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All married couples went through doldrums, Savannah told herself as she silently counted off the number of times the phone rang. Discord was only natural. It was up to her to see that they carved out a little island of time for themselves, recharged their batteries, so to speak.
It wasn’t that she had less to do than Cruz. In her own way, she firmly believed that she had just as much if not more to do than the man she’d promised to give her love to for all eternity. He had the ranch to run, she had everything else to run. The house, the books, their son and any emergency that might come up.
But then, women were far more resilient than their male counterparts and capable of multitasking on top of that. Ordinarily she was that way herself, when she wasn’t pregnant. Lately, though, she kept flagging, as if she couldn’t hang on to her energy for more than a few minutes at a time.
She didn’t remember being this exhausted when she was carrying Luke.
The phone on the other end was finally picked up. She straightened, eager to set her plan in motion.
“Hello, Mama?” The woman had insisted that she call her Mama after the wedding, and in truth, Savannah felt closer to Rosita than she ever had to her own mother. The name rolled easily from her tongue.
“Savannah?” There was immediate concern in the other woman’s voice. “What’s wrong?”
Savannah did her best to sound as cheerful as possible. Anything less and Rosita would be over in a flash, thinking the worst. It was Rosita’s belief that she had far too much happiness in her life, and she was always anticipating a reversal.
“Nothing’s wrong, Mama. I was just wondering if you’d mind taking your grandson for the night?”
“You know I’d love to have Luke over here anytime, but why tonight? Are you two going somewhere?”
To paradise, I hope. Savannah gauged her words carefully, not sure just how much Cruz would appreciate her telling her mother-in-law. He was very proud and this might offend his sense of independence. “Cruz has been working very hard lately—”
She could almost see Rosita nodding her dark head in agreement. “Takes a lot to run a ranch.”
“Yes, I know, he said the same thing.” Savannah suppressed the sigh that tried to rise to her lips. “But he’s forgotten how to unwind.”
“Unwind?”
The woman was probably unfamiliar with the term. “To relax. To enjoy himself.” Savannah paused. Then, because she liked the woman and because she had a feeling that Rosita would guess anyway, she added, “To be a husband again.”
Rosita caught on immediately, as Savannah knew she would. “Ah, I see. Of course. I can have Ruben come by and pick the boy up now if you’d like. It would give me extra time with my beautiful grandson—and you extra time to do whatever it is you need to do to help Cruz…unwind.”
Savannah didn’t want to seem as if she was eager to ship her son off, but in reality, Rosita had a good point. She’d get twice as much done without having Luke in tow. “Well…”
“Consider it done,” Rosita said, taking the decision out of her daughter-in-law’s hands. “Ruben will be there in less than half an hour. Have Luke and his favorite toys ready. And, Savannah?”
“Yes?”
“Good luck.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t bother commenting that if she had to rely on luck to make Cruz come around, then her marriage really was in serious trouble.
Cruz was well pleased.
The four quarter horses he’d arranged to buy looked even better walking off the back of the transport than they had when he had first seen them running free on Eric Tyler’s ranch. All four were fine specimens of their breed. And intelligent.
He could tell that the horses he’d picked were intelligent just by moving among them, the way he was now. He was getting a bead on them and they were getting one on him. He liked that.
Nothing worse than a dumb animal, he thought, at least for what he had in mind. He trained quarter horses to become cutting horses, animals specifically intended to herd cattle. A good horse could even prevent a stampede from getting under way, separating one frightened steer from the others before the mindless pounding of hooves and the surge of escape began.
Not that he couldn’t handle an animal blessed with less than the intelligence he saw on display today. Very slowly, he wound a lariat around his arm as he eyed the newest additions to his herd.
He had a way of communicating with horses that at times surprised even him. Had he been one of the Plains Indians, he might have said he was bonding with his brothers. But no such thought crossed Cruz’s mind when he walked into the small, tight corral to transform yet another horse from a skittish, rebellious animal to one that was willing to work for its master. To bring the fruit of its abilities to the man or woman who fed and cared for him or her.
However, something happened when Cruz was alone with a horse, something he could not explain. Something that almost allowed him to form a spiritual bond with the creature, to feel what the horse was feeling, to understand what caused its distrust or its pain.
When he had worked for the Double Crown, he had been given the toughest horses to break. Horses that had long since been given up on were brought to him in hopes that he could turn them around.
He’d never had a single failure. Sometime it took weeks, even months, but the object was not to rush, rather to succeed.
