Someone Like You (Night Riders) (9 page)

After nine years on Rancho los Alamitos, she still knew almost nothing about it. She could see the mountains from the house and the fields that stretched into the distance, but she seldom had an opportunity to see the rich green of artichoke plants with their spiky leaves, smell the lime trees in bloom, or watch bearded heads of wheat wave in a gentle breeze. Workers moved through the fields, the near silence broken by an occasional voice lifted in song. They passed small houses where children played under the watchful eyes of mothers preparing spicy foods for the midday meal. This was the heart of the ranch, the reason it held Rafe’s interest.

Over the next half hour, Rafe talked about what they saw and the changes he wanted to make. When she was finally able to get her mind off staying in the saddle, she was surprised to find how much he knew about the ranch, how strong his interest in it was despite his long absence.

“How will you incorporate all these changes if you go back to Texas?” she asked.

He favored her with a look of annoyance. “Miguel can handle any changes.”

“But I don’t want you to go away,” Luis objected.” You’re supposed to be my guardian.

Luis had always looked to Maria for everything. How could he have changed to Rafe so quickly? What was it about the man that made both of them look to him for answers?

“Maria will take care of you as she always has,” Rafe assured Luis.

“I don’t mean give me my lessons or make sure I eat my vegetables. I mean teach me to ride, how to run the ranch when I grow up.”

Luis seemed to be changing right before her eyes. He’d never shown any interest in riding, much less in learning how to run the ranch. That was probably her fault. She’d been so concerned about protecting him, trying to make sure he grew up normally in a house hold that was far from normal, she hadn’t given any thought to what would happen when he became a man. She’d thought Warren would still be alive. His death and Rafe’s return had changed everything.

“I’ll make sure Rafe stays here until he figures out something,” Broc assured Luis. “It’s a lot nicer to sleep on a featherbed than on the ground.”

Luis had never slept on the ground, so he bombarded Broc with dozens of questions. The more Broc talked, the more questions he asked about Texas. When he asked if he could visit Rafe when he went back to Texas, Maria decided she had been bringing up a boy she didn’t really know.

“Rafe seems to know exactly what to say to make Luis feel more comfortable,” she remarked to Broc. She had never understood how some people grew up with confidence in themselves and others had to work at building it piece by painful piece. Dolores had her beauty to depend on. What did Rafe depend on? How had he survived being banished by his father and the years he’d spent away from the ranch?

“Rafe was the one who looked after the new recruits after their first battle had scared them out of their minds. Just being around him gave them confidence.”

“Luis has beautiful manners and has made great progress with his studies. I think that’s more important than knowing how to ride or manage crops.” She hadn’t meant for Rafe to overhear her.

“Luis will be owner of one of the largest ranches in California. He has to know how to manage it, or he’ll lose it. He has to ride because he can’t see two hundred thousand acres from the front porch. He may have perfect manners and book knowledge, but he’s not comfortable around strangers. How will that help him as a businessman or a social leader?”

“Why don’t you go ahead and say you think I’ve done a terrible job of raising him?”

“Because I’m damned glad it was you and not Dolores. He doesn’t yet know everything he needs to learn, but he’s not likely to destroy other people’s lives just to get what he wants.”

It was a small compliment, but more than she expected.

“His education was my father’s responsibility, not yours,” Rafe went on. “Luis should know how to ride any horse in the barn, have ridden over every foot of this ranch at least a dozen times, and know how to get along with boys his age, whether they’re the sons of other ranchers or the sons of men who work for him. He should be able to handle a gun, a rope, and a dozen other things expected of boys.”

Maria opened her mouth to object, but he hadn’t finished.

“He doesn’t need these things to be a man. He needs them because others will expect it of him. It’s hard to respect yourself when others don’t.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to care about other people’s opinions.”

His smile lacked humor. “I was never as confident as I appeared. If I had been, I wouldn’t have been so devastated when Dolores chose my father over me.”

She immediately regretted her harsh words. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It was close enough. I spent three years in Mexico wallowing in my misery. It took surviving four years of a brutal war to pull me out of my self-absorption. It has taken three years of working and living with friends I wouldn’t hesitate to trust with my life to sort through my feelings and figure out what’s
important. I don’t want Luis to have to go through any of that.”

