Renegade Moon (CupidKey)

by Rigley, Karen E.

  Destiny awakened to discover Eric and Domingo had rescued her Mustang. “We’ll have to get you a tire,” Eric said, again sitting beside her on the bed. “You can’t run around on that ‘spare quality’ donut.”

  “True, but where can I get one?” She knew without asking that the other tire was ruined. A slash in the sidewall? Goodbye, tire.

  “I’ll get you one. Don’t worry about it.”

  She glanced at the ticking bedside clock. “Oh! I must go soon, Eric. I need to rent a motel room. The lease expired on my cabin.”

  “You don’t need to do any such thing. You can stay right here.”

  “But I . . .”

  “Listen to Eric George,” Estrella affirmed, taking up the cause from the doorway. “You were so very sick when he found you. Now you must rest and have good food and care for many days. Es verdád, Eric?”

  “Yes, that’s true, Estrella,” Eric agreed, then switched back to Destiny. “We’ll fix up the small bedroom down the hall and Estrella will watch over you until you’re strong again.” He’d managed to find her hand and now held it in his big one, running his thumb lightly over its back.

  It took too much strength to protest. The idea of getting dressed, checking into the motel, unloading and unpacking, let alone getting something to eat, totally overwhelmed her. She had never felt so drained in her life.

  “Eric, what happened to me?” she asked, enjoying the little thrills his hand was sending up her arm.

  “Heatstroke, heat exhaustion, something bad. You came close to getting way too hot. What were you doing out there?”

  “Taking pictures. I wanted some good shots.”

  “Of what?” he pressed, staring deep into her eyes.

  “Oh, of the countryside. Why ask these questions?” Her voice tapered off into a sigh and he was immediately solicitous.

  “Sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to upset you. Estrella’s getting your room ready.”

  “Thank you.” She sighed. “I can’t believe I’m so weak.”

  “You’d better believe it, young lady. You’re lucky I found you when I did. You might easily have died. I’m serious, Destiny. People have died out here in these desert mountains.”

  Thankfully Estrella announced that Destiny’s room was ready, so Eric picked Destiny up, towels and all, and carried her down the hall. She loved his U-shaped house, with the long main room running the length of the front, encompassing living-dining-kitchen. Two wings flanked the enclosed courtyard. Eric’s room, where Destiny had been, occupied an end of the east wing and had a sliding glass door into the courtyard. A doorway led into the hallway, and another into the bath, which had a second door opening into the hallway. Destiny’s room was on the other side of the bath, but had no connecting door. The floor was of the same Mexican tile as Eric’s room, with a woven throw rug beside the bed.

  The charming bed made Destiny smile. It was made of four-by-four oak posts, unfinished. Just rough lumber. A six-inch thick foam mattress rested on a plywood base.

  “Ohh, what an unusual bed.” Destiny sank into the comfort of the foam mattress.

  “I made it,” Eric said, showing shy pride. “I left it rough on purpose.”

  “And you did right. It’s perfect. You should make one for yourself.”

  “Well, I already have that king-size. Are you comfortable?”

  She could tell he both enjoyed and squirmed at the praise. “I’m fine. Thank you all so much.” Stirring, she realized she still wore only her underwear beneath the towels. “Could you please bring in some of my things from the car?”

  Before Eric could move, Domingo, who’d been hovering just outside the door, said something in Spanish and zipped away.

  Soon her belongings filled the room as if she’d stayed there since she arrived in Las Nubes. Presently, she felt strong enough to wish for a bath. Her attending physicians decided to grant that privilege, and she took her fluffy terry robe and adjourned to the bathroom.

  She loved it! A big, gleaming clawfoot bathtub sat inside a rock enclosure, affording a smoked-glass view of a rock garden planted with tall yuccas and exotic types of cactus and desert plants. A rock wall under the smoked glass ended in a shelf to hold bath items such as soap and shampoo. A shower extension arched up over the tub from the old-fashioned wooden-handle faucets. There was no curtain, but Destiny noted a slight slope to the floor and a drain beneath the tub to take care of splash over. The dully gleaming rock obviously had been waterproofed. Two small, frosted rollout windows flanked the smoked glass. They were closed and she left them that way, not feeling at all warm.

