Someone Like You (Night Riders) (3 page)

“We also have wine,” Maria said.

Rafe surveyed the chairs in the room before crossing to a leather-covered captain’s chair with a high back. “Rancho los Alamitos was always known for its wine.” They waited for Maria to be seated. “We’ll have what ever you’re having.”

Maria picked up a small bell on the table next to her and rang it. “I’m not thirsty.”

“What’s Luis having?” Broc asked.

Luis swallowed. “I would like some lemonade.”

Rafe winked at Luis. “When I was your age, my father would occasionally give me wine or beer with enough water in it to make it safe.”

Uncertain how to respond, Luis made a feeble attempt to smile.

“I don’t believe children should be given strong drink,” Maria told Rafe. “It encourages them to indulge in spirits far too early.”

“Or takes the mystery out of it so they learn to drink with moderation.”

She supposed that was possible, but all the men she knew drank too much. “We need refreshments for our visitors,” she said to Margarita when the young servant entered the room. “Luis and I will have lemonade.”

“I will, too,” Broc said.

Maria turned to Rafe. “What would you like?”

“Water will be fine.”

“We have a wide selection of wines, and your father’s liquor cabinet is just the way he left it.”

Rafe put up his hands. “I seldom drink spirits.”

“He’s not much fun at a party,” Broc said. “He remembers everything we do.”

“Water for Mr. Jerry,” Maria said, dismissing Margarita. An awkward silence would have ensued if Rafe hadn’t asked Luis what he was learning. In a few minutes Rafe had coaxed more out of the boy than anybody but herself. Maria wondered if Rafe might be less of an ogre than Dolores had said. Maybe he’d changed over the years. When she thought Luis had talked enough, she intervened.

“Did you have a difficult journey? I’ve never been out of the valley, but I’m told the places south of here can be extremely hot.”

“You get used to the heat in Texas.”

“What were you doing in Texas?”

“We’re cowhands for a friend who has a large cattle ranch.”

“We’re a little more than that,” Broc started to explain, only to be interrupted by Dolores’s entrance.

Dolores paused in the doorway before surging into the parlor, the rich fabric of her dress rustling softly. Maria thought her sister’s lips were too scarlet, her cheeks too heavily rouged, her brows and lashes too dark, but she looked magnificent.

“Rafe,” she exclaimed with a brilliant smile that lit up her face and caused her eyes to sparkle, “it’s so good to see you.” She advanced toward him, her hands outstretched. Broc got to his feet, but Rafe didn’t move.

Maria was familiar with anger, but she’d never seen the white-hot rage on Rafe’s face. It was so virulent, even Dolores felt it. She appeared to stumble as though hit by something solid. She recovered but came to a stop a few feet from Rafe, her outstretched hands falling to her sides. She made a valiant attempt to recapture the smiling enthusiasm of her entrance, but the result was forced.

“I see you’ve lost none of your looks.” His tone was sharp enough to cut. “What poor fool do you have your talons into now?”

Maria had never approved of the way her sister ignored her husband and flirted with handsome men, but she was proud of the way Dolores regained her poise.

“It’s flattering to know you think I’m still attractive.” Her smile was back in place. “You always were a very critical judge.”

“I was nineteen and a fool.”

“I haven’t been nineteen for a very long time,” Broc said, “and I still think you’re beautiful.”

When Broc spoke, Dolores turned, screamed, and stumbled backward. That brought Rafe to his feet with a growl of fury so fierce, Luis clutched Maria’s hand. Dolores put one hand to her throat in a dramatic gesture, leaned against a table for support, and managed a tremulous smile.

“My God, you scared me half to death. I didn’t see you when I came into the room.”

The welcoming smile remained plastered on Broc’s face. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Of course not. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you, but I was so excited to see Rafe I didn’t have eyes for anyone else.”

“This is Broc Kincaid. He works with Rafe in Texas.” Maria
hoped her interruption would give Dolores time to recover her composure.

“Pleased to meet you.” Dolores was careful not to look at Broc when she spoke. The way her fingers nervously picked at her heavy silver and turquoise necklace belied her words.

