Conall's Legacy (3 page)

“Barter what?”

“Riding lessons. Don’t you still have an old school horse?” “Sure, but I don’t want a pack of kids out here.” Unexpected desire tugged at her heart.
At least not someone else’s
.

“You’re making excuses. Come on. Admit it. My plan just might work.”

“Now, don’t go getting excited. I want to spend a peaceful summer. I’ve three spring foals due any time, and they’ll take attention and socialization. Not to mention the two books my publisher wants finished before September.” Luisa sighed. “I don’t want anyone around.” She noted the determined set of Cindy’s shoulders and conceded. “Maybe we’ll check into this in the fall.”

Cindy perked up. “Great,” she said, clapping her hands together. “It’s time to finish it, Luisa. I’m not going to let you forget.”

Luisa laughed, the sound warm and welcome. “I know you won’t. Now tell me, what’s up with your love life these days? Did I hear the hint of lust in your voice? Isn’t he married?”

A blush spread over her friend’s features and a sparkle lit up her blue eyes. Apparently, Cindy was dating again--and enjoying it.

“Actually, he’s a psychiatrist. A widowed psychiatrist.”

“What’s he doing in Cochise County? We’re not exactly mainstream out here.”

“He’s living in Tucson for a couple of years doing research with the university.”

“So tell me what he looks like.”

“He’s tall, dark, and handsome. Total cliché, but true.” The flush came back to her cheeks, and she lifted one hand to fan her face as though Adriano’s heat were too much for her. “Add the strong yet sensitive guy that he is, and you have a recipe for one delectable man.”

“And the fact he has kids and a history doesn’t bother you?” Luisa asked.

“Maybe a little, but to make a great relationship, we all have to compromise. Besides, I think he’d be worth it.” She lifted one shoulder. “And the kids are beautiful.”

The interest was there to see in her eyes. Luisa knew there’d be more to come on the subject of Adriano Menendez. She shook her head.
Maybe something is missing from my life
. It had been a long time since a man had lived at
La Puerta de
_
Paraíso
.

She ran her hands over the time-smoothed arms of the rocker and envisioned her father sitting and rocking as he had each evening, as it had now become her custom to do. A picture of a man sitting beside Luisa in a second rocker formed in her mind--a man tall, slim, and well-muscled. A man with courage and integrity. A man who would never break a commitment once made. He’d reach over and gently take her hand in his, wrapping her fingers with his own as they sat and watched the sun sink below the horizon. Pipe dreams, she thought and the picture snapped out like a burned bulb.

CHAPTER THREE

Drake pulled off the highway and parked on the gravel shoulder to check the map. He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, clearing the sweat away before it dripped into his eyes--again. The air conditioner in his brand new truck had given up the fight before he’d reached Needles, where it had been 115 in the shade. The guy at the stop and rob he’d hit for coffee said it was a little warm early this year. Drake snorted. Late May and already 115. He’d never been anywhere it was too hot to breathe--until now. It had actually cooled off to 92 when he’d reached Sierra Vista.

Drake had sweltered since the cooler had given out, and he cursed Rick for putting him through this. His inherent honesty wouldn’t let him curse Rick for long, though. The problem was his; he’d admitted that to himself somewhere along the highway between Los Angeles and Hell.

A dozen times or more he’d debated how badly he wanted to stay a cop and whether this exile was worth it. He glanced at the blacktop and saw waves of heat radiating from the pavement. For a split second he saw the waves of heat from the bomb blast, and Conall lying at his feet. He sucked air into tight lungs and jerked his attention to the present.

Maybe before he got even with Rick, he’d have to shoot the truck salesman for selling him this lemon. On top of the air going out, the locating system failed to give him the right directions to the local BLM, causing him to drive loops around town in search of the keys to his new digs. The town’s one main street made him wish yet again for Los Angeles traffic. To top it off, he’d been handed a letter addressed to the manager--a female manager. “So much for being alone,” he grumbled.

He picked up the map and directions, and looked at them again. The directions for the last leg of this journey firm in his mind, he tossed the map onto the seat and pulled onto the blacktop.

First, bad luck had taken his best friend, and now it put Drake smack in the middle of a southwestern desert hell. Hot air blew in the window, hitting Drake’s tired eyes. Sweat rolled down the sides of his face, and dripped into the neck of his shirt.

“Damn, I hate the heat,” he said into the suffocating air in the cab.
Whatever possessed me to do this? I should have quit the police force and taken up roller blading on the Santa Monica boardwalk
.

He thought of Rick. Thought of the people he helped every day as a cop. Leaving law enforcement wasn’t an option. He slammed his fist against the wheel and decided he’d endure the exile and return to Southern California as soon as possible to insist Rebecca marry him. Then he’d get back to work at the police department. That was the best thing for Rebecca and the kids, and for him. And he’d fulfill his promise to Conall.

#

The desert air cooled as Luisa ran her hands over Royal Knight’s legs. She reached up from where she knelt to pat his shoulder.

“No more loafing for you. The swelling’s gone.”

The horse understood and danced from one foot to the other like a child ready for recess instead of work.

“You’re going to be a handful after three days in the stall, aren’t you?”

Finished saddling, she led him outside, then mounted and rode the large chestnut horse into the arena. Luisa kept Knight at a walk, fighting his energy all the way. She wanted to be sure he was completely recovered before letting him move out too fast. She alternately extended and collected his walk, warming and stretching the muscles in his legs and body.

The steady rhythm of his gait satisfied her, so she rode over to the observation platform, leaned over, and turned on the tape recorder. Then she rode down the rail again. Soft strains of classical music floated on the still air. With a shift of her seat, she deepened in the saddle. Knight moved smoothly into a canter. She pushed him to a collected gallop, laughing as the wind kissed her cheeks and loosened tendrils of her braided hair. Her hips moved rhythmically with Knight, molding them together as one creature where two had been. She settled him back into a long trot.

