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Ten minutes later, she returned to the Montoro family cemetery. Juan Carlos smiled broadly as he gazed at the large bunch of wildflowers she’d gathered in her hands. Some were probably classified as weeds, but they were indisputably pretty anyway. Bluebonnet blues, pale yellows, creamy whites and carnation pinks.
“Would you like to help me lay these down?”
He nodded, a play of deep emotion on his face.
They walked through the cemetery one last time, offering up the flowers to grave sites and headstones to tell the deceased that someone remembered them. Someone cared.
They left the place quietly, Juan Carlos taking her hand. It was a solemn moment, but a sweet one, too. Portia was moved by the care he’d taken with his distant relatives, the honor he’d bestowed upon them.
How many would have just ridden past? How many wouldn’t have bothered to stop and clear up the neglect and mess?
This feeling she had for Juan Carlos wasn’t going away. It grew stronger each moment she spent in his company.
The horses whinnied upon their return, huffing breaths and stomping hooves. Juan Carlos dipped into the saddlebag again, this time to offer the animals a handful of oats to keep them satisfied. “There, now. You two be quiet. No more complaining.” He stroked Julio’s head a few times and then turned to Portia. “Let’s sit a minute. Take a rest.”
“All right.”
He grabbed a blanket and spread it out under the tree. The shade was no longer an issue; the weather had cooled and gray clouds were gathering in the skies. She shivered and walked to her saddlebag, picking out a jacket from the things she’d brought along.
“Cold?”
“A little bit.”
“We can head back.”
It was too early to return to the house. They had more ground to cover and she didn’t want to delay their mission because of a little cold weather. Her family hailed from Scandinavia, where food was put out on windowsills to freeze quickly, where the elderly lived over one hundred years because germs couldn’t survive the environment. She refused to slow Juan Carlos down.
“Ten minutes is all I need,” she said.
She put on the jacket and sat down. He sat next to her and roped his arm around her. It seemed only natural to put her head on his shoulder.
“There is a giant rock formation about half an hour from here. The terrain is rough but these horses can make it up there. I found it on a GPS map of the area.” His voice soothed her even as he spoke of a tough task. She closed her eyes. “I think it’s a good hiding place for the artwork. I suspect caves have formed between the interlocking rocks. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.”
“Sounds reasonable. We’ll check it out.”
“Are you up for it? We can return tomorrow if you’re not.”
“I’m up for it,” she said. “We’re already halfway there, aren’t we?”
“Yes, but the weather might be a problem.”
“It won’t be, Juan Carlos. I’m not a wimpy princess, remember?”
Laughter rumbled from his chest. “How can I forget? You keep reminding me.”
“Good,” she said, snuggling deeper into his arms.
The solid beats of his heart were like the revving of a powerful engine. It was dangerous and thrilling and though she hated to move, it was time to break this cozy moment with him. She slid away from his grip and rose to her feet. “I’m ready when you are.”
He bounded up, regret in his eyes, as if she’d taken something precious from him.
From both of them.
* * *
The rocks were adobe-red, huge and intimidating. They were also beautiful against the landscape of gray skies and brown earth. The horses treaded with agility through the gravelly terrain, their sure-footed gait assuring her she would not fall to her death as they climbed a plateau that led to the face of the mountain. “This is amazing. It reminds me of Sedona back in the States. Have you ever been there?”
“In Arizona?” Juan Carlos gave his head a shake. “No, but I’ve seen pictures. It’s an artist colony, isn’t it?”
“Yes, among other things. There are some wonderful galleries and art exhibits in the area. I studied there one summer.”
“Did you ever climb the rocks?”
She nibbled her lower lip. “I’d been tempted a few times, but no, I didn’t climb the rocks. I was there for the art. Are we climbing rocks today?” she asked pointedly.
Juan Carlos spread his gaze over the entire mountainside, studying the terrain. “Just like back then, you came here for the art. So no. We don’t have to climb the rocks. The openings seem to be on the lower levels. We can reach them without climbing.”
