The Last Chance Ranch (7 page)

He inclined his head and gave her a wink. Raising his chin toward the trays of chilies, he asked, “What are you doing? Are you freezing them with the skins on?”

“No. If you chill them for a while, the skins come off more easily—and you don’t get blisters. I had blisters so bad once that I couldn’t do anything for two days.”

“Me, too.” He began to peel the onions deftly.

Tanya settled at the table to start skinning chilies. Under her breath, she hummed “Amazing Grace,” which had been planted in her mind by Desmary’s comment. Ramón didn’t seem to mind it. He peeled and chopped onions, and peeked into the oven several times to shake a tray of chilies. It was very companionable.

When he finished chopping onions, he left them in a neat pile on the counter and sat down with Tanya. “So, how is it going, anyway? Are you settling in okay?”

She smiled. “Sure. I’ve never had a bedroom like that in my life. It’s like living in a fancy hotel.”

“I always liked that room,” he said. “It seemed like it would fit you. Of course, I had no idea how much you’d changed.”

“It still suits me, though.”

“Maybe.” He lifted a shoulder. “After seeing you, I might have left it a little simpler.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Tanya said. “I really missed pretty things like that.”

“Yeah, you were a real girly girl back in the old days. You even had a bow in your hair.”

“Not fair—I was a bridesmaid. Bridesmaids always have to wear ridiculous dresses and silly bows and dyed pink shoes.” She rolled her eyes. “Ick.”

Adroitly he skimmed a skin from the body of a chili and put the limp and naked flesh into the bowl with the others. One black brow lifted. “I seem to remember the dress was just fine.”

“It was purple lace!” Tanya remembered her dismay over the dress, and that morning, had fretted about the fit. Her breasts and tummy had been swollen with pregnancy. They’d cut the dress a little wide to start with, knowing she was pregnant, but it was still tight when she put it on.

“All I remember is the way it fit you.”

“That was all Victor saw, too. He wasn’t going to let me be in the wedding at all.”

“I’m sorry, Tanya, if you don’t want to remember some of these things—”

“Don’t apologize.” To her amazement, Tanya had to physically halt herself from putting her hand on his arm. She had not voluntarily touched anyone in a long, long time. For a split second, she looked at the place where her finger had nearly lit—a smooth dark expanse of elegant skin, almost hairless and threaded with a sexy river of vein.

“I sometimes forget,” he said, “that the day was so bad in the end.”

Tanya nodded. “Me, too,” she said, smiling. “Isn’t that weird? That was probably the worst beating he ever gave me, but what I remember is talking with you for so long.”

He said nothing, but his fathomless, milk-chocolate eyes were fixed on her face, waiting.

“You talked about Peru,” she said, plucking another chili from the bowl.

“Did I?” he said, smiling. “I was planning my trip at that time.”

Tanya felt the doors of memory creak open. Ramón then had been very thin—he’d probably not quite finished his growing, after all, and he was a lean man now. His glasses had made his eyes owlish and obscured the lines of his face that she could see now—the high cheekbones and clean jaw.

Her gaze flickered over his mouth—that impossibly sensual mouth. She still didn’t quite understand how she’d missed seeing how sexy his mouth was, even at an inexperienced eighteen. A dangerous ripple of longing moved through her body.

Hastily, she jumped up to check on the chilies in the oven. “Did you ever go?”

“To Peru? Yes.”

Tanya took out the cooked peppers and set them on the counter. They sighed, as if exhausted, and she glanced up to see if Ramón noticed. She found his gaze on her body, lingering with appreciation on the curves of breasts and hips. It was a delicious sensation,, and with a cocky little smile, she put a hand on her hip. “I have the same trouble you do,” she said, flicking an imaginary crumb from her shirt. “Everywhere I go, men fall at my feet.”

He met her gaze, and now there was only the smallest hint of a smile lurking at the edges of his mouth. The dark eyes in their fringe of black starry lashes were steady and secretive and inviting. As if to drive his point home, he let his gaze drop to her lips. “I would fall at your feet,” he said, “but I can think of better places to land.” The smile broke free.

