Turning around, he retraced his steps around to the side door, hoping to make it to his room before being seen and dragged into another family crisis.
When he entered the kitchen, he smelled roast beef and saw Maria standing in the hallway leading to the veranda, fingers twisting in her apron. Crying. And eavesdropping. His hopes of a clean getaway dwindled.
When she heard Dalton close the door, she whipped around and raised a finger to her lips, warning him to keep quiet.
“What’s going on?” he whispered as she hurried toward him.
“Oh, Mr. Dalton, es muy malo. La senora has been hurt.”
Dalton felt a jolt of fear. Then he realized Maria couldn’t be talking about Raney or Joss. Neither was a married senora. Must be the third woman.
“Hurt how?” he asked.
“No sé. Los ojos”—she pointed to her eyes—“they are black-and-blue.”
So much for escaping drama.
Shouldering past the Mexican woman, Dalton walked down the hall. As he stepped out onto the veranda, three faces turned toward him. Two appeared fine. The third looked like the loser in a bar fight. She also looked familiar. Len. The oldest Whitcomb girl. Dalton remembered her from his high school years. She’d been a year older than him and a real babe.
She wasn’t now. Eyes swollen and bruised, nose running, and no makeup to cover the damage. “What happened?”
Raney came toward him. “Dalton, this is my older sister, Len.”
“I remember who she is. Hi, Len.”
“Good to see you, Dalton.” She smiled. It looked grotesque with all the swelling. “Although I wouldn’t have recognized you. You’ve changed.”
“War and prison will do that. What’s going on?”
Before Len could answer, Raney said, “Jake and Kendra are in summer camp for the next two weeks, so she’s come for a visit.”
Dalton waited. When nothing more was said, he frowned. “And that’s it? We’re just going to ignore her two black eyes?”
“She had them done.”
“With what? A fist?”
Joss snickered. Turning to Len, she said, “Mama appointed Dalton our personal security force. That’s why he’s been staying in the guest room. To keep us safe while she’s gone. He’s certainly built for the job, don’t you think?”
The oldest sister looked at Dalton then at Raney with speculation in her swollen eyes. At least, Dalton read it as speculation. Hard to tell.
“Excuse us a minute.” Raney took Dalton’s arm and led him into the pass-through into the kitchen. Stopping in the middle where they couldn’t be easily seen from either the kitchen or the veranda, she said, “Len had blepharoplasty. Eyelid surgery.”
“Why?”
“To make her look younger. Better.”
“Better than what? She was already beautiful.”
“I heard that,” Len called from the veranda. “And I can see why you’re so taken with him, Raney.”
Raney gave him a now look what you’ve done look. Like it was somehow his fault that the sisters had been gossiping about him.
“Is that true?” He slid an arm around her slender waist and pulled her close. The feel of her soft body pressed up against his made him forget how tired he was. “You’re taken with me?” he whispered into her ear.
She put both palms on his chest. But not to push him away. Instead, she leaned up to plant a quick kiss on his jaw, then gave him a pat. “Ask me after you shower. Supper’s almost ready.”
“Tease.” He turned away.
She pulled him back by his shirt. “How’d the show go?”
“Good. Since there weren’t many entries, I bought a second practice run. He did so well we got offers.”
She let go of his shirt. An odd look crossed her face. Not the happy expression he’d expected. “Offers for you or Rosco?”
“Both. We’ll talk later.” This time when he turned to go, she let him.
* * *
Raney seemed nervous at supper. Dalton didn’t know why. But because of the worried crease between her brows whenever she looked at him, which was often, he was pleased to note, he suspected it had to do with him. Could be anything: something he said or didn’t say—something he did or didn’t do—something he might be, or not be fixing to do. It was never simple with Raney. Eventually, she’d get around to it. Meanwhile, he’d work on a general all-purpose defense.
Everybody else seemed in a good mood, once Alejandro and Hicks got over their shock at Len’s appearance. They also seemed as skeptical of the eye surgery explanation as Dalton was. The woman was only thirty-three. And beautiful. Why the hell would she need surgical enhancements?
Women. He’d never figure them out.
He was a little surprised that Raney hadn’t asked about the show, or the offers he’d mentioned. Not that either offer was worth considering this early in the cutting show season. Or maybe worth considering ever. Rosco would probably make Four Star more money as a stud than as a cutting horse, assuming he did well over the next two or three years. Still, Dalton had expected her to show interest.
“Mama’s coming home tomorrow,” Joss announced. “Anybody want to get her in Gunther? She’s on the afternoon shuttle from Lubbock. Len’s taking me to my obstetrician appointment in Aspenmont, so we can’t do it. Raney, can you?”
Raney blinked like she was just tuning in to the conversation. “Pick up Mama? Sure. When’s she due in?”
“Around four, give or take. The shuttle’s almost never on time.”
Dalton wondered if Mama’s return meant he’d lose his security job and be sent back to the dorm. He was conflicted about that. It was nice having a snore-free room and a private shower. But if he stayed, how could he put a move on Raney with her mother hanging around? Not that he’d made any headway on that so far. But rather than dwelling on it, he decided to wait and see what Mama wanted.
After Joss’s announcement, there was a lull in the conversation, as if everyone was contemplating what it would mean having the head chingona back in the house. They’d probably have to start eating in the
