City Girl (16 page)

"That is exactly the attitude you should have," Rick praised. "Otherwise you'd get cocky and wind up getting hurt. Even experienced riders have a healthy respect for each and every horse they mount. That's just one mark of a good rider."

Rick decided it was safe for them to venture a little farther from the compound, and they walked their mounts until the barn and the big house beyond it could no longer be seen over the rolling hills. Confident that she was safe with him, Crystal allowed Rick to lead her along a winding little streambed that would eventually place them directly behind the Hardestys' home.

Crystal was enjoying this first real introduction to the Heritage, so much so that she only responded to Rick's conversation reluctantly.

They climbed up out of the little gully, and Rick led the way to the top of the hill, then reined in and waited for her to catch up with him.

"I've been thinking about you a lot today," he began, squinting at a scissor tail floating on a pocket of air high above them. "I was hoping maybe we could get to know one another better."

There was no doubt about what he meant. He was hoping they could date and perhaps develop a relationship of some sort.

"Rick," she began slowly, gazing at the reins in her hands, "you seem like a nice guy. You're good-looking and clever and fun to be with, but…"

"But?" His question rang with disappointment, sending a little twinge of guilt through her.

She rushed on. "But I'm afraid anything other than friendship between us is out of the question."

Rick blew out a stream of air and resettled the big cowboy hat on his head. "Well, I guess that hit the nail square on the head," he observed wryly. "But you can't blame a man for trying."

"It is just that I don't want to lead you on," she offered honestly. "Besides, right now I need a good friend more than anything else."

Her eyes pleaded with him to understand and not be offended.

The old swaggering grin came slowly back a trifle misaligned perhaps, but his features softened, and, true to form the cockiness resurfaced. "Sure." He laughed and shook his head whimsically. "If that's the way you want it."

"Friends?" Crystal extended a hand to seal the pact.

He took it unhesitatingly. "Friends." Then he leaned forward in the saddle and planted a kiss right beside her mouth. "But is sure is a pity. You don't know what you're missing!"

"Oh, you!" Crystal laughed, feeling much lighter now that this was settled between them. "I bet you say that to all the girls!" she teased.

"No, ma'am," he rejoined solemnly, leaning on the saddle horn. "I don't usually get turned down this way!"

Crystal threw back her head in gay laughter. It was much easier to enjoy his braggart's wit now that they were friends. She did not give so much as a second thought to that innocent little kiss. They urged their horses forward, conversing easily about nothing in particular, oblivious of the other rider who stood watching them from the top of the hill, concealed by a wide hackberry and some bushy undergrowth. That other rider could not know that Crystal's lips had not returned Rick's impulsive, friendly kiss.

The Hardesty house was a neat, boxy structure of native rock with a sheet-metal roof and cheerful window boxes of carefully tended azaleas. Rick assured Crystal that they would be welcome. People in these parts did not stand on ceremony. No one would mind if they dropped in unannounced.

"In fact," he insisted, "Consuelo would be fit to be tied if she found out I brought you this far and didn't stop in."

Neighbors, it seemed, were somewhat at a premium in the hill country, and so drop-in visitors were considered a real pleasure.

Rod Hardesty, Garrett's foreman and stepfather to Crystal's students, could easily have passed for Mexican himself were it not for the soft cobalt blue of his eyes. Consuelo, on the other hand, might have easily been mistaken for Anglo, with her light brown hair and tawny eyes and skin.

They were a striking pair. Each complemented the other handsomely as they stood in the open doorway of their home, arms linked. Just as Rick had predicted, the pair welcomed them warmly and insisted that they come in and visit.

Crystal felt right at home in the neat, polished house. She noted that the furnishings and rugs were new and tasteful. The house had also recently been repainted. It was a homey, comfortable atmosphere.

Crystal liked Consuelo at once. She appeared to have a cheerful, tranquil personality. She talked easily with Crystal in her native tongue and expressed a desire to learn the language of her husband, whom she followed with obviously adoring eyes.

