Fierce Pride (34 page)

A young man with a clerk’s green knit shirt was walking toward them carrying the beautiful flowers. He pressed the elevator call button and smiled at them. Santos nodded and dipped his chin to avoid being recognized. They entered the elevator together, along with another couple. Santos waited for the clerk to push the button for the fourth floor and stood back. The couple left on the third.

“What beautiful flowers,” Libby said. She leaned close to read the room number written on the card, but there was only Rigoberto’s name.

“Sorry, no English,” the clerk responded, and a bright blush filled his cheeks.

Santos translated for him and added his thoughts on how women adored flowers for every occasion. When the orderly left the elevator, they followed at a discreet distance. The young man turned right at the first corner and entered the intensive care unit. There was a policeman stationed at the door. The clerk spoke to him and left the flowers at the desk. He nodded to Santos and Libby as he walked by.

Santos pulled Libby close. “I’ll bet the guard is there for Avila. We’re not relatives, and they won’t let us in. I should have asked Cazares to find out how Avila is. He probably knows someone here.”

“He’d have sources, and we don’t. Oh no, here comes Nuñez.”

Santos glanced toward the elevators and winced. He forced a smile. “We were hoping to find out how Rigoberto Avila is doing. Do you have an update?”

The detective appeared astonished to see them. “It’s more likely you were hoping to make certain he was deceased and help him into that category if he wasn’t.”

Santos shook his head. “This visit may be ill-advised, but we’re curious, that’s all.”

Nuñez stroked his mustache. “I hate to disappoint you, but there’s been no change in the man’s condition.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I was hoping he’d feel up to telling us what he and his sister were after.”

“What is it you don’t understand about the word
coma
? Now go home and stay there.”

“We’re on the way to my ranch near Zaragoza. Are you forbidding me to leave town?”

The detective’s eyes were an eerie pale blue, and he regarded Santos with a frigid glance. “I’ll find you wherever you go, Mr. Aragon. Good day.”

When he entered the intensive care unit, Libby grabbed Santos’s arm. “Why didn’t we think how this would look before we came here?”

“All I’d planned was a phone call, but I should have realized how twisted Nuñez’s thinking is. Let’s forget him and go out to the ranch.”

They had another wait for an elevator. “Do you suppose Victoria knows what happened to her brother?” Libby asked. “I wonder if Nuñez still has men watching for her.”

“If he does, he won’t tell us. Let’s go.”

Manuel had the car waiting for them, and Santos slid the front passenger seat of his SUV all the way forward so there would be room for his legs in the back. Once they were seated, he laced his fingers in Libby’s. “I need to get started on the book. Will you help me with an outline?”

“I’ll be glad to.” She hoped he’d reveal more of himself as he talked about his father. “I’ve been thinking about my parents. I’ve forgotten most of what I saw growing up. I don’t have any real sense of them other than as loving parents. You’ll probably remember more.”

“I may remember too much.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called Javier Cazares. He gave him the latest news and asked, “I want to know if Avila wakes. Find a way to get reports from intensive care. Keep looking for Victoria. She must have been staying somewhere near the beach house. Canvass the neighborhood with her photo if you have to.” He mentioned the boutique where she’d worked and asked the private detective to question the clerks there too.

He sat back and took a deep breath. “I forgot about the outdoor lights. I’ll do it when we get back to the beach house.”

“You’re a very young man to be saddled with so much responsibility.”

“I’m used to it. Actually I’m ancient. Only what you can see is young.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “You have an old soul. Lots of people say that. Maggie is one. She’s always looked at the world through eyes that have seen too much. Even as a child, she was more mother than sister.”

“What about you?”

“I’m a little kid through and through. I may never grow up, or want to.”

Their conversation continued in a light vein until Manuel turned off the freeway onto the road to the ranch. Libby sat up and loved what she saw. “What beautiful country this is. It looks as though it stretches to forever. Do you have horses to ride?”

