Someone To Watch Over Me (Harlequin Super Romance) (10 page)

“Oh, bella, what will John think if you run off? Or Gabe. Your papa is pleased to have someone new to train in sheep-raising. You know how he’s been since Rick and Manuel went their own ways.”

“I hear him over there expounding to Joe. Appar
ently he’s forgotten Joe and Angel both tend his flocks.”

“They grew up in the trade,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “Papa likes to teach innovative philosophies.”

Isabella smiled at that. “I’ll stay downstairs for a while if you’d like, Mama. Can I help in the kitchen?”

“No. Maria, Ruby and I have everything on the table. Just point Gabe toward the food. Oh, and get him a plate, will you?”

Isabella glowered in Gabe’s direction. “I’m sure Mr. Poston is smart enough to follow his nose to the food. So, where’s Trini? She took the day off work to attend the quilt show in Sisters with a couple of her friends. I thought she’d be back by now.”

“She phoned fifteen minutes ago. She had to drop off Petra.” Luisa seemed baffled by her daughter’s rude treatment of a guest. “Bella, explain to Gabe what’s in some of our local dishes.” This time, Luisa’s tone brooked no excuse for not obeying cheerfully.

Gabe, on firmer footing thanks to Luisa’s reception, gave the older woman a warm smile. “I’ve sampled
migas.
I’d appreciate being steered away from anything that might set fire to my tongue.”

Luisa laughed a tinkling laugh. “Isabella does love spicy dishes. I think you’ll find the food on my table mild by comparison.”

“Come on,” Isabella all but growled. “I’ll get you a plate. But then you’re on your own.”

“At least introduce me to your other sister and to Rick’s wife. I’ve met everyone else.”

Isabella complied, albeit grumpily. She feared that thanks to the town gossips, Ruby and Maria had heard all about Gabe Poston. She dutifully carried out Luisa’s
wishes, then dished up two items on her plate and withdrew into a quiet corner.

Taking the hint to leave her alone, Gabe joined the men—until Trini Navarro swept in and made a point of flirting outrageously with him.

The more Trini fawned over Gabe, the more annoyed Isabella became. Although she couldn’t name one valid reason. Her younger sister was free to throw herself at any man she chose. Which didn’t mean Isabella had to watch.

She’d hardly touched a bite. Knowing her mother would scold her soundly if she saw, Isabella sneaked into the kitchen, where she scraped her plate into the trash. Pleading a worsening headache, she fled upstairs.

But she couldn’t block out the laughter or the lively beat of fiddle music cranked up loud enough for John to hear and enjoy.

Isabella was oh-so-tempted to tiptoe to the railing to see if Trini and Gabe Poston were dancing cheek to cheek. Instead, she covered her ears with the pillow and gazed at the bedside photos of Toni and Ramon. She had to remain clearheaded for them. If that meant denying herself a few fleeting pleasures, so be it. Trini was more than welcome to occupy Gabe Poston’s free time.
All
his free time.

A
FTER AN EVENTFUL TRIP
to Utah, Gabe landed at the Pendleton airport at 11:00 p.m. in the midst of what the pilot informed passengers was a freak spring hailstorm. Gabe collected his bags, turned up his collar and ran for the SUV. Sleet pounded him from all directions. The soles of his dress shoes slid back two steps for every one he took. Cursing, he told himself he should’ve worn the jeans and boots he’d bought at that western shop in Salt Lake.

Ice crystals obliterated the vehicles in the parking lot and left a slick coating on everything. Once he got his bearings in the rows of cars and found his, Gabe discovered that his wipers were frozen to the windshield.

“Great!” he muttered, rubbing his cold hands together in between pawing through his console to see if he had anything available to chip away the ice. Finding nothing, he sat back, turned his defrosters on high and waited for the blades to thaw. A slow, irritating process, it turned out. In addition to the messy weather, a crosswind began buffeting his SUV.

