What a little spitfire. But in those few moments he’d held her, he’d gotten a glimpse behind her ironclad armor. Caro was a woman who wanted to be loved, but it was going to take one fearless man to stay the course and find a way to her heart.
Chisholm shook his head and laughed. He might face down the worst marauders in Texas, but not even he was that brave.
Chisholm completed the work in the barn by the time Whit returned from town. After washing up, they went inside for supper, only to discover that Hank Reynolds was still out with his men.
Caro’s mother set a covered serving dish on the center of the dining table. “Where are the flowers, daughter?”
“I didn’t get any,” Caro called from the other room.
“They are not yet in bloom?” Her mother laid a folded napkin at each place.
“I didn’t get to the field to see.” She pushed the door open, carrying a cast-iron pot. “Ricardo—”
Her mother pointed to the empty spot. “Ricardo?”
Caro set the pot on the table, then spotted Chisholm and Whit in the room. “Never mind, Mamá.”
“She wanted to see the fields of bluebonnets,” her mother explained, before slipping out to the summer kitchen. She returned with steaming corn bread. “I told her you said she should not go out alone, but she wouldn’t be stopped.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway, since I didn’t venture beyond the barn.” Caro motioned the men to their seats. “Se?or Reynolds said for the two of you not to wait for him.”
Whit pulled out his chair. “You aren’t joining us?”
“It’s hardly proper with Se?or Reynolds not home.” Caro wiped her hands on her apron. “And I’m sure you have much to share with one another. My mother and I will eat in the summer kitchen tonight.”
“Caro, wait.” Chisholm picked up his napkin. “Where are these bluebonnets you were heading out to see?”
“Not far. I would have been fine.”
“That’s not why I asked.” He poured himself a glass of milk from a striped pitcher.
“The bluebonnet fields are in the south quarter.”
“Good. That’s exactly the area I wanted to search tomorrow.” He smiled. “Will you show me the way?”
“If I must.” But her words didn’t match the upward tug he saw pulling on the corners of her lips.
Caro and her mother left them for the rest of the meal. Chisholm found the shredded beef perfectly seasoned this time, with a pleasing amount of spice and heat. The rice and beans only added to the delicious supper. Whit ate so much corn bread slathered in butter that Chisholm had to remind him Hank Reynolds hadn’t yet eaten.
Throughout the meal, they caught up on the events of the day. Whit said he’d learned that the current rustling problem wasn’t the first time cattle had gone missing, but it was the biggest loss ranchers had had to rustlers. No one seemed to like Slade McCord much, so there wasn’t much sympathy for his losses, but most people liked Hank and were sorry to hear he’d lost so many. One man mentioned a group of drovers who’d come through town about a month ago who seemed sort of suspicious, but no one had seen any of those men since.
Caro returned with a sweet custard flan for dessert and served each man a generous portion.
Incessant pounding on the front door brought Chisholm to his feet, but Caro reached the door before him. She opened it and Slade McCord stormed in, shoving her in the process.
“Is there a problem, McCord?” Chisholm stepped between Caro and the man.
“I’ll say. We lost another ten head today in broad daylight.” He came toe to toe with Chisholm. “What are you doing to catch these men?”
“Easy, McCord.” Chisholm glared at the man just as he’d seen his father do, until the man stepped back, then took a long pause before answering McCord’s question. “For your information, we’re investigating. How many head do you run, McCord?”
“About three hundred.”
“Since it’s calving season, how do you know those ten cows haven’t wandered off to give birth somewhere alone? Or maybe your count is off?”
“You’re a lawman, not a rancher.”
“My pa is GW Hart, and I grew up on the 7 Heart Ranch of Hartville.” He crossed his arms over his chest and watched McCord’s eyes widen. “I can see you’ve heard of it. So you know we run a whole lot more than three hundred head.”
McCord’s jaw tensed. “Where’s that no-account Mexican?”
“Ricardo has been here all day,” Caro insisted.
“And I suppose you’re going to be the one to vouch for him.”
“No, I am.” Chisholm took a deep breath. While he hadn’t actually been at the ranch all day, Chisholm knew the man’s whereabouts, and he’d been in no condition to rustle cattle. “I know you’re frustrated, but that doesn’t give you cause to bust into this house and treat Miss Cardova disrespectfully. I suggest you go on home. It’s too late today to do anything, so Whit and I will be over in the morning to check things out.”
Caro’s lips thinned to a hard line, but her shoulders sagged. Was she growing weary of protecting Ricardo? Tired of him repeatedly disappointing her?