Maria was irritated when Dolores chose a chair so Broc was out of her line of vision. “I was sorry you couldn’t be here for your father’s funeral,” she said to Rafe, “but we didn’t know how to contact you. The lawyer said it was the merest good fortune that you saw the notice in the Chicago newspaper.”

“I didn’t. It was sent to me anonymously. I wouldn’t have responded if Pilar hadn’t threatened to do it herself.”

“Who is Pilar? Are you married?”

Maria was embarrassed that Dolores should expose herself so obviously. She might as well have stated that she was terrified Rafe might be married and thus beyond the influence of her beauty.

“She’s Cade’s wife, the man I work for.”

“You shouldn’t be working for anybody. You’re a wealthy man.”

“You’ve always valued people in terms of dollars.” Rafe’s words were infused with disgust, but they appeared to leave Dolores unscathed.

“A woman has to look out for her children.”

“If you love your son so deeply that you’d make his welfare the deciding factor in choosing a husband, why is he huddled against your sister rather than you?”

“He adores his aunt. Besides, she’s closer to him in age than I am.”

“You’re not his playmate, Dolores. You’re his mother.”

Dolores pouted. “Why are you being so mean when we’re all so glad to see you? You have no idea how difficult your father’s will has made everything.”

“Then take consolation in the fact that it’s made my life even more miserable.”

“How can that be?”

“Because it’s forced me into contact again with a woman I despise.”

Dolores picked at one of the crystals on her dress. “I know you were unhappy when I married your father instead of you, but I was an impressionable young girl, overawed by a handsome and powerful man.”

“You were a scheming fortune hunter who took advantage of a man grieving over the death of his wife.”

“I’m older now and have had time to see things more clearly.”

Rafe’s response was forestalled by Margarita’s return with the beverages. By the time everyone had been served, some of the tension had dissipated. Broc said he’d never been to California before and asked if it was always so hot. He found the weather surprising considering they’d crossed mountains still covered with snow.

“We get virtually no rain in the valley during the summer,” Rafe said to Broc. “After the spring rains are over, we depend on snowmelt to carry us through the summer and fall. We also get water from wells that tap into underground rivers flowing from the mountains.”

Maria wasn’t surprised at Rafe’s knowledge of the valley’s climate. Both Juan and Rosana had said Rafe had been doing as much work on the ranch as his father before he left.

“Mr. Fielder gives me an allowance so small it would hardly keep a child alive.” Bored by the conversation, Dolores had almost finished her glass of wine. “He told me I have no power to make any decisions concerning the ranch, that I can’t even order food for the house hold. I told him it was ridiculous, that a wife should have the right to make decisions about her own property. That’s when he told me I didn’t have any property, that Warren had left everything to you and Luis. When I told him that as Luis’s mother I could make decisions for him, he told me the will had made you and Maria his joint guardians.”

Rafe stared expressionlessly at Dolores. “What’s so hard to understand about it?”

“The whole thing!” Dolores exclaimed. “I tried to make Mr. Fielder understand that your father was sick, that he would never have written any of those things if he’d been in his right mind.”

“I interpreted the way he wrote the will to mean he was in his right mind for the first time in ten years.”

Any woman less self-centered than her sister would have been daunted by Rafe’s words.

“He wasn’t,” Dolores insisted. “He would hardly look at Luis. I don’t remember the last time he spoke to me.”

“Apparently his lapse in judgment was only temporary,” Rafe said. “I wish I had known.”

Maria couldn’t decide whether he spoke with regret or anger. He appeared to be a very self-contained man. She wondered how someone as cheerful as Broc would want him for a friend. She found it nearly impossible to imagine Rafe laughing.

“Warren never did recover his right mind. It was all very sad and I was heartbroken, but one has to go on.” She flashed the smile that had dazzled so many men before. “I have to think of my son.”

Maria was certain this callous speech would wring a response from Rafe, but he continued to watch her sister with the unblinking gaze of a predator. Just when Dolores opened her mouth to continue, Rafe did speak.

“You’ve never had any consideration for anyone but yourself in your entire life.”

“That’s not true.” Dolores’s indignation was genuine. “I thought of your mother when she brought me here to comfort her during her illness. And of you and your father when she died.”

“Only of which one had the most money.”

