“There seems to be a little thief running wild.”
“Híjole, more gangs have moved into the area. Is everyone safe? Did they take anything of value?”
“Tried to run off with Dughall.” The horse stood next to him now and nudged him with his soft muzzle. Jackson wasn’t sure if he was apologizing or asking to leave with the boy.
From the other side of the barn, a few of the ranch hands joined them, guns drawn.
“I’ll send for the sheriff.” De Zavala turned.
“No, don’t worry about it. The kid was beat up and half starved. He didn’t get away with anything. Everyone should go back to bed.”
“Diego.” De Zavala called out. “Stay in the barn and stand guard. Estevan, make sure we have someone every night to watch the horses.”
The men left. Jackson turned to De Zavala and held his hand to midchest. “He was about this tall. His name was Santiago. Do you know him?”
The older man’s mouth fell open, then he shook his head. “No, it couldn’t be. Are you sure? My son, who drowned during a storm, is Santiago.” De Zavala gave him a tight smile and shook his head. “I’m being foolish. My son is gone, and he would be taller. He was a man, not a boy.”
He walked over to Dughall and placed a hand on Jackson’s horse. “You have a very fine stallion. Is it too late in the night to talk business? I’m unable to sleep, and I have an idea to give you.”
That sounded promising. More so than anything else Rafael De Zavala had said since they started corresponding months ago. Jackson nodded.
“Settle your horse then, and come to the back of the house through the kitchen. We will meet in my study. Everyone is asleep, and we can finish our talk of business.”
“I’ll be there.” His plans were falling into place.
“Good. I have given much thought to what you want, and I think you can take care of a problem I have. It will be a good partnership.”
Jackson watched the man make his way back to the big hacienda. Arrogance and shrewdness radiated off him, much like Jackson imagined it did off the conquistadors of old.
Dughall looked with longing in the direction the boy had disappeared. “I know there was something about the kid, but we can’t save them all, old man. Come on, we offered him a job and he ran. I’ll take you out for a run tomorrow.”
Jackson had one goal, and that was to get De Zavala to sell him a few of his broodmares. Their bloodlines were as old as those conquistadors. There was also a perfect property on the edge of town.
He brushed down Dughall and thought of the ranch he wanted to build. He visualized a place much like this one, but smaller. He wouldn’t need such a big house for just him, and he wasn’t going to marry. Not ever again.
He gave one last look out to the trees. Should he try to go after the kid? He had to be hungry. He sighed and threw the brush back in the bucket. Santiago would know the countryside better than he did. In the morning, he’d ask the ranch hands. Someone had to know the kid’s story.
Sofia leaned against the giant oak. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her pounding heart. Eyes closed, she forced her lungs to relax.
Despite the horror of being caught, she had experienced pure joy for a moment. The big stallion’s muscles flexing under her, all the raw power ready to be unleashed.
The imprudent man had to call him back. The American cowboy didn’t even have the manners to button and tuck in his shirt.
Growing up on the ranch, she had been around plenty of men, but the man her father was doing business with made her uncomfortable in ways she didn’t understand.
She never realized how sheltered her father had kept her even as she ran free over the ranch, or maybe she’d just been too young to notice the men. But she noticed him, and he was a distraction.
For a bit, she had forgotten she was supposed to be a boy. That would’ve been disastrous.
He had said the horse was his. That didn’t make sense. She thought he was some cowhand delivering a new stallion for her father’s stables. How did a poor cowboy get such a magnificent stallion?
Her breathing slowed to normal as she pushed herself off the rough tree bark. Her hands ran down the bottom of her oversize shirt. The ease of movement in her brother’s old clothes was liberating. The thought of being trapped in a corset and dress again depressed her.
She could have her own clothes fashioned in such a way that gave her freedom of movement. Just because she was a female, her mother had convinced her father she needed to stay in the house, but she was different from her mother.
Sofia closed her eyes and bit hard on her lower lip, clearing her thoughts. The back of her head bumped the trunk. Above her, stars danced through the tree branches, winking at her.
Life was too short to live by someone else’s expectations. She loved the land. Running the ranch with her father was all she wanted. She could be his partner.
He needed her. With her mother and brother gone, it was just the two of them. This was her legacy also.
The light was still coming from inside the barn. First, she needed to convince him to buy that stallion. She would find a way to go for a real ride on the horse the cowboy called Dughall. Maybe the man could stick around, too.
She would love telling him what to do. As his boss, he would have to follow her orders. She touched her arm where he left his handprint. The warmth of his touch lingered.
With slow steps, she moved back toward the hacienda. Inside the courtyard, she eased along the adobe wall. As she got closer to the window that provided her escape earlier, her father’s voice drifted through the air.
She groaned. Getting back into the house would not be as easy as leaving now that he was awake. Sofia flattened against the wall as a light moved across the room.
Trapped.
She crossed her arms and slid down the rough side of her home. Her father’s voice carried through the night. He didn’t usually talk to himself. All the political upheaval had him more stressed than she thought.
“Thank you for taking my offer into consideration, Señor De Zavala.” The rough baritone voice joined her father’s.
Sofia’s hand covered her mouth. The cowboy was having a late-night meeting with her father? Maybe he had seen through her disguise. Her heart jumped in her chest.
Staying low, she peeked over the windowsill and watched as the tall cowboy shook hands with her father.
A dark jacket covered his shoulders now, and leather boots had him standing taller than he was earlier in the barn. Her father was not a small man, but he lost some of his size next to the cowboy.
They
