stressful circumstances than the last trip."
She ended the call as her driver pulled up in front of the hotel. It was far too late for her to develop a daughterly relationship with her grandparents. But maybe they could become friends.
* * *
When his emotions were under control again, Kenzie resumed driving. His map showed that eventually this small dirt road would connect with a larger one leading back to the hotel. Not that he was in any hurry to return.
He swung around a curve, and slammed on his brakes as a screaming horse reared up in front of him. The vehicle slewed sideways and shuddered to a halt as the horse's rider crashed to the ground in the middle of the road. Swearing, Kenzie leaped from the SUV, hoping to God he hadn't hit the fellow.
The man lying motionless on the road had silver hair and a face weathered by decades in the open air. For a horrible moment Kenzie feared he was dead. Then the old man coughed and his eyes flickered open.
Kenzie knelt and looked for signs of injury. "Are you hurt?"
"Don't... don't think so." The rider pushed himself cautiously to a sitting position, waving off Kenzie's attempt to make him lie still. "Not the first time a horse tossed me, and if I'm lucky it won't be the last."
"I'm sorry. I should have been driving more carefully." Kenzie stood and helped the man up, then retrieved his fallen hat.
"My fault. Only a fool rides in the middle of a road with his mind wanderin'." Carefully he settled the battered hat on his head. "You aren't from around here."
"I'm British originally. These days, my official home is in California." Kenzie scanned the countryside. "Your horse seems to have vanished. Can I give you a lift?"
"Wouldn't mind if you did. My horse will get home before I do, but it's a long walk for an old man. My name's Grady." He offered his hand.
"Mine is Scott."
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Scott." Grady might be an old man, but he had a powerful grip. And, pleasantly, he didn't seem to recognize Kenzie.
They climbed into the SUV and Kenzie set off, following his passenger's directions. A couple of miles along, Grady directed him to turn left onto a primitive road that led under a sturdy archway built of weathered timber. Across the top, the name Cibola had been shaped from wooden letters.
Kenzie searched his memory as he drove through the arch. "Didn't the Spaniards explore this area searching for the legendary Seven Cities of Cibola?"
"Yep, that's the tale. The Cities of Gold. The conquistadors hoped to find the kind of wealth they'd looted from the Aztecs. They never found what they were lookin' for, but I did. That's why I named my place Cibola. Forty-seven years we've lived here."
Kenzie crested a small hill, then halted to admire the valley below. Carpeted with grass and wildflowers, it lay serene and lovely as a Chinese landscape painting. On the opposite side of the valley, a sprawling adobe house nestled into a hillside among a scattering of outbuildings.
To the left light glinted from the surface of what looked like a small lake. Above, jagged mountains loomed against a sky of breathtaking blue. "What incredible beauty. Do you own this whole valley?"
"Yep. Not the best spot for ranchin', but there's not a prettier place on God's green earth." Grady sighed. "We're going to have to sell up soon."
Guessing the other man wouldn't have mentioned the subject if he hadn't felt the need to talk, Kenzie asked, "Why do you have to leave?"
"Too much work, not enough money. Had to take out a mortgage when my wife was ill a few years back. When we sell and pay that off, there should be enough left to buy a little place down in Chama. It'll be a lot easier life." He frowned at Kenzie. "Don't know why I'm tellin' you all this."
"Some subjects are easier to tell a stranger than a friend."
"True, and you're a deep listener."
"Listening is a large part of my job." A good actor had to be a good observer. Even as Kenzie sympathized with the old rancher's plight,
She ended the call as her driver pulled up in front of the hotel. It was far too late for her to develop a daughterly relationship with her grandparents. But maybe they could become friends.
* * *
When his emotions were under control again, Kenzie resumed driving. His map showed that eventually this small dirt road would connect with a larger one leading back to the hotel. Not that he was in any hurry to return.
He swung around a curve, and slammed on his brakes as a screaming horse reared up in front of him. The vehicle slewed sideways and shuddered to a halt as the horse's rider crashed to the ground in the middle of the road. Swearing, Kenzie leaped from the SUV, hoping to God he hadn't hit the fellow.
The man lying motionless on the road had silver hair and a face weathered by decades in the open air. For a horrible moment Kenzie feared he was dead. Then the old man coughed and his eyes flickered open.
Kenzie knelt and looked for signs of injury. "Are you hurt?"
"Don't... don't think so." The rider pushed himself cautiously to a sitting position, waving off Kenzie's attempt to make him lie still. "Not the first time a horse tossed me, and if I'm lucky it won't be the last."
"I'm sorry. I should have been driving more carefully." Kenzie stood and helped the man up, then retrieved his fallen hat.
"My fault. Only a fool rides in the middle of a road with his mind wanderin'." Carefully he settled the battered hat on his head. "You aren't from around here."
"I'm British originally. These days, my official home is in California." Kenzie scanned the countryside. "Your horse seems to have vanished. Can I give you a lift?"
"Wouldn't mind if you did. My horse will get home before I do, but it's a long walk for an old man. My name's Grady." He offered his hand.
"Mine is Scott."
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Scott." Grady might be an old man, but he had a powerful grip. And, pleasantly, he didn't seem to recognize Kenzie.
They climbed into the SUV and Kenzie set off, following his passenger's directions. A couple of miles along, Grady directed him to turn left onto a primitive road that led under a sturdy archway built of weathered timber. Across the top, the name Cibola had been shaped from wooden letters.
Kenzie searched his memory as he drove through the arch. "Didn't the Spaniards explore this area searching for the legendary Seven Cities of Cibola?"
"Yep, that's the tale. The Cities of Gold. The conquistadors hoped to find the kind of wealth they'd looted from the Aztecs. They never found what they were lookin' for, but I did. That's why I named my place Cibola. Forty-seven years we've lived here."
Kenzie crested a small hill, then halted to admire the valley below. Carpeted with grass and wildflowers, it lay serene and lovely as a Chinese landscape painting. On the opposite side of the valley, a sprawling adobe house nestled into a hillside among a scattering of outbuildings.
To the left light glinted from the surface of what looked like a small lake. Above, jagged mountains loomed against a sky of breathtaking blue. "What incredible beauty. Do you own this whole valley?"
"Yep. Not the best spot for ranchin', but there's not a prettier place on God's green earth." Grady sighed. "We're going to have to sell up soon."
Guessing the other man wouldn't have mentioned the subject if he hadn't felt the need to talk, Kenzie asked, "Why do you have to leave?"
"Too much work, not enough money. Had to take out a mortgage when my wife was ill a few years back. When we sell and pay that off, there should be enough left to buy a little place down in Chama. It'll be a lot easier life." He frowned at Kenzie. "Don't know why I'm tellin' you all this."
"Some subjects are easier to tell a stranger than a friend."
"True, and you're a deep listener."
"Listening is a large part of my job." A good actor had to be a good observer. Even as Kenzie sympathized with the old rancher's plight,
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