She moistened her lips as the old pain came back, and forced herself to remember the little cartoon. The caption read, “Millions of men and I only want hers!” Damn! Four years and she hadn’t noticed anyone, been interested in anyone—wanted anyone—until Aaron Estes turned his pained green gaze on her.
Abruptly, she stood up. No point lingering here. Any desire she’d had to avoid the loneliness of her drab little kitchen was gone.
“Something wrong with the food, hon?” Pam bustled up, her face concerned. “Noticed you didn’t eat a bite—and I didn’t even bring out the real stuff yet!”
“Nah. Just remembered I didn’t lock the pasture gate. Don’t need any livestock getting out on the road.”
“That’s for sure! Let me go put it all in a box for you.”
She would have refused, but there were all those mouths to feed. Sure, you weren’t supposed to feed animals restaurant food, but if you’d paid for it anyway… Besides, keeping food on hand was a struggle. And what kitten, guinea hen, or donkey wouldn’t like a bit of potato?
While she waited, Aaron stood up, helped Esmeralda to her feet, and they strolled toward the register.
“Hey, there.” Aaron greeted her first, his smile the same, warm smile he greeted her with anytime they met. Esmeralda’s thin lips pulled up at the ends and she linked an arm through her man’s.
I don’t give a darn, Luz thought. She wished she had the nerve to tell the redhead she could just have him. She wasn’t in the market, and wouldn’t compete for a man anyway. She’d learned that lesson well, and you’re only stupid if you don’t learn the first time around…
“Hi, Luz. How’s it going?”
“Good, Aaron.” She took the bag Pam brought back just then, and managed a smile that included all three. “Thanks, Pam. Nice to see you, Esmeralda.”
“You, too,” the redhead responded coldly, nudging Aaron towards the counter. “Pay and let’s go.”
“You gonna eat all that, Luz?” Pam asked. “Or are all those spoiled critters gettin’ a treat?”
Aaron turned around, pocketing his receipt. “Horses eat leftovers?” he asked curiously.
Pam shot Luz a puzzled glance, but didn’t say anything else when Luz frowned at her.
“Of course not.” She hoisted the large bag, aware that Pam knew much more about the menagerie than Aaron had figured out. “Midnight snack.”
“Better be careful,” Esmeralda warned. “Those are the worst kind.” Again, she stepped back into Aaron. “If you’re talking about food, anyway.”
They turned to go, but suddenly Aaron stopped. “Oh, I know! Esme told me you were waiting for your—boyfriend?”
“Aaron!” Esmeralda hissed.
“But—”
“Let’s go! Can’t you see Luz doesn’t want to talk?”
Aaron’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Luz couldn’t think of anything to say to him, either, so she watched as the other woman led him out into the night.
“Idiot!” she muttered, as she handed a card to the cashier to pay for her food. So Esmeralda had told him there was a man in her life? Well, hell. At least she’d been lucky enough not to fall for a man as gullible as Aaron Estes. As easily dominated. As…she bit back the word hot, and drew a deep breath.
At least she’d been lucky enough not to fall hard for a man like Aaron Estes.
• • •
Tears ran down Luz’s face as she bent over the pit bull’s battered body. Cautiously she reached a gloved hand toward it. The dog lifted her head slightly. Her eyes pleaded for help and shrieked hurt. Gently, Luz patted the broad head.
She wasn’t a pit bull person. Here in Rose Creek they weren’t as popular as in urban areas, like San Antonio to the north or Laredo to the south. But the mangled animal didn’t deserve to die on the side of the road. She pushed the vet’s button on her phone.
“Hey, girl.” Dr. Ann Cottwell’s voice came on immediately, crisp and reassuring. “Let me guess—Candy got herself caught in a neighbor’s barbed wire, or a pony got a foot through your floor again?”
Luz frowned. "You know why I took Denim into the house. Mom was so depressed and nothing made her feel better. It wasn’t my brightest moment, but it seemed harmless at the time. And it worked! Mom hadn’t laughed so much in weeks.”
“Your mom was such a good woman,” Ann said, sincerely. Then she turned brisk again. “But it cost you a new floor and could have cost you a pony.”