  Her foaming bath oil frothed the tub with bubbles. As she soaked in perfumed water, she gazed out at the shimmering desert, marveling that she was still alive. In the future, she wouldn’t act so foolishly. She’d listen to people who knew of the very real dangers lurking in this land of desolate beauty. Her gaze roamed over the window shelf, noting the brands and scents of things, pleased at seeing her bath oil next to Eric’s shampoo. She bet Eric was a shower person. She, too, enjoyed a brisk shower. But right at the moment she couldn’t stand up that long, and soaking in this huge tub felt heavenly.

  When the water cooled, she washed her hair in the shower spray, toweled dry, smoothed on more lotion and put on her robe. Wrapping her head in a towel, she headed for her room and blow dryer.

  Eric found her sitting on the edge of her bed, holding her hair dryer and giggling.

  “What’s the matter? Can’t find an extension cord long enough?”

  “I’m afraid not. Oh, well.” She shrugged, put the dryer away, and picked up her big-tooth comb.

  “I have a propane powered generator. Want me to start it up for you?”

  “Oh, no. That isn’t necessary.”

  “Then how about if I comb your hair.”

  Glancing up in surprise, she was sure she noticed a blush creeping over his dark features. “Okay.” Suddenly shy, she perched on the vanity stool before the dresser and handed over her wide-tooth comb, facing herself in the mirror. A strange warmth permeated her as he began combing her tangled curls with great gentleness. She watched his reflection—his seriousness, his concentration. She felt herself slipping into a hypnotic dream dimension and had to force herself to stay upright instead of swooning back into his arms.

  “Is that okay?” he asked presently, bringing her back to reality.

  Destiny patted her damp hair. “Lovely. I never would have guessed you’re such an accomplished beautician.”

  He grinned his crooked grin. “Shucks, ma’am. Twarn’t nothin’,” he drawled with an exaggerated twang. “You should get back into bed.”

  “You’re right,” she admitted. “I feel silly, being so—weak. There’s no other word for it.”

  “You’ll need lots of rest the next few days. So don’t fret. When you feel tired, rest. It’s that simple.”

  Still in her robe, she snuggled down on top of the cotton quilt and the next thing she knew, Estrella woke her for supper. She was surprised to feel so hungry, and easily ate enough to satisfy her hovering caretaker. She curled back up in her oak bed and fell asleep before the sun set.

  Feeling much better the next morning, she dressed in cutoffs and a T-shirt and lazed about, leafing through magazines in the living room. She found several copies of Western Skies, and it pleased her to think that soon her own byline would be in the magazine. Actually, more than once. She had already interested her editor in a second story about the area, and then several regional publications wanted photo-stories from her, also. She felt confident that Las Nubes would be happy with the publicity, considering their desire to build tourism. Plus, who knew what she’d uncover now? She really should tell Eric what she’d seen. Time to find him.

  Later, she told herself after learning Eric and Domingo had gone out
on horseback. Estrella hummed merrily in the kitchen. Destiny poked around a little and discovered the west wing of the house was a mirror image of the east wing. The smaller bedroom served as the Garcias’ room. The large one wasn’t completely finished or furnished.

  She walked around the enclosed courtyard, noting work in progress on stone walkways and cactus gardens. Chairs were placed beside the patio door that opened from the hallway in front of Estrella and Domingo’s bedroom, and Destiny guessed they sat outdoors in the evenings, enjoying breezes that played through the courtyard. The entire house was wisely built to take advantage of cross-ventilation, which, along with the foot-thick adobe walls, served to keep it quite cool in the blasting summer heat.

  Destiny thought of this heat as a pure white flame. It felt so unlike the scratchy, steam bath heat of Austin, with its higher humidity. Here, the heat could fool a person, as it did her. She hadn’t realized she was being so affected. That the desert could drain her body’s moisture right out without her knowing it. Eric was right, outsiders had no idea of the danger the sun and heat could inflict.

