Like a Texas twister, McCord blew out as quickly as he’d come. Chisholm turned to Caro. “I’m sorry about the bluebonnets, but I have to do my duty first.”
“Of course you have to do your duty.” Caro’s icy tone stung. She walked away, not leaving him a chance to discuss it further.
But no words would smooth it over anyway. He saw the pain in her eyes, and knew that just like Ricardo, he’d let her down. He hated it, but it couldn’t be helped. Maybe skipping the bluebonnet outing was for the best. Not only was Caro Cardova taking up too much of his prime thinking time, she was in love with Ricardo Alvarez, and Chisholm had no business spending time alone with her.
Caro needed to be alone. She went to the summer kitchen and filled a glass of water. The cool drink did little to stem the ache coursing through her. She’d handled Chisholm’s news badly. If he just hadn’t used the word duty—
She sat down at the small table and rested her head in her hands, praying. She asked God to forgive her bitterness and to soften her words. Her mother had often said her anger would be her undoing. Was she right? The Bible said, “Be ye angry and sin not,” but Caro hadn’t mastered that yet. She pressed her hand to her roiling stomach. Could God help her find peace with men like her father and Chisholm? If she didn’t, she could never marry. Would it even be possible for her to love? Why did it all hurt so badly?
She heard a soft knock on the door and looked up to see her mother. “Are you all right, Caro?”
“I needed to be alone for a while—to pray.”
“I’m glad you’re seeking the Lord.” Her mother moved to the larder. “I just spoke to the bunkhouse cook, and he said a couple of the night wranglers didn’t make it in for supper. The problem is, he forgot to save them some— What does he call it? Grub? I thought I would take them a basket of food.”
“You?” Caro stood up.
“I’m still quite capable of riding, and I taught you, remember?”
“Yes, Mamá.” Caro placed a napkin in the basket. “But I’ll go. The sun has not yet set, so if I hurry, I can be back before dark. It will give me a little more time to think and pray.”
Her mother placed the cooled shredded beef and the rest of the rice and beans in the basket, then passed the basket to her. “Be careful.”
Caro saddled Angel, the horse Se?or Reynolds let her use, and rode off at a gallop. The evening’s breeze chilled her cheeks. Soon she felt at one with the horse beneath her. No hurtful memories. No worries. No anger. No bitterness. Only the joy of riding.
She rounded the bend in the path and headed to the flatland where the cattle were currently grazing. A solitary figure on the horizon caught her eye, illuminated by the mellow hues of the setting sun. Was it one of the rustlers?
She slowed Angel, but the man heard her approach and turned. Chisholm. Even in the dimming light, she recognized his solid build and confident movements. He motioned for her to join him. She rode up, bracing herself for a lecture about venturing out alone in the twilight.
Chisholm took hold of Angel’s bridle and stroked the horse’s neck, then lifted his gaze to Caro’s face. “What brings you out tonight? Miss me?”
“Hardly.” So much for controlling her tongue. She took in his tired features and softened her tone. “And I could ask you the same thing. I’m here to deliver supper to the night wranglers. The cocinero said the men didn’t get any grub tonight.”
“So you came alone?” But when she started to answer, Chisholm held up his hand. “I know. You can take care of yourself.”
“I was going to say it was not yet dark, so I wasn’t worried. Why are you out here?”
“I had some thinking to do.” He rubbed his hand over his stubbled face. “You know, whoever shot at us knew we’d be on that road.”
Caro frowned. “But only the men from this ranch knew that.”
“No, remember Mr. Reynolds sent word to the Mesquite Ranch that we were coming.” He looked up at her. “Whoever is behind this is from one of those two ranches.”
“Someone is stealing from their boss.”
He nodded. “Or we could be dealing with a crew. There could be people on the inside at either or both places.”
“But where are the stolen cattle? They have to be somewhere.”
“True. Finding the missing cattle is the key. Tomorrow afternoon, I want to start an exhaustive search.” He paused, appearing to weigh his words. “Caro, when I found Ricardo, he kept saying how sorry he was. He repeated that to you. I know you and he are—close, but are you absolutely certain he isn’t involved?”
Every muscle in Caro’s body tensed. “He did not steal those cattle. You brought him home from town yourself.”
“I agree, but do you think he might know more than he’s telling anyone?”
An imaginary lasso wrapped around her waist and pulled tight. Did Ricardo know something? Only in the last month had he begun to drink. Was he drinking away guilt?