Rio (9 page)

Rio leaned against the door smoking a cigarillo. He wore no shirt and his muscular brown body gleamed with sweat. The sunlight reflected on the small cross hanging against his broad chest. “
Buenos dias,
senorita.”

She gave him a curt nod and started to walk past.

“You are a nicer person than I had thought,” he said, “bringing gifts to all the children.”

She was drawn to him, even though he was not the man she had planned for. “If that’s supposed to be a compliment—”

“I did not mean it as an insult.” His voice was cold.

“I hope you will be leaving soon,” she snapped and strode past him.

“I’ll be here at least until after Cinco de Mayo,” he called after her. “I wouldn’t want to miss the celebration.”

So that meant he would be here at least another week. She could hardly wait to have him gone. He annoyed her in a way she couldn’t understand. She shook her head, trying to shake the image of the big, virile male from her mind. How in the world was she going to ever make a connection with Edwin Forester again? She wished Cimarron were home. Maybe she could reason with her stubborn husband.

The night of the big celebration, the children had been let out of school to help Turquoise and the ranch hands
string the crepe paper and lanterns around the big front patio. It was a major Mexican holiday, celebrating the fifth of May, when Mexican soldiers had defeated the French invaders and run them out of Mexico. She had always enjoyed and helped with the festivities. The whole ranch had been given the day off and there was much tequila and wine flowing. A small band showed up at sunset and Turquoise helped old Maria and Juanita set up tables full of good food while the cowhands had a whole cow and a pig turning on a spit over the glowing fire nearby.

Then she went in and put on a bright flowered dress with all the jewels that matched it. When she came out, it was warm and dark outside with all the people in a happy mood, visiting and dancing.

Uncle Trace lounged against the rim of the big fountain in the courtyard, smiling as he sipped his drink and watched the crowd. “It is a very big celebration this year. I only wish Cimarron and the children could be here.”

Turquoise smiled and nodded. “The ranch crowd, with all the neighbors, seems to get bigger every year.” She wondered what kind of festivities were happening in Austin. Certainly the upper-class Anglos like Edwin wouldn’t take part. She felt a bit of guilt because she enjoyed these festivals so much.

“Well”—Trace turned his head—“look who’s comin’ to the party.”

She turned to look.

Rio Kelly, all washed and scrubbed and dressed in his short Mexican jacket and best boots, came toward them, smiling. “Ah, senor, such a great party.” He shook hands with Trace and then bowed low to Turquoise. “Senorita.”

Now he was probably going to ask her to dance and she wondered how to say no without annoying Uncle Trace.

Instead, Rio looked across the courtyard. “Excuse me, please.”

As Turquoise watched in disbelief, he strode across the courtyard and bowed before Juanita. The girl looked dazzled and thrilled as he led her out onto the courtyard and they joined in the Mexican folk dance.

“Well.” Uncle Trace grinned. “You should see your face, Turquoise. Evidently, you were expectin’ him to ask you.”

She felt her face burn with humiliation. “Of course not. I don’t even like the man. He’s just a vaquero.”

“But a mighty handsome one,” Trace said, pointing out the obvious and sipped his drink.

The dance ended and Rio walked over to another girl and bowed, then led her out onto the courtyard as the music began again.

Turquoise felt awkward standing here, watching him dance. “Maybe we should start serving the food.”

“The beef isn’t ready yet,” Trace said as three little boys ran past them, chasing each other as they circled the fountain. “Turquoise, if you really want to dance, I—”

“No, I’m fine,” she snapped. How would it look if no one except her uncle asked her to dance? “I can help old Maria set out the plates.” She went over to help at the tables, all lit with torches, and watched Rio out of the corner of her eye. Sure enough, he was dancing with yet another girl and seemed to be having a wonderful time, throwing back his head and laughing while the girl smiled up at him, obviously smitten.

How insulting. The least he could do was ask his hostess for a dance. The more she thought about it, the more annoyed she became. She covered it by pretending to be engrossed in helping with the plates.

Abruptly, there was a man at her elbow. “Senorita, would you care to dance?”

It was him.

“I don’t think so,” she snapped. “I’m very busy.”

“Fine,” he said and whirled her around, took her in his arms, and began to dance.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said—”

“Be quiet, missy. You sound like a chattering squirrel.”

“Of all the nerve!” She tried to pull away from him, but he was strong and she didn’t want to make a scene.

Now what was she going to do?

“Let go of me,” Turquoise threatened, “or I’ll scream.”

“I don’t think so.” He looked down into her eyes and didn’t loosen his grip. “You’ve been waiting for me to ask you to dance all evening.”

“I have not.”

“Then why have you been sneaking looks at me?”

She felt her face flush. “I was worried that some of our naive young girls might be taken in by your roguish charm.”

“It certainly doesn’t seem to work on you.” He held her even tighter.

“If Edwin could see what you’re doing, he would thrash you within an inch of your life.”

“I doubt that the sissy boy has ever been in a barroom brawl.”