Damn. He just wanted to get home. At least, he assumed John Campos had moved out as planned and that now he could legitimately call the ranch house his. Or had something gone wrong with those arrangements, too? Nothing would surprise Gabe after the week he’d had. It’d been bad enough that SOS ended
up losing its chance to save the Utah property—one of the agency’s last environmental deals, a good one Marc had spent months putting together. At the last minute, the owner had held out for a lot more money. Eventually their only choice had been to walk away.

As well as the only failure in his career with SOS, he’d had to put up with Marc criticizing the personal decision Gabe had made in buying the Oregon ranch. This damn storm was the perfect end to his crappy week.

Well, he’d found a gift to bring back for Isabella. He’d bought it on impulse but he was pleased with his decision. Gabe slapped at his pocket to be sure the bag was still there.

Eventually his method to free the wipers worked. However his hope that the storm was confined north of Callanton was dashed; the closer he got to his destination, the worse it grew.

Sometime after midnight, he turned down the lane to his new home. Not so much as a glimmer of light greeted his late arrival. Well, what had he expected? A brass band and sixteen hundred candles?

As he stepped from his snug vehicle, an icy blast of wind slammed his shoulders and knocked him sideways. That was when he realized all the lights he was missing on his side of the road blazed in profusion around Benito Navarro’s property. Gabe suspected that every light in the house and barn—including those at the corners of the sheep pens—was glowing eerily through the slanting hail.

Obviously something was going on at his neighbors’.

Fearing some disaster, he tossed his suitcase back in the Lexus. Shoulders hunched, he loped across the road, pausing midway up their drive, unable to decide
if he should stop at the house or continue on to the barn. Then he heard the muffled shouts of masculine voices and the barking of dogs out by the pens, so he altered his course. First thing, he bumped right into Angel Oneida.

“Whoa! Hey, Gabe, is that you? Mother Nature’s giving you some welcome back.” Angel sheltered a shivering, bleating lamb in the warmth of his fleecy jacket.

“I just now got home. I was unloading my bags when I saw all of Benito’s lights. What’s happening over here?”

Angel’s face sobered suddenly as he peered through the water pouring off his cowboy hat. “The storm caused our ewes to start dropping lambs. Benito says we should’ve known something was up because the flocks in our high pastures were banding on their own. None of us saw that as significant, so the storm caught us flat-footed.”

“Can I help?”

“You’d freeze in ten minutes dressed like that.”

“I’ll change. I have more appropriate gear in the car. By the way, did John get moved okay, or was he delayed by the weather?”

“He took off on schedule.” Angel turned as a disembodied voice in the distance called his name. Without warning, he pulled the lamb out from under his coat and shoved it at Gabe. “Look, Louis needs me. Take this little guy to the barn. Bella’s in there drying off our orphans. She’ll feed the strongest ones. The weak get passed to Mama Luisa and Trini up at the
caserío.
We’re throwing so many lambs at Bella, I’m sure she’d welcome a hand.”

Gabe almost dropped the animal, whose coat had
begun to grow stiff in the short time he’d been exposed to the elements. Shifting his hold, he tucked the little fellow under his jacket. He wanted—needed—to ask more questions, but Angel disappeared into the pelting hail as quickly as he’d arrived.

Aware of the animal shivering under his wet lightweight wool suit coat, Gabe made a dash for the barn.

Isabella didn’t even glance up when the door opened and a blast of cold air rustled the straw she’d strewn about the cavernous interior. She sat cross-legged with her back to the door, surrounded by a mass of woolly lambs all trying to stand on unsteady legs. Several butted her hips; more butted each other. All were trying to get at something she held. It looked to Gabe like five of the newborn lambs were sucking on the fat, elongated fingers of a rubber glove.

“Not another one, Angel,” Isabella said tiredly. “It’s almost time to feed the first batch again, and you keep finding new ones. How many more, do you think? I’ve only got two hands.” Gabe saw her shoulders lift, then sink with a heavy sigh.

“I’m here to offer another pair. But you’ll have to teach me. The set-up you have looks interesting. Far from simple, though.”

