Conall's Legacy (17 page)

Drake bent down to her and softly kissed her cheek, as he squeezed her hand. “I would have liked more time to get to know you, Marie.” He used his free hand to thumb away a tear that slipped from the corner of her eye. “I’ll miss you.”

He stumbled over his words, and Marie knew he was at a loss as to what was the right thing to say to a dying woman. She pulled her hand free and escaped into the house with dignified steps, allowing the door to close quietly behind her.

#

Drake watched her go, spine straight and head up. What a class act, he thought. He’d rarely met a woman with Marie’s strength. He knew now where Luisa got her stamina. So what was it that had wounded her so? He knew about her face now, knew the terror she must have felt as a child alone on the streets of a dark, ugly city, but was there more? Had something happened to her that even Luisa’s conscious mind didn’t remember? What kept her from leaving her home anytime she wanted like most people would?

Pain circled through him at the image of her stumbling down dark and dirty alleys--a defenseless child and humans beyond redemption. Ten years on the police force had shown him plenty of what went on in dingy alleys. How did a young girl alone survive that? He’d seen many who didn’t. He’d been there himself and was grateful it was only days instead of weeks.

Luisa must have been either very strong or able to block out what happened. Was it a repressed memory that kept her on the ranch, afraid to go out into the world unprotected? Or did she remember everything? His stomach churned. Did she live with the details of trauma etched on her mind? Could he help her put it away forever?

The warmth of love that grew in his heart swelled and flowed through him. He’d talk to Rebecca and the kids. She’d understand he had to offer his help to Luisa for a short time, to get her through what lay ahead. That’s what real friends do. Then he’d go back to the city and to Conall’s family permanently.

While he was with Luisa, like it or not, she was going to get through this if it was humanly possible. Whether it took professional help, his intervention, friends, or love, whatever it took, it was time for Luisa to heal.

Drake snorted. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

The thought of forcing her to fight back brought an image of Rick to mind. His friend had done no less for him than he wanted to do for Luisa. Rick had pushed him hard, and had given him no options. Rick was smart enough to realize it was time for Drake to release the guilt and grief he’d been carrying. Either let it go or sink in the muck. It was time to choose.

“I finally get the point,” he said to empty air. For a smart guy, you sure took long enough, he thought.

With a last look at the house and a quick scan of the farmyard, Drake slid behind the wheel of his truck. He could see the cows and horses in the dim, predawn light. He heard the sounds of creatures scurrying to find their morning meal before full daylight hit, and realized he didn’t want to leave to return to the concrete maze that had been the only thing he knew just a couple of weeks ago. He started the truck and drove under the ranch sign arched over the driveway. Dread tugged at his heart as he watched it quickly fade away in his rearview mirror.

Luisa Montoya and
La Puerta de Paraíso
had wrapped themselves around his heart, and they weren’t about to let go.

#

Luisa dragged herself out of bed, feeling sluggish and tired. Uneasy dreams had filled her night: some, disturbing scenes of angels coming for her mother, and others, erotic fantasies wrapped around a certain Los Angeles bomb squad cop. How’s that for a combination, Luisa thought. No wonder I didn’t sleep worth beans.

A few minutes later, Luisa hurried to check on her pregnant mare and to do morning chores, hoping to finish before her mother awakened. Restless calls from Royal Knight greeted her as she peered over the foaling-stall door. Rooster whined at her feet, aware something had occurred. Lying in the straw, still wet from an early morning arrival, was a dark palomino lump. Knight’s Dawn lay curled by the foal, licking it off to clean and dry its coat.

“Dawn! You did a great job, girl.” Luisa grabbed a towel hanging on the wall, opened the bottom half of the Dutch door, and slid carefully in, not wanting the mare to scramble to her feet. “Pretty lady,” she crooned. “Let me help you there.”

Luisa eased to her knees beside the new arrival and rubbed the foal to get its blood pumping. She crooned all the while. “Hmm, baby what about a name? Let’s see ...” Luisa glanced up at the doors and saw the early sun casting golden beams from the horizon. “How about Knight’s Sunrise?” The colt nudged her hand as though approving and she laughed. “All right, that’s what it’ll be.”

