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“I spotted a couple headed up the canyon’s other fork.” Beau swung his horse around and brought it up level with Will’s bay gelding. With curiosity nagging at him, he asked, “Did Prescott have anything to do with you and Tori splitting up?”
“Does it matter?” Will fired back, going all tight-jawed on him. “It happened. And it’s over.”
Beau doubted it was over as far as his brother was concerned. “You two seemed to fit together so well, like you were made for each other. There were times when I’d see you with Tori and would feel a little envious because you clearly had something special going.”
“Funny you should say that,” he countered. “You see, I always thought Natalie was the special one for you.”
Beau recoiled slightly. The mere sound of her name was like being stabbed. It was impossible to think of her without remembering the feel of her in his arms, the warmth of her body quivering beneath him, or the welling of emotion that choked him.
When Beau failed to say anything, Will spoke. “You know Bull was always certain the ranch would pull you back here. I always thought you’d come back for Natalie.”
“After I got back from Afghanistan . . .” Beau paused, searching for the right words. “Let’s just say . . . things changed.”
“But not the way you feel about her. I saw the way you looked at her that night in the barn when the foal was born. You didn’t seem to be aware of anything—or anyone—else.”
Beau didn’t bother to deny it. “You’re forgetting that she’s married.”
“And you’re wishing you could forget it.”
“It so happens that I’ve had the dubious pleasure of meeting her husband.” Unwilling to discuss the subject of Natalie any further, Beau switched the focus back on his brother. “You were never exactly a saint. So, tell me, Will, who’s filling your bed since the divorce? Do you have a mistress tucked away somewhere? Or are there some desperate housewives in town, willing to put out for any man who’ll leave some money on the dresser to help with all their past-due bills?”
But he didn’t get the expected rise from his brother. “I’m glad to hear you’re giving some serious thought to staying here at the ranch.”
Dumbfounded, Beau turned in his saddle to stare at his brother. “What the hell are you talking about? I never suggested any such thing.”
“Of course you did. Why else would you ask about the ready availability of sex in town?” Will countered.
“I wasn’t talking about myself! I was talking about you,” Beau retorted, then added in a mutter, “Blanco Springs is the last place where I’d go looking for it.”
The small town was a place of few secrets. There was too much chance that Natalie would find out if he happened to sleep with a woman she knew.
Before Will could offer a reply, Beau sank spurs into his mount, sending it jumping forward. A young steer burst from a mesquite thicket. And Beau took off in pursuit.
Erin knelt in the straw, stroking the foal. His golden coat was velvety to the touch. His young muscles, growing stronger every day, quivered beneath her palm. In a few weeks he’d be big enough to run and play in the paddock.
“Tesoro.” His ear twitched as she whispered his name. “We’re going to have so much fun together.”
Sky had told her that Tesoro needed to learn his name and get used to the sound of her voice. So Erin talked to the foal the whole time she was with him. When she ran out of things to say, she sang old cowboy songs that Jasper had taught her when she was little. Songs like “Red River Valley” and “Streets of Laredo.” Sometimes she sang the country and pop songs her school friends preferred. But Tesoro seemed to like the old songs best.
His silky muzzle nudged her arm. Sensing what he wanted, she scratched behind his ears. Lupita raised her head, glanced at her baby, then went back to munching hay.
Erin dreaded tomorrow night when her mother would come to drive her back to town for school the next day. Foals grew up so fast. Tesoro would be bigger and more active when she came back next weekend. Would he still remember her?
The barn was quiet except for the soft horse sounds and the muted shovel-scrape of someone cleaning the stalls at the far end of the barn. Jasper sat on a wooden chair with the dog curled in the straw at his feet. The old man’s eyes were closed, but Erin knew it wouldn’t take much to snap him out of his doze. He was alert to everything around him.
As if her thoughts woke him, he opened his eyes and stirred, looking a mite uncomfortable. “Are you okay, Jasper?” she asked him.
He looked mildly embarrassed. “Fine, honey. But my rusty old plumbing’s not what it used to be. I need to find a restroom.”
“Go on. I’ll be fine,” she said.
“No, I promised your dad I wouldn’t leave you alone. Come on out of the stall till I get back.”
“Just let me stay here,” Erin said. “My dad’s an old fussbudget. I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t ask me to break a promise, girl.” Jasper pushed to his feet. “If you want to stay, I’ll find somebody else. Lute,” he called, opening the stall gate and stepping out. “Get on down here for a minute?”
A dark, skinny young fellow in a ragged blue T-shirt sauntered into Erin’s view. “What’s up, old man?”