Rod was as proficient in Spanish as he was in English and traversed between the two languages easily. On this occasion, however, he stuck mainly to English so as not to exclude Rick from the conversation.

Soon Crystal and Consuelo, or Connie as she was called, were laughing together, while the men's topics turned to business matters. Crystal expressed a desire to meet the children, and Connie immediately went in search of them, screen door slamming shut behind her. The entire brood came shuffling through the banging door and into the kitchen, grimy hands and feet and faces attesting to their love of the outdoors.

"
Hola
," Crystal addressed the oldest, a sandy-haired boy of about ten with his mother's features. "
Me llamo Seňorita Gentry. Como se llaman ustedes
?"

"
Me llamo Efren
," he replied proudly, and continued to introduce his three sisters and little brother. "
Dolores, Consuelo, y Maria. Y mi hermanito se llama Cruz
."

Crystal took Cruz on her lap, unable to resist the angelic brown eyes he shone up at her. The youngest of the family, he was five years old and possessed the same round face and intelligent eyes of his brothers and sisters.

"
Hola, Cruz
," she said. "Would you like to learn to speak English?" and repeated the question in Spanish. "
Te gustaria aprender a hablar ingles
?"

He nodded vigorously. She asked the same question of the other four and received the same enthusiastic reply.

"They're darling," she told Consuelo, giving Cruz a hug. "We are going to get along just fine!" Then she translated the last sentence into Spanish.

Connie bustled the children back outside and then made Crystal and Rick promise to stay to dinner. After shooing the men into the living room, she and Crystal began to prepare the meal. They fried ground beef together with cooked, mashed beans and spices to make filling for tacos. Consuelo prepared the shells herself, patting the cornmeal mixture between her palms and frying the flat rounds in hot grease, folding them to create shells.

Crystal cut up a salad and grated some cheese, thoroughly enjoying herself. They presented a good dinner, complete with iced tea, seasoned peas, and hot sauce.

Afterward Rick insisted that they must go. The sun had already set and the last rays of light were fading from the sky. Crystal was already sore from their ride, but she had no choice but to saddle up and head back to the big house with him. By the time they got there, it was pitch black, and Crystal's backside felt as though she had been riding on needles instead of a well-padded saddle.

Crystal had planned to return to her room, have a hot bath, and crawl into bed immediately. She was too tired and sore to help Rick with the unsaddling, but she waited while he quickly curried down the horses. Then the two of them walked slowly to the big house at the top of the hill.

As they entered the outer courtyard, they could hear voices, and Crystal thought that she heard her name mentioned. Quite unaware of anything unsettling, the pair entered the inner courtyard and found a congregation of folks waiting on them.

Instantly Garrett, fists clenched at his sides, was on his feet, striding through the crowd of cowboys, Lupe, and Gloria. "Do you mind telling me where you've been?" he demanded loudly. "I was about ready to send out a search party!"

Rick and Crystal exchanged surprised glances.

"Were either one of you aware that Lupe had planned a special dinner this evening?" he thundered.

"And why didn't you tell someone you were going riding? If Gloria hadn't spotted you, I'd have called the police!"

"Look, Garrett, there's no reason to get upset," Rick said apologetically. "We just went for a ride over to the Hardestys'. Connie insisted we stay for supper. That's all."

Crystal could feel the heat of Garrett's eyes upon her. She lifted her head slowly and met his gaze challengingly.

"Lupe had planned a special meal," he told her angrily, "to welcome you formally and introduce you to the top hands."

Crystal's face went white with contrition. She sought out Lupe in the crowd and found her sitting on one of the divans, her glaring daughter perched on its arm. "I'm sorry, Lupe," she said jerkily. "I didn't know. We were just having such a good time, and—"

"I'll say you were!" Gloria spat. "You were having a good time kissing Rick Benson!"

Crystal gasped, and her eyes shot immediately to Garrett. Where there had been controlled anger before, there was now fury. She shook her head as if to make a denial, but no words came out of her open mouth.

"That's not true!" Rick inserted forcefully. "I kissed her, sure, but only in a friendly way."