Why did she always end up sympathizing with Rafe? She might as well create a separate person to endow with all his misdeeds. As far as her emotions were concerned, they didn’t count. “Then you have to stay here. It’s obvious you don’t think I’m the right teacher for Luis.”

“If you don’t stay here, would you take me to Texas with you?” Luis asked.

She hadn’t realized Luis and Broc had stopped talking and were listening to her and Rafe.

“Would I like it in Texas?” Luis asked.

Broc laughed. “Not after living here. It’s hot as hell in the summer, the bugs will carry off anybody as little as you, and Cade will make you sleep in a bunk house on a bed as hard as the ground. You’ll spend all your waking hours in the saddle. Cade will say you’re chasing the cows, but they’ll really be chasing you. At night you’ll be so tired you’ll actually be able to sleep on your hard bed.”

Luis turned to Rafe. “Is that right?”

“Some of it, but Broc used to be an actor. Everything an actor says is something somebody made up. Sometimes Broc forgets he not’s on stage.”

Broc laughed at Luis’s confusion. “Don’t listen to a word he says. He’s just jealous because everybody likes me better than—”

The sound was so unexpected, Maria couldn’t believe it was what her instincts told her it had to be. She knew it was a rifle shot when Broc crumpled in the saddle, and Luis’s horse screamed and broke into a gallop.

Rafe appeared to understand the situation instantly. “Look after Broc. He was hit in the shoulder. I’m going after Luis. His pony is headed toward a place where a creek tumbles through a deep ravine. If he tries to jump it, they’ll both be killed.”

Maria had never been called upon to deal with a situation
like this. Her precious child was galloping toward instant death, and she’d been left to deal with a man who’d been shot. She’d never even
seen
a person who’d been shot. She had no idea how to take care of one.

“It’s not a fatal wound,” Broc managed to say, “but if we don’t staunch the bleeding, I could bleed to death.”

“Tell me what to do.” Her brain could at least follow orders.

“Take off my shirt. Rip it, cut it, get it off any way you can. We can use it to pack the wound.”

She didn’t know how she managed to help Broc out of his shirt any more than she knew where she found the strength to tear it into pieces. When she forced a piece into the wound, Broc looked like he would pass out.

“Harder.” He could barely whisper. “It hurts like hell, but that’s better than being dead.”

Maria gritted her teeth and forced the now-bloody piece of cloth into the hole torn in Broc’s shoulder.

“You’ve got to pack it tighter to stop the bleeding.” He must have understood her hesitation. “It’s not as bad as having my face blown off.”

Broc’s groans nearly stopped her, but she took strength from his courage. For a moment she thought she would have to stop packing the wound to hold him in the saddle, but he gripped the pommel and held on. She was still trying to stuff more material in the wound when Rafe returned with Luis.

Rafe took in the situation immediately. “You and Luis get back to the house as quickly as you can. Tell Juan to send for the nearest surgeon. We need to get the bullet out as quickly as possible.”

Maria had intended to go back at a canter, but Luis kicked his pony into a gallop. “Wait!” Her cry might as well have been flung into the wind. Her precious baby boy, who had rarely been on a horse, was galloping down a rough trail on a runaway pony. Less than an hour ago, he hadn’t been sure he wanted to get on the animal. Now he was galloping. It was all Rafe’s fault.

Taking her courage in her hands, Maria urged her own mount forward until she came alongside Luis. “Slow down before you kill yourself!”

The boy didn’t pause to glance at her, but kept his eyes straight ahead. “We’ve got to get a doctor for Broc. We can’t let him die.”

Maria wanted to tell Luis that Broc wouldn’t die. Rafe had appeared calm, but he’d seen men shot, gravely wounded…he’d seen them die. If he said it was imperative to get the bullet out as quickly as possible, that probably meant Broc was in real danger.

The trip back to the house seemed endless, but once they reached the stables, Luis threw his leg over without waiting for help. He fell to the ground virtually under his mount’s hooves. Maria’s heart was in her throat until he scrambled to his feet and set off for the house at a run.

