Native Silver (8 page)

David nodded. Ordinarily, he didn’t know any of this background history except in vague terms. He considered himself modern, living in the 21
^st
century, not one to look back on the past with nostalgia. But he’d looked a few facts up, just for this visit. He’d already seen how she felt and he was ready to defend his position if he had to.
 

“Andrew Barrett Carrington bought Rancho Verde from Sebastian Diaz, son of Daniel Diaz who had the original land grant from the King of Spain.” He paused and she turned to look at him curiously. There was something in his voice that told her this was significant. “Sebastian Diaz was my father’s grandfather on his mother’s side.”

Shawnee gasped. She’d never heard that before.
 

“That can’t be.”
 

But she knew very well the only reason she said that was because she didn’t want it to be. That gave the Santiagos a claim with roots even older than her own. She didn’t want to accept that.

But she hadn’t heard it before. Did her family know about it? Surely Granpa Jim had to know. Why hadn’t he ever told her the Santiagos had a previous claim?

“I…I didn’t know,” she said, frowning. “Are you sure that’s right?”
 

David didn’t take offence. Instead, he grinned at her. “You don’t seem to believe anything I tell you,” he answered lightly.

She lifted her wineglass to her lips and sipped nervously, then set it down again. “Does this mean that your family has as much emotion invested in this place as mine does?” she asked.
 

She hated the question, hated the thought, but she had to know it all. Even if it made her own crusade a little less black-and-white.

“Of course.” He reached out to cover her hand with his own and she stared down at it, but she didn’t draw away. “My father’s burning ambition was to get back Rancho Verde, from the time he was a little boy. And he succeeded.”

The maid was placing a spinach salad in front of Shawnee, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was full this new information.
 

“That doesn’t excuse the methods he used,” she told him, her voice choked. “That doesn’t excuse the way he involved my grandfather in phony investments that fell through. The way he lent him money to invest again, then took his deed to the ranch to cover the loans when those investments went bad, too.”

David stared back into her fierce gaze for a long moment, then shrugged, taking his hand away from hers. “Your grandfather was a grown man,” he told her, his voice almost curt. “He should have been able to take care of himself.”

There, it was out. She felt a long sigh flow through her body and she let it go with a feeling of relief. Funny, but instead of making her angry, what David said filled her with satisfaction. Somewhere back in a little corner of her mind, maybe she’d always wondered if it were true, if the Santiagos had really stolen Rancho Verde. Now it was confirmed. Granpa Jim had been telling the truth all these years.

“Spoken like a true Santiago,” she said calmly, and picked up her fork to attack her salad.

The meal was every bit as good as David had promised and Shawnee enjoyed it with the hungry relish of a field worker. She was at Rancho Verde and that thought was exhilarating. She felt as though the life-blood of the place was flowing through her, as though she were somehow in touch with all the Carringtons who’d lived here before. All those stories she’d heard for so many years—they all formed the background of her life. Now she finally felt in touch with them. This was where Carringtons had lived and loved and built the Destiny Bay Valley into what it was today. Her heritage.
 

When the meal was over, she talked David into leaving the coffee for later and taking her on another exploration. She wanted to see the kitchen and the bedrooms and everything else there was to see.

“I don’t think you’d be interested in the library,”
he told her, smiling despite himself at her eager
interest in exploring it all. “The walls are covered
with pictures of the Santiago and Diaz families.”

“Where is it?” She wanted to take in every bit of
Rancho Verde and carry it away with her.

The library was a large, gloomy room, made too
dark by huge, heavy curtains hanging from the ceiling. There were no pictures of Carringtons, but then, why would there be out on the walls? They weren’t at her grandfather’s house either. So maybe they were still stored here, somewhere.

Still, this was fascinating. She met Sebastian Diaz and Maria Diaz Santiago and all the other progenitors of the family she was supposed to hate. Dan Santiago,
David’s father, looked stern and unlovable, staring
down off the wall at his son.

“Was he a hard father?” she asked, almost
whispering, because that was what the room made
her feel she should do.

“He liked to pretend he was.” She could hear reluctant
affection in David’s voice. “He was always saying things like, ‘You’ve got to break a boy the way you
do a colt. Never show him your weak spots’.”

She smiled at the gruff voice he assumed when he
quoted his father. “And did he break you?” She thought she already knew the answer to that, but
she wanted to hear what he had to say on the subject.

David’s laugh was low and soft. “I wouldn’t call it
‘break’. ‘Tame’ might be more like it.” He
walked over to stand directly under his father’s portrait and the humor drained from his eyes. Tamed wasn’t even the right word. What did you call it when you made it impossible for your son to follow his own dreams? When you found ways to force him to come home and take up yours instead? His father had always had plans for Rancho Verde, and if he couldn’t live to fulfill them, he made damn sure his son took up the responsibility. Whether he wanted to or not.
 

But yeah, he’d loved his father. Idolized him in some ways. And that was what made it so hard to go against him in the end. Still, she didn’t want to know all that. He turned and managed a perfectly natural smile.
 

“His trouble was that his weak spots al
ways showed, no matter how hard he tried to hide them. He loved his kids. I hope I’m as good a father
when I have children of my own.”

She nodded. She couldn’t help but hear the affection in his voice. She hesitated, then decided to ask what she wanted to know, even knowing she was making a mistake before the
words were out. But she couldn’t stop herself with anything
short of a gag across the mouth. “Is that in
the offing?”