“And I’m sure you have.”

“Quite a few.” He nodded.

About that time, Pedro rang the big bell on a post outside the ranch house. “Food is ready, amigos!”

Immediately, the band stopped playing and the crowd began lining up. Turquoise pulled out of Rio’s arms and
went over to help serve. When she looked back, Rio had a pretty girl on each arm, escorting them to the dinner.

Two of the cowboys lifted the roasted steer off the spit and began carving it.

Turquoise dished up the pinto beans and the tortillas. There was Mexican and American food, pies and cakes, and casseroles, each woman striving to outdo the others.

Uncle Trace mingled with the crowd, shaking hands, hugging babies, patting little ones on the head.

Turquoise stationed herself behind the table, dishing up food to the long line of people, pretending she did not see Rio as he came through the line with two plates. “You must be very hungry, hombre.” She snorted.

He grinned back. “Oh, I’m getting plates for the senori-tas.” He nodded over his shoulder toward the pretty Mexican girls sitting on a bench across the courtyard.

She didn’t know why she felt so annoyed, but she almost slammed the cole slaw and the beans onto his plates. Then she waited for him to say something, but he seemed oblivious to her mood as he grinned again and swaggered across the courtyard to the girls who were waiting for him. Turquoise stared at them. That trio was having entirely too much fun.

“Turquoise? Turquoise?” Uncle Trace reached out and tapped her on the arm.

“What?” She jumped, startled.

“How about givin’ me some of those beans?” Uncle Trace said. “You’ve brought the line to a complete stop.”

She looked around into all those waiting patiently to be served. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Now she did a slow burn while she continued serving.

Rio came back for a plate for himself and she slammed food into it so hard, he almost dropped it.

“Enjoy!” she snapped.

“Oh, I will.” He sauntered back to his senoritas.

She tried not to watch him while she served others. She hoped he choked on the beans. But instead, Rio and the pretty girls had finished and were laughing together.

Turquoise finally got herself a plate, but she wasn’t hungry. She stood near the table, toying with her food.

About that time, Rio came back to the table. “Ah, senorita, now I’ll take some pie. Everything looks so good.”

“Including the local girls?”

“
Si,
especially the local girls.” He grinned.

“Get your own pie.”

“Which one did you make? Lemon?”

She couldn’t think of a sassy answer while he picked out a big plate of pie and sauntered away again.

She watched his broad back as he strode to the giggling senoritas. He seemed to be enjoying the food immensely. Now one of the girls had taken his fork and was feeding him. Turquoise would like to feed him. She’d ram that fork down his gullet.

She stayed by the table, trying to eat, but the food seemed to stick in her throat. When she glanced up, she thought he might be watching her.

Now he strolled over to the table. “Ah, Miss Sanchez, the food was
muy bueno.
”

“I’m glad you liked it.” She kept her voice cold. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the band setting up to play. Now this annoying hombre would ask her to dance and she would flip her hair, turn up her nose, and refuse.

Instead, he looked over the food again. “I wonder if the young ladies and I might have some more pie?”

“Pie?” He wasn’t asking her to dance; he wanted pie.

“There it is. Cut it yourself,” she growled and turned away while he surveyed all the pies as if trying to decide among them.

She strode to one side and sat down on a hay bale with her plate, pretending to eat, but she sneaked looks at Rio
carrying the pie back over to the pretty girls and they seemed to be enjoying it. She hoped the pie made the girls fat.

The
mezcal,
tequila, and beer were flowing freely now and the band began to play a Mexican folk tune. Turquoise put down her plate and watched. Under the glow of the lanterns, it seemed Rio was dancing with every woman at the festival, everyone but her.

Now Uncle Trace helped the little boys set off fireworks. Sky rockets made bright trails against the dark May night and exploded into a rainbow of colors.

Okay, so Rio wasn’t going to ask her to dance. Well, she didn’t want to dance with him anyway. She wanted an elegant, successful gentleman who wore boutonnieres and this vaquero certainly wasn’t that. She returned to the table and began covering the bowls and wrapping the leftovers. The party seemed to be getting louder as beer and wine flowed, the laughter rose, and the band played louder. She tried to look very busy so no one would notice she wasn’t dancing.

Then she was startled as Rio came over to the table. “If you want some more pie—”

“No, senorita, I want to dance with you.” He bowed low.

“Have you run out of senoritas?” she snapped.

“Maybe I was saving the best for last.”

“I don’t think I care to—”

“Sometimes a lady needs to know when to close her mouth and smile.” He came around the table and took her hand, then half led, half dragged her out onto the courtyard.

“Are you telling me to shut up?” She resisted, but masterfully, he took her in his arms. She tried to protest that she didn’t want to dance, especially not with him, but his strong arms enveloped her and her face brushed against the fabric of his jacket as they danced. His jacket held the male, woodsy scent of a man who spent his time in the wind and
sun. She told herself she must not make a scene, so she shut up and let herself press against his big chest. She could lay her head against his shoulder, he was that tall, but she tried not to do that. His powerful hand was warm on her small waist and the other grasped her delicate fingers firmly. He had big, square hands from roping cattle and shoeing horses, strong capable hands that could caress a woman, subdue a wild mustang, or hold his own in a fistfight.