Several men came hurrying from the stable. “What’s wrong?” one asked.

“Mr. Kincaid has been shot.”

By the time she reached the house, Luis had alerted everyone. Juan passed her on his way to the stables.

“I’m going for Dr. Andrés. Rosana is already tearing sheets into strips.”

Dolores met her in the main hall. “Luis said someone shot Broc? Surely he’s wrong.”

Maria kept walking toward the stairs that would take her to Rafe’s old bedroom. “He’s not wrong. Someone did shoot Broc.”

Dolores hurried after her. “Where were you? What were you doing?”

“We weren’t off our land. I have no idea why he was shot.”

“It must have been an accident. Someone was hunting and hit him by mistake.”

That was possible. They had been riding near the foothills where a hunter was most likely to find deer, but they’d been out in the open, easily seen by someone pointing a rifle in
their direction. Not for a moment did Maria think anyone on the ranch could be responsible for such a terrible mistake.

“I have no idea why it happened. I have to make sure Broc’s room is ready.”

The next minutes passed with agonizing slowness. While Maria organized the house hold to gather linens, hot water, and any salves and medications the doctor might request, Dolores asked questions and gave orders in alternating bursts. Luis stood out of the way, the color drained from his face, wanting assurance that Broc wasn’t dead.

Margarita burst into the room. “They’re here. They’re bringing him up now.”

Maria’s first thought was that Broc was dead. She was relieved when she heard him threatening the men carrying him that if they dropped him before they laid him on the bed, he would shoot every one of them as soon as he could hold a pistol.

“He never misses,” Rafe informed them. “You might as well be dead already.”

They settled him in the bed with great care, then nearly stumbled over themselves getting out of the room.

Maria thought she saw a smile flit across Broc’s face. “See if you can refrain from scaring the doctor,” he said to Rafe. “I don’t want his hand shaking when he cuts into me.”

Once Rafe was sure Broc was as comfortable as they could make him, he pulled Maria aside. “How long before we can expect the doctor?”

“I don’t know.”

As the minutes passed without Juan’s return, Maria sensed Rafe’s growing anxiety. She breathed a sigh of relief when Juan hurried into the room.

“The doctor is away taking care of a miner who was attacked by a grizzly. His apprentice is coming.”

Broc raised his head from the pillow. “I’m not having some apprentice sawbones work on me.”

“That bullet has to come out,” Rafe told him.

“If some amateur has to cut into me, I’d rather it be you. At least I know you won’t murder me with stupidity.”

“I’m not a doctor.”

“But you’ve seen enough army doctors work to know what to do. Bring me some of that brandy I had last night. A couple of swallows of that, and I won’t care what you do.”

“I’m not taking that bullet out.”

“If you let me die, I swear I’ll come back and haunt you.”

“You can’t let him die!”

Maria had forgotten Luis was still in the room. She should have sent him out before Rafe returned with Broc. “Go stay with your mother. I’ll let you know when the bullet is out.”

“I want to stay.” Luis inched away when she attempted to lead him from the room. “My fingers are small. Maybe I can reach in and get the bullet out.”

Rafe knelt down in front of Luis. “The bullet might be buried in the bone, which would make it very hard to get out.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“I’m sure you aren’t, but I think you’d be more comfortable with your mother.”

“No, I wouldn’t. She doesn’t like Broc. She says she can’t look at his face. I don’t care about his face. I think he was very brave to fight in a war.”

Luis had never talked so much or so forcefully, not even to people he’d known all his life. Maria didn’t know whether to be pleased he was finally asserting himself or upset he was going through a nerve-racking situation at such a young age.

“Let the boy stay,” Broc declared. “If he throws up his breakfast, he won’t make a bigger mess than I have already.”

Rafe fixed Luis with a steady gaze. “Broc wants you to stay, but you’ve got to keep out of the way. If you feel like you’re getting sick, you have to leave. Can you do that?”

Luis nodded.

Rafe stood and turned to Maria. “This is against my better judgment, but I’m going to try to get the bullet out.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to wait?”

“I would if I knew the doctor would be here instead of his apprentice. I know the damage an inexperienced doctor can do.”