He turned back as though surprised. “What?”

Now she would have to go on with this trans
parent question. “Having children. Are you plan
ning on anything soon?”
 

It had occurred to her that men like David seldom wandered around without a
female somewhere in the wings. Lisa said he’d never married, but that didn’t mean he never would. And it didn’t mean there wasn’t someone special right now.

“Not that I know of.” He started toward her, his
steps slow and deliberate, his eyes gleaming. “Are
you offering … . any suggestions?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say something scathing, but as he came towards her, she lost the
words. He looked so handsome in the dim light, his
dark hair falling in a casual wave across his fore
head, his eyes bright and bold. He belonged in this
gallery of Spanish conquerors. Was he going to
claim victory over her, too? Her heart beat like a caged bird at the thought of it.
 

He stopped before her and took her chin in his
hand, tilting it up as though he wanted to search for something in her face. “I’m going to kiss you right in
front of all my ancestors,” he announced gravely, then proceeded to do what he’d warned her of.

She closed her eyes as the tingle began, the
smooth magic that his lips worked on hers, and she kissed him back, enjoying him as he was enjoying
her. But somewhere deep inside she knew that all this kissing was going to have to stop. There just
wasn’t any future in it.

This was the man who held Rancho Verde, the man who was threatening to evict her grandfather from his home again. But this was also the man
whose laughing eyes warmed her heart and whose
gentle touch lit fire where none had ever blazed before. She knew her reactions to him were confused and dangerous, but she wasn’t ready to sort
them out just yet.

His hand cupped her cheek, moving slowly, sensuously across her skin, while his kiss deepened,
reminding her of the peril that lay implicit in the
excitement he was creating. She opened her eyes a
little and found herself staring into Dan Santiago’s
disapproving frown.

David might be ready to kiss her in front of his
ancestors, but his ancestors weren’t ready at all.
She pulled away, putting up both hands to ward David off.
 

“Your people don’t like me,” she said,
turning to look at the rest of them, one by one.
Then a thought came flashing through her mind.
“But where are my people?”

“Your people?” David looked annoyed, but
she couldn’t tell if that was because she’d resisted his embrace, or because he didn’t know what she
was talking about.

“My people. The Carringtons. Where are their portraits?”

David’s face hardened. “I don’t know. I suppose
your grandfather took them with him when he left.”

“No.” She shook her head with certainty, moving
around the room as though looking for a secret hiding-place. “No, he told me about them, where each one was hung. And I know they aren’t with
him now.” She glanced about the room. “They must
still be here somewhere.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What would we want with
your family’s pictures?” He seemed to think she was accus
ing him of stealing them.

But Shawnee was hardly paying attention. “Do you
have a storage room around here somewhere?” s
he asked, completely caught up in the excitement of
the search. “Maybe an attic where you keep the
paintings you don’t hang?”

“There’s a store room upstairs,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Let’s go!” Her eyes shone with hope. She
reached out and took David’s hand in her own. “L
et’s look. Please? It would be so much fun to find
them.”

Annoyance dimmed and resignation filled his
eyes. “What makes you think you’ll find them here?”

She shrugged grandly. “Where else could they
be?” She backed towards the door, almost dancing,
and pulling him along with her. “Come on, let’s
hurry!”

He looked down at her, shaking his head, a crooked smile trying to turn the corners of his
mouth. “I think I liked you better when you were naked and wet,” he said with a touch of irony. “At least then I felt that I had some control.”

But he led her up the huge, curving staircase, to the first floor. As they reached the top, something
small and furry caught her eye.

“What is that?” she asked, looking down the hall to where the champagne-colored hair spread out
across the burgundy carpet.

David chuckled. “That is Hank,” he said. “Come on over and meet him.”

She followed him up to the mound of fur which
didn’t move at their approach. “Is Hank alive?” she
asked.

“Sure.” He leaned down and stroked one end of
the fur and suddenly a little black nose rose towards
him, and then two small, bugged eyes opened
sleepily. Hank seemed to be a very furry Peking
ese. “Hank is alive, but just barely. His main ambi
tion in life is to get into my bedroom. He loves to sleep on my bed.” He grinned. “And Allison hates
him to. So they have a running battle, and he
spends most of his days curled up outside my
bedroom door.”

Shawnee petted Hank, but he was back to sleep
by then and made no move to react to the stranger
in his domain. It seemed odd seeing David with
this small, eccentric creature. The more she knew
of David, the more she had to admit she liked him.

They left Hank to his waiting sleep and went down the hall to a high-ceilinged storeroom. The
only light came in through two small high windows
giving the room a ghostly look. Cardboard boxes
were piled beside cast-off furniture and cabin trunks, but along the side of the room, Shawnee
saw the paintings stacked like pieces of firewood.

“Here we go, these have got to be them.” She
pushed her way happily through the accumulated
junk of the years and began rummaging through
the paintings, picking each up and setting it against
the wall in its turn.

David followed more slowly, as though he were
reluctant to admit he was involved. He left the
pictures to her while he picked up objects at random, anything that met his eye.

“Look at this.” He placed a huge leghorn hat on
her
head. “You look good in any century, don’t
you?”

She couldn’t hold back a smile and she posed for a moment, making a silly pout. “I need one of those huge dresses that sweep the floor.” She made a turn
as though to let her imaginary dress flow behind her, and as she came around, he twisted a dusty
feather boa around her neck.