A quick check showed a strong, healthy colt. She thought of Drake, and how he’d helped deliver Karma. Big, tough, city guy, she thought with a smile. He’d looked ready to shed a sentimental tear or two over that experience. Finished caring for the colt, Luisa quickly fed the others.

He’d probably like to see this new baby, too. Warmth started in her belly and spread around her heart. It had been a long time since she’d had anyone with whom to share good news. Oh, she could call Cindy, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same as having someone with you all the time, someone who could share in the ups and downs of life on the ranch. A new life was always something to celebrate.

Luisa thought of the death that Drake faced in his work and the loss of his best friend. Who better to share new life with than Drake? He seemed a little happier than when he’d arrived. Maybe this would perk him up even more. She thought of her mother, and the weight she carried. Maybe they all needed some relief. Luisa would call Cindy and invite her out for a barbeque on Saturday. They’d eat and play loud music and laugh. She’d give Drake the new arrival news now and invite him to the party.

She looked out the barn door at the bunkhouse. There didn’t appear to be any activity yet. There had been no sound from the shed last night, so maybe he had actually slept during the night like a normal person, she thought. Luisa chewed on her lip. Maybe she shouldn’t wake him up. She thought of waiting to share the new delivery with him, thought of keeping it to herself for a few more hours so he could sleep.

“Phewy, this doesn’t happen all that often. It’s time for him to get his lazy butt out of bed.” She remembered how that butt looked whenever he walked away from her in his snug, worn Wranglers. And such a nice rear end it is, she thought with a silly grin. She could still imagine the way his broad shoulders drew her gaze down to a slim waist and below to firm hips and buttocks. Luisa admitted she’d love to get her hands on him--all of him. Heat rushed over her cheeks, and Luisa thanked God she was alone with her thoughts.

Playing with fire, her inner voice chided. How do you know he’d want you? “You’re supposed to be on my side,” she said aloud. “So keep your questions to yourself.”

Luisa hurried to the bunkhouse eager to share her news with Drake. She opened the screen and knocked on the inside door. She tapped her foot impatiently. No sounds came from inside.

“Drake?” She knocked again, but still nothing. “You awake in there?”

She tried the door and found it unlocked. Luisa shook her head.
Hmm, since when does a city cop leave his door unlocked
? She pushed it open and called out again. “Drake?” Still nothing. Fear started deep inside and spread, fast and furious. “Please don’t let him be gone,” she murmured.

Luisa hurried from room to room, calling out and pushing doors open to peer inside. Only a deadly quiet greeted her. At the last door, she slumped against the door frame and sucked air into lungs that felt too constricted to allow any air in. With a hand over her heart, she forced her breaths to come slow and steady.

Maybe he just went to Tucson for more material. That’s it, she thought. He just needed supplies. With guilt nipping at her heels for prying, she went back into the bedroom. Her gaze scanned the room, crossed to the open closet door--the empty closet. Not one shirt hung on the rack. No shoes sat on the floor. She stepped into the bathroom, knowing before she did so that the medicine cabinet and counter would be bare. Drake had left without saying goodbye.

Drake had chosen the woman named Rebecca. Luisa’s stomach lurched, and then plummeted into her boots. Duty to his old friend outweighed any feelings he might have had for Luisa. She thought of the woman, alone with four small children, and the troubles she must deal with every day. Drake had apparently done what he thought was right, but he should have told her he was leaving. She walked out onto the porch and gently closed the door behind her.

With a heavy heart, Luisa walked to the far side of the bunkhouse where Drake’s truck usually sat. The empty spot taunted her. Another person had deserted her without so much as a farewell. Luisa squared her shoulders and tried to thrust off the cloak of despair that engulfed her.
To hell with Drake Forrester
. She had her career, her animals, and her home. She’d done very nicely with just that all these years, and she’d go on doing just fine. Emptiness filled her where joy had been moments before. Drake had made his choice, and it wasn’t Luisa Montoya.