That was when he’d had the luxury of working for someone else, however. Now that he was his own master, now that what he accomplished put food on his table and clothes on the backs of his family, it was a slightly different matter. There was an urgency inside of him, an urgency to succeed, to build up the ranch, as well as his reputation. To have the kind of things he had always dreamed about having, not because he wanted them—he couldn’t care less about fancy cars or pricey clothing—but because those outer trappings meant that he, Cruz Perez, was a success.
A man to respect.
A man who could not only compete in a world populated by the likes of the Fortunes, but could also carve out a sizable place for himself.
That took dedication and work, tireless work. Not an easy matter when he was far from tireless. Especially when he walked into the house and heard recriminations thrown his way. Or when he saw the disappointment in Savannah’s eyes.
She never seemed happy anymore when he did have a moment to spend with her. That meant he was failing her somehow. More than anything else, he didn’t like failing.
A fifth horse was being led off the transport. The hand was having a difficult time bringing him over to the corral. This was the horse that Tyler had thrown in for a song.
“You’ll be doing me a favor taking it off my hands,” Eric Tyler had told him. Tugging off his hat, the older man had scratched his thinning hair and shaken his head. “I purely don’t know what to do with him.”
Even though he’d seen the other four as a sound investment of his time and money, Cruz had been drawn to the last animal immediately.
There was something about the black horse, an air that separated him from the others. There was the same amount of intelligence in its eyes as the other four—more, really—but also something else. A wariness coupled with fire.
He seemed almost human.
This one, Cruz had thought, watching as several of Tyler’s hands scattered after trying to herd the horse into a smaller corral, was a prize. A warrior.
Turning him into a working cutting horse wouldn’t be easy.
But Cruz loved a challenge.
“What’s his name?” he had asked, approaching the corral.
“Diablo,” Tyler had told him.
Diablo. The devil. It fit.
Inside the corral now, Diablo shook his proud head, his deep brown eyes locking with Cruz’s across the length of the field. Cruz found himself smiling.
“You think you’ll come out on top, don’t you?” he murmured almost to himself. “You’re in for a surprise, my friend.”
But taming and training Diablo was going to take time, and right now he needed to get busy with the four he’d purchased. He had a contract with the Flying W to turn over four fully trained cutting horses by the end of the month. That meant focusing his day a little differently, but it could be done.
The July sun beat down mercilessly.
Cruz could feel the line of sweat forming around the rim of his worn Stetson. Taking it off, he wiped his brow, then set the hat back on his head as his eyes swept over the field. One of his hands was still in the stables, mucking the stalls out before spreading a fresh layer of straw. The other two were caring for the horses that had been led into the corral. Horses needed to be washed down, especially in this heat.
Two of his mares were expecting. One had given birth to a dead colt last year. He hoped that her luck would be better this time around. There wasn’t anything to do but wait and see.
A thousand details to keep tabs on.
He thought about what Savannah had said about Hank. That he should consider making the wrangler a foreman. That he should give serious thought to entrusting others with more responsibility rather than shouldering it all himself. It would make life easier, he thought. But it was just that he did everything better than anyone.
It wasn’t vanity that prompted his feelings, it was training and ability. He’d been a cowboy all of his life, and he knew exactly what it took to run a ranch. He’d waited all his life for the chance.
And here it was.
Still, he knew damn well that he couldn’t be everywhere at once. When it came to the daily chores, he figured he’d be safe enough assigning those to the others without having to stand over them to make sure everything was taken care of. Feeding, bathing, exercising the horses and cleaning out their stalls took time. Cruz made up his mind to allow the others to take care of those details.
But training the horses, putting them through their paces until he was satisfied that they were the best they could be, was another matter entirely. Training horses was careful, almost artistic work. That was his domain.
Still, he had to start letting go somewhere, he thought. Going into Red Rock was on his agenda today, but he couldn’t do that and get the horses comfortable around him at the same time. He looked toward where a tall, rail-thin cowboy with bright red hair stood talking to another hand. Catching the redhead’s eye, he waved the man over.
“Hank, we need some more horse liniment and I’m going to have to buy saddles for these four. Why don’t you take one of the boys and go into Red Rock and pick them up for me?” He took the ranch credit card out of his wallet and handed it to Hank. “And while you’re at it, we’re running low on feed.”
“Yes, I know.” Taking off his hat, Hank ran a hand through his hair. He looked at his boss a little uncertainly, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly. It was a known fact that Cruz, although a fair man, was a control freak. “You want me to pick out the saddles?”
Cruz took Hank’s hesitant look to mean that he wasn’t up to the task. But since he’d asked him to handle it, he couldn’t very well back off. “Why? Don’t you feel you can?”
“Well, hell, yeah, they’re only saddles.” He looked at Cruz curiously. “But you always wanted to do it before.”
