frail, white head and reached up to touch Dell’s face with a trembling hand. “You’re a good girl,” she said. “And that young man who carried me out … ” She glanced across the room. Jovi was asleep on the sofa, Becky curled in his arms, with one of the Vasquez children, a book clasped in chubby arms, leaning against him, also soundly asleep. “What’s his name again, niña?”
“Jovi,” she answered, her heart twisting painfully at the sight of Jovi surrounded by children. For almost sixteen hours, she, Rosa, and Jovi had worked non-stop, calling neighbors in and providing for them. The girls, too, had helped with entertaining frightened children, serving food, and clearing and straightening up after the twenty-odd people who sought shelter here. Jovi made a harrowing drive over to the neighboring Simmons’ ranch, carrying the woman out through water reaching in places to his knees — and the water was still building in the river. The elderly couple who cared for her came as well, along with the two men who took care of the Simmons cattle. Jovi had tried to drive the cattle to the highest end of the property but, drenched and on foot, had not been very hopeful about their welfare. His concern for the neighbors touched Dell, much the way seeing him with Becky and the neighbors’ children did. But the accusations and suspicions hovered unspoken between them when their eyes met in unguarded moments.
“That poor man must be just exhausted,” Alicia Simmons clucked sympathetically. “He sure has been a godsend to us, girl. You got a good man to help you out.”
Dell nodded noncommittally, excused herself, and stepped away. She wouldn’t listen to anyone sing the praises of Jovani Treviño. Not too long ago, she had been whispering them to herself. Well, she wouldn’t think about that now. She was untouchable. Unattainable. Inalcanzable. Surely she could keep herself from feeling the pain of Jovi’s betrayal all over again. Briskly, she headed back to the kitchen.
Rosa was humming a song softly, her fingers patting a small ball of masa into a tortilla.
“Good heavens, Rosa!�
� Dell exclaimed. “Are you still working? We’ve got close to thirty people here, for heaven’s sake — you can’t make flour tortillas for all of them.”
“Si puedo.” She put the smooth white circle down, reached for the rolling pin, and began rolling it out. When she glanced up at Dell, tears glinted in her eyes. “Some of these people might have lost their homes, or at least the belongings in them,” she reminded Dell. “Making tortillas is the least I can do for them. Besides, the girls helped me until they were just ready to drop.”
Dell nodded and reached for one of the masa balls. Rosa was right. “I’ll pat, you roll,” she said simply.
The tortillas were spread out to cool when Jovi appeared abruptly in the kitchen door, his face only slightly less fatigued after his brief nap.
“I carried Becky up to her room,” he said, stretching wearily. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. She didn’t wake up?”
“Not for a second. I told Amy and Michelle to keep an eye open in case she did, though. They looked pretty tired, too, though.” He wandered into the kitchen, looking out of place.
“Can I help do anything else?”
“No. I think we’re finished.” Dell wiped her hands on a towel and hung it up, glancing around the kitchen. “I’m glad they’ve re-opened I35 into Laredo. We may have to make a grocery run.”
“No good yet. Most of the stores will have bare shelves,” he noted, glancing at the tortillas.
Wordlessly, Rosa picked one up and handed it to him. “Didn’t see you eat.”
He took a bite of tortilla and waved off her worry. “I’m fine. Call me if you need me. I’m going down to check on the horses and make sure Pete has everything under control. The water was still managing to seep in under the door at the far end of the barn.” Nodding, he headed for the back door, pulling his still-wet jacket from its hook.
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