  After lunch, Estrella decided to go to the local store for a new supply of lemons for more honey-lemonade. She drove away in the truck and the men went back outside. Destiny retired to her room for a nap. She’d given up feeling guilty about being so lazy, taking Eric’s advice to rest when she felt tired.

  The breeze died and Destiny stretched, stirred, and sat up. The house was silent. She walked into the living room and padded barefoot down the cool stone floor to the kitchen. Just as she reached for a glass, she heard voices. Tiptoeing, she peeked out the kitchen window. Under the cottonwood tree stood Eric, talking to Glen King.

  Interesting. Destiny moved back from the window to make sure she wasn’t seen, and strained to listen.

  “ . . . didn’t realize that . . . just ties my guts in knots . . . risk of . . . Glen, any of it.”

  “I know, buddy, but . . . much longer . . . get the . . . and get out.”

  They were moving while they talked, shifting positions, and it made their voices fade in and out. Destiny attempted to hear better while staying concealed. They’d walked a little closer, making their words clearer.

  “What’s with the blue Mustang?” Glen King asked. “Where’s the pretty little owner?”

  “Inside taking a nap,” Eric told him. They both turned and stared at the house. Destiny jerked back to prevent them from seeing her.

  “She got way overheated yesterday,” Eric continued. “I brought her here.”

  “Was that wise?”

  “I don’t care about the wisdom of it.”

  “Hey, I just mean you’d better call her off, Eric. For her own good.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She was taking pictures of the operation yesterday. She probably has some pretty good shots of our loading and unloading merchandise.”

  Eric stood in silence a moment. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. The pilot spotted her when he took off. He mentioned it to Jard on the phone last night.”

  Eric raked his hands through his thick, black hair.

  “I’m telling you, Eric. Jard hasn’t been happy from the beginning that an outside journalist is here. And now he knows she’s not just an airhead, he’s really antsy. Get those pictures if you can. Has she developed any yet?”

  Eric shook his head. “That big heavy-duty camera of hers is digital, but I feel pretty sure she didn’t download them. Her computer is still in its case.”

  Glen King nodded. “Try to delete them or at least mess them up before she can do anything with them.”

  They walked away. Destiny whirled and ran swiftly and silently to her room. With expert fingers, she quickly turned on her camera, snicked her laptop case open, and downloaded the photos. She then saved them onto a thumb drive, and put her computer back into the case, setting it exactly into the same position as she’d found it. She turned the camera off and replaced it where it had been, intending to fool Eric into thinking only the camera contained the incriminating photos.

  Would he search her things if he found the photos intact in the camera? Where should she hide the thumb drive? Grabbing her makeup case, she murmured, “Where would a man be less likely to look?” Quickly she slipped the thumb drive into her box of tampons. Then she sat down on the bed and stared into her lap at her trembling hands.

  Did this mean that Eric was involved in whatever was going on out there? Her mind reviewed events: A very suspicious activity was taking place on Montoya land, and Eric knew about it. She didn’t want to think he could have anything to do with something not totally aboveboard, but she really didn’t know him at all. Recalling the snatch of comment he’d made about “ties my guts in knots,” she wondered if perhaps he felt guilty . . .

  Oh, no! She simply couldn’t stand it. She covered her face with her hands, grief-stricken at the idea of Eric participating in illegal activities. Then she straightened and gave herself a mental scolding for jumping to conclusions with no proof at all.

  Gnashing her teeth and moaning wouldn’t solve a thing. She knew something was going on, and being concealed for whatever reasons. Even though Eric knew about it, might be involved in it, she couldn’t let that stop her from getting the whole story. She had to know. She had to know not just for the story, but for herself.

  After supper, Destiny and Eric wandered out onto the porch. Shortly, Estrella and Domingo joined them, Estrella with some mending and Domingo with a piece of wood he proceeded to carve.

