Chapter Five

Two weeks had passed since Jesse's discussion with Coy in the garden, and with every new day, logic warred with her fragile heart. She repeated his words, 'I'm heading north to Utah,' a thousand times, a constant reminder that a man like Coy Santos never stayed in one place too long. She told herself not to fall for the false sense of security she felt with him, and told her brain to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat whenever he entered a room. She pulled weeds in the garden with vengeance, churned butter until her fingers bled and galloped over the rock-encrusted terrain at breakneck speed to rid thoughts of Coy from her mind.

She couldn't dispute his claim of being good with hammer and nail, but she'd also noticed the bond forming between her son and the aloof, mysterious man. Grange took to him like a flea on a blue tick hound while she spent hours trying to assess why. Had she underestimated how much Grange missed his father…or had she underestimated Coy Santos? On more than one occasion she'd witnessed his patience with a boy full of innumerable questions and his calm voice and gentle manner with the horses.

When her favorite mare, Tansy, had trouble foaling, Coy stepped in and took control, no doubt saving both horse and colt from an agonizing death. Grange couldn't stop singing his praises over that event, and even she had to admit, losing Tansy and her foal would have delivered a crushing blow to them right now.

Today, when she'd entered the barn, she overheard a conversation between Grange and Coy about setting the baby owl free. She had tried on several occasions to convince her son the owlet wouldn't fall out of a tree again nor would the creature starve. But Coy's reassurance the owl had mastered flying and scavenging for its own food must have gotten through. Minutes later, Grange scurried past her, apparently intent on granting his prized possession freedom.

That left her staring at a shirtless man while he mucked out stalls. She shouldn't be ogling him and she shouldn't allow such lustful thoughts to run rampant in her brain. How could she ignore the broad shoulders, well-muscled torso and flat, hard abdomen? She found herself wildly attracted to this man, and didn't think she could blame it on abstinence or loneliness anymore. Her feelings were more visceral than that—as potent and painful as a toothache—that often wandered into daydreams no decent woman should be courting.

So lost in thought, she didn't see him turn to face her, like he was now with his large, strong hands wrapped around the pitchfork, his expression telling her not only could he read her mind but had entertained similar thoughts of her. If it's one thing she learned while working at Two Bits, it was the way a man looked at a woman that said he wanted her. He narrowed his eyes, his head-to-toe slide down the length of her body sending thrills and heat rushing through her veins. For the first time in her life, she wished she was an inanimate object, a pitchfork of all things.

With heat rising in her cheeks, she withdrew her scrutiny of the pitchfork and searched his face. "I've been meaning to thank you for fixing the wagon and for replacing the broken boards in the barn."

"No thanks needed; just trying to get you ready before winter sets in."

"Thank goodness that's a few months out yet."

If only he'd stop looking at her with those hungry eyes. "Comes sooner than we think."

She should look away, before she fell into a deep, dark well she couldn't crawl out of. "I think you convinced him to set the owl free, something I've been unsuccessful at."

"I told him to let him go by the stream, a place where he's most likely to find his next meal, a frog or a snake."

"That's all it took?"

He scrubbed a hand over his chin. "Well, my lecture on the importance of freedom for man and beast alike might have swayed him."

"You know a lot about that, Coy Santos?"

He scrunched his lips together and nodded. "More than I'd like to admit, yes."

She tilted her head to the side. "Too bad Cain didn't get to see you again before he…before he passed. I think he would have liked what he saw."

"I regret I didn't make it sooner, but it is what it is."

An easy silence lapsed between them while they looked at one another. Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke. "I'm low on supplies and headed for town in the morning. Thought you might like to see how Red Butte has changed in the last fifteen years."

"Is that an invitation?"

She smiled, aware of the electric current suffusing the air between them. "Yes, guess it is."

"I'd like that." Draped over the half-door of a stall, he grabbed his shirt and pushed his arms though the sleeves. "I promised Grange if he cut the owl loose, we'd ride out and check on the cattle."

"All right. Supper will be ready when you return."

She pivoted and walked from the barn, doing her best to still her runaway heart.

* * *

By the time Coy tacked and saddled Deuce and Belle, Grange's sprightly mare, the kid was standing outside the barn searching the sky. "I thought the owl would have returned by now."