She felt molded against his lithe muscles, his thighs pressing against her body. He was holding her too close. Uncle Trace wouldn’t like that at all, but she looked over and saw Trace was occupied with the fireworks. She tried to pull back, but Rio held her firmly and whispered against her ear in soft Spanish. “Don’t.”

How dare he? After dancing with every woman at the festival, he was getting a little too forward with her. What should she do? She started to protest and he whispered, “Hush.”

The music ended and she pulled back and looked up at him. “I’ll have you know I am a modern woman and I am not used to being ordered about by a man, especially an employee of my uncle’s.”

He looked stung and stepped back. “You’re every bit as snobby as everyone says you are.”

“I beg your pardon!” She brought back her hand to slap him, but he caught her hand and held it, grinning down at her. “Or maybe like a blooded filly, you just need the right man to gentle you.”

For a split second, she thought he might pull her to him and kiss her, and without thinking, she leaned toward him. Instead, he shook his head and walked away.

She found she was holding her breath, wondering what it would be like to be kissed by this big Texan. Then she was furious with herself. Of course this wasn’t the kind of man she wanted to kiss her. She wanted a civilized,
high-class man like Edwin Forester. Then why did she find herself feeling disappointed?

Turquoise looked around to see if anyone had witnessed the scene and was relieved to see no one paying the slightest bit of attention. Rio had disappeared into the shadows and she wondered if he had taken both senoritas out into the shadows of the night with him. He was surely enough man to satisfy two women. Well, let him play the stallion with some of the other girls. She tried to push the images from her mind of him kissing a nubile girl as she clung to him, his dark face hot against her breasts while she whispered, “Oh, Rio, do that again. Oh, Rio …”

Damn Rio. She hoped he got his bare butt mosquito bit out there in the grass.

The band stopped playing and the party began breaking up, people gathering children and yelling good-naturedly to each other as they straggled away. Maria started wrapping up leftovers and Uncle Trace came over to Turquoise.

“Well, I reckon it was a very good Cinco de Mayo. We’ve never had such a big crowd before.”

“It was very nice,” she said, not looking at him. “Maria, let’s save this leftover cole slaw.”

Uncle Trace yawned. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to dance. I should have invited more cowboys over from some of the surroundin’ spreads.”

“I was too busy to dance,” she said, relieved that he must not have seen her dancing with Rio. “Besides, none of the cowboys are marriage material and as your hostess, I was too busy seeing everyone got fed.”

“Good girl,” he said and yawned again. “Well, let Maria put away things and let’s go to bed.”

From the distance came low laughter and a man’s voice, murmuring in Spanish. Was that Rio? She pricked her ears, but couldn’t be sure.

Uncle Trace laughed. “I reckon some of these couples
are findin’ other ways to celebrate now that the dancin’ is over.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know about that,” she snapped and felt her face burn. Had Rio taken one or both of those girls out onto the soft grass with him? Of course she didn’t care; he was only an arrogant vaquero, after all.

However, when she lay in bed with her upstairs windows open, she smelled the scent of wildflowers on the night breeze and pictured all the couples out in the grass, making love, and had never felt so alone in her life. In her mind, she was in Rio’s arms and he was kissing her and holding her close.

She took a deep breath, shuddering and feeling a deep wanting within herself. Her thighs felt warm and she imagined him stroking them and then caressing her breasts.

What was she thinking? She sat bolt upright in bed, shocked at herself. She was not some chambermaid, rolling around in the grass with some randy male. She intended to give herself only to the kind of man who could offer her respectability and social position. But that man was at least fifty miles away in Austin. She must find a way to get back there before Edwin forgot about her.

That settled, she dropped off into a troubled sleep in which Rio told her to hush and then kissed her protesting lips until she stopped protesting and clung to him, wanting more, much more.

It was late afternoon the next day and Rio was about to quit work. He was still a bit groggy from last night’s festivities as he leaned against the forge. He reached for his denim shirt and took a deep breath. At that moment, he smelled the scent of forget-me-nots blending with the scent of hay and hot iron. He turned to see Turquoise enter the shed. She looked as haughty and beautiful as ever in a
leather split skirt, vest, and boots, with a western-style hat whose brim protected her lovely face from the sun. He felt his insides clench. He had wanted this woman from the first time he had seen her, so elegant and so unattainable for a lowly nobody like himself. “
Buenas tardes,
senorita.”

He saw her look him up and down and realized he was smeared with sweat and smudge from the forge.

“Oh, you.” She played with her leather riding gloves. “I did not realize you were still working. I am finished teaching for the day and was merely looking for a hired hand to saddle a horse for me.”

“
Si,
I can do that, senorita, but you might say ‘please.’” He leaned against the forge and wiped the sweat from his dark face.

“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.”