Rio Page 10

  “Never mind.” Her pert nose went up in the air. “I’ll do it myself and I’ll tell Uncle Trace you were rude and impertinent and he should fire you.” She whirled to leave.

  He grabbed her arm with one big hand, wanting to pull her to him and kiss her until that arrogant frown left her face. “Are there no cowboys over at the barn?”

  “Probably.” She jerked out of his grasp and for a moment, he thought she considered hitting him with her gloves, then maybe thought better of it.

  “Then why do you go out of your way to order me about?”

  She seemed speechless, then whirled again to leave. “You got my sleeve dirty, and besides, you are impossible.”

  “But you already knew that, senorita.” He grinned. “Wait and I’ll saddle horses for both of us.”

  She drew herself up proudly. “I don’t remember asking you to accompany me, hombre.”

  “Then I’ll ride in another direction. I’ve finished my work for the day.”

  “Very well.” She shrugged and with head high, she strode out of the shed, Rio following easily with his long steps.

  “Remember not to go into that pasture over there.” She pointed as she walked. “There’s some blooded bulls there that are dangerous.”

  He laughed, catching up with her. “Did I tell you that in Mexico, I tried my hand at bullfighting?”

  “Were you any good?” She looked over at him with new interest, imagining him in a suit of lights, striding into the arena in tight pants.

  “Well, I’m still alive, so I reckon I was okay, but I never cared for it. It seemed weighted against the poor bull— not sporting.”

  They went into the barn. It was a big barn with many stalls, each holding a fine horse. The horses nickered at them and she took in the scent of hay and the good smell of leather and horses.

  He looked around. “So many good horses. I could only dream of such.”

  “Take your choice,” she said grandly, reaching for a bridle. “I left Silver Slippers in Austin with my friend Fern, so I’ll ride this blood bay mare.”

  He looked up and down the row of horses. “How about this black one? He looks spirited.”

  She made a sound of dismay. “Oh no, not Night Spirit. He’s a dangerous horse. No man is brave enough to ride him except Uncle Trace.”

  “Ah, is he related to the famous Night Wind?”

  She nodded. “But he has a bad temper.”

  “Worse than yours?” Rio grinned and reached for a saddle. “In that case, I’ll ride him.”

  “Worse than mine.” She gritted her teeth and smiled without mirth. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She led the blood bay out.

  “Wait, senorita. I will saddle her for you. Isn’t that why you came to the shed?”

  She coughed. “Yes, of course. I needed a hired hand to help me.” She wasn’t certain why she had gone to the shed. Now she wished she hadn’t. “Since you’re an employee, you might as well earn your keep.” She sat down on a bale of hay and watched him bridle her horse.

  “You are rude and impudent,” he said as he saddled the bay. “Someday, some man will turn you over his knee and paddle you until you show good manners.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “I didn’t say me, senorita, I said some man, maybe your future husband.”

  She sniffed and frowned. “The kind of man I marry will be civilized and cultured. He wouldn’t think of spanking a woman.”

  “Someone like Edwin Forester?” He paused and gave her a direct look.

  “Perhaps.” She looked away. “Please do not mention that name to my uncle. He does not like the Foresters.”

  “And with good reason.” Rio finished saddling the mare and handed the reins to Turquoise. “The Mexicans whisper that he takes advantage of every pretty maid that works in that big house and his mother fires them or has them shipped back across the Rio Bravo if they dare complain.”

  “That’s dirty gossip!” She was more than annoyed. She grabbed the reins, swung up on her horse, and nudged her into a gallop and out of the barn.

  “Hey, senorita, wait for me!” Rio called after her, but she ignored him and took off across the field.

  She grinned to herself as she rode. The farrier would have a very difficult time getting Night Spirit saddled and even if he did, she would be gone out of sight so he could not catch up with her. The Durangos owned most of three counties and she could ride all day without reaching their boundaries.