Cruz blew out a breath. This letting go wasn’t going to be easy, no matter what Savannah thought. She was clearly the smarter one, he’d give her that, but he was the one who knew what it took to operate a ranch. Still, he supposed he owed it to her to give this some kind of trial run.
“I’m delegating.” The word felt like hardened peanut brittle in his mouth. “Something my wife keeps telling me I should do.”
Hank nodded his head, no doubt pleased with the idea. A grin curved his mouth. “Well, seeing as how you’re ‘delegating’ stuff, I could help you with the training.” He nodded toward the corral, where all five horses stood, four in relatively close proximity and Diablo over to the side.
It was no secret that Hank had set his cap on becoming a trainer, that he’d spent hours of his free time watching Cruz as he put horses through their paces.
But Cruz knew watching and feeling an instinct were two different things. You couldn’t learn instinct. Even the thought of sharing the responsibility of training the horses didn’t sit well with him.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” he replied, in the same tone of voice that parents used to make children believe they had a ghost of a chance of something coming true, when in reality the exact opposite was more likely.
Hank ran his hand along his neck, nodding. The look in his eyes when they met Cruz’s said he knew that what he’d just suggested wasn’t about to happen anytime soon.
Hank blew out a breath as he set his hat far back on his head. “Yeah, well, it was just a thought.” Putting the credit card into his shirt pocket, he stuck his hands into his back pockets. “Want me to take the Mustang?”
“No, take the truck,” Cruz told him. He dug the keys out of his jeans and tossed them to the other man. “You’re going to need the space,” he added.
“Yeah, right.”
Hank closed his hand around the keys. Walking off toward the parking area, he called one of the other hands over to join him in his trip to Red Rock.
Watching him go, Cruz frowned.
The man hadn’t even asked to take the proper vehicle. How was Cruz going to make him a foreman if he didn’t have enough sense to take a truck instead of a small, vintage Mustang when he went to get four saddles and fresh feed for the horses?
And this was the man Savannah wanted him to put in charge directly under him? No way. Cruz was going to have to stay on top of everything—unless he wanted La Esperanza to quickly become the property of the bank that held its mortgage.
He knew he had to get started, but he took a second to walk over to Diablo. The stallion was at the far end of the corral, separating himself from the other quarter horses as if he knew he was special.
No failure of ego here, Cruz thought, amused.
He climbed up to the top rung of the fence, holding on to it as he leaned over the railing. Eyeing him, the horse took a few steps back, but not enough to display fear. The horse, Cruz sensed, had a will every bit as strong as his own.
That made them both fighters.
“This is your new home, Diablo. You’d better get used to it.”
As if to show that he understood and that he was displeased, the stallion pawed the ground, tossing his mane in a gesture that could only be called defiant.
In a way, Cruz knew how he felt. As a young man, he’d refused to allow himself to be sublimated into the Fortunes’ world, even though for the most part he both liked and respected the members of the family.
Sublimation was for his parents, but not for him.
“You’d better know now,” he told Diablo, “that kind of behavior doesn’t put me off. You might have been top dog at the last ranch, but you’ve met your match here. We’re going to get together, you and me, and be friends. That’s a promise.”
He made no attempt to reach out to touch the horse, or even to enter the corral. The horse required his space. For now Cruz would respect that. But the animal did need to get accustomed to his presence in his world.
Training would begin early tomorrow morning, before he even started working with the others. Half an hour, twice a day. He didn’t have the time, but he’d find it. Even if it meant doing some more delegating.
An excitement pulsed through Cruz. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long time.
While watching her reflection in the wardrobe mirror, Savannah realized that her hands were shaking ever so slightly as she smoothed the sides of her dress.
She stared down at her hands. They were also tingling. And damp.
She shook her head and silently laughed at herself. You’d think she was going out on her first date. There had to be a hundred butterflies all vying for airspace inside her stomach.
For once, she didn’t feel like collapsing or throwing up. The newest Perez-in-the-making had decided, for now, to cooperate with its mother.
Thank God for small favors, she thought.
The moment her father-in-law had come for Luke, she’d dashed off to Red Rock to buy things for the dinner she wanted to make for Cruz.
But before going to the supermarket, she’d stopped by the mall. Not to buy a new dress, but a new nightgown. Something just sheer enough to get his blood pumping in double time.
She’d picked out a full-length one that had a network of lace across her breasts and two layers of sheer, light blue nylon swirling around her hips down to the floor.
She couldn’t wait to see the expression on Cruz’s face when she wore it.
Returning home, she’d cleaned the house and started dinner going before finally going upstairs to change out of her jeans and into her dress for the evening.
Right now she had both dinner and herself warming, waiting for Cruz to make his appearance. She glanced at the clock. It was a little after seven.
