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Juan Carlos slowed his gelding and she did the same. “We’ll stop here,” he said.
Her rear end rejoiced. She spotted trees that offered perfect shade just yards away. The horses moved toward an oak, massive in size, its roots splayed in all directions.
Juan Carlos dismounted quickly and strode to her. Sugar wasn’t as tall as Julio, but Portia still needed help with her dismount. Either that, or run the risk of breaking an ankle when she tried to slide down the horse’s left flank.
Juan Carlos’s arms were up, reaching for her. She swung her leg over the saddle and his hands found her waist, securing her with a firm grip and guiding her down until her boots hit the ground. He held her for a few beats of time, with her back to his chest, his nose tickling her neck, breathing in her hair. “You smell delicious,” he whispered, and then released her.
She sighed. If only she didn’t miss his hold on her. Didn’t enjoy having him touch her.
I would claim you in an instant and not feel I’d betrayed my vow to you.
He stood beside Julio, gazing at the graveyard as he unlatched a saddlebag and came up with a bottle of water. He walked over to her. “Here,” he said. “Take a drink, you must be thirsty.”
The water, cool and refreshing, slid down her throat. “That’s good.” She handed it back to him. His mouth clamped around the lip of the bottle and he tipped it back. He swallowed a big gulp, then another. A trickle of sweat ran down his forehead and he wiped it away.
Simple gestures. Yet her heart raced being near him, sharing water, doing natural things that seemed to bind them together.
“I’d like to check out the graveyard. You can stay here and rest. I’ll put a blanket down. You’ll be in the shade.”
She shook her head. She was curious about the graveyard, too. “I’ll come with you.”
He nodded and began walking. She followed behind. Wind kicked up and almost blew her hat off. She grabbed it just in time and held it to her head as she approached a wooden gate. Overhead, tree branches made a makeshift archway, and scrolled in wood a sign read: Montoro Family Cemetery.
“So this is where the farm families ended up,” she said.
Juan Carlos nodded. “They were probably distant cousins, relatives of my uncles. I’d bet Tantaberra made sure no one has ever come to honor their graves.”
They walked through the battered gate. There were many headstones, maybe twenty-five in all. Portia stopped beside Juan Carlos as he bent his head in prayer over one after another. She sent up her own prayers for the lives forgotten here, stepping from one grave site to the next. “Do you know any of these names?” she asked.
“Some sound familiar,” he said. The first and middle initials were etched on the headstones along with the last names. “Montoro, of course, and Olivio I’ve heard mentioned, but many I don’t know. I will have this cemetery restored to honor their graves.”
Juan Carlos insisted on clearing away the larger of the weeds that had overgrown the area. She bent to help him. “No, please. Your hands will be cut,” he said.
“I’ll be careful. I want to help.” Her chin up, she was ready to do him battle.
He stared at her. “I forgot to bring you gloves.” And then he warned, “See that you are careful, Princess.”
She smiled and something tugged at her heart. He was angry with himself for the oversight. “I promise to be careful.”
He began to pull away tumbleweeds clustered around the graves, staring at the names embedded on the stones as if embedding them into his brain. She, too, had little family. She could see the sadness and the loss in the contoured planes of his face, in the shadows of his dark eyes. The dictatorship had taken so much from his family.
“Let me see your hands,” he said when they were all through. They’d cleared away as much as they possibly could. The wind was howling; breezes that had cooled the day’s heat were swirling more rapidly now.
She turned her palms up.
Juan Carlos inspected her hands carefully, turning them one way then another.
“See. I’m not a wimpy princess.”
He laughed, the shine returning to his eyes. “I’d never describe you that way. I’m grateful for your help.”
“You’re welcome. But there’s one more thing to do.”
His right eyebrow shot up. “What would that be?”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t follow me. I’ll only be ten minutes.”
She left him in the graveyard. This was something she wanted to do by herself. For his family. He leaned against the post outside the cemetery and watched her march into the fields. Every time she turned, his gaze was glued to her. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight. She got that. He was a protector by nature. Gallant. He didn’t interfere with her independence though and she appreciated that.
