Christmas at Blue Moon Ranch (16 page)

I should have
gone with him,
Willa
thought.

Then she shook
her head. She didn’t want to sneak around, worrying about the kids or the aunts
or the hands finding out. When the time had come for her to be with Daniel
again, she would know.

At least
tonight, she could fall asleep remembering his kisses, and his hands on her
skin…a guarantee of sweet dreams.

W
ITH HIS BODY STILL
BUZZING
from the
encounter with Willa, Daniel couldn’t just walk into the house and fall asleep.
He went for a drive, instead, visiting the pastures and the cattle he called
his own. Sitting on the hood of the truck, hunched into his jacket against the
chilly night, he stared at the Texas-sized sky, filled with brilliant twinkling
stars, and thought about the woman he loved. How long would it take Willa to
realize that she loved him, too?

A flash of light
caught his eye—the twin beams of a truck’s headlights coming out of the east
and the darkness of the Wild Horse Desert, traveling where no road existed.

There wasn’t
much he could do, from this distance and with no backup, so Daniel resorted to
the only weapon he had. He turned on his own truck’s high beam lamps. Grinning,
he watched the white beams in the distance wheel through the air, then vanish,
to be replaced by winking red taillights. In seconds, the intruders had
disappeared.

His grin faded,
though, on the drive back to the house. No doubt about it—the rustlers had
discovered his cattle. Sooner or later, they’d attempt to make off with his
animals. Short of posting a twenty-four-hour guard, he wasn’t sure how he would
stop them.

He stood watch
by himself on Sunday, sitting on that same hill in his truck, with a loaded
rifle, a loaded picnic basket on the passenger seat and the latest
techno-thriller paperback propped on the steering wheel to pass the time.

Monday morning,
he detailed two of the hands to ride the perimeter fences, looking for any
breaks or cuts. When Willa drove up with Rob, Daniel approached her side of the
truck. She rolled down the window right away, he was pleased to see. Her cheeks
were flushed and her smile bashful as she looked at him.

“Good morning.”
He propped an arm above the window. “How was your Sunday?”

“Peaceful.” Finally,
after all these weeks, she gave him the smile he’d set out to earn that very
first evening. He nearly forgot everything else in his enjoyment of Willa’s
beautiful smile.

Then Rob slammed
the passenger door getting out of the truck, and Daniel came back to reality.

“I’m glad to
hear it,” he said. “But I’ve got some bad news.” He hated seeing her face
change. “I saw headlights out beyond my fence line Saturday night. I’m pretty
sure the rustlers are back.”

Willa hit the
steering wheel with the side of her fist. “Have you called the sheriff?”

He shook his
head. “There’s not much to report, so far. I saw some headlights, which could
have been kids four-wheeling at night. I’ve got hands riding the fence line
now. If they find any manmade breaks, then I’ll let Sutton know.”

“I guess that’s
reasonable.” She took a deep breath. “I wish we could catch these guys and put
them away.”

“I’ll work on
that.” He grazed his knuckles along her cheek and smiled when her eyes and
mouth softened. “Meanwhile, don’t fret about it. You’ve got what you wanted—a
buffer on your north side.”

Willa’s smile
faded quickly. “I wanted to tell you—Robbie won’t be working on Friday.”

“Getting ready
for the rodeo?”

She shook
her head. “
El Día de los Muertos.
The Day of the Dead, when we celebrate and
remember family who are gone.”

“Okay.” Daniel
took a breath and a step back from the truck. Somehow, the idea of Willa
spending a day remembering her husband seemed to put him at a disadvantage. But
he’d be a jerk to complain. “I won’t expect to see either of you on Friday.”

He started to
turn away.

“Would you like
to come?” Willa called after him, and Daniel pivoted back. “For dinner,” she
clarified. “Come for dinner Friday night.” She looked almost as surprised at
her invitation as he was.

But he wouldn’t
allow her time for second thoughts. “I’ll be there!”