Tanya flicked him with a dish towel. “Behave,” she said and loaded another batch of chilies into the oven.

“I’ll do my best.”

But as she sat back down at the table, Tanya wondered if that was the kind of best she wanted. What was his other best? How could she bear to find out? How could she bear not to?

Resolutely, she said, “Tell me about Peru.”

Dear Antonio,

You don’t realize what you’ll miss until you don’t have it anymore. I miss fall evenings, when the air smells like frost, and there are the sounds of wind in the leaves. And you pull your sweater close around you deliciously, even though it isn’t cold enough yet for a coat, and it’s only the anticipation that makes you shiver. I miss the way the stars look on such crisp apple nights, and the way home feels so cozy when you go back inside.

I used to read to you on those crisp nights. I hope Ramón reads to you all the time. It’s so important. But I think he knows that.

Be good, Antonito.

Love, Mom

T
hey peeled and chopped chilies all afternoon, just Ramón and Tanya. As the hours passed, the day grew dark, and a storm threatened over the mountains. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled, but it was distant and untroublesome. Soon the yellow school bus would come down the road and stop at the narrow path that the boys’ feet had made through the fields, and a tumble of young blue-jeaned, flannel shirted bodies would pour out.

It made her feel very cozy to think of it.

“So,” Tanya said into a lull. “We started to talk about Peru, but all you said was that you got to go. Why did you want to go there?”

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I can’t really remember anymore. I think there was a film in school or something and I liked the way the mountains looked.” He gave her a rueful look. “I didn’t like Anglos very much and I liked the thought of going to a place where I’d be a part of the majority.”

Tanya looked at him. “And was it what you thought?”

“No. It was more and it was less, but no place is ever really what you think it is.”

“What was more?”

“The land. It’s almost impossible to tell you how beautiful it is there. The mountains and the people and the customs—I loved it. I loved hearing Spanish being spoken all the time, too. Like a lot of children around here at that time, I spoke Spanish before I spoke English.”

“And what was less?”

He smiled, and she liked the way small sun lines crinkled around the edges of his eyes. They were living lines, evidence of his maturity and his time on the planet. “I was still an outsider.”

Tanya nodded. “Odd man out. I know that feeling.” She paused, then found herself saying, “One of the things I liked about Victor was the way he made me belong to him. I wasn’t on the outside anymore. If he could have inhaled me, he would have. It sounds weird, in light of what happened later, but he really made me feel safe.”

“It doesn’t sound weird.” His hand moved on the table, as if he would touch her, then stilled. “It’s like me and Peru. Same thing. We just needed different kinds of safety.”

She gave him a sardonic little grin. “Some safety, huh?”

He acknowledged her irony with a quick lift of his brows. Beyond the kitchen, they could hear the sound of boys coming in from school, the uncertain tenors and altos mixing with the more certain bass of the older boys. Laughter and jests punctured the air as the boys shuffled toward the dining room to read the chores list and pick up the snacks waiting on the sideboard—cinnamon rolls and raisins this afternoon.

One of the counselors stuck his head into the kitchen. “Ramón, can I see you in here?”

“Be right there.” He stood up and washed his hands. “Are you all right for dinner? Shall I send some more help?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “You’ve been a big help already. Thanks.”

He winked. “My pleasure.”

At the door to the dining room, he paused. “Tomorrow, barring bad weather, we’re slated to harvest apples, so what about Monday for our trip to the library?”

“Fine.”

“Have you ever harvested apples?”

Tanya shook her head. “Can’t say that I have.”

“You might like it. Why don’t you plan to come with us down to the orchards?”

“Great.” Several boys had filtered into the room, dropping book bags in the usual corner before putting on aprons. Tanya lifted her chin to Ramón, and he left.

The boys who had drawn KP today ranged in age from ten to sixteen. Tonio was not with them, she noted with a little sense of disappointment. Sometimes he stayed in town to visit his girlfriend or go to debate practice. A van from the ranch would pick him up just before supper, along with athletes and others who had to stay at school for one reason or another. One boy who did show up made Tanya considerably less happy, particularly since Desmary wasn’t here. At fifteen, Edwin Salazar was not the oldest boy at the ranch, but he was the biggest, both in terms of size and height. He had a brilliantly handsome face and shiny ebony hair combed straight back from his forehead. His eyes were beautiful and mean. A three-inch scar marred his cheek.