  “Excuse me a minute,” Eric said, and went inside the house.

  Destiny sat quietly on the steps with her back against an arch and scratched the dogs’ ears. In a few minutes Eric returned, sat down beside her, and smiled, turning her heart over. She felt positive he’d done something to the card in her camera. She’d know for sure when she checked it if he’d tampered with it, because she’d rigged a trip hair. She had also put trip hairs on her makeup and computer cases. Hating this cloak-and-dagger stuff, especially since it seemed like acting against Eric, she still had to do it.

  Within the next couple of days she must get out and see about sending those photos. And she wanted to call her editor. Certainly not from here on the landline. Nor would her cell phone pick up a signal. No, she needed to get to town. This could be the story that would make her career. But would it be worth it?

  The sun had not yet gone behind the mountains when Martin’s brown and tan Suburban topped the rise, pulling a long stock trailer the same color.

  “It’s MarTEEN!” cried Estrella.

  Destiny glanced up at Eric. A wave of conflicting emotions chased across his face. Then he flashed the old familiar grin and they all walked out to greet Martin as Eric called off the dogs.

  Martin stopped without getting out and rolled down the window. “Hey, little brother.” His eyes flashed to Destiny. “Well, hello there. I didn’t expect to find you here.”

  “Hello, Martin. I didn’t expect to be here.” She smiled.

  A German Shepherd rode in the back seat of the Suburban and had spotted Joby and Muddog, who had in turn spied the newcomer. They set up a chorus of barks and their respective owners shouted for silence.

  “You brought Baron?” Eric asked Martin.

  Martin jerked a thumb. “In the trailer. I brought Diablo, too. Rowdy, I said shut-up!” he yelled as a warning to the Shepherd in back who’d decided a few more barks were in order.

  “Drive around to the corral,” Eric said. “We’ll meet you back there.”

  They moved in a group in the dusty wake of the trailer, flanked by Joby and Muddog, still sporting ridges of fur on their backs.

  Martin got out, opened the back door, and the Shepherd shot out to growl and snarl with the other two dogs.

  “They go t
hrough this every time they get together,” Martin said. “Sort of like Eric and me.” He grinned at his brother and received an arched eyebrow in reply.

  “Where’s the beef?” Eric asked.

  Martin had an arm around Estrella’s shoulders. “Step this way.” He gave her a big smack on the cheek and released her. The brothers opened up one side of the trailer, revealing the great big backside of a great big bull, staring Destiny right in the face. She moved aside while the men unloaded the bull.

  “This is Baron,” Martin said, almost like an introduction. “He’s a Beefmaster, a prize Beefmaster, may I add. Destiny, don’t let this old Indian fool you. He’s nothing but a gentleman rancher, just tinkering with expensive animals . . .”

  “Hey, hermano, whose expensive animal is this, anyway?” Eric winked at Destiny. “His, that’s whose.” His mood light, the strange conflict that had flitted across his face upon Martin’s arrival had disappeared.

  Next, they unloaded a gorgeous black stallion from the trailer. “And this is my horse, Diablo,” Martin announced as the men led the animals to the barn. Destiny followed, but Estrella bustled to the kitchen to fix something wonderful. There were people to be fed.

  Warm barn scent enveloped Destiny as she went inside. Domingo lit lanterns. Diablo and Baron were put into stalls and Domingo went to tend to them. Pinto nickered from his stall and Diablo answered.

  Suddenly, something fuzzy brushed against Destiny’s leg and with a little cry, she jumped away. Then she saw the fluffy yellow cat and stooped to coo at it. The cat came to her summons and she stroked it.

  “That’s Goldie,” Martin said, going down on one knee beside her. “One of the barn cats. Tiger should be around . . . there he is. Kitty, kitty . . . come here, Tiger.”

  However, Tiger, a very aptly named orange striped animal, remained apart and watched them pet Goldie. Goldie padded back and forth ecstatically under Destiny’s hand, her huge bush of a tail straight in the air.