“Don’t lecture me, Ann. Listen, I need help. There’s a dog…”
“Car?”
“No. Mauled by—I’m guessing—another pit bull.”
There was silence on the line for a minute. “You probably should stay away from it until I get there, Luz. Pit bulls…”
“Not this one, Ann.” Luz knew the vet didn’t like the breed. She’d dealt with too many animals that had been savaged by pit bulls. But she wouldn’t refuse to help an animal, either.
“I’ll be there as fast as I can, then. But be careful.”
Luz hung up and reached down to pet the dog’s head again. “Hang in there,” she encouraged, not at all sure the poor thing had a chance in the world, but hoping it did.
• • •
Three hours later, Luz emerged from her shower still feeling dirty. She’d helped the vet by holding the dog and moving around torn patches of skin to facilitate Ann’s work. The dog whimpered, but scarcely moved. Ann had sedated the animal as a precaution, but even she had been impressed at how gentle the badly injured dog seemed. She had gone back to her clinic with the pit bull, promising to try to save her.
“But then you have to take her back or find her a home. I treat ’em, but I won’t have ’em at the clinic. I won’t risk other animals around them.” She’d given Luz a hard look. “Neither should you.”
Tires on the gravel outside Luz’s house alerted her to a visitor, and she glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised. It was just after three; Aaron had said he’d bring Chloe after she finished her homework—around five, he’d predicted.
She walked out to the door, tiny little darts of excitement spearing her here and there. It was annoying, really: clearly the man belonged to Esmeralda. But she could be glad to see his daughter, couldn’t she? Smiling, she pulled open the door and felt all her gladness fade into a frown.
The counselor was sliding out of her bright red sports car. Polished boots, perfectly fitted jeans, and a sweater with a front zipper that appeared more ornamental than functional.
She wanted to go back in and close the door. Esmeralda knew the way to the barn. But with another mouth to feed and more vet bills, Luz needed the board money more than ever.
She forced the smile back and walked out to greet her.
“Hi, Esme.” She glanced again at the elegant riding gear. “I’m surprised to see you on a weekday. Easy day at school?”
“Just haven’t ridden in a while,” the other woman answered, heading toward the barn. “Anyway, I took the day off, so I have time.”
“Good. Domatrix misses you.”
“It’s been a while. But I’m going to make up for lost time.”
They reached the barn, and both women smiled at Domatrix’s excited greeting. Luz wasn’t sure why the horse liked her owner, but there was no doubt she did.
Luz turned to go, but Esmeralda’s hand on her arm stopped her. She turned back in surprise.
“Yes?”
“Are you after Aaron, Luz?”
“That’s none of your damn business!” She jerked her arm away. “But no, I’m not.”
“He’s interviewing us, you know.”
“Interviewing us? That’s your professional opinion?” Luz snorted, and Esmeralda’s face contorted.
“He wants a mother for his kid. But he needs a wife—a woman, anyway.”
Luz shrugged, and turned to go, but Esmeralda continued. “I’ve never lost a man I wanted, Luz. You have. Just remember that.” She pulled open the bottom half of the stall door and
led her mare out, pointedly ending their discussion.
Shaking her head, Luz headed towards the other end of the barn to check on the critters before she locked them away.
The kitten with no name scooted up to her as she walked into the barn’s temporary shelter area. She didn’t exactly know why there were three stray cats, two guinea fowl, a kitten, and a burro here. Theoretically, they were only temporary occupants. The cats had stayed on after her mother’s passing. They’d lived their lives as barn cats, disdainful of human confinement, but willing to be fed rather than hunt mice. She didn’t mind, and occasionally even managed to pet one or the other if they were intent on their food. Someone had apparently tossed the kitten out along the road, assuming she’d take it in. The guinea fowl—she had no idea where they’d come from with their annoying noise. But you didn’t eat guinea fowl, right? At least, not guinea fowl that you knew personally. She smiled, remembering the turkey a farmer had given her mom and dad years ago, a thank you for some help through tough times. And intended as a Thanksgiving entrée, the unimaginatively named Tom had survived seven years, and died a natural death. The guinea fowl would do the same. And as for Candy…
The burro butted her, and she scratched his head. He’d been a victim of circumstances, a novelty for a local family whose children had grown and gone. He would escape from his pasture and wander the streets of Rose Creek. Locals knew him and returned him home, or let him get there himself. Then Candy chased a man down the street, probably intent on stealing the chocolate bar he’d been eating, and Candy’s owner decided to put him down.
