“She…was killed.” She inhaled sharply, the pain in her heart ever present, but more so when she remembered the senseless loss. “She and Javier, her husband, both. They were in town one afternoon, picking up supplies, and simply walking by the Silver Spur Saloon, when shots rang out. Apparently, a gambler, upset that he lost, decided to start shooting.” Her throat tightened to the point she could hear the difference in her own voice. She cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump, but it remained, almost choking her.
“From what I was told, the man who won defended himself and chased the other out of the saloon, but they continued shooting at each other right there in the middle of the street, neither one caring where their bullets landed. Six people died that day, not only one of the gamblers—the other got away—but innocent people like Regina and Javier…just because someonelost a card game. It was all…so pointless and devastating.” She blinked to clear her eyes of the tears that blurred her vision.
“Uncle Charley was contacted by the Silva family lawyer. I was named guardian for the children. I think Serafina, the children’s grandmother, was relieved. She wasn’t a well woman, never had been. Raising four children and running Montaña del Trueno would have been a hardship for her.”
“I’m sorry about your sister and her husband.” His voice was soft and full of empathy. “I’m sorry for you, too. You were so young to suddenly find yourself in those circumstances.”
“I was.” She stopped brushing Spitfire while she gathered her composure. “I was only twenty. And I knew nothing about raising children. Or running a ranch, but I wasn’t about to let Gina down. She trusted me to raise her children, although she probably realized that our father would disown me like he had her.”
“And did he?”
“Yes. I wasn’t surprised. My father is not a loving man.” She started brushing Spitfire again, the simple act soothing while her memories were anything but. “We argued, as I expected we would. He wasn’t happy with the choice Gina had made when she married Javier against his wishes, wasn’t happy with the decision I was making. He said the most horrible things about us, called us names no father should ever call his daughters.” Her face heated, still indignant after all these years that a father should treat his flesh and blood like he had.
“And the children! The things he’d said about his own grandchildren! At that moment, I was ashamed of him. And embarrassed. I almost pitied him.” She looked at him over Spitfire’s back, searching his face, wondering what he thought. There was nothing but sympathy in his expression. “Defying my father was the hardest, yet easiest thing I’ve ever done. When I walked out of the house on the Hill that day—Hilde beside me—it was for the last time. I never looked back, though I’ve written him letters, letting him know how his grandchildren had fared over the years. He never responded and yes, that hurts a little, but after all this time, I realize it was probably better that he wasn’t part of our lives.”
“Were you scared?”
She gave a quick nod. “Terrified, but determined not to lose what Regina and Javier had entrusted to me. More importantly, I wanted the children to know how much they were loved, not only by their parents, but by me.”
She laughed, remembering the first time she’d walked into the house, though at the time, it wasn’t such a happy experience. “Hilde and I arrived here in the middle of a thunderstorm, much worse than this one tonight. We were soaked to the bone, tired, and still reeling from the news that Regina was gone. The children were crying as was Serafina. She’d lost her only son and was as inconsolable as the boys. The house was in turmoil, and there was Antonio, trying to help. He took one look at me—he didn’t even ask my name, though I suppose he knew who I was—and shoved Lucy into my arms. I don’t know who was more startled, her or me.” She remembered holding the squirming bundle that was her niece, the both of them in tears.
“I was lucky though. I had a tremendous amount of help. Antonio taught me what I needed to know about ranching. Serafina taught me to cook, as did Grub. Hilde bakes like a dream and makes a fine cup of coffee, but she can’t make anything other than toast without burning it.”
“The love part. That was easy, I’m sure.”
There was something in his voice that drew her attention, a certain sadness in his tone. Was he envious he hadn’t had that? Growing up as he had, without a mother or father or siblings, surely he felt he’d missed out, though he did seem to hold FatherO’Malley and the Sisters at the boys’ home in high esteem. That wasn’t the same as love, though.
She studied his expression, but there was nothing except genuine interest in his tawny, nearly golden, eyes so she continued. “I loved the children long before I met them. Regina and I had exchanged letters for many years, though it was forbidden by my father. Uncle Charley was our go-between, passing our letters back and forth. She’d told me so much about them, I felt I knew them. Still, it didn’t prepare me for what was to come. Teddy was so angry. At everything. I understood. I was angry, too.”
She glanced up at the ceiling, listening to the rain hitting the roof, trying to keep her emotions in check. Those early days of coming to the ranch and the circumstances of why still made her eyes burn with unshed tears. “Esteban didn’t speak to me for months. He still doesn’t speak much. And Heath, though he was only four at the time, became my helper. Perhaps he was too young to truly understand, but he had a sense that everything would be all right. Has that sense to this day. Heath seems to handle problems with a smile and a shrug and a ‘get down to business of fixing that problem’ attitude.”
“I’ve noticed that about him.” He chuckled as he drew the brush through Spitfire’s mane. “He’s got quite an odd sense of humor.”
“That he does. And Lucy! She doesn’t remember her mother or father at all. She was just over a year old when Regina and Javier were killed. I didn’t even know how to change a diaper! I learned rather quickly! I really had no choice, but those first attempts…they were laughable.”
“But you persevered.” His mouth curved with admiration. “And look what you’ve accomplished. I don’t know anything about ranching, but even I can see Montaña del Trueno is prosperous and well-run.”
She acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod. “It was, and still is, a labor of love. Like I said, I was determined not to lose what Regina and Javier had entrusted to me, and I wanted—no, needed—to make the ranch better than how I found it.” She glanced at him and smiled. “I’ve been told I can be a little stubborn. Tell me I can’t do something, and I’ll have to do it, just to prove you wrong.”
He laughed, not just a chuckle, but a full-bodied burst that came from deep in his chest. Humor danced in his warm amber eyes as they swept over her. “Yes, I can see that about you.”
“Don’t laugh. Being stubborn has helped in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.”
“I suppose it would, given certain circumstances.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Listen, it’s not raining anymore.”
“The thunder has stopped, too.”
The barn door flew open, not driven by the wind, which had died down, but by Teddy, who stood on the threshold, holding a lantern. Evie jumped. So did Jake as Teddy stomped up the aisle, his stride long and angry, his hair furrowed, as if he ran his fingers through it repeatedly. He probably had. Teddy had always been her worrier, which made him quick to anger.
“What is going on in here?” he demanded, suspicion making his dark eyes snap.
Evie laughed, seeing the expression on his face. He looked like he could take on the world with one hand tied behind his back. “We were just keeping Spitfire calm. You know she doesn’t like thunder.”
He came to a standstill on the other side of the stall, the expression on his face one of distrust and censure—and yes, even anger—as his eyes darted back and forth between them. “Well, it’s stopped thundering. I don’t think?—”
“I’d like a word, Teddy. Outside, please.” Evie laid the brush on top of the railing and left the stall. She headed down thecentral aisle at a quick pace, fully expecting her nephew to follow. She left the barn, closing the door which Teddy had left wide open. He slipped through a moment later.
She started to ask him why he was so upset, but he didn’t give her the chance.