Monday
afternoon, offerings started to appear on the table beneath Jamie’s portrait—a
fat ivory candle, a vase of brilliant orange marigolds from the garden, a soft
white linen cloth and a crystal bowl of rose-scented water. Rosa’s famous
pan
de muerto,
a bread made with orange and anise flavoring, perfumed the whole
house on Wednesday, which was Halloween. Lili prepared
atol,
a fruit
drink made with corn, and set out a pitcher with glasses. Willa had ordered
candies shaped like skulls from a store in town. With the addition of more
candles, food and personal mementoes, plus yellow, blue and red ribbons, the
Mercado family altar was prepared.

Friday evening,
Willa watched as Daniel surveyed their creation. “Corona beer?” he asked with a
quizzical look.

“Jamie’s
favorite.”

“And Santa Clara
Cigars?”

She shrugged. “He
and his father enjoyed a smoke together now and then.”

Susannah came
into the parlor carrying a plate. “These are pumpkin cookies,” she told Daniel.
“Daddy liked them warm out of the oven, Aunt Rosa says.” Willa moved some of
the other items slightly so Susannah could set her cookies down. “I made them
myself this year.”

“And they smell
delicious.” Daniel snapped his fingers. “Hey—are you the person we have to
thank for the boxes of treats showing up on my doorstep? Did you make the
brownies, and the cookies and the pie?”

Eyes shining,
cheeks flushed, Susannah nodded.

Willa crossed
her arms and lifted an eyebrow. “So there hasn’t been a bake sale every day at
school, hmm?”

“Um…no.”
Susannah looked at Daniel again. “Did you like them?”

“Every last
bite. Thank you very much.”

Toby dashed into
the room, with Robbie following more slowly. “Is it time, Mom? Is it time?”

“Almost.” She
noticed Robbie had stopped at the doorway, where he stood with a scowl on his
face. “Come in, Roberto. Did you have something to add to the altar?”

He shook his
head and turned toward the back of the house, but she reached him and grasped
his shoulder before he could disappear. “What have you brought?”

His face turned
dark red as he showed her the gift he carried—a pouch of tooled leather,
incised with natural symbols including suns, moons, stars and birds. “Roberto,
this is beautiful! Did you make it?”

Keeping his gaze
averted, he nodded. “In art class.”

“For your dad? Oh,
son…” Tears clogged her throat. Willa put her arms around him. “He’ll be so
pleased,” she whispered. “Place it on the altar.”

Daniel watched
as Rob went to put the pouch with the other offerings. The boy avoided him as
if he were a rabid dog that would bite if approached too closely. Maybe he
shouldn’t have come tonight, after all. He hated to think his presence spoiled
the occasion.

The aunts
brought in a feast of food and filled his plate. “Chicken mole,” Lili announced
as she served him. “Jamie’s favorite recipe.”

“My special
tamales.” Rosa gave him three. “I only make them a few times a year.”

After taking a
bite, Daniel nodded. “Something this delicious should only be served on very
special occasions.”

He hadn’t known
exactly what to expect tonight, but he discovered that
El Día de los Muertos
was far from a sad occasion. Toby clowned around, as usual. Cheerful music
played on the whole-house sound system—Jamie’s pride and joy, Willa told
him—and Susannah sang along in Spanish when she knew the words.

Rosa and Lili
told stories about their brother, Jamie’s father and his wife, and about their
parents. “Papa was strict,” Rosa recalled. “We got a television when they were
first available, but we were not allowed to watch at all on Sundays.”

“I remember when
Elvis appeared on television.” Lili made a prim face. “Papa wouldn’t let us
watch him. He said Elvis was ‘rude.’” She and Rosa dissolved into laughter.

Toby looked at
them with a confused expression. “Elvis? What’s Elvis?”

Stories about
Jamie Mercado gradually wove into the conversation. “I remember him as a
toddler,” Lili said. “Jamie would ride on the saddle in front of his father as
he worked the cattle. By the time Jamie was six, he was herding from his own
pony with the rest of the hands.”

Daniel thought
of his first, disastrous attempt at driving cattle.