She whipped her head around. “Oh!” Her heart thudded wildly from the shock of hearing the man she’d been thinking about. Until this moment, she had steadfastly refused to admit she’d missed Gabe Poston during his week-long absence. “Gabe? I…ah…was expecting Angel.”

“So I gathered. Please don’t kill the messenger, but I’ve brought you another mouth to feed. I met Angel on the road. He was called back to the pens. Sorry.” Gabe moved farther into the barn so he could shut the
door and block the howling wind. Bending, he found an empty spot on her lap for the still shivering animal he’d cradled against his white shirt.

“Poor baby,” she crooned, her free hand shooting out to gather the lamb close. “Goodness, what a runt.” Looking back at Gabe, she said, “If you’ll take over for me here, I’ll start warming this little guy. He’s almost blue, or else I’d have you take him straight on to the kitchen where Mama and Trini are bottle-feeding the weaker lambs.”

Without a word, Gabe crouched beside her and attempted to scoop the five animals currently on her lap into his larger hands. “Let’s see if we can make this a seamless transfer.”

“Gabe! Your jacket and pants are soaking.” She shied away from the water dripping from his hair onto her hands. “Wait. You aren’t dressed for this job. The lambs may be tiny, but their hooves are sharp as knives. Inside five minutes they’d have your nice suit shredded.”

For the first time, Gabe noticed the holes in Isabella’s jeans. He didn’t let the fact that there were traces of blood around some of them deter him. “Don’t worry. I’m about to trade my suits in on Farmer Gabe outfits.” Smiling at her with calm assurance, he cleared a place on the floor next to her by gently scooting lambs aside with the toe of his wet shoe. Quickly, he wedged himself into the opening and landed on the hay with a grunt. “Damn, it’s hard under that stuff.”

“Cement usually is.” She frowned as she edged away from his imposing body.

“Sorry. I seem to be apologizing a lot. But I really didn’t mean to get you wet.”

That wasn’t why Isabella was frowning. His nearness
felt far too comforting. The night before he’d left town, she’d set down some rules for herself. One of them had been to step aside and give Trini her blessing with regard to pursuing this man. Not that Trini needed her older sister’s okay. She’d always done as she darned well pleased.

Intent on getting the glove-finger nipples into the mouths he was supposed to be feeding, Gabe didn’t realize Isabella had left to get a warm towel to wrap around the lamb he’d brought in. Nor did he think it odd that she’d let their conversation lapse. He was content to be in her company, and he felt relieved that his feelings for her hadn’t changed, considering the badgering he’d gotten from Marc. Reggie had even landed a few verbal punches the night he phoned. Prompted by Marc, Gabe didn’t doubt. He knew his friends thought he’d lost his mind, as buying a ranch had never figured in his plans. In Coltrane’s and Reggie’s, yes, but not his. Yet here he was, happy as a pig in slop, miserably wet, feeding greedy lambs out of a rubber kitchen glove.

Unable to contain a sappy grin, Gabe glanced over at Isabella. “These guys have polished off all the milk in my glove. Where do I fill it up again? Or do they get more? Their little bellies are so round I’m thinking they’re gonna burst.”

Isabella seemed to be having problems getting the lamb she’d taken from Gabe to eat. She had a pile of other bleating creatures fighting to grab the glove finger she was making an effort to preserve for the listless baby. “I should’ve told you to push them away and feed five more. These lambs are all premature. They’ll eat often, but we shouldn’t give them too much at once. The milk needs to be warm so we’ll only fill two gloves
at a time. You’ll do that by milking the goats in the four stalls on your left at the back of the barn.”

“You milk goats?” Gabe thought he might have heard her wrong.

“Goat’s milk is richer than cow’s milk. If you’ve never milked a goat before, you may think it’s harder than milking a cow.”

