He took a step forward, extinguishing the cigarette with the toe of his boot, grinding the tobacco thoroughly into the dirt until there was not a spark left. He did everything with great thoroughness; it was a quality in which he took pride. If something was worth doing, it was worth doing well.
He mustn’t be impatient, he told himself. According to Rosa, he had three days to accomplish his kill. Then he would be five thousand dollars richer and able to ride down to Mexico and have a fine spree. The money would not last long, but perhaps that was good. The end of the money meant the start of a new hunt and the dark excitement of the hunger it brought with it. Lately he had begun to realize that he looked forward more to the hunt than the weeks of debauchery it paid for. He laughed softly to himself as he turned and began to stroll toward his horse tethered a few yards away.
It wasn’t every man who was lucky enough to enjoy his chosen labor as much as he did. Yes, he was one very fortunate man.
13
Patrick strode out of the smoking room and headed for the front door. His expression was stormy and the sharp click of his boots on the tiled foyer reflected the rebellion he had not allowed himself to express in the presence of his grandfather.
“Wait, Patrick!”
He stopped and glanced at the woman coming down the steps. “Elspeth.” His frown disappeared as his gaze ran over her slim figure dressed in a dark blue riding skirt, brown calf-high boots, and a white cotton blouse. He grinned. “Where’s our little blackbird? You look a lot like Brianne in that outfit.”
Elspeth pulled a face. “I should. These are her clothes. Rising Star, Brianne, and Silver got together last night, and suddenly I had a new wardrobe.” A tiny frown wrinkled her brow. “I don’t know if I should have taken advantage of their kindness, but they insisted. Perhaps I can find a way of repaying them.” The frown faded and she smiled at him. “It’s good to see you, Patrick. Are you well?”
He nodded, his gaze on her face. “I don’t have to ask if you’re better. You’re a little pale, but otherwise you look as fit as you did when you came to Hell’s Bluff.” He glanced down at her boots. “I gather you’re going riding.”
She nodded. “I’m going to make the attempt. I thought I’d better really learn to ride before I start for Kantalan.” Her expression brightened. “Perhaps you’d be good enough to take me to the corral and show me how to saddle one of those horses. I promise not to bother you after that.”
“No bother.” He opened the door and let her precede him. “I was going to the corral anyway.” He scowled. “Gran-da tells me Dominic is down there looking at the new mare Cort bought for Brianne.”
Elspeth cast a sidewise glance at him. “You don’t seem to be pleased about the prospect of seeing him. Silver told me he sent you away from the cabin.”
“He didn’t send me away,” Patrick said, stung. “
“Are you going to do it?”
“Yes,” he said grudgingly. “As I said, Gran-da can be very persuasive. He has a tongue like a bullwhip and the stubbornness of a mule.” He paused, and there was a short silence before he burst out, “I would have done it anyway, I just don’t like to be pushed.”
And he also didn’t like the humiliation of knuckling under to his grandfather, Elspeth thought. It said much for the loyalty and respect Shamus commanded that Patrick had given in to his demand. But the boy was definitely chafing and her glance wandered around the courtyard, searching for a way to change the subject. “Is that a chapel?” She pointed to a small stucco structure slightly apart from the main house. “I wouldn’t have thought the Delaneys-” She broke off, but it was too late.
Patrick’s eyes were already dancing with amusement. “You didn’t think a family as iniquitous as the Delaneys would have any use for a church?”
“I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“No offense taken.” Patrick chuckled. “Gran-da probably wouldn’t have had the chapel built if it hadn’t been for Manuela. She raised all tarnation until he finally gave in. She even had her own priest brought up from San Felipe and wanted him to live at Killara, but Gran-da wouldn’t have it. He built Father Benedict a house in the village and lets him say mass in the chapel for the vaqueros and their families on Sunday, but that’s as far as he would go.”
“That seems very generous.”
“Oh, Gran-da can be generous.” He scowled. “When he’s not being a son of-” He stopped and then substituted “difficult.” He stiffened. “There’s Dom.”
Elspeth followed his gaze. Dominic straddled the top pole of the corral fence, watching a sorrel mare in the corral. He glanced down at the vaquero on the ground beside the fence and said something, then laughed as the man answered. The vaquero had to be an old and trusted member of the Killara household, Elspeth thought absently; his expression held far too much affection for Dominic for the situation to be otherwise.
Then Dominic’s gaze rose and he saw her and Patrick walking toward him. The smile curving his lips faded and then was gone. “Hello, Elspeth.” He inclined his head. “Patrick.”
Patrick was equally formal. “Welcome home, Dom.” He looked from his uncle to the sorrel on the far side of the corral. “What do you think of her?”
“She’s fast, but I’ve heard the Kentucky horses don’t have the stamina we need out here and their temperament causes them to do some pretty stupid things.” His gaze met Patrick’s. “You know Killara can be pretty unforgiving of mistakes.”
Patrick stood looking at him and then a slow smile lit his face. “I haven’t found that to be true. You’re usually allowed one mistake as long as it’s not repeated.”
Apology tendered, apology accepted, Elspeth thought with amusement and the pride of both men remained intact.
“I’ve been trying to get Brianne to let me ride the mare, but she’s being damn selfish.” Patrick glanced at Elspeth. “Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
Elspeth cast an apprehensive glance at the spirited horse. “I wouldn’t want to ride a horse Brianne valued. Besides, it looks a little… large.”
“You’re going riding?” Dominic’s tone was sharp. “You don’t even know how to ride. Where the devil is Silver?”
“Silver is spending the morning with Rising Star. I decided it was time I learned and I’m sure it isn’t as complicated as-”
“Is Rising Star sick?” Patrick asked, his gaze anxiously on the house.
“No, but I understand they get little opportunity to spend time together and I didn’t wish to intrude.” She turned to Patrick. “Will you choose a horse for me?”
Patrick hesitated. “I don’t think we have any horses that are right for a tenderfoot.”
“Maybe the gray,” said the vaquero Dominic had been speaking to as they arrived. “Nina is very old and has not the energy to cause the senorita trouble.” There was a gentle smile on his round moon face. “Shall I saddle her? I don’t think she would hurt you.”
“Yes, please.” Elspeth smiled gratefully at the Mexican. He was of medium height and garbed in dark denim trousers and a bright blue cotton shirt. A blue bandanna banded his forehead and held back the shiny dark hair that fell to his shoulders. His large black eyes were gazing at her with eagerness and warmth. “That would be very kind of you, Senor…?”
“Ramon Torres,” Patrick supplied. “This is Senorita MacGregor, Ramon.” He looked again at the gray mare Ramon had indicated. “I think she’ll do for Elspeth. Cut her out, Ramon.”
“
