Renegade Moon (CupidKey) (3 page)

The cause of Destiny’s dilemma returned carrying two tall, insulated glasses. He took the chair beside her and handed her a glass. Destiny drank deeply of the icy water. “I’m Destiny Winston, on assignment for
Western Skies
magazine to do a photo-story on the historical site the Rampton Foundation is sponsoring.” She paused, swishing the water in her glass. “That’s why I’m trespassing again. I was out at the site and followed the other fork in the road. Am I disturbing you? I can finish my water and be on my way.”

“I wasn’t busy. No rush. By the way, I’m Eric Montoya. I own this ranch.”

“Nice to meet you, Eric Montoya.” Deciding not to mention her talk with Lee about him, she extended her hand, small and pale compared to his, that was swiftly engulfed by his large bronze one. “Would you be related to Carlos Montoya?”

A guarded expression crept across his features. “My adoptive father. Do you know him?”

“No, but I do know the Montoyas are a prominent New Mexico family, and I read a brief profile of Mr. Montoya when he and his wife retired. It mentioned several ranches owned by the family.”

“True.” His suspicious scowl faded. “This one, the Circle C in West Texas, and one in the Hill Country near Johnson City in Central Texas, which belongs to my brother.”

“The Circle C-the Carrington Ranch?”

“You know of it?”

“Our travel site, the one for
Western Skies
, ran a feature on the Circle C Resort Ranch. It’s in your family as well?”

“Extended family. Mom is a Carrington. My cousin Errol Carrington inherited the Circle C when my uncle died. Mom and his father are . . . were . . . brother and sister. That sounds dumb. I mean, sister and brother.”

Destiny smiled. “I translated that. So you’re both Montoya
and
Carrington.”

Eric chuckled. “You make it sound like royalty.”

“Both well-known families. You are to the manor born, sir.”

His smile faded. “Not really born to it. More or less borrowed.”

Noticing a bit of a prickle, Destiny quickly pursued another subject. “And are they as large as this one? Lee Duncan at the site said this ranch covers several thousand acres.”

“This is the second biggest. The Circle C in West Texas covers more ground. The Bar-M is second, then the Double Bar-M.” He took a thoughtful sip from his glass. “After the folks retired to Albuquerque, they handed over the reins of the Bar-M to me. I have plans.” He waved one arm. “To fix up this house for one thing. I just replaced that section of roof. A tiny bit of water seepage can result in a lot of damage. Constant maintenance and repairs got to be too much for them to deal with, especially after Dad’s accident.”

Destiny gave him a questioning glance.

“Fell off the barn roof. They’d been spending more and more time at their house in Albuquerque anyway, and when that happened, well, doctors and rehab were all there. He recovered well, but it left him with a limp. Sometimes he uses a cane. So, decided they preferred modern conveniences and more civilized comfort and leave the work to the younger generation.”

“Gracious. This must be an old house. I can tell it’s special.” A soothing atmosphere encompassed the sturdy rock and adobe home with its wide porch. Glancing up at the porch roof built of sticks, Destiny pointed. “What kind of wood is this?”

“Sotol sticks. They make good patio and porch cover. Build a frame, gather the sotol sticks, and wire them down. If they blow off, go get some more. And you can buy bundles of them. Some people gather and sell them for a little extra cash.”

“Nice shade, but don’t they leak rain?”

“We have a lot more sun than rain here.”

“Makes sense,” she acknowledged. Their eyes met. “You mentioned a brother. Just the two of you?”

“We have a sister, but she’s not in the ranching business. As I said, I’m adopted. The Montoyas raised me after my parents died. My folks worked here on the Bar-M. My mother died in childbirth. Mine. My father was killed trying to break a horse that threw him against the barn.” Eric paused, his dark eyes boring into hers. “The horse never would have thrown my father if he hadn’t had a hangover. He was the best horseman ever. But the white man’s firewater got him.”

She cocked her head questioningly.

“Indian,” he said, watching her. “Apache Indian.” He stated it as though he expected an extraordinary reaction, as if she might leap up in horror. Obviously, this man had experienced prejudice.

