Hank Reynolds set down his water glass. “Slade claims he’s lost some recently, but that’s not easy to confirm yet. My men say we’re short some more, too.”
“We’ll need to visit the other ranchers in the area,” Chisholm said. “Can you possibly spare a man to show us around? It would save some time.”
Reynolds leaned back in his chair. “I’m afraid with these rustlers around, I need all my men right now to keep watch over my herd, but Caro can show you the way to the other ranches. She knows this area as well as anyone.” He flicked a glance in her direction. “And, of course, you gentlemen are welcome to stay in our guest rooms as long as you’re in the area. It’s an honor to have Texas Rangers around, and if I’m lucky, it will keep the rustlers away from my stock.”
“Thanks. We’ll take you up on that offer.” Chisholm looked at Caro. The embers in her dark eyes now flashed as hot as the peppers in his meal.
Apparently, Miss Caro Cardova was not happy with this arrangement. Oh well, it served her right. And the more he thought about it, the more he suspected he might actually enjoy some time in her fiery company.
Chapter Two
Caro dropped a pile of tin plates into the washtub and suds splashed out. She’d add a soaked dress to the list of things that were the Texas Ranger’s fault. She stuck her hands in the water, and they stung from her fall earlier today. That was his fault, too.
“Caro Maria Cardova Valenzuela, what has gotten into you?” Her mamá slipped on an apron. “And how many peppers did you put in that poor man’s tamale?”
“Enough.” Caro rubbed the plates harder than necessary, rinsed them, and set them on the drain board.
“Enough to do what?” Her mother handed her a pot from the stove. “Give him blisters on his tongue?”
She immersed the pot in her washtub. “I wanted to teach him a lesson.”
Her mamá chuckled and picked up a dish towel to dry the plates. “It seems that it was you who was educated.”
“He makes me so angry.” She scrubbed harder on the pot. “Why do men crave the praise of others? Why do they think they can march in and take over and that we should be grateful for their every effort?”
“Oh, Caro.” Mamá sighed. “Are you sure that is what is bothering you?”
“What do you think it is?”
“Your papá loved you dearly, but he was a soldier, and he had a duty to do.”
Caro hefted the washed pot onto the drain board and reached for a towel. “He was an anarchist. He didn’t have to fight. He chose to fight. He wanted other people to applaud his great efforts more than he wanted to be with us. He wanted to be a hero.”
“Caro! You will not speak ill of your dear, departed papá.” Mamá carried the plates to the cupboard.
“He thought he could fix everything, but what did it get him? Nothing. What did we lose? Everything.”
Mamá cupped her daughter’s cheek. “He fought for us. The government was corrupt. He was willing to give his life to do what was right. Someday you will understand.”
“I’m sorry, Mamá. I don’t want to hurt you.” Caro swiped a tear from her eye. “I know he was a good man, and I don’t know why this Texas Ranger has brought up these feelings.”
“Only God knows that answer.” Her mamá smiled. “I’ve been praying for you. Take all of these feelings to the Lord and ask Him to help you sort them out.”
“I do not think God wants to hear me rant.”
“Don’t be so sure. He is big enough to handle your hurt and your anger.” Mamá kissed her cheek. “And try to be kind to the Ranger. Perhaps he’s part of God’s plan to bring you healing.”
“I’ll pray, Mamá, and I’ll be as kind as I can, but I draw the line at that.” She hung her apron on a hook. “The sooner that know-it-all Ranger is gone, the better.”
Sitting in Reynolds’s spacious parlor, Chisholm patted his shirt pocket. He wished he’d taken the time to read the letter from home while they were on their way to the heart of Texas. But correspondence from his pa or his six busy brothers was infrequent at best, so he cherished each missive. When he finally got time to read this letter, he planned on giving it his undivided attention and savoring every word. An ache rose in his chest. He missed his family more and more every day.
He glanced at Hank Reynolds and Whit playing chess a few feet away. Did Reynolds have family? No feminine items were in sight in the parlor or portraits of any kind. Had he never married? Was that why he’d hired Caro and her mother, in hopes of claiming a wife? If so, which woman did he hope to win?
“Checkmate.” Reynolds moved his queen into place.
“Well played.” Whit leaned back in his chair. “Maybe we can have another match before we leave.”