Dolores plowed ahead, ignoring Rafe’s remark. “I thought of Luis when I asked Maria to move here and help me take
care of him. I thought of your father when he was sick—I would gladly have stayed by his bedside night and day—but I’m convinced he was afraid I’d catch his malady.” She sniffed, and a tear appeared on her eyelid before it swelled and rolled down her cheek.

With a look of fury that was frightening in its intensity, Rafe surged to his feet. “I’m going to take a ride. It’s been so long since I was here, I don’t know how much of the ranch I remember.”

Dolores asked, “When will you be back?”

“I’m not coming back to night.”

“Of course you are. It’s your home. I’m sure your friend would prefer to stay in Cíbola.” Dolores didn’t look at Broc. “He’d be bored here with nothing to do but watch me embroider and Maria make lace.” Her laugh was light and transparently insincere.

Rafe turned to Dolores. “It’s kind of you to be so concerned about Broc’s entertainment.”

“I don’t mind staying in Cíbola,” Broc said. “We have other business to attend to, and we can’t do it from here.”

Rafe’s gaze never left Dolores. “That business can wait. I need you here.”

“Cade said—”

“I know what Cade said.”

“What can your friend possibly do that someone who knows the ranch can’t do better?” It was bad enough that Dolores couldn’t look at Broc, but she should at least have used his name.

“He can provide me with the companionship of one person I know I can trust.” He turned to Maria. “What time do you dine?”

“Why didn’t you ask me that?” Dolores was affronted.

“Because I was certain you were still too brokenhearted to have the energy to make arrangements for a meal you were probably too dispirited to eat.”

“I have to eat. I owe it to Luis to keep my strength up.”

“We dine at seven thirty,” Maria said before her sister could make more of a fool of herself. “Is that acceptable?”

“Seven thirty will be fine. Does Luis occupy my old bedroom?”

“No. He sleeps in the room next to mine.”

“I’ll sleep in my father’s room. Broc can have my old room. Will it be difficult to get them ready?”

“Rosana has cleaned your room faithfully ever since you left. She has always believed you would return.”

“So Rosana is still here.” She thought she saw a softening in his eyes, but the velvet curtains at the windows kept out the light as well as the heat. “How about Juan?”

“He and Miguel are both here. Juan has filled Luis’s head with stories about you.” This time she was certain of the softening in his eyes. That surprised her as much as his change in attitude when he talked about the ranch.

“I’m sure he’s exaggerated my accomplishments and ignored my failures.”

“He says you can do anything,” Luis said.

Luis had been so quiet, she’d almost forgotten he was present.

“My father used to say Juan and Rosana spoiled me rotten.” Rafe’s smile was so genuine, Luis managed a faint smile in response.

“Would you like me to show you to your room?” Maria was sure he didn’t need her help, but it was polite to offer.

“Thank you, but I remember the way. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Juan will press your evening clothes,” Dolores said. “I’m sure they’re wrinkled from being packed so long.”

“I didn’t bring evening clothes. I haven’t worn any since I left here ten years ago.”

“Warren never came to the table unless he was dressed properly,” Dolores complained after Rafe and Broc left.

“Warren hadn’t just arrived from Texas,” Maria responded. “What are you trying to do? First you act as if this is the
return of a prodigal son. Next you act as though he’s still in love with you. Then you end by trying to send his friend away and insist on evening clothes for dinner. Are you trying to make him dislike us even more than he already does?”

“How can you stand to look at his friend?” Dolores’s body quivered with disgust. “He makes my skin crawl.”

“I think he’s nice,” Luis said.

“So do I.” Maria was surprised Luis would speak up for a man he’d just met. Normally the boy was reluctant to voice an opinion contrary to his mother’s. “And he has a name. Common civility requires you use it.”

“How can I be civil around him when looking at him makes me feel unwell?”

“Broc was probably wounded in the war. He must have been remarkably handsome at one time. I think he’s quite extraordinary to have accepted his scars so well.”

“Then
you
look at him and use his name.” Dolores appeared to think for a moment, a slight furrow marring her perfect brow. “I think Rafe is still in love with me. I wouldn’t mind being married to him. He has a bit of a temper, but he used to worship me.”