“That explains your wonderful tan.” She smiled, ignoring his wariness. “I wish I had a bit myself. The sun out here may not be kind to me.”

He surveyed her pale beige complexion. “Probably not. You need a good sun block and a hat. And boots,” he added, his assessment ending at her sandaled feet.

She wiggled her toes. “I realize that. Where can I buy boots here? Must I go all the way to Albuquerque?”

“You can buy them in Las Nubes at the Trading Post. It’s a pretty good everything general store. And they don’t have expensive prices, if that matters.”

She laughed merrily. “I should say it does. I’m a struggling photojournalist. Where’s the Trading Post?”

“Practically in the middle of town. You likely passed it already a time or two.”

“Yes. Guess I missed it. Focused on making the right turns to get here.”

“Understandable. This is a different country from Austin, Texas.”

“I’m a native Texan, born and raised in Houston, moved to Austin, but have been to most parts of Texas. This is my first time in New Mexico, not counting a vacation to Carlsbad Caverns when my sister and I were kids.”

“Sometimes I think that’s about all some people see of New Mexico. There’s more to us than that, though the Caverns are spectacular.”

Destiny glanced at her watch, startled to find it almost noon. “I must go. I need to buy supplies and do some errands.” Stomach pangs reminded her that she hadn’t eaten a thing all day, but she didn’t intend to mention that for fear he’d think she was trying to wangle a lunch invitation. She placed her water glass on the table. “Thanks for the water and your hospitality.”

“Any time.” He stood, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “Let the dogs meet you so they won’t jump you next time. Joby, Muddog, come here.”

The dogs scrambled up from their resting spots and trotted to their master. “This is Destiny,” Eric said. “Check her out. She’s a friend.”

She stood quite still while the dogs sniffed her hands. Then two tails wagged. “Who is who?” she asked, tentatively patting each head in turn.

“The black one’s Joby, the brown is Muddog.”

“Because he’s the color of mud?” She smiled up at Eric, still scratching offered ears.

“Well, actually because of a puppyhood stunt. He tracked in mud–and–uh . . . Do you have dogs?”

“During my childhood.” She laughed. “And I can just imagine what he did.” The dogs resumed their prone positions as Eric walked with her to the car. Once again, she found an oven.

“Oh, dear,” she gasped, fanning her hands at the open door.

“Leave the windows cracked open a little,” Eric suggested. “I’ve seen car windows blow out from the heat.”

“Oh, okay, I will. Before I go, what does
Las Nubes
mean?”

“The Clouds. Especially descriptive in winter, when they seem to snag on the mountaintops.”

“Appropriate for New Mexico. Well, thanks again. ‘Bye.” Destiny started the car, clicked on the air-conditioner full blast, and with a last wave, drove away.

Eric George watched the blue Mustang disappear over the ridge, trailing a cloud of dust. The thick curtain of heavy summer silence dropped again and he stood for a moment, aware of the heat shimmering on the rocks. The sun’s rays pounded like a hammer on his bare head. Resting his hand briefly against his now empty shirt pocket, he wondered about the faint stirring of feelings inside himself that he’d thought were long dead and buried.

Turning, he ambled slowly back toward the house. The dogs thumped their tails on the ground as he passed them to climb the steps. Now in the shade, he sat down on the cool stone floor of the porch and leaned back against an arch. Visions of clear, aquamarine eyes and golden waves tossing in the breeze haunted him. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the visions. He didn’t want that. No, sir. She seemed like a nice person, she was certainly lovely, but this was not the right time. Wrong time, wrong circumstances. Wrong complications.

Best to send Cupid packing, before it’s too late.
But an annoying idea niggled at the back of his mind that it was already too late.

Wind whipped Destiny’s hair across her forehead. She brushed the wayward strands aside, intent on focusing her telescopic lens, planning a complete panorama. In the middle of her pivot, she peered at a collection of people and vehicles cluttering the horizon. Well, they were quite distant, and perhaps she could shoot around them, piecing it all together and editing them out.

An approaching car shattered the desert silence. Destiny turned to watch a seafoam-green Mercedes brake to a halt in the rocks beside the road. Lee Duncan climbed out.

