“Your little girl needs milk…”
Isabella Navarro paused.
Her dark eyes moved from the exhausted infant wrapped against Gabriel Morales’s chest to the hollow-cheeked boy gripping his father’s hand.
Then she looked directly into Gabriel’s face.
“…and I need a husband.”
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The cattle behind the wooden fence shifted lazily in the fading Colorado light.
A cow lowed somewhere near the milking barn.
Wind moved through tall grass beyond the corrals.
Gabriel wondered whether hunger had finally made him hear things that had not been said.
He was thirty-eight years old.
He had buried his wife six months earlier.
Lost his job four days ago.
Walked with his children until his feet bled inside his boots.
His eight-month-old daughter, Emma, had not had enough milk since yesterday morning.
His seven-year-old son, Samuel, had stopped asking for supper.
Gabriel had come to Rancho Santa Esperanza to beg for work.
Not marriage.
He tightened one arm around Emma.
“Ma’am…”
Isabella lifted one eyebrow.
“I heard you.”
“I’m not certain you did.”
“I heard every word.”
“Then you understand why I’m confused.”
Isabella glanced toward the dirt road beyond the ranch.
Again.
Gabriel noticed.
It was not the casual look of someone expecting a guest.
She was waiting for something she did not want to arrive.
Her attention returned to him.
“Your name?”
“Gabriel Morales.”
“The boy?”
“Samuel.”
Samuel pressed closer against him.
“And the baby?”
“Emma.”
Isabella’s expression softened when she looked at the infant.
Emma’s eyes barely opened.
Her little mouth moved weakly against the blanket.
Isabella immediately turned toward the milking shed.
“Maria!”
A woman emerged from the side door of the main ranch house.
Perhaps fifty.
Round face.
Gray-streaked hair pulled back beneath a kerchief.
She took one look at Gabriel’s children and hurried over.
“Bring warm cow’s milk,” Isabella ordered, then corrected herself. “No. Goat milk. Add boiled water. Small amount first.”
Maria nodded.
“Bread too?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel spoke quickly.
“Ma’am, I can work for it.”
Isabella looked at him.
“I did not ask.”
“I don't take charity.”
“You have a starving child.”
“I said I can work.”
“And I said she gets milk first.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
He hated needing anything from anyone.
He hated even more that his pride had become something his children could no longer afford.
Samuel tugged his sleeve.
“Papá.”
Gabriel looked down.
Samuel’s eyes were on the house.
Food.
Gabriel closed his eyes briefly.
Then nodded.
“Thank you.”
Isabella studied him.
Noticed the difficulty of those two words.
Perhaps respected it.
Perhaps not.
She turned and unlatched the corral gate.
“Come inside.”
Gabriel did not move.
“Before we discuss marriage?”
“Yes.”
“You say that as though this is ordinary.”
“It is not.”
“Good.”
For the first time, the corner of Isabella’s mouth moved.
Not quite a smile.
Then hoofbeats sounded far down the valley.
Every trace of softness disappeared from her face.
Isabella turned.
Three riders.
Maybe four.
Too far to identify.
Moving fast.
She stepped closer to Gabriel.
“Whatever happens next, do not tell them you arrived today.”
Gabriel stared.
“What?”
“If they ask, you have been here for weeks.”
“Who are they?”
She ignored the question.
“Samuel.”
The boy looked up at her.
“How old are you?”
“Seven.”
“Can you remember something important?”
Samuel nodded cautiously.
“You and your father have been staying here since the first week of June.”
Gabriel stepped between them slightly.
“Do not involve my son in whatever this is.”
Isabella looked at him.
“If I tell them you arrived an hour ago, you may be sleeping outside tonight.”
“I have slept outside before.”
“Your daughter has not.”
That stopped him.
The hoofbeats grew louder.
Gabriel stared at Isabella.
“What are you hiding?”
She lowered her voice.
“Three men are coming here to take this ranch from me.”
“Legally?”
“They are trying.”
“And marrying me stops them?”
“No.”
That answer surprised him.
“Then why?”
“It changes what they believe I am willing to do.”
Gabriel frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Isabella’s gaze moved to the riders.
“One of them intends to marry me.”