There’d been an outcry, and someone had suggested that Candy go to “the old Wilkinson place.” Everyone had known that Luz’s mother wouldn’t turn away a critter, even in the last years of her life, and they all insisted Luz carry on the tradition.
Luz had protested, but Candy’s owner had shrugged. “You’re your momma’s daughter,” he’d told her. “Anyway, I got no choice. If I can’t find him a home, it’s a bullet in the head. Can’t pay if some fool tourist runs a car into him and sues!”
And so the menagerie had grown. And now, apparently, there’d be a pit bull underfoot, too. Pretty soon they wouldn’t fit in their end of the barn, secluded from those occasional guests who dropped by to ride horses.
Luz rotated her head and stretched her arms, feeling the stress again. She had savings. She could go back to teaching if she had to. She could spend her parents’ scant insurance money on maintaining the number of animals she had, if she chose to—her parents would approve. She kept the animals semi-contained for safety reasons, mostly. She didn’t actively seek new refugees due to her limited space and limited funds. But sometimes, deep down, she wondered if she kept them stashed from her doubts over what kind of a future they represented. Had she given up on herself altogether? She’d been ambitious once. She could remember that. What she couldn’t remember anymore was why.
Sighing, Luz pushed the donkey away, picked up the kitten with no name, and stroked it gently. No sense letting it get as wild as its mentors. Not if she wanted to find it a home. But who here in this sparse, mostly agricultural area wanted a kitten? She might as well name it and accept that she had another critter to call her own.
Gently she set it down and headed out to saddle Rumbles and muck stalls. She smiled. Aaron and Chloe no longer made faces if they were treated to the unmistakable smell of manure. One day—soon, maybe—Aaron would grab a shovel and help out. The thought made her laugh out loud. For the first time since she’d found the pit bull lying along her fence line, she felt good.
• • •
Chloe was down to a helmet. Luz stood in the middle of the ring, watching as the little girl trotted Rumbles around. The girl’s face glowed, and she never stopped smiling. Aaron leaned on the outside of the fence, and he, too, smiled.
In the middle of all those smiles, though, Luz’s own smile suddenly slipped and fell away. “He’s interviewing us,” Esmeralda had said. Anyone looking at the three of them would see a family—a father and mother watching their daughter ride: their cherished little girl, their princess.
Unexpected tears stung, blurring her vision. The memory of Lily’s face, so white and unresponsive, swam before her. Her legs buckled, and she almost fell.
“Luz!” Aaron clambered over the fence and rushed out, his hands reaching out to grasp her arms and steady her. “What happened?”
She pulled one arm loose and drew it across her face, hurriedly brushing away any evidence of tears, of weakness.
“Nothing. I—I just got dizzy. Probably I should have eaten lunch.” She looked into worried eyes, and saw concern that surprised her. And warmed her.
“I’m fine,” she assured him, seeing that Chloe had ridden up to them and was watching with interest, her little face intent.
“Finished?” Luz asked, reluctantly freeing her other arm.
“No!” Chloe shook her head. “Just came to see what you all were doing.” She was quiet for a minute, then said, “I thought you were going to kiss.”
Aaron looked stricken. “Well, we weren’t. Now, young lady, I think it’s time you put your pony away. School tomorrow.”
“No!” She turned Rumbles and kicked her. The pony lurched forward, and broke into a gallop. For a precarious moment, Chloe tilted sideways and her tiny foot slipped out of the stirrup. Somehow she righted herself and let out an exuberant whoop.
“Go, girl, go!” she urged, and the little pony raced obligingly around the ring while Aaron’s face turned gray and Luz held her breath.
“Can’t you stop her?” he hissed after a moment, and she let her own breath out as she nodded.