“We have a whole stable. Do you like to ride?”

“I rode at summer camp, so I’m still a novice, but it was fun.”

He smoothed back the tendrils escaping her braid. “You find fun everywhere, don’t you?”

“Does that sound shallow?”

“Not at all. That’s the house up ahead. It’s a comfortable home while the beach house is more of a museum.”

She was surprised to find the house looked even larger than the Aragon home at the beach. Built of sandy-colored stone with a red-tile roof, the house had a wooden balcony running the length of the second story that shaded the wide ground floor porch. There was a stable nearby, a bunkhouse for the men and modest homes for the servants who worked in the house. There was even an arena, complete with bleachers.

“You’ve a whole little town here,” she remarked in wonder.

“This is where I grew up. I used to hang over the side of the bullring to watch my father practice. That’s one of my first thoughts of him. I must have been three or four, and he would have been twenty-two. He used to carry me on his shoulders, and I loved to hear him laugh.”

She touched his knee. “That’s how your book ought to open, the way you saw your father.”

“A lot of it wasn’t good,” he replied. “And it’s disrespectful to speak ill of the dead.”

The housekeeper opened the front door as they left the car. “Santos! Welcome home! Now tell me the truth about your knee.”

He moved toward her smoothly on his crutches. “It’s healing. You needn’t worry.”

“I always worry about you.” She hugged him, then stepped back to give Libby an appraising look. “Another beauty. Welcome. I’m Anita Lujan. Please all me Anita.”

Before Libby could brace herself, Mrs. Lujan swept her into her arms. Surprised, she stood stiff in her warm embrace and was relieved when the housekeeper stepped back. “Thank you. There’s so much to see here, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

“Mrs. Lujan raised me, so I forgive her abundant affection. Libby is one of Magdalena’s sisters.”

Mrs. Lujan’s eyes widened. “You’re so fair, but you aren’t one of Miguel’s daughters, are you? Are you hungry? Refugio will make whatever you’d like.”

“Refugio is as excellent a chef as Tomas, but on a cattle ranch, his masterpieces are usually roast beef. Would you like a sandwich?”

“Whatever you’re having.” She’d worn her lime-green outfit to the hospital and felt overdressed. “I’d like to change my clothes first.”

“Let me show you to your room,” Mrs. Lujan exclaimed. “We love having guests.” Libby followed her up the stairs and Manuel came along with her luggage. They walked down the long hallway. “Santos has the last room, and you’ll be next door.”

“Does Santos bring his girlfriends here often?” Libby regretted the question as soon as it left her mouth.

“Only the very special ones,” the housekeeper replied. “Come downstairs when you’re ready.” Manuel laid Libby’s carry-on bag on the bed and left to bring Santos’s luggage upstairs.

The room opened onto the balcony and faced west as her room had at the beach. The furnishings were delightfully old-fashioned with a fancifully coiled brass bedstead and a thick mattress covered with a cream colored quilt. The sturdy wooden dresser, matching desk and chair looked as though they might have been made right there on the ranch. There was a glass vase filled with wildflowers set on a doily on the dresser. It was like stepping into a western movie, and she loved it.

She walked through the equally Spartan bathroom into Santos’s room and found similar furnishings complete with a flower-filled vase. There were no paintings or photographs on the walls, nothing to make the room look like one he’d grown up in. She wondered where all his boyhood treasurers were.

She changed into her jeans and a fresh top. Santos waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. “What do you think of the house?”

“I love it. It has a unique charm.”

“It does.” He led her into the dining room, where two enormous roast beef sandwiches waited for them. “Refugio is used to cooking for the ranch hands, but I’ll eat whatever you can’t finish.”

The long table had the same rustic nature as the pieces in her room and she slipped into a sturdy chair by his side. She hummed through the first bite. “This is so good.” They had glasses of water, and she took a quick sip. “This ought to help you keep strong.”