  Turquoise dropped back into a leisurely canter and rode through the cedars and rolling hills. She hated to admit she liked ranch life; it conflicted with the fact that she also yearned for a sophisticated life in a big city where no one would dare whisper about her past because they feared her husband’s power.

  She wondered how Rio was doing on saddling that devil horse. She smiled to herself as she rode. He couldn’t say she hadn’t warned him. Maybe she should have stayed to witness the fun.

  Damn that girl. Rio watched her gallop away. He didn’t know what to make of her. Sometimes she acted like she hated him, then she went out of her way to seek him out to tease and tantalize him. He knew he could never have her, not with her high and mighty goals, and yet he had never met a woman he desired so much.

  Rio led Night Spirit out. The stallion was flighty, laying his ears back and dancing about. “Ho, boy.” Rio stroked the black muzzle. “Hombre, you behave yourself and we’ll go follow that beautiful mare and the girl on her, si?”

  He had a way with horses, and the stallion quieted and let Rio saddle him. Rio talked soft Spanish to the stud for a moment as he led him out of the barn and mounted up. The black horse stepped sideways and snorted, jerking against the bit. “So you want to run, hombre?” Rio murmured. He looked around for the girl and saw just a bit of her long black hair flying in the breeze before her horse disappeared over the far horizon.

  Rio gave the stallion his head and Night Spirit responded, taking off like a bullet across the pasture. This was indeed a fine horse, Rio thought as they galloped after the blood bay. After a few minutes they caught up with Turquoise and she seemed surprised. “I thought Night Spirit would dump you in the manure of the barn floor.”

  “Horses are like women,” he said in his soft Mexican accent. “They respond to someone who knows how to handle them with a firm hand and a little gentleness.”

  She felt herself flush and took off at a gallop, Rio right behind her. They rode in silence for a long time before she drew in on a bluff.

  “You handle the horse well.” Her voice held grudging praise. “Very few can ride him.”

  “We understand each other,” Rio said. “We should get down and walk awhile, cool the horses.”

  Before she could dismount, he swung down, came around to her, and helped her dismount.

  She had such a tiny waist, he thought as he put his big hands on her and eased her down. For just a moment, he held her, looking into her face. She was looking up at him and her lips were pink and soft and he wanted to kiss them over and over, pull her down on the soft grass and make love to her. Even though she cared nothing for him, he would have done anything for her, climbed a mountain, killed a man, stolen a fortune. But he was just a poor va-quero and she was a haughty, spoiled girl and way above him. He would not give her a chance to rebuff him.

  For a moment, she looked up at him as if she felt the magnetism, too, then she pulled out of his arms and they began to walk along the ridge. He felt himself shaking from having her in his embrace, even for a moment. He had made love to many women, but none he wanted as much as this one. It occurred to him that they were far from anyone and that he could take her now, as he had wanted to do since the first moment he saw her, but he did not want her that way. He wanted her to come willingly into his arms, needing him as he needed her. “This is a beautiful ranch,” he finally managed to say.

  “You have a ranch,” she answered.

  “Only a few poor acres,” he conceded. “What you have seen is the
big spread next to mine.”

  “Why don’t you try to buy it?”

  He laughed. “It doesn’t occur to a rich girl that I might not have the dinero? Besides, it belongs to some big New York company. I tried to track the owners down one time, but it was impossible. I couldn’t afford it anyway. It’s almost five thousand acres.”

  “And close to Austin, where someday it might be very valuable,” she noted.

  “I don’t believe in wasting my time dreaming about that which I can never have.” He looked at her, adoring her, wanting her, knowing he lied.

  “I have dreams, too,” she admitted, her big turquoise eyes soft now. “I would like to have a man who could protect me from the whispers.”

  They paused and looked at the sun low on the horizon. “What do they whisper about?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “That I am a bastard, that Sanchez was not really my father.”

  “Why don’t you ask Trace Durango?”