“Yeah. And I will in a minute. But look at her, Aaron.” Please, don’t let her fall. “She’s having so much fun. And she doesn’t seem to be having any trouble staying on…”
“She’s way too young for this,” he muttered, thrusting his hands in his pockets.
Luz slanted a look at him. The apprehension tightening his face was real. He’d said Chloe was all he had after his wife’s death, and Luz had lost a child herself. Not to death, but…
Reluctantly she stepped forward.
“Chloe, that’s enough. Rumbles hasn’t worked this hard in a while. Remember how you stopped her before?”
Chloe pretended not to hear. She cast a brief glance their way then whooped again. “Go, girl! They’re coming for us!”
“Chloe! Pull back on the reins and say ‘whoa.’ Right now!”
For seconds it seemed she’d have to chase them down, or call Rumbles in. But finally Chloe straightened a little, eased the reins back the way she’d been told, and brought the pony to a walk.
“Now turn her in to the middle and ride over here.”
Scowling, she did as she was told, choosing to park Rumbles by Luz rather than her dad, whose anxiety was easing but whose mouth turned down in a frown at Chloe’s daredevil attitude.
Luz laid a hand on the pony’s neck.
“She’s awfully hot, Chloe. She’s not used to being run so much, and it’s almost ninety this afternoon.”
Chloe’s face fell, and she leaned forward to put her own hand on the damp neck. “She’s hurt?”
“Nah. Just tired.” She kept waiting for Aaron to say something, but he remained silent, just frowning at both of them. “Go ahead and get off, the way we practiced.”
Chloe dismounted gracefully, giggling as Rumbles turned around to nudge her.
“Silly,” she scolded, putting both arms around the pony’s neck and hugging her.
“Chloe, tomorrow’s a school day,” her dad reminded her. “Do whatever you need to so we can go.”
If Chloe heard the curtness in her father’s voice, she paid no attention. She just took the reins and started walking the pony around the ring to cool her down.
“Looks like you need a hug more than that pony did,” Luz muttered, moving close enough that Chloe wouldn’t hear her. “You couldn’t expect her to walk around in
circles for the rest of her childhood, Aaron!”
He turned to stare at her, his eyes cold. “How dare you tell me what I can expect for Chloe, dammit!” He spat the words out, in spite of keeping his voice down, too. “You have no idea what I expect for her! You know what I didn’t expect? I didn’t expect her to see her mother shot dea—”
All the color left his face as he heard what he’d said.
Shot? Luz gaped at him, shocked. Disbelieving, even.
“Walk your own damn pony!” He stormed across the ring, caught Chloe’s hand, and urged her toward the gate.
Chloe turned her own green eyes on Luz, seemingly pleading for help, but there was nothing Luz could do but watch them leave.
Chapter Four
The wind was picking up, the way it did during the spring. Texas weather could change four times in a day, which some said was to make up for the lack of normal seasonal change. Rose Creek sat below Austin and San Antonio, not quite far enough down the I-35 corridor to be as arid as the border area, but not really representative of central Texas either. That meant weather more fickle than any other part of Texas, with a cold front likely to blow in by morning, giving way almost immediately to weather that would turn progressively warmer. Occasionally, midnight would set the day’s record high.
Luz smiled as she shoved a plate in the microwave. Atlanta hadn’t had weather as unpredictable as the weather here, and sometimes she missed its bustle and lights. But that didn’t happen very often because here, at least, there was peace.
The timer buzzed, and she pulled out the clumped broccoli and cheese. A far cry from the meals she’d once fixed, when she’d cooked for a man and his daughter. Oh, Lily. Pain pierced her. So close to being her daughter. And then…
She shoved her hair back, chasing the memory away. She couldn’t go back to that time. It hurt too much.
She cut the packet open and dumped the clotty mess on a plate. She supposed she could feed it to the critters if she didn’t finish it. The memory of Candy wrinkling his lips when he bit into mashed potatoes from the diner made her smile. Even the cats had tried the food, but turned up their noses and waited for chow. She’d finish the broccoli rather than share it with any of that unappreciative crowd.
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