Gabe hadn’t milked anything before. Not ever. But he had a streak of stubborn pride that wouldn’t allow him to admit it. After making sure the glove he held was bone-dry, he climbed slowly to his feet, determined to do this. Men had been performing the chore of milking since heaven knew how far back in time.

“Angel referred to these lambs as orphans,” he said. “What happened to their mothers?”

“Hard to tell. When the weather gets this bad, panic runs through a flock. It’s why so many lambs are born prematurely. Sheep are not the brightest creatures on earth. They tend to follow the leader, even if it means leaving their offspring.”

“I have a lot to learn,” he said. “Oh, before I forget, I brought you something from Utah.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small sack. “It’s not much, but when I saw it in a store, it sort of said
buy me to watch over Isabella.
”

She accepted the sack awkwardly. She wasn’t used to receiving gifts for no reason. Finally, she opened it. The small filigree angel pin she pulled out brought a soft gasp to her lips. “I…it’s beautiful.” She rubbed a thumb over the wings several times before tucking the pin in her pocket. “Thank you, Gabe. I’ll wear it every day at the trial.”

Gabe knew she’d been touched by his gift. But the tender moment they shared was soon over; there was
work to be done. He made his way around the tumble of lambs, headed for the goats Isabella had directed him to.

The deeper he went in the barn, the dimmer the light. Peering over the last stall door, he saw a pair of bright eyes staring back. “Uh, Isabella, do I need a bucket of some sort, or do I squirt milk right into the glove?”

“There’s a bucket hanging on the back wall,” she called. “You may prefer to use it. I don’t like wasting milk, so I milk into the glove.”

If she could do that, so could he.
Nonchalantly waving so that she’d know he’d heard, Gabe used his free hand to unlatch the door. The next thing he knew, the door flew open and something hit him square in the knees. A rush of air left his lungs seconds before his butt hit the concrete floor. During Gabe’s next view of the goat’s eyes, his own were crossed and he stared directly into a curious black pair. The animal’s wiry beard tickled Gabe’s nose.

“Gabe, I said the stalls of the milking goats were on your left. You opened one on your right. That’s Herman, Papa’s oldest billy goat. Hurry and get him back in his stall before he comes out and tramples some of the lambs.”

Right now the beast was trampling Gabe. His knees still felt numb, as did his butt and the back of his head. He slapped at the goat’s head with the glove he still held. Herman hooked the glove with his horns, ripped it out of Gabe’s hand and tossed it into the stall where Gabe should have gone.

He tried rolling to the side, but Herman’s head rammed him hard in the shoulder and sent him sprawling again. “Dammit,” Gabe muttered. “I’ve had about enough of being your punching bag.” Clenching his
teeth, Gabe called on his hand-to-hand combat training. Feinting left, he distracted Herman. When the goat fell for the fake, Gabe grabbed him around the neck and by one horn. There ensued a tug-of-war. At one point, Gabe took a kick to his ribs and feared he might lose the battle. Always a man of grit, he hung on, literally bulldogging Herman back into his stall.

“What’s all the scuffling back there?” Isabella yelled. “Gabe? Do you need me to help put Herman away?”

Gabe had released the goat and they were back to a staring match, with Gabe now standing solidly between Herman and freedom. They both lunged for the opening. Luckily, Gabe came out the victor. Panting hard, he slammed the door shut and heard the crack as the goat butted the door. Even though Gabe’s hand shook as he dropped the latch in place, a satisfied grin kicked up one side of his mouth. “Mess with me, will you,” he warned in a low voice. “Herman’s back in quarters,” he reported to Isabella. “Now I’m going to get the bucket and enough milk to fill the glove.”

Another feat that proved easier said than done.

Two smaller, hornless nannies resided in the opposite stall. Instead of coming at him as he expected and as the billy goat had done, the nannies split and circled behind Gabe the minute he bent to retrieve the glove Herman had tossed inside. He swung around fast on knees beginning to tingle with life again, then swore more loudly than he’d intended. Again the nannies pulled the same trick. Plus, one kicked the bucket out of his hand. He saved it before it hit the floor.