The Last Chance Ranch (9 page)

The counselors passed out small canvas bags that could be slung around the shoulder. Ramón illustrated how to wear them.

“Now you all get to climb trees, but do it carefully. If you break branches, we don’t get fruit from that branch next year. If you don’t want to eat a bunch of bruised, disgusting apples, you also have to put them carefully into your bag, and carefully into the bushel baskets. You’ll be the ones to suffer, all right?” He pointed to the baskets. “Everybody grab some baskets and let’s get this done.”

The group headed down the dirt road toward the small orchard. About thirty trees stood in neat rows, the grass below their branches thick and green, unlike the rest of the prairie surrounding it. A narrow irrigation ditch snaked around it.

Ramón dropped back. This morning, he wore his usual jeans and jacket, with tennis shoes instead of boots. Tanya found the change oddly sexy. “Do you think you know what to do?” he asked.

“Sure. Lift, don’t yank, and don’t drop them, place them in the bags.”

“If you don’t feel like getting up on a ladder, you can be in charge of seeing that the bags get emptied properly.”

“No way. I haven’t been in a tree in a long time.” Ramón looked at Zach. “Will you look out for her for me?”

Solemnly, Zach nodded.

* * *

For hours they picked apples, shinnying up and down the orchard trees. Tanya, hanging on a branch below Zach, who was far too much of a daredevil for her tastes, listened to the sounds of the boys. Chatter and laughter punctuated with the peculiarly Latin-Indian “ahhh” that was like “gotcha” in English.

Toward noon, there was a stir at one end of the orchard—shouts and the dismayed cry of other boys trying to prevent a fight. A tumble of boys rushed by below her. Over her head, Zach cried out, “Look! Tonio and Edwin!” He started to scramble down.

And slipped.

Tanya saw him lose his grip. Instinctively, she reached for him, managing to catch hold of the fabric of his jean jacket. The force of his falling body yanked her loose and she tumbled off the branch behind him.

It wasn’t far, but her position was awkward and she was afraid of landing on Zach and hurting him. With a twisting reach, she flung herself clear, but the heel of her right hand struck the ground first and took all of her weight. A sharp, stabbing pain sliced her arm. With a small cry, she rolled and got to her feet