As she and Knight floated across the arena, the distant sound of rattling metal drifted to her. She cringed at the unwelcome rumble, and then forced her attention back to her horse. Knight flicked his ears, obviously hearing it too. She ran the back of her knuckles down one side of his neck soothing the tightened muscles.

“Easy, son. Just a BLM truck on the road.”

She lifted Knight back into a canter and rode down the middle of the arena. At the center, she collected him until he moved in place. His muscles bunched as he shifted his fourteen hundred-pound frame over his hindquarters. She brought him around in a pirouette, his front end cantering a tight circle around his haunches.

His energy coiled like a heavy-duty spring threatening to explode. When she rode straight out of the pirouette, he kicked back with one foot then lunged forward. Luisa brought him up short with experienced hands and legs.

“Cut it out!”

He quickly obeyed, but flattened his ears. His tail flipped up and caught her across the back, the thick braid slapping her shoulder. She heeled him again. “Darn it, Knight, behave yourself.”

As she worked to control him, the clanging came again, louder this time. She felt the hump in his back as he bunched up, ready to throw a temper tantrum. Squeezing his ribs with her calves, she urged him forward to keep him from bucking.

The sound of metal banging and vibrating against metal grew closer, more frightening. She stopped to let him see what was coming. Too late.

Knight dropped his head to his knees and gave two solid bucks. Luisa pulled him up as a truck and trailer drove beneath the ranch sign. Knight’s head nearly caught her in the face when he lifted it and flew sideways, stopping only when he reached the far side of the arena. She fought to stabilize the frantic thumping of her heart.

“Knock it off. Too much energy is no excuse to act like a fool.” She had to admit, though, the deafening noise was enough to scare rattlesnakes out of the entire county.

The pickup clattered to a stop in a cloud of dust. The terrible noise stopped. Quiet returned as the surrounding bushes absorbed the metallic echoes. Luisa planted a heel in Knight’s side and rode over to turn off her music, guiding the horse’s shying steps all the way. She kept one eye on the man climbing out of the truck.

Luisa dismounted and pulled air deep into her lungs to slow her heart rate and cool her temper. As she did she counted to ten. It wouldn’t be good form to strangle the stranger where he stood because he frightened her horse.

He stood by his vehicle, squinting in her direction obviously having difficulty looking into the sun sinking behind her. She jerked the clip from her hair and shook out the braid before leading Knight out of the arena toward the stranger.

#

Drake watched the woman loosen her hair and shake her head to cascade the dark brown waves around her face. The gesture was one he knew, totally feminine--and vain. Waves of hair flowed across one side of her face like a ‘40s movie star. Sunlight glistened off red highlights. He was sure she knew exactly the way she looked -- innocence hiding behind sexy seduction.

“Swell, just what I need. A good looking neighbor,” he grumbled.

He let his gaze slide over the ranch yard. Two white clapboard residences stood in the shadows of giant cottonwood trees. A hitching rack rested in front of the larger of the two. Across the wide farmyard, a faded red barn leaned slightly to one side. He wondered how a barn could remain standing when you could see inside from outside through holes in the ancient boards.

The woman walked toward him, all confidence and stubborn indignation. The horse, on the other hand, appeared to be walking on eggs. Its nostrils flared, reminding him of a fire-breathing dragon.

“You do know you’ve come onto private property, don’t you?”

Her voice caught his attention. His gaze captured hers.

“You can turn around over there and go out the same way you came in, if you’re lost.”

The heat, dust, and long day on the road didn’t put him in the mood for a temperamental woman. He drew on his police training to keep from letting his temper erupt in the face of hers.

“This is
La Puerta de Paraíso
, isn’t it?” He glanced at the envelope in his hand.

“It is. I didn’t order any ball bearings or whatever you’ve got rattling around in that trailer.”

His jaw clamped tight before the expletive left his brain and reached his lips. He didn’t take kindly to men who swore in front of women and children. It was sure tempting to do so in front of this woman. Drake took a deep breath and regained control.

“I’m Drake Forrester.” The blank look on her face spoke volumes. Someone neglected to tell her he was coming, if she was the right person. “I’m looking for Luisa Montoya.”

Suspicion shimmered across her features. “That’s me.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’m hot, tired, and ready to settle in.” Shock registered on her face. The lady didn’t have a clue. “I’m staying in the bunkhouse for a few weeks.”

“The BLM didn’t tell me anyone was coming. The bunkhouse is supposed to be empty this summer.”

She didn’t seem very happy about having company.
Good thing she didn’t have a shotgun in her hands. She’d be telling me to get outta Dodge
. Drake shook his head. He’d been watching too many old westerns lately.

“Look, I’m not any happier about this setup than you are. This was a last minute arrangement.” He handed her the letter and dangled the keys he pulled from his pocket. “Here’s the authorization from the regional manager.”

She snatched the envelope from his fingers and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. Her frown deepened as she scanned the words. This was one unhappy lady.

“All I need is a place to unload this trailer, and I’ll get out of your way.”

“What’s in there?” She nodded at the trailer, her hair swinging against her cheeks. “You scared Royal Knight half to death.”

“I’m sorry about that. It’s scrap metal.”

“Excuse me?”

He started to answer, but she held up a hand.

“You are not going to pile trash--”

Drake’s temper flared. “It’s not trash. It’s--” He brushed his hair away from his forehead. “It’s art.” And salvation.

“Art?”

He watched curiosity war with temper. The lady was intrigued. He shifted from one leg to the other and rested one hip against the dusty truck. “Hobby, really. I do metal sculptures. I’m just here to relax and create if that’s okay with you.” He knew he’d stay whether it was or not. His job depended on it.