“Hello,” he called cheerfully. “Off the beaten path, aren’t you?” He flashed an appealing smile and openly surveyed Destiny from the top of her head, over her khaki safari shirt and shorts, until his gaze lingered on her bare legs.

Amusement flickered within her at his frank examination. Must not have gotten his eyes full at their prior meeting. “Hi, Lee. I didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“I was on my way to the dig when I spotted your car. I thought I saw a damsel-in-distress.”

“Disappointed?”

“Not really. My knight’s armor is a bit rusty.” He continued to where she stood, still smiling, scanning the countryside. He squinted at the distant group of cars and people a moment before turning back to her.

“This is savage country,” he said, his blue eyes serious. “Be careful about going off alone.”

“Is that a warning?” How annoying. Just because she was petite, everyone, especially men, invariably thought she needed protecting and supervising.

“Don’t be mad.” Lee touched her arm briefly. “I just meant . . .”

Sounds of an airplane interrupted him. Destiny searched the cobalt sky until she targeted the craft winging downward. She waved in the direction of the group. “Is that where it’s landing?”

“That’s just an old dirt airstrip.” Lee shaded his eyes to watch the descending plane.

“Then why land there?”

“Ah . . .” Lee stroked his moustache. “Who knows? Maybe somebody is practicing.” Abruptly he changed the subject. “If you’re finished here, come on to the dig with me.”

“Oh, no thanks. I’ve got a few things to do first. See you there later.” Destiny crossed to her car, acting as though she was putting away her camera and preparing to leave. She waited for the Mercedes to turn around and drive away before resuming her photography. She zoomed in on the horizon, focusing on the aircraft, people, and vehicles, watching them through the telephoto lens as she clicked away. They moved between the aircraft and vehicles, loading and unloading something.

Presently the desert sun blazing upon her skin sent her back to the Mustang. She slipped in and glanced at the map spread across the seat, smiling to herself as her finger traced a route appearing to lead to the airstrip.

Continuing down the road, she soon came to the turnoff indicated on the map. But before she reached her destination, the airplane took off and climbed into the summer sky. It was a twin-engine, maybe cream colored, but distance made it impossible to see its identifying numbers. The plane zipped away, becoming a dot, before disappearing.

She topped a rise in time to see a Jeep and two trucks pull away from the airstrip and head down an ill-defined road, kicking up rolls of dust.

Cautious, she became acutely aware of her own dusty wake, halting briefly in a hollow before covering the final distance to the airstrip. The barren strip, resting in a flat area with small hills at one end, offered little to photograph. A bluff dropped off the other end. Oh,
that
would be an exciting takeoff. A range of blue-violet mountains rose in the distance.

Destiny studied the road the vehicles had taken. The worn dirt path wound off into the hills. She compared what she saw before her to the map. No corresponding road. After snapping one photo, she put the car into gear and followed the road.

Here I go again.
The car bumped over the very rough road. Washouts had gouged gullies and it seemed that each washout had a corresponding rock, so that missing one meant hitting the other. She topped a hill and stared down at the dismaying road ahead.
No way. Ridiculous.

Her low-slung Mustang hadn’t been born off the assembly line to face such a test. She silently scolded herself as she carefully backed up. There was no place to turn around until she’d backed nearly half a mile. When she finally came to a cutoff road, she was trembling with the effort of concentration. She quickly drove off down the relatively smooth side road.

She’d missed it completely before, when they’d likely gone this way in the first place. Soon Destiny was driving over what appeared to be an ancient wagon trail cut through tall grass, weeds, bushes, and scrub.

She realized by now that the other vehicles had not come this way, but once again she found no place to turn around. She carefully followed her wagon tracks. At least it wasn’t gouged with boulders and gorges. The road gradually climbed up out of the flats, became rockier and left most of the scrub vegetation behind. Suddenly it butted right into another road, one that seemed better traveled. She stopped, searching both ways. Nowhere. Nothing. Not a hint of which way to go. She checked her map.
Road
? What
road
? A dozen squiggly lines traced across the map and she had no idea which one she was on. Oh, for a cool drink!