Gabriel looked back toward the road.
Then at her.
“And you intend to marry a starving ranch hand you met two minutes ago instead?”
“Yes.”
He almost laughed.
She did not.
That made it less funny.
Gabriel stepped closer.
“Who is he?”
“Rafael Varela.”
The name meant nothing to Gabriel.
Isabella continued.
“He owns three ranches east of here, a feed company in Denver, and enough influence at the county office that pieces of paper tend to become whatever he says they mean.”
“And he wants you.”
“He wants Santa Esperanza.”
“Same thing?”
“To him.”
Gabriel looked around.
The ranch was immense.
Pastures rolled toward the mountains.
Dozens of dairy cows stood near the corral, but he could see larger herds farther away.
Two barns.
Main timber house.
Several worker cabins.
Irrigated meadow.
Creek water.
Good land.
Very good land.
He understood immediately why somebody might want it.
Gabriel asked:
“Does he have a claim?”
“He says my late husband owed him forty thousand dollars.”
Gabriel stared.
“That is a fortune.”
“I know.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“You’re certain?”
“I kept the books.”
Gabriel looked at her more carefully.
There was no hesitation.
“He forged something?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then?”
“He bought old debts.”
“Which ones?”
“Feed notes.”
“Equipment notes.”
“Rail transport.”
“Some were real.”
“Most were already paid.”
“But?”
“The releases disappeared from county records.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.
“Convenient.”
“Yes.”
The riders were close now.
Gabriel could see the lead man.
Black horse.
Expensive saddle.
Long tan coat.
Broad hat.
Two riders behind.
Isabella whispered:
“Say yes.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“What?”
“Say you’ll marry me.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“You don't even know me.”
“I know you carried your daughter four days instead of abandoning her somewhere easier.”
His face hardened.
“I would never—”
“I know.”
She continued quickly.
“I know your son looks at you before he speaks because he trusts what your face tells him.”
“I know you asked for work before food.”
“I know your boots are worn through and you still gave the boy the better coat.”
Gabriel looked down.
Samuel indeed wore Gabriel’s old wool coat cut down.
Isabella continued.
“And I know Rafael will be at the gate in less than a minute.”
“That is enough information for tonight.”
Gabriel stared at her.
“You are insane.”
“Possibly.”
“You are asking me to become father to your ranch troubles.”
“I am asking you to become my husband.”
“You don't know whether I drink.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“Gamble?”
“No.”
“Beat women?”
His face changed.
“No.”
“Children?”
“Never.”
“Good.”
“That is not a courtship.”
“I don't have time for courtship.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“And afterward?”
“If we survive tonight, you may decide you hate me tomorrow.”
“What about the marriage?”
“You may leave.”
“Just like that?”
“I will pay you fairly for your work.”
“No.”
Isabella frowned.
“No?”
“If I marry you, I do not leave when it becomes inconvenient.”
Something changed in her expression.
It lasted only a second.
But Gabriel saw it.
She had expected desperation.
Not principles.
The riders reached the gate.
Isabella whispered:
“Then perhaps you are exactly the man I need.”
Rafael Varela pulled his horse to a stop.
He was forty-six.
White American father, Mexican mother, dark hair touched with gray at the temples, neatly trimmed mustache, expensive coat, polished boots.
Handsome in the manner of a man who had spent years making sure people noticed.
His eyes went immediately to Isabella.
Then Gabriel.
Then the children.
His smile faded.
“Isabella.”
“Rafael.”
“I wasn't expecting company.”
Gabriel saw Isabella’s hand shift.
Just slightly.
She moved closer to him.
Rafael noticed.
“Who is this?”
Isabella answered without hesitation.
“My husband.”
Samuel’s head snapped upward.
Gabriel almost did the same.
Rafael stared.
Then laughed.
“No.”
Isabella’s face did not change.
“Yes.”
“You married?”
“This afternoon.”
Gabriel looked at her from the corner of his eye.
Afternoon.
Interesting.
Rafael dismounted.
Slowly.
His two companions remained on horseback.
“You told me three days ago you would consider my proposal.”
“I considered it.”
“And?”
“I chose someone else.”
Rafael looked Gabriel over.
Dirty shirt.
Suspenders.