“How strong do you want me?”

His teasing glance made it plain where his thoughts lay. It was part of his abundant charm. “I was referring to your knee, not the rest of your anatomy.” She couldn’t even finish half of her sandwich and watched in wonder as he ate both his and the remainder of hers. “I don’t think Tomas has been feeding you enough.”

“It’s the fresh air. I’m always hungrier here. Let’s go outside, and I’ll show you more of the ranch.” The path leading to the stable was well worn in the dirt, and he made it with his crutches while she nearly skipped along. They passed through the stable to reach the corral, where half a dozen horses stood. A big bay came up to the rail and nuzzled his shirt pocket.

“Each man has a couple of favorites, and a few mounts they work into the rotation. If I spent more time here, I’d have my own horse. I should have brought some sugar cubes or apples for them.”

“I’ll go get them,” she offered and sprinted back toward the house. She returned with a handful of sugar cubes and a paper bag with apples. “I saw some chickens!”

“You’ve never been on a ranch before, have you?”

“No. Should I have known you’d have chickens?”

He kissed her worried frown. “I’ve never lived where it snows, so I’m sure I’d be surprised by something in Minnesota. I love watching you run. You barely touch the ground, but you didn’t have to hurry. The horses aren’t going anywhere.”

She looked around but didn’t see anyone nearby. “Have I embarrassed you?”

His gentle smile reassured her. “This is my ranch, and you can race around all you like. Hold a sugar cube on your palm. That’s right, keep your hand flat, and he’ll take the cube without biting you.”

“Oh, that tickles!”

Another horse came over to them, and the other four followed, nudging each other out of the way. She climbed up on the rail. “Could I ride one if I stayed here in the corral? We rode bareback at camp, and I never fell off.”

Santos shouted to a man strolling toward the stable and asked for the bay’s bridle. “If you rode ponies, you may find the ground is a long way down.”

“Not with my legs. There were Vikings who were so tall they couldn’t find horses large enough to ride.”

When the hand approached carrying the bridle, Santos introduced him as Jesus. “He’ll find you a horse if I’m busy elsewhere.”

Jesus nodded politely, opened the corral gate and slipped the bridle on the bay. He led the horse to where Libby sat on the rail. She leaned over to grab the horse’s mane and swung her leg over his back. She took the reins and urged the bay away from the rail to circle the corral.

“
Ella es muy bonita
,” Jesus whispered.

Santos nodded. When she came back to him, he lay down his crutches and pulled himself up to the top rail. “I’m going to get on behind you.”

“Can he carry us both?”

“What do you weigh, a hundred pounds?”

She scoffed. “I haven’t weighed that little since I was in seventh grade. I’m thin because I’m so tall, but I’m not light.”

“He won’t even notice.” He also grabbed for the bay’s mane and swung his right leg over his back, got settled and wrapped his arms around Libby’s waist. “If you can handle the corral, I trust you to ride a little farther. Just follow the trail in the dirt. Open the gate, Jesus.”

The bay went through the gate and right where she wanted him to go. “This is really fun. Do you ride out with the hands and brand the cattle, or whatever you do in Spain to mark them as yours?”

“Hernando Cortes took the practice of branding cattle into the New World, a fact I learned in school, and no one else has ever asked. I haven’t ridden with the men since my teens. A foreman runs the ranch, and I don’t interfere. I come here to practice before a fight. It would be ridiculous to wave a cape on the beach.”

“I don’t know. It would work in the story about the
Blue Teapot
boat. A matador could be practicing on the beach, hear a pretty girl in a boat calling for help, swim out to rescue her and use his cape for a sail.”

He pulled her back against his chest. “Now you have a whole story. Or maybe the matador has numerous adventures, and the
Blue Teapot
is only one.”

“A series? Why not?” She lowered her voice to a suggestive whisper. “We’re all alone. Is it possible to make love on horseback?”