Irish Chain (41 page)

“What’s he saying?” Dove asked.

“He wants to know if he can call you
Abuelita
.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Granny, basically.”

“You tell him if he can manage to keep you out of trouble, he can call me the man in the moon.”

I covered the receiver with my hand. “She says yes.”

“Well, you’d better get off and take care of that husband of yours. Lord knows you’re going to have a rocky road ahead of you the way y’all squabble all the time.”

“We haven’t fought for three whole days,” I protested.

“We’ll see how things go when you two crawl out from under the sheets,” she said. “Call me when you get home.”

“I will.”

“And, honeybun ...”

“Yes, Dove?”

“I’m real proud for you both.” If it had been anyone other than Dove, I would have sworn there was a catch in her voice.

Warm tears pricked at my eyes. “Thanks, Gramma. You know I love you.”

“Oh, pshaw,” she said and hung up.

I had no more set the phone down when Gabe rolled over on top of me and pinned my arms back. “Wore me out?” he said. “Old guy? I’ll show you old guy.” He bent his head and kissed me, long and deep, and I thought, I’ll never get enough of this, not if I live to be ninety. He let go of my arms and I ran my hands across his damp back, tracing his vertebrae. He relaxed his weight, causing me to let out a yelp.

“Watch it,” I said. “I still have cracked ribs, you know.”

He nuzzled my neck and pushed himself up slightly, resting his weight on his forearms. “I didn’t hear you complaining a half hour ago.”

“Sometimes,” I said with dignity, “there are things more pressing than pain.”

He laughed and rolled over, pulling me on top of him.

“That’s better,” I said.

“Well, don’t get used to it. I like being on top.”

I slapped the side of his thigh sharply. “Why doesn’t that surprise me, Friday?” I laid my head on his chest and sighed.

“What’s wrong,
querida?
”

“I was thinking about Mac. And you.”

“What about us?”

“Gabe, he did what he thought was right. You really need a friend and so does he, and besides, you probably would have—” He stopped my words with a finger.

“I have a date to play racquet ball with him next week, okay? I still don’t agree with what he did, but I understand it. Tell me, is this a sign you’re going to be one of those wives who interferes in every little aspect of my life?”

I rested my chin on his chest and looked at him. “Probably. Why?”

He laughed. “Just checking.”

“Gabe, doesn’t it worry you that we got married and we hardly know anything about each other?”

“For example?”

“Like who your favorite actor is ...”

“Robert Duvall.”

“And, I don’t know, who your first girlfriend was, how many cavities you’ve had ...”

“Cindy Jean Evans. I was ten years old. And none.”

“None? Ever?”

“That’s right. Good genes. Now, my turn. Do you realize you have never cooked a meal for me? I don’t even know if you can cook.”

“I’ve cooked for you. I’m sure I’ve cooked for you.”

“When?”

I searched my memories. “A pizza. I distinctly remember making you a pizza.”

“One of those bake-your-own-pizzas doesn’t count.”

“Well, I
can
cook. Problem for you is I cook mostly beef dishes. As a matter of fact, this time of year is when I cook my specialty. People come to the Ramsey Ranch from all over the county for it.”

“What’s that?”

“You do know Spring Roundup is coming.”

“Actually no, I didn’t mark that particular event on my calendar. What’s that got to do with you cooking?”

“You’ve heard of prairie oysters, haven’t you? You’d love the way. I prepare them—after they’re freshly cut, you peel off the surplus tissue, then split them open, wash them thoroughly—I like using a little salt in the water—then deep-fat fry ...”

He groaned and shifted under me. “Do we have to talk about this right at this moment?”

“I use a little pinch of garlic powder and red pepper in the batter, but that’s my secret, don’t give it away.”

“I wouldn’t think of it. Remind me to give you a full description of my first floater the next time we go out for sea food.”

I sat up, straddling his stomach. “Ah, c’mon, I was just kidding. Really, you should come to the roundup. You can get acquainted with my herd.”

“
Your
herd? You have a herd?”

“Yep. A hundred head. I run them with Daddy’s cattle. Got my own personal brand too, so you’d better watch out. I like marking things that are mine. Anyway, they started with my first heifer when I was seven years old. No matter how hard up the ranch got, Jack would never let me add them to the Harper stock. And he would never let me make them community property. He said they were my insurance policy if anything happened to the Harper Ranch ... or him.” I was surprised to find I could say it without a lump in my throat.

He reached up and stroked my cheek. “He sounds like he was a good man.”

“He was, Gabe. He really was.”

“Well, I didn’t know I was marrying a cattle baroness.”

I laughed. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

He laced his fingers behind his head and grinned up at me. “Now you’ve got me nervous. Looks like I might be in for a rough ride.”

Grinning back, I started untying my bathrobe. “Chief Ortiz, you have no idea.”

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Earlene Fowler

THE SADDLEMAKER’S WIFE
LOVE MERCY

The Benni Harper Mysteries

FOOL’S PUZZLE
IRISH CHAIN
KANSAS TROUBLES
GOOSE IN THE POND
DOVE IN THE WINDOW
MARINER’S COMPASS
SEVEN SISTERS
ARKANSAS TRAVELER
STEPS TO THE ALTAR
SUNSHINE AND SHADOW
BROKEN DISHES
DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS
TUMBLING BLOCKS