  “I—I’m afraid to know, I think. Perhaps Trace doesn’t know, either. The old don and Sanchez are both dead. Gossip says Sanchez married my mother, who was a housemaid at the ranchero, to keep scandal down. Some say I was fathered by maybe the old don himself or one of his friends.”

  “Your mother never told you?”

  Turquoise shook her head. “Rosa was a wild beauty. I barely remember her. She died when I was very young.”

  There was a long silence. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “It doesn’t matter. She wasn’t much of a mother or a wife,” Turquoise admitted. “Senora Cimarron has raised me and educated me. I pay her back by teaching the other children on the ranch.”

  “I would say Juanita is old enough to take over the school,” Rio said.

  “You noticed her, did you?” There was a trace of jealousy in her voice.

  He laughed. “How could a man not? But she’s a bit young for my taste.”

  “I dare say Austin is full of lusty senoritas waiting eagerly for your return.”

  “A few.” He didn’t want to think about all those Mexican girls in the taverns, the ones with full breasts who clawed his back and had sweaty, passionate sex with him. He only yearned for the girl standing near him now, but he did not say that. If he did, she might laugh.

  “And what is your story?” Turquoise asked as they paused and looked at the sunset. “All I know is that you have a four-leaf clover tattoo and that your father was Irish.”

  “My story might be the same as yours,” he answered so softly that his voice was a whisper. “He never married my mother and she lives now in the cloistered Convent of the Little Sisters. I send as much money as I can so she can pray unceasingly for his soul and other sinners.”

  “He did not love her?”

  He shook his head. “He loved her very much.”

  “Then why—?”

  “The army hanged him for a traitor,” he snapped. “Now don’t ask me any more. I should not have told you that. I’ve never told anyone.”

  He looked away, angry with himself that he had let this unobtainable girl get inside him as no woman ever had.

  “It’s all right. Perhaps I, as no one else could, understand.” He felt her touch his arm and her voice was gentle.

  He had not seen this part of her before, the girl inside who could be a kindred soul. He did not know what to make of this, knowing her only as the snooty, ambitious ward of a rich rancher. He did not like feeling vulnerable, especially to this beauty.

  “We should be getting back.” Turquoise looked over at his anguished face. His background was as scandalous as she thought hers to be.

  “All right, Miss Turquoise.” He came around as she started to mount and put his hands on her waist.

  She paused, looking up at him. Again, there was that split second that she thought he might kiss her and she saw the uncertainty in his dark eyes that was mirrored in her own soul. Would she want him to? How should she react? Should she return the kiss or slap him for his impudence? She never got the chance to find out because abruptly, he took a deep breath and stepped back, barely helping her up into her saddle before mounting up himself. They rode back to the ranch quietly and without speaking.

  Trace came out to greet them as they reined in before the barn. “Oh, there you are. I was beginnin’ to worry.”

  “I was fine, Uncle Trace.” She dismounted.

  “I knew you were all right if you were with Rio. I was worried about him when I realized he had taken the stud. Night Spirit is a very dangerous horse.”

  Rio grinned and dismounted. “Night Spirit and I understand each other. He is a very fine stallion, Senor Du-rango.”

  Trace nodded. “You’re the only one besides me who’s ever ridden him, so you must be a born vaquero.”

  Rio scuffed his worn boot in the dust. “I was only riding to protect the senorita,” he answered modestly.

  “I can look after myself,” she snapped.

  Trace frowned at her, then said, “Put the horses away, will you, Rio? And you, young lady, come on in. Maria has been holdin’ supper for you. Oh, I got a wire from Cimarron. She and the children are havin’a wonderful time.”

  She tried not to glance backward as she accompanied Trace into the ranch house. There was something about the Irish-Mexican hombre that drew her; maybe it was that she sensed he could be as wild and untamed as Night Spirit.