"I'm proud of you, Grange, for letting him go." Coy handed him the reins to Belle. "I know it wasn't easy."

"I always thought of the owl as her."

"Guess that's not important, but what does matter is you set her free." He stepped into the stirrup, swung his leg across Deuce's back and looked down on the boy. "How about we ride out and check on the cattle?"

Grange mounted and as usual, picked up his usual chatter. "I saw Kajame this morning when I went hunting."

The midday sun coiled around them like a thousand slithering snakes. Coy removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. "You should have asked him to perform a rain dance. Damn, hasn't rained all month."

"He said it's coming soon."

"In that case, I might change my mind about him being full of manure."

"Maybe you'll get to meet him one of these days, and he's not full of manure."

"Sorry, kid. Guess I should follow my own advice; hold off on judging someone until you've had a chance to get to know them."

In the distance a coyote called out, a once familiar sound Coy hadn't heard for years. Fetch responded with a long howl and circled the riders in a nervous prance.

"When I asked him how he knows a storm is coming he said, 'When snakes and frogs climb trees, rain comes.'"

"Guess that makes sense."

"He said if a black chick is born it brings bad luck, and if a man sees his shadow at sunrise without his head, death will follow."

Coy rolled his eyes and hoped the kid didn't notice. "Yaqui legend and lore, huh?"

"You don't believe him?"

"I have to think about the last two…black baby chicks and headless shadows."

Without missing a beat, he jumped to another topic. "Do you think my ma is pretty?"

As pretty as the sun rising over the mountains, prettier than a field of wildflowers kissed by morning dew. Hell, he didn't want to talk about his wild, crazy feelings for this woman, his late brother's wife. How could he explain to a boy that every cell in his body told him he should ride out of here and never look back, but his heart would be wrenched from his chest when he did?

"Well, do you, Coy?"

"She's a good-looking woman, yes."

He cast those gray eyes on him. "Maybe—"

"I know where you're headed with this and it isn't going to happen."

"Why not? I see the way she looks at you and I think you like her some too."

"It's not in my plans, all right? I got a little piece of land waiting for me in Utah and, besides, I'm not the sort of man to settle down." He'd never seen Grange look so crestfallen; unless one counted the last time they discovered the Torres brothers had stolen more of their cattle. "Look, you're too young to understand, but one day you'll realize it's for the best I move on."

"Don't tell me I'm too young to understand. I see a lot more than you or Ma think I see. You know what I think?"

"No, and I don't want to."

"You're scared, scared you can't cut it, scared you'll make a mess of things. You told me to set the owl free, said everyone deserves freedom, but you're not free. You're locked in a cage of a different sort and it's called fear."

"Look, I don't want to talk—"

The kid's gaze flicked to the cattle grazing up ahead and then to a post lying on the ground. "I swear I'm gonna kill those bastards one day."

Coy reined in Deuce, slipped from the saddle and scanned the terrain in all directions. "How many did they get this time?"

After taking a quick tally, Grange whispered the words, "Looks like four."

"Well, hop on down. You can't fix the fence from up there."

Grange grabbed his wire cutter from the saddlebag and stomped forth. "They're trying to starve us out. They know we need to sell our stock to make it through winter."

Coy let him fume and stew, doing his best to keep his own emotions under control. When they finished repairing the fence line, he clapped the boy on the back. "You go on home now."

"What do you mean? Aren't you riding back with me?"

"Saw a wild turkey nosing around that copse of prickly pear a minute ago. I aim to bring him home for supper."

"I'll wait for you."

"No, you and Fetch go back to the ranch. I'll be home before you know it." He recognized suspicion in the kid's eyes, but he wasn't one to disobey his elders. "Might take me some time to corner that gobbler and we don't want to give your ma another thing to worry about, do we?"

"Guess not," he said with a lift of his shoulder. Grange mounted and caught his gaze again. "Watch your back while you're hunting. I wouldn't put nothin' past Benito and Domingo."

"They're long gone by now, but I promise to be looking over my shoulder."

With a firm nod, Grange turned Belle around and rode off. Coy watched him until he was nothing more than a speck on the horizon.

Then he mounted and headed for the Torres' ranch.