Crystal shot him a pathetically grateful look, but when she turned back to Garrett, she saw only his broad back striding quickly away.

She told herself over and over that it didn't matter whether Garrett believed Rick or not. Perhaps it would be just as well if he didn't. It would prevent a repeat of his own too-enticing kiss. Yet, somehow, it mattered very much, and she ached inwardly as well as outwardly over the entire day.

She had retired as quickly as she gracefully could after Gloria's vicious accusation. It had helped that Lupe had chastised her daughter thoroughly, but not much. Over and over again she remembered the look of outrage on Garrett's face as Gloria's words hit their mark. He could not, of course, know that she and Rick had made a pact to be friends and nothing more. That, however, did not seem a good reason for the rage she had seen undeniably etched on that bronzed face.

Why had he been so angry? Was it that she reminded him so very much of his dead wife that he could not stand the thought of another man kissing her? Was it because, to him, she represented the woman he had loved and lost? It seemed likely. And if she was right, that could also be the reason for his own ardent kisses.

It seemed that he was almost always angry with her—and she with him, for that matter. It had been patently stupid of- her to challenge him like that by calling him a father figure. But that angry kiss had quickly dissolved into one of pure passion, exactly as the others had. Just thinking about it sent shivers up her spine, threatened to turn her resolve to jelly and make it impossible for her to formulate a coherent thought.

She would have to forget those kisses. She had to forget the feel of him, the musky, masculine odor of him, the excitement of him. She didn't need him or any other man. She
would
not need him, would not want him, especially knowing what she did. Even if she could bring herself to forget how Jerry had broken her heart and trust herself to love again, she could not trust Garrett. She could never trust his feelings for her. To him, she would always be another woman, his dead wife, and there was no way to fight that.

Resolutely she filed away thoughts in her brain. The fact that she too nearly resembled Garrett's deceased wife, she must never forget. The bursting tingle of desire she had experienced in his arms, she must forget immediately and forever. Gloria's ugly announcement in the courtyard, she would not remember. It was nothing but an embarrassment. It did not matter, and she would not allow it to taint her stay here. On the other hand, she would recall Gloria's hostility. There had to be a reason for the girl to act as she had. If they were to be friends, or at least not be enemies, she had to know why the girl so obviously disliked her.

Carefully she arranged her thoughts, putting each one in proper perspective. Why, then, by morning, was everything a big jumbled, confusing mess again?

She woke stiff and sore on Saturday morning from a dream of strong arms drawing her near, and warm, sensuous lips pressing against her own. She gave herself a mental shake and crept from her bed, chastising herself for the subconscious thoughts that had produced her dream.

She looked around her room and was once again struck by its loveliness, wondering about the woman who had lived here before her. No. That subject could lead to other things. She would avoid it. Best to occupy her mind with something else—like, what was she going to do today?

Saturday. What would Saturday on a ranch be like? Rick had talked some yesterday about what things were like on the ranch during the spring. There were fields of hay and alfalfa to be harvested, baled, and stored away for the winter. New calves to be assisted into the world, rounded up, and branded. Fence-mending, a perpetual job, that must be accomplished. Line shacks to be repaired and restocked. Painting to be done on practically every building on the place. Cattle to be shipped to larger feedlots and market. So much to be done. She doubted that work would be halted just because it was a Saturday. Ranching was no nine-to-five job.

They would be very busy today, but what about her? She had very little to do. Saturday had always been her housecleaning day, but it did not require much effort to keep a single room in shape, and as far as she could tell, there was nothing that needed doing. Other than planning lessons, she had no immediate chores to be done. It looked like it was going to be a long day. Maybe Lupe had something she could do. A walk over to Connie Hardesty's might be a good idea, but she was too sore to seriously contemplate it at the moment.

With a sigh she began to dress for the day. She had just finished securing her hair into two loose ponytails below each ear when a knock sounded at her door. Quickly she snatched up her thin cotton bathrobe and put it on over her underclothes, tying it at the waist, and crossed the room to throw open the door.