  That night she lay sleepless, remembering that moment when she thought Rio would kiss her. The thought made her feel hot and restless. She wondered what it would have felt like. Would it have been savage, his tongue forcing itself between her lips as he held her so tightly, she could feel his muscular chest hard against her soft breasts? She tried to wipe out that thought and concentrate instead on Edwin Forester. Yes, Edwin was the kind of man she had always planned on marrying, and some poor vaquero wasn’t about to change her ambitions even though she struggled to get him out of her mind. That made her angry with him for interfering with her dreams.

  Yes, she didn’t know how, but she must find an excuse to journey to Austin again. School would not be out for a couple of weeks; perhaps she could take the children to the capitol to see the sights. Trace Durango must certainly approve if it were an educational trip.

  That was it. The legislature was still in session. She would take the children on a tour of the state capitol and maybe there she would see Senator Forester. It was worth a shot. She wondered what his kisses would be like. She could only imagine what heat Rio’s kisses must generate. Surely one man’s kisses must be much like another’s and she was not going to change her plans just because her addled brain kept thinking of a virile vaquero’s strong arms.

  Yet when she drifted off to sleep, it was not Edwin she dreamed of; she was safe in the embrace of Rio, who held her close, made passionate love to her, and dared anyone to hurt her or gossip about her. She was his to love and protect. When she awakened suddenly, she was drenched with perspiration and gasping for air. More than that, she was angry with the lowly hombre for invading her dreams and upsetting her life. More than ever, she was determined to put Rio out of her thoughts and her future.

  Chapter 7

  Rio lay on his narrow bed in the bunkhouse listening to the other cowboys snore. He couldn’t sleep, thinking about Turquoise. Finally he got up, pulled on his pants and boots, and went outside into the dark. The night was warm now that it was May, and the breeze seemed to kiss his bare chest. He imagined it was Turquoise kissing his skin and pulling her blouse low to touch her nipples against his hot flesh.

  That threw him into a need that almost drove him into a frenzy. There was an outdoor swing near the side of the ranch house and he sat down, staring up at her window. She was up there, maybe lying sleepless herself. She might be wearing some flimsy bit of silk that outlined the womanliness of her and he had an urge to tear down the door, race up the stairs to her bed, and claim her. Would she open her arms and her warm thighs to him? He wanted to love and protect and hold her, make her his in the
ultimate way a man can make a woman his own, give her his seed, and keep her with him forever.

  He laughed and leaned back in the creaking swing. He knew he had no chance with this haughty girl who wanted more from life than love. She wanted social position and money, and of that, he had neither.

  He heard a noise and was instantly on alert. Then a pretty Mexican girl came out of the shadows. “Hello, amigo, may I join you?”

  He didn’t want any company with his fantasies, but he shrugged. “It’s not my swing. Senorita, why are you not in bed?”

  She laughed and sat down in the swing, leaning toward him. “I might ask you the same question.”

  He wished she would go away. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Me either. I have been thinking about you, hombre, since the night of Cinco de Mayo.”

  He tried to remember the girl, but she was just an average pretty senorita whom he now recalled staring at him during the festival. “Your family will be looking for you.”

  “My family is fast asleep,” she whispered against his ear, “and I would like to know you better.”

  He started to protest, but when he opened his mouth, she slid up against him and kissed him, the kiss deepening as she rubbed her generous breasts against him. She wasn’t the girl he loved, but his maleness took over and in his need, he returned the kiss as she pawed at him, and pressed him back against the swing. He closed his eyes and pretended she was Turquoise, kissing her like he yearned to kiss the haughty, unattainable girl.

  “Let’s go into the barn,” the girl whispered, “and finish this.”

  “I don’t think—” he protested but she cut off his words with her lips.

  About that time, he heard a slight noise and looked up. Turquoise stood at her open window, looking down at them. Her long black hair hung loose over her shoulders and her white silk nightgown clung to her soft curves and round breasts.

  Rio jumped from the swing, dumping the sultry girl on the grass. He looked up, wanting to call to his love, tell her he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant to kiss the voluptuous girl at all, but Turquoise gave him a furious glare and slammed her window shut, drew the curtains, and disappeared.