When it was over, her mama, Aunt Bertha, Rosita, and Melatha huddled protectively around Mrs. Rawson and Greta, helping them into the wagon and signaling Little Pete to drive them to the house.
Cuddy hung back. Though his expression sagged with grief as he watched his mother and sister go, he didn’t seem eager to leave the gravesite. When the wagon disappeared over the rise, he leaned his back against the oak tree and slid to the ground, staring toward the water.
Shifting her attention to Diego, Emmy squeezed his hand. “Are you all right?”
He pulled her into his arms. “I will be.”
He held her for a moment then pushed her to arm’s length. As if he’d read her mind, he nodded toward Cuddy. “Why don’t you go talk to him?”
She nodded and kissed his cheek.
Cuddy glanced up as she approached but remained silent.
She dipped to the ground beside him and took his hand. “This is such a nice spot.”
He nodded. “The Twisted-R was a part of my father. It’s comforting to know he’ll remain a part of this ranch forever.” He glanced toward Diego and laughed. “Diego’s the only person I’ve ever seen that loved South Texas better than my father. Diego calls this place God’s country.”
She smiled. “You don’t agree with him, do you?”
He shrugged. “I just always wondered why God’s country would have thorns and stickers on everything you touched. But I’ve been thinking about something my father told me.”
Emmy tilted her head. “What’s that?”
Cuddy’s gaze swung to the scatter of new-growth mesquite and the steadily invading cactus. “He said with most of the grassland going to scrub, the trees and bushes grow thorns for protection. Otherwise, the cattle and deer would strip this part of the country down to nothing.”
He sighed. “Thinking about it now, it reminds me of myself, considering I’ve always been a fairly sticky problem for my parents. I’m not making excuses, but I guess I act prickly for protection.” He raised his brow. “Still, I’m not especially proud of the things I’ve done.”
Emmy said a quick prayer for guidance. “But your father loved you anyway, didn’t he? Prickly or not?”
Cuddy stared down at his hands. “Yes, he did.”
“He not only asked you to forgive him, he forgave you, didn’t he?”
Cuddy nodded. “From the moment I knelt beside him, he acted as though I’d never disappointed him.”
She lifted his chin with her finger. “God’s the same way, Cuddy.” Understanding dawned in his eyes. He grasped her wrist with the passion of a drowning man. “I want my face to glow like yours does when you talk about God. I want to be able to whisper a prayer in a storm and know He heard.” His voice broke. “I want to see my father again.”
Her heart swelling with gratitude toward God, Emmy gazed into Cuddy’s earnest blue eyes. “It’s yours for the taking, Cuddy. All you have to do is kneel by His side.”
CHAPTER 41
Emmy opened the wide doors to the veranda and stared toward the fields, hoping to catch sight of Diego. Her heart skipped as he rode past the bunkhouse to the barn. Taking no time to go around, she rolled across the bed between her and the door and dashed for the stairs.
Grinning at the familiar scene of her papa sitting behind a newspaper, Emmy waved as she passed him. He lowered the paper and blew her a kiss.
Three months had passed while Papa recovered from his head injury. He grew stronger every day, and the only memory loss he suffered was of the accident itself, which was a blessing.
Emmy sat with him often while he needed her, reading a book or the headlines of The Javelin, but lately he’d been able to read them for himself. He seemed a different person toward her from the time his mind had cleared, and they laughed and talked with ease.
When Emmy wasn’t with Papa, she spent her days riding fences with Diego, picking beans with Melatha, and learning to cook tortillas with Rosita.
The feisty cook had opened up her kitchen and her arms to Emmy. Her disapproving glances and disparaging remarks in Spanish had stopped without explanation. Diego felt his mother had a hand in Rosita’s change of heart, and Emmy agreed.
Kate Rawson took Greta and left the Twisted-R two weeks after she buried her husband by the river. She apologized profusely for leaving her company behind, but Mama assured her she understood.