He also knew he made Tanya nervous. Coming into the kitchen today, he met her gaze with that almost invisible, insolent smirk. “Hey, teach.”

“Hi, boys,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel. The timer dinged and she bent to look at the chilies in the oven. In the bald light of the oven bulb, they swelled and shivered, and she had to smile. How had she avoided noticing their breathing before this?

Behind her, the boys snickered at something Edwin said. She realized she was bent over in a rather provocative position. But just how else would she get the chilies out of the oven? A tight knot of fear tied itself in her chest. This was the kind of dilemma Victor had made impossible. He would become insanely jealous if a man looked at her—and woe be to Tanya if she had encouraged him. But bending over? In a work environment?

She breathed in the strong scent of chilies for a moment. Edwin, speaking in Spanish, made a filthy comment about her. A spark of old anger, ignited by the wind of self-respect, burst into flame. Very, very slowly, she straightened. And turned.

In prison she had learned the best way to deal with the inevitable bullies and bosses was to meet them head-on. The more you ducked, the more they singled you out. You had to stand up to bullies—and that’s all Edwin was, a big bully who’d never been taught any manners.

Narrowing her eyes, she simply stared at him for a moment. His little friend, standing alongside, snickered, and Edwin lifted his chin. He didn’t speak.

Tanya said, “Bad language is against the rules here. Did you think it didn’t count in Spanish?”

“How was I supposed to know you understood it?”

“Maybe you should assume people can always understand you.”

Again the little friend snickered. Tanya cocked her head at him. “Disrespectfulness is also against the rules. Go. Tell the dorm master you have to have another chore today.”

The smallest flash of triumph crossed Edwin’s face. He started toward the door. “Not you, Edwin,” she said. “Your friend. What’s your name?”

The youth lifted his chin. “Mike.”

“Mike, you’re dismissed.”

“Why? ‘What did I—”

He didn’t argue anymore, but she could tell he was angry. So be it.

The other boys hung back, pretending to get started on the dishes, but she could see them watching how she would handle this big, mean boy.

She didn’t know. She didn’t want to make a mistake, ruin whatever chance he had to make his life better here. But especially in light of the harshly sexual aspect his comments took, she couldn’t let him think he was getting away with something, either.

The beautiful mean eyes glittered. Fear touched her and just the faintest wisp of memory… Victor making that panting animal sound in his throat when he was going to beat her severely.

The memory lent her insight. She reacted strongly to this boy because he reminded her in some way of Victor. Fair enough—as long as she knew it, she could make decisions with clarity.

She willed herself not to cross her arms. He stood still as a sword, returning her gaze implacably. “C’mon, teach,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

Trust your instincts, a little voice told her. If she sent him away, he’d get what he wanted—out of KP. If she didn’t, she’d have to deal with him here for more than two hours.

In a split second, she chose. “Wash your hands. You can peel chilies. Another word and you’ll be in the kitchen every day for the rest of your stay here.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Try me.”

His eyes flashed, but he turned the water on in the sink, washed his hands, then flung himself down at the table. Tanya put a new bowl of roasted chilies on the table. Then she leaned close. “Let me tell you something. Where I’ve been, they eat babies like you for a late-night snack. Mind your manners with me. Is that clear?”

Without Edwin lifting his eyes, Tanya couldn’t tell what expression they held, but he said in a voice seemly devoid of emotion, “Yes, ma’am.”

The battle was over, Tanya thought, an old blues song running through her mind. The war would continue.

But today she had fought well.

* * *

Desmary was still tired at dinnertime, and took supper on a tray in her room. Tanya sat with her for a little while, listening to stories of the ranch in the old days as Desmary drank an herb tea the
curandera
in the hills above Manzanares had prepared for her.

When she was finished with the tea, she said, “Go on, child. I’ll be fine in the morning. A battery this old just needs some recharging from time to time.”

Tanya laughed. Collecting the dishes, she said, “You’ll call me if you need anything, right?”