“And the tricks
he could do with that pony—Figaro was his name. Figaro would gallop across the
ground and Jamie would stand up on the saddle, keeping his balance as easily as
if he stood on the ground.”

Willa looked at
Toby, sitting on the floor by her feet. “A trick I do not want you to try under
any circumstances.”

Toby hung his
head. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I remember
Daddy at a rodeo.” Susannah turned to Willa. “You were surprised, weren’t you,
Mama, when he entered the bull riding contest?”

“Yes, I was
surprised.” Willa’s smile looked a little forced. “Toby was just a baby, then. I’m
surprised you remember that far back, honey.”

“Did he win?” Toby
demanded. “Was he good?”

Willa shook her
head. “Um…no. He hit the ground about a second after he left the gate. And
broke his arm in the process.” Her gaze connected with Daniel’s for a second
and then went to Robbie. “What do you remember, Roberto? You know, your dad
rode with you on his saddle, just as his father had done with him.”

Rob lifted one
shoulder. “I don’t remember that.”

There was a
silence, as they waited for him to add his thoughts. But Rob didn’t say
anything.

Because,
Daniel thought,
I’m here.
For
Rob, if for no one else, he was an intruder. He would say his piece and then
go.

“I had three
friends while I was in Iraq,” he said, leaning forward a little. “Rick, Dave
and Wayne. We called them The Three Stooges.” He saw by the kids’ blank looks
that they didn’t understand the reference. “They were always clowning around,
pretending to beat each other up, making jokes. Nothing really special about
them, or me—we were like all the other men and women over there, trying to do a
good job for our country and for the people of Iraq.

“Each of those
guys, though, was a hero in one way or another. I saw Rick save two little boys
from a sniper attack by lying on top of them and shielding their bodies with
his own. Dave refused to leave an old woman in a building he knew was going to
be bombed any minute, even when she fought him every step of the way as he
pulled her out.”

He took a deep
breath. “And Wayne…well, Wayne was driving our vehicle the day I got hurt. I
was lying in the road right next to the burning car and Wayne used the one arm
he had left to drag me far enough away to be out of range when the gas tank
exploded. He went back for Rick…” Swallowing hard, he managed to finish. “But
they didn’t get away in time.”

He met each pair
of eyes in the room, Rob’s last. “I’m sure that Jamie Mercado was the same kind
of hero. He would have similar stories to tell, except he’d be embarrassed to
let anyone know how many people he’d helped, how many lives he’d saved.”

Pushing against
the arms of his chair, Daniel got to his feet. “You are rightfully proud of the
man your family has lost, and right to celebrate his life. I appreciate the
chance to share that with you.” He nodded to Lili and Rosa. “Thank you for a
delicious meal, ladies. Have a good night.” To Willa, he said, “Don’t get up.
I’ll let myself out.”

She followed
him, though, all the way out to the veranda. “That was a lovely thing to say.”

“Your husband
was a decent man.” He grinned and shrugged. “With a few flaws.”

“Like everyone.”
Willa nodded. “You’ve helped me see him in a more balanced light.”

“That’s good.”
For Jamie, anyway. Daniel wasn’t sure whether he’d helped or hurt his own
cause. He turned toward the truck, parked nearby. “Have a good evening.”

“Daniel.” Her
hand on his arm brought him back around to face her. When he looked into her
face, there was no doubt that she was waiting to be kissed.

Aware of the
house windows, he kept his hands at his sides, saying everything with just the
press of his mouth over hers. That seemed to be enough—they were both panting
when he raised his head.

“Rodeo
tomorrow,” Willa said, smiling. “We’ll see you bright and early.”

Driving home,
Daniel decided he would celebrate
El Día de los Muertos
every year from
now on.

A
FTER A WEEK SPENT
WORKING
around Robbie’s
defiant silence, Daniel was relieved when Willa asked him if her aunts could
ride with him to the rodeo. He half expected the ladies to be wearing their
matching flowered dresses, but when he pulled into the drive at the Mercado
house, they waited for him on the veranda in neat jeans and Western boots, with
long-sleeved shirts worn under colorful vests.