Someone To Watch Over Me (Harlequin Super Romance) (12 page)

“She wasn’t alone, Mrs. Navarro. I was there. I…I didn’t know what to do except hold her and rock her. So that’s what I did.”

“You did right, Gabe.” The woman seemed to take a keen interest in watching him.

“We…ll.” Gabe fumbled for words. “I’d better go,” he said abruptly, jamming his new Stetson back on his head. “I’ve apparently got a whole lot to learn about raising sheep, so if you’ll excuse me, there’s no time like the present.”

Gabe was halfway to the pens before he heard the door shut. And he knew, that like Trini, Luisa Navarro was standing there, weighing his interest in Isabella.

W
ITH THE ADVENT
of dawn, the men working to save the flock began to see their first real break in the weather. Though ice crusted every blade of grass and each twig on newly budded trees, the merciless sleet that had battered them through the night had finally ceased. Clouds, which had hung up on the mountain peaks, moved on to cause problems in Idaho and points east.

Gabe stood with the other men, surveying the milling animals they and the dogs had spent all night herding into pens. “How many sheep did you lose, Benito?”

“It’s hard to get an accurate count,” the older man said. “Thanks to all of you, less than I would’ve if it’d only been me and the women. Thirty to forty ewes, I’d guess. No rams. We saved two who’d somehow landed on their backs in ravines. Sheep can’t roll over, you know, once they end up on their backs.”

“Wow. Thirty sounds like a lot to lose.” Gabe stripped off his gloves and inspected a deep scratch he’d gotten somehow.

“Not so many,” Angel answered him. “When that freak storm hit, I figured the toll would be high. It wouldn’t be the first time. Our lamb loss was relatively low this time.”

“God has blessed us. We must give thanks by lighting an extra candle at Mass,” Benito said, glancing up
as Ricardo, the oldest of his children, drove in unexpectedly to inquire about how his family survived the storm. Rick and Manny ran beef cattle, and together owned apple and peach orchards. “How did your stock and your fruit trees fare?” his father asked.

Rick shook his head. “We won’t know for maybe two weeks. Manny and I distributed and tended smudge pots all night. Louis, what about your grapes?”

“If the ground didn’t freeze too deep, and if we don’t have another storm on the horizon, I think they’ll pull through. My vines are the hardy kind grown on the higher elevations in France. I more or less left them alone so I could lend a hand over here.”

“We all worked our butts off,” exclaimed Joe. “Including Gabe. He said he wanted to learn sheep-raising. This was his baptism by fire.”

“More like baptism by ice,” Gabe shot back, in hopes of keeping them from knowing his butt was dragging. He’d considered himself in good shape, since he worked out a lot. He’d definitely used a different set of muscles throughout the night. Muscles he was discovering for the first time… Suddenly he didn’t know what made him think he had what it took to be a sheep man. This was not the life he’d imagined.

Benito settled a heavy hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “Gabe pulled his weight last night when it counted. He’s one of us now. Luisa and the others will have prepared a meal. Let’s go eat—we can talk at the table.”

Rick acted as if he’d like to say something—maybe rebut his father’s statement, Gabe thought. However, the men who’d worked shoulder to shoulder to save the Navarro flock closed ranks around their new neighbor.

“I should probably go on home. I have no idea what I need to take care of there.” Gabe started to split off from the larger group at the crossroads.

“Eat first,” Benito said. It sounded like an order.

Gabe took a quick look at the other men’s faces. Apparently, when Benito Navarro gave an order it was followed to the letter.

Ricardo, who looked most like his dad, possessing a big, stocky build and swarthy skin, let his smoldering dark eyes speak his mind on the subject. He’d have been perfectly happy if Gabe got lost.

His attitude, more than Benito’s edict, decided Gabe. He hadn’t done anything to Isabella’s oldest brother and was stubborn enough to force the other man’s hand. He’d see how long it took for Rick to voice his objections.

The Navarros’ big, old kitchen was filled with activity. Warm air and spicy cooking aromas enveloped the bone-weary men as they trooped in from the cold. Children, ranging from approximately eight to fifteen, were bottle-feeding lambs. A makeshift pen sat between the stove and a huge refrigerator.

He and the others had stopped in an anteroom of sorts, set adjacent to the kitchen. There they all shed coats, boots, gloves and hats. On sweaty, stockinged feet, they fanned out across the highly polished linoleum floor.

Gabe searched for Isabella among the roomful of gaily chattering women and noisy children. The cold, hard knot in his stomach dissolved the minute he caught sight of her—and saw that she seemed unaffected by the lambs or the children. She stood at a center island next to her sister, Sylvia, and she seemed relaxed. The women were cutting up fragrant canta
loupe and honeydew melons. Isabella’s skin was paler than normal and dark circles ringed her eyes, but to Gabe she looked more like her old self. Even her hair was done in the same intricate braid as it had been the first time he laid eyes on her. His heart gave a happy skip.

As nonchalantly as possible, he worked his way over to her. Her thick lashes lifted when his shadow fell across her cutting board. “Hi.” Gabe tucked his fingers in the front pockets of his jeans. “I’m glad to see you up and about this morning.” He heard Sylvia suck in a sharp breath, and wondered if no one in the family ever inquired about Isabella’s well-being following one of her flashback incidents.

“I’m doing better, thanks.” Her cheeks grew slightly pink, as though she was embarrassed. Her next words confirmed that she was. “I’m sorry if I created a scene last night and alarmed you.”

“Not at all. My main concern was not to blunder and do anything to make it worse for you.”

Both sisters stared at him without speaking for such a long time, Gabe became flustered. Eventually they went back to cutting fruit and he drifted away. He soon got caught up in meeting the Navarro grandchildren. They were all older than Isabella’s children would have been, but Gabe still wondered if being around her brothers’ and sisters’ broods exacerbated the terrible aching loss she had to be feeling all the time.

And Manny’s wife, Christina, was pregnant with their first child. How would Isabella make it through that?

Despite his concerns about Isabella, Gabe enjoyed the boisterousness of the extended Navarro clan. Once they were seated, great platters of
huevos al plato
were
passed around the banquet-sized, U-shaped table. Gabe declined the salsa that everyone else generously ladled over the ham and eggs. He scarfed down too many of the piping-hot apple fritters they called
buñuelos.
And
empanadas,
a flaky pastry filled with finely chopped meat and cheese. Already full up to his ears, Gabe still found room, as did the others, to sample the array of fresh fruit. No wonder all the men in the family were so burly if they ate like this every day.

The women left their seats and began to clear plates from the table. Gabe rose and started to help.

Angel pulled him down with a glower. “It’s our coffee time,” he said.

Gabe sank back without comment, although his gaze tracked Isabella’s progress back and forth from the table to the sink.

The coffee turned out to be hot and strong, just the way Gabe liked it. He leaned back in his chair and enjoyed it and the conversation. A small furor in another part of the kitchen drew his attention. But it was only Maria and Julie rounding up all the kids. Apparently their job was to take the younger children to school while the other women dispensed with dishes.

The men downed a huge pot of coffee and divvied up the daily chores. Or at least those working with Benito; Rick and Manuel would be heading over to their own farms.

As they scraped back their chairs and went out to reclaim their jackets and boots, Luisa handed each man a good-sized brown paper sack. “It’s your lunch,” Benito informed Gabe, who’d started to unroll the top to look in his bag. “Sheepherders rarely eat a hot meal midday. Ordinarily we wash our sandwiches down with water from one of our springs. Today, we’ll each carry
a thermos of hot mulled cider. Maria will bring them out and she’ll feed the dogs before she goes home.”

Gabe guessed that meant he was continuing his training. “I figured on spending either mornings or afternoons learning what I need to know before I buy any sheep. The rest of the time I intended to make my house livable. Considering what I saw last night, I probably ought to check pens and fences, too. I have no idea how sturdy they are.”

“We’ll help you check fences when you’re ready to purchase your flock. As far as making the house habitable—Louis, run back and have Ruby assemble a women’s brigade for however many days it takes to fix up Gabe’s house. It may take a few, tell her. John Campos didn’t have much heart for taking care of things after his sons left.” Benito acted as though it was totally natural for him to be handing out orders regarding Gabe’s house.

“I can’t ask your wives to take time from their own homes to fix up mine.”

“You aren’t asking,” Angel pointed out.

There was little Gabe could say to counter that logic. Presumably the crew of women would sweep, dust and maybe straighten a few cupboards. He’d simply pay them for their time.

Considering this arrangement, Gabe supposed he could’ve hired Trini Navarro two mornings a week and Saturdays, and been done with it. The flirtatious way she’d acted last night had made Gabe suspect her motives. Perhaps it was common in this large family to do chores in order to earn money. What did he know about families, especially families of this size, since he’d never been involved with one? He could have
misread her. Maybe he’d imagined there was more to her offer than she’d intended.

He doubted it…

Putting the whole matter out of his mind, Gabe fell in step with Benito. He spent the entire morning after his sleepless night trying to match orphaned lambs with ewes who’d given birth during the storm. He learned that getting sheep to do
anything
was all-consuming, backbreaking work.

Some ewes picked through the mess of babies and staked their claims. A few didn’t want anything to do with the pushing, bleating throng. And Gabe lost count of the number of times he’d been kicked and kicked hard for trying to force a ewe to take responsibility for one of the lambs.

He barely noticed the hours that passed. Joe had to holler at him three times in order to let Gabe know they were breaking for lunch.

“Hurry up,” Joe urged, motioning with his hand. “The faster we eat, the more time we’ll have for a game of
cesta punta.
Angel called Manny and Rick. They’re calling some of their neighbors. Our makeshift court’s a little muddy, but that’s to be expected in a barnyard.”

“Okay. What’s
cesta punta,
or whatever you called it?” Gabe rolled his shoulders five or six times to work out the kinks. He stopped with his shoulders still hunched, letting Joe shut the heavy barn door. Damn, but his arms felt as if they might fall off. Carrying fat ewes around did that to a man.

Joe seemed eager to explain. “
Cesta punta
is the style of
pelota
we happen to play. It’s like racquetball. You could say it’s a Basque national pastime.”

“I’ve never heard of it. Maybe I’ll just watch you guys.”

“Chicken.” Joe made clucking sounds and poked Gabe in the ribs. “I guarantee you’ll like it. And you’ll learn faster if you jump right in.”

Gabe’s mouth felt cottony, and his eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. He found it astonishing that when they joined Benito, Louis and Angel, not one of the men seemed any the worse for wear. In fact, excitement about the proposed game had obviously revved these guys up.

Manny and Rick showed up in a panel truck. Several big guys Gabe had never seen before crawled out of the back.

Angel nudged Gabe. “See the tall skinny guy? The one rolling up the sleeves on his shirt? That’s Julio Baroja. You wanna be careful around him. Julio’s fast on his feet.”

“The morning I ate at Isabella’s bakery, a woman by that last name came in. Any relation to Julio?”

“Probably. There are Barojas all over the valley. Julio’s
amachu
sticks her nose in everybody’s business.”

“Amachu?”

“Sorry, that’s Euskera for mother. Anyway, Gabe, you don’t want to badmouth a Baroja. There’s a good chance the person you’re talking to is some kind of cousin.”

Gabe had finished his sandwich and was watching the men, who’d strapped elongated net baskets to their hands and had begun batting balls around. They were a little larger than a tennis ball. One went wild. Angel ducked. The ball hit the side of Gabe’s face. Working his jaw back and forth, he bent to pick up the errant ball and discovered it was hard rubber. “I get it,” he
muttered to Angel. “If Julio stomps me into the court, I can’t go around town bellyaching or I might get my clock cleaned by some distant cousin.”

Angel raised an eyebrow.

“Never mind,” Gabe said, shaking his head. “
Clean my clock
is old-fashioned slang for kick ass.”

Angel grinned. “Come on. Drink your cider and I’ll show you a few moves so you won’t make a complete fool of yourself.”

Gabe poured his thermos cap full of cider. He took a huge swallow. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and bright, starry spots rendered him virtually blind. Talk about kick ass. The fermented drink packed a wallop.

Louis, who’d joined them, pounded Gabe between the shoulder blades. “Jeez, Angel, didn’t you warn him to take it easy on Mama Navarro’s cider?”

Gabe’s eyes were still watering, but he’d managed to catch his breath. “Thanks,” he croaked to Louis.

Angel, who looked anything but angelic, did his best to appear contrite. “Since you’re such good friends with Bella and Trini, I figured they’d mention the cider recipe that’s been passed down through at least five generations.”

Gabe saw right through Angel’s faux innocence. Dumping the remainder of the cider from his cup, he recapped the thermos, then flung back his head and laughed.

Louis and Angel were pleased by Gabe’s reaction. All began guffawing.

Rick jogged up, panting a bit from his short, vigorous exchange with Julio on the court. “So, let us all in on the joke.”

Still grinning, Angel admitted wanting to see how
Gabe handled a practical joke. “Mama’s mulled cider isn’t anything like what’s in your thermos. Gabe. We switched yours to the high-octane stuff Louis made last year for the
Tamborrada.
”