last night.”
Cuddy slapped the table. “Come on, Diego! I’m surprised at you for giving that fable enough credence to repeat it.”
Greta wiped her mouth then placed her hands in her lap. “Something’s killing all those calves and sheep, Cuddy.”
He cocked his head to the side and mimicked her. “We do have a coyote or two in Dimmit County, Greta.”
Biting back a grin, Diego stood. Folding his napkin beside his plate, he nodded at each of the guests and took his leave.
The warmth of his eyes, lingering on Emmy as he bid her good night, sent chills down her spine. Greta, obviously lost in thoughts she’d not likely share, stared longingly toward a spot past the archway where he had disappeared.
Mrs. Rawson signaled to one of the girls. She ducked into the kitchen and returned with a stack of small plates and a tray filled with sweets. Serving dessert to her husband, Mrs. Rawson raised one tapered brow. “If I may be honest, John, I’m glad Faron got out again. I hope he pulls up lame this time, and you have to shoot him.” She passed the tray to Willem then demurely folded her napkin across her lap. “Better yet, perhaps the stubborn thing will bail off into the river and break his hateful neck.”
John Rawson paused mid-bite then laid down his fork and stared. “Why, Kate. It’s not like you to say so mean-spirited a thing.”
She regarded him matter-of-factly. “That animal is the devil himself. I fear I’ll live to see him kill you. If not Cuddy or Diego.”
Her husband dropped his big hand over hers. “There’s no danger of Faron killing anyone, honey. No one can ride him. He’s strong-willed is all. I like that trait in an intelligent creature.” He leaned to caress her chin. “The very thing that attracted me to you was your feisty nature.”
Concern softened her features, and she swatted his arm. “Stop. I’m serious. It makes no sense to keep that stallion on the ranch. He’s never been anything but a nuisance.”
Papa settled his elbows on the table. “Tell me about this horse, John.”
Eyes aglow, Mr. Rawson faced him. “Oh, he’s a beauty, Willem. Purebred Spanish. Andalusian, you see. Black as thunder with a heart to match and shrewder than the two of us put together, not to mention the fastest thing on four legs. I admit he’s the meanest bundle of horseflesh ever spawned, but”—he twisted around to wink at his wife—“he’s worth every second of trouble.”
Easing back in his chair, he reached for a small cake to nibble. “The thing is, Faron will only let me near him.” He absently waved his hand. “Well, Diego, of course, and he tolerates Little Pete, the man you saw earlier.” Leaning in, he nodded for emphasis. “But no man can ride the ornery beast. You should’ve been here the first time I tried.” He chuckled. “The old boy put up a right rowdy kerfuffle.”
Aunt Bertha blinked. “That’s a good thing?”
The Rawsons laughed so heartily, Emmy’s family had to join them, including Aunt Bert.
“Bertha, my dear, let’s just say he won the skirmish and leave it at that.”
For the first time, Emmy realized Diego’s mother had slipped away unnoticed. Though she had gone, the memory of her probing eyes still warmed Emmy’s flesh.
Mrs. Rawson placed her delicate hands on Papa’s and Mr. Rawson’s forearms. “Let’s take our coffee on the veranda, shall we? It’s a beautiful night.”
CHAPTER 11
Diego ran his palm over Faron’s trembling flank.
The horse sidestepped into the wall of the stall, snorting his disapproval.
“I know you don’t like small spaces, señor, but that’s too bad. Perhaps a few days without liberty to move will teach you to appreciate the freedom of your pasture.”
Faron kicked at the boards behind him.
Diego laughed. “Spit and sputter all you like, young man. You won’t be getting out of here.” He brought his ear closer to Faron’s nose. “What’s that you say? Pretty señoritas throughout the
Cuddy slapped the table. “Come on, Diego! I’m surprised at you for giving that fable enough credence to repeat it.”
Greta wiped her mouth then placed her hands in her lap. “Something’s killing all those calves and sheep, Cuddy.”
He cocked his head to the side and mimicked her. “We do have a coyote or two in Dimmit County, Greta.”
Biting back a grin, Diego stood. Folding his napkin beside his plate, he nodded at each of the guests and took his leave.
The warmth of his eyes, lingering on Emmy as he bid her good night, sent chills down her spine. Greta, obviously lost in thoughts she’d not likely share, stared longingly toward a spot past the archway where he had disappeared.
Mrs. Rawson signaled to one of the girls. She ducked into the kitchen and returned with a stack of small plates and a tray filled with sweets. Serving dessert to her husband, Mrs. Rawson raised one tapered brow. “If I may be honest, John, I’m glad Faron got out again. I hope he pulls up lame this time, and you have to shoot him.” She passed the tray to Willem then demurely folded her napkin across her lap. “Better yet, perhaps the stubborn thing will bail off into the river and break his hateful neck.”
John Rawson paused mid-bite then laid down his fork and stared. “Why, Kate. It’s not like you to say so mean-spirited a thing.”
She regarded him matter-of-factly. “That animal is the devil himself. I fear I’ll live to see him kill you. If not Cuddy or Diego.”
Her husband dropped his big hand over hers. “There’s no danger of Faron killing anyone, honey. No one can ride him. He’s strong-willed is all. I like that trait in an intelligent creature.” He leaned to caress her chin. “The very thing that attracted me to you was your feisty nature.”
Concern softened her features, and she swatted his arm. “Stop. I’m serious. It makes no sense to keep that stallion on the ranch. He’s never been anything but a nuisance.”
Papa settled his elbows on the table. “Tell me about this horse, John.”
Eyes aglow, Mr. Rawson faced him. “Oh, he’s a beauty, Willem. Purebred Spanish. Andalusian, you see. Black as thunder with a heart to match and shrewder than the two of us put together, not to mention the fastest thing on four legs. I admit he’s the meanest bundle of horseflesh ever spawned, but”—he twisted around to wink at his wife—“he’s worth every second of trouble.”
Easing back in his chair, he reached for a small cake to nibble. “The thing is, Faron will only let me near him.” He absently waved his hand. “Well, Diego, of course, and he tolerates Little Pete, the man you saw earlier.” Leaning in, he nodded for emphasis. “But no man can ride the ornery beast. You should’ve been here the first time I tried.” He chuckled. “The old boy put up a right rowdy kerfuffle.”
Aunt Bertha blinked. “That’s a good thing?”
The Rawsons laughed so heartily, Emmy’s family had to join them, including Aunt Bert.
“Bertha, my dear, let’s just say he won the skirmish and leave it at that.”
For the first time, Emmy realized Diego’s mother had slipped away unnoticed. Though she had gone, the memory of her probing eyes still warmed Emmy’s flesh.
Mrs. Rawson placed her delicate hands on Papa’s and Mr. Rawson’s forearms. “Let’s take our coffee on the veranda, shall we? It’s a beautiful night.”
CHAPTER 11
Diego ran his palm over Faron’s trembling flank.
The horse sidestepped into the wall of the stall, snorting his disapproval.
“I know you don’t like small spaces, señor, but that’s too bad. Perhaps a few days without liberty to move will teach you to appreciate the freedom of your pasture.”
Faron kicked at the boards behind him.
Diego laughed. “Spit and sputter all you like, young man. You won’t be getting out of here.” He brought his ear closer to Faron’s nose. “What’s that you say? Pretty señoritas throughout the
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