Eager to meet her grandson, Aunt Bert rode to Uvalde with the Rawsons to catch the train to Humble. She promised to return in time for the wedding, bringing Charity and the baby, Buddy, and Nash along with her. Before she left, she contacted her friend Darius in Eagle Pass. He came to see her off, promising to see her again very soon.
Cuddy postponed his trip to California the minute he got wind of the upcoming wedding. He said they’d have to start putting San Francisco back together without him, since Diego would need a best man.
Sailing out the back door, Emmy ran as fast as a lady should to the barn. Rounding the corner, she plowed into Diego coming from the other direction.
“Whoa!” he yelled, grabbing her around the waist and twirling her. Laughing, she clung to him a little tighter than necessary to maintain her balance. Eyes twinkling, he tilted her chin. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
“To fetch you for lunch.” She narrowed her eyes and affected a haughty stance. “Mole poblano. I made it myself.”
He took her face in his hands and kissed her. “Aren’t you becoming the perfect little rancher’s wife?”
She touched the hollow in his chin. “Not yet. Making me a rancher’s wife is your job.”
He furrowed his brow in mock disapproval. “Brazen, aren’t you?”
“I usually get what I set my cap for.”
A fire in his eyes, he tugged her close. “So do I, Miss Dane. Next week won’t come soon enough to suit me.” He kissed the end of her nose. “Is Mama Dane still mad at me?”
Her mama had balked in the beginning when she learned Emmy planned to marry Diego and stay on the ranch when they left. She’d tried to convince them to wait a more respectable six months out of respect for Mr. Rawson.
Cuddy, unable to delay his plans that long, had intervened.
Emmy’s lips pulled into a frown. “Mama would rather we waited. We’re spoiling her plans for the wedding she’s always dreamed for me.” She caressed his cheek. “But I suspect your charm has won her over. She’s actually getting excited about the party your mama and Rosita have planned.”
“Pachanga,” he corrected. “If you’re going to live among the people of South Texas, you must learn to speak our language.”
Emmy wrinkled her nose. “Sí, señor. A muy big wedding pachanga with our friends and family in attendance.” She patted his shoulders. “Oh, Diego, I can hardly wait to see Charity and Nash.” She gasped. “And little Thad! I’ll finally see Charity’s baby.”
He tilted her chin. “And your father won’t mind you being so eager to see Nash?”
Smiling softly, Emmy shook her head. “The old grumpy Papa might have. My kind and gentle Papa won’t mind a bit. He accepts my love for Nash because he knows I love him, too.” She stared dreamily over Diego’s shoulder. “Speaking of little Thad ... we’ll have children of our own someday, won’t we?”
Diego kissed her forehead. “As many as you wish.”
She met his eyes. “Very well. I wish for six. All feisty little girls like the Campbells.”
He shrank back. “All girls? I don’t get one little vaquero to help me with chores?”
“A boy?” She scrunched up her face. “Well, maybe one.”
He tapped her nose. “I’m not worried. After you hold Charity’s son, you’ll ask for six of each.”
She feigned shock. “Six boys? Heaven forbid!”
Laughing, he took her hand and pulled her along with him. “Come, I want to tell you something.” He reentered the barn and led her to Faron’s stable.
The horse came toward them and tucked his head over the stall
to nuzzle Diego’s hand.
Diego gave Emmy a guarded look. “I’ve decided to turn him loose.”
Emmy’s jaw dropped and her gaze swung to the horse. “Turn him loose? I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”
He ran his hands down the sleek black neck. “I can’t believe I’m saying it. But, I tried putting him in a fence again. He was gone by morning.” He turned thoughtful eyes to her. “I won’t keep him penned in this stall.”
“Won’t someone else get him?”
He laughed. “Even if they caught him, he’d escape again. Besides, he’s smart. If he hadn’t trusted me, he’d never have allowed me to catch him in the first place.” He scratched Faron’s nose. “You agree completely, don’t you, amigo?” Pulling a wilted carrot from his pocket, he offered it to the snuffling horse then unlatched the stall door.
Emmy’s eyes widened. “Now?”
Diego gave her a look of resignation. “Can you think of a reason to wait?”
She followed in amazement as Diego led Faron outside the barn and took off his lead.
The horse seemed reluctant at first, bumping Diego with his nose and nuzzling his pocket.
“No more carrots, my friend. Or saddles. You’ll have to learn to live without them both.”
As if Faron understood, he bobbed his head and whirled away, trotting down the drive with his tail lifted proudly before bolting into a run outside the gate.
Emmy reached for Diego’s hand. “Do you think he’ll ever come back?”
“If he does, it will be because he wants to, but don’t expect it. There’s plenty of space for him out there, and space is what he needs.”
Emmy smiled up at him. “Like Cuddy.”
Diego circled her waist with his arm. “Just like Cuddy. He spent his whole life trying to break free. His father turned him loose and he can’t wait to run.”
She wiggled her finger. “Mr. Rawson freed Cuddy’s mind and heart. It took God to free his spirit. Cuddy won’t need to run. He can fly.”
Diego pulled the clip from her hair and buried his fingers in her curls. “I’m soaring pretty high myself these days.”
She puckered her lips in thought. “Oh, really? Does this mean I need to give you plenty of space, too?”
Diego hooked his thumb toward his chest. “Me?” He grinned. “I won’t kick against my stall, mi querida. I’ve spent my life finding out where I belong.”
She raised questioning brows. “And have you?”
He nodded solemnly, the depths of his heart shining from his eyes. “You know our twelve children will be part Indian, don’t you?”
She laughed heartily. “And part Spanish, Irish, German, Italian, Swedish ... and goodness knows what else.”
He lowered his gaze and busied his fingers with her collar. “Would you mind very much if we raised them to embrace the Choctaw way?” He glanced up shyly. “The way of faith and peace?”
Emmy took his face in her hands. “The way of faith and peace is found in every culture that honors God, Diego, but I’d be honored to have your mother help me raise our children. After all”—she kissed his chin—“look how well their father turned out.”
Marcia Gruver
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Marcia is a full-time writer who hails from Southeast Texas. Inordinately enamored by the past, she delights in writing historical fiction. Marcia’s deep south-central roots lend a southern-comfortable style and touch of humor to her writing. Through her books, she hopes to leave behind a legacy of hope and faith to the coming generations.
When she’s not plotting stories about God’s grace, Marcia spends her time reading, playing video games, or taking long drives through the Texas hill country. She and her husband, Lee, have one daughter and four sons. Collectively, this motley crew has graced them with eleven grandchildren and one great-granddaughter—so far.
BACK COVER MATERIAL
A STRONG-WILLED CITY GIRL MEETS HER MATCH IN A STUBBORN VAQUERO
Emmy Dane’s recent decision to trust God with her life has yet to rub off on her stubborn spirit. When her family decides to travel to South Texas to research ranching and demand that Emmy join them, she vows to hate every minute of it.
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In Carrizo Springs, Texas, cowboy and ranch foreman Diego Marcelo’s Choctaw mama tells him about her dream that God will soon deliver Diego from his loneliness. Diego assures her he has no need of deliverance and likes things the way they are ... but grows jealous over the seeming attraction between Emmy and his boss’s son. So why is his mother adamant that Emmy is not the one from her dreams?
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When Emmy’s family and Diego’s boss are overdue returning from a cattle drive, Emmy insists on accompanying Diego’s search party. Diego refuses, but finds Emmy’s stubbornness a match for his own.
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Faced with a stampede and a wildfire, will Emmy and Diego be able to surrender their wills and recognize true love before it’s too late?
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Marcia Gruver, author and creative writing teacher, lives near Houston, Texas, and has published various articles, poems, and devotionals.
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