Luisa strode across the yard, hesitant to go in and awaken her mother. She’d heard Marie tossing and turning well into the night. She’d finally been asleep when Luisa checked on her before she left the house to do chores. Marie needed her rest. And what you need is time with nature, her inner voice whispered.

She changed direction and went toward the feed shed beyond Drake’s work area. Calling in the animals and spending time with them always made her feel better--no matter what. They were never far away. The cowbell would bring them in within minutes, and she could use a big dose of their unconditional love.

As she turned the corner of the old building, she stopped in her tracks. Her heart tripped and then raced off. Parked beside the lean-to was Drake’s trailer. Inside the shed sat all the sculptures he’d done.

A breeze fluttered a scrap of paper on the sculpture of her ranch. Luisa hurried to it and snatched the paper up in a trembling hand. She quickly scanned the writing.

Luisa, Gone to LA to settle things one way or the other. I know what I want and hope it’s the same for you, but I won’t promise what I can’t guarantee. We have to wait and see how everything shakes out. I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye. I hope I won’t have to, but there’s Rebecca and the kids to consider. Drake P.S. This one’s for you.

Luisa looked at the ranch scene where she’d found the note. He’d finished the small details on it that made it truly her place and not one of dozens of western ranches. With a finger tip, she rotated the windmill that worked the well for the stock tank. There were even plants coming up and out of the tank. In the corral beside the barn, he’d added cattle figures with the huge pointed horns that identified her Texas Long Horns and Brahman crossbreds. In a round pen were a mare and foal. She could feel the love he’d put into every bit of it. She’d cherish it always. No matter what happened between them.

Luisa hugged the note to her breast, smiled and fought back tears. He hadn’t left without saying goodbye--permanently. When he came for his things, Luisa would have a chance to see him, at least one more time.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Drake stood on Rebecca’s porch looking skyward. Instead of the pristine blue of the desert sky, he saw blue blending to brown and felt the sting of Los Angeles smog in his eyes.

He turned to face the brass plate on the doorbell with Conall and Rebecca’s names. With each child, a new, smaller plate had joined theirs. Rachael’s was the newest and last. There would be no more. Sorrow, deep and slow, tugged at his heart.

Well-manicured grass surrounded the small adobe house. No exotic asymmetry here, he thought. Everything was in perfect order. The colors of the flowers matched each other and the house trim. Not a blade of grass was too short or too long. The two older boys had told him proudly over the phone that they were now big enough to mow the grass and take care of the yard. It didn’t have the rugged, exotic beauty he’d found in the desert, but Drake made a mental note to tell the boys what a great job they were doing.

From the distance, he heard traffic sounds that proved the masses were commuting to and from work. They’d be lucky if the freeway stayed at twenty miles an hour instead of turning into a parking lot. Drake shook his head. Could he ever call this city home again? No matter what happened with Rebecca, could he return and be happy? He doubted it.

Drake fiddled with the peace offering of daisies he carried. It had been a trick getting them here on his motorcycle. He’d taken time only to grab a cab from the airport to his place in order to drop his bag and get his wheels. So why was he procrastinating now? The tough, Los Angeles bomb squad cop felt as nervous as a six-year-old going to the principal for the first time. He felt downright stupid.

With a sigh, he tucked the flowers behind his back, stopped procrastinating and rang the bell. A herd of footsteps thundered toward the door, followed by a barely audible softer step. The door swung wide and three boys, arms and legs twisted everywhere, engulfed Drake. He laughed aloud as he stooped to tousle the hair on the smallest boy. He smiled at each child, asking questions about how they were, were they being good, and all the usually inane things an adult asks a child.

When he could delay no further, he lifted his gaze to Rebecca, Rachael clutched in her arms. Wavy red hair draped her shoulders and questions of her own reflected in Irish green eyes. He quickly glanced away and swallowed the lump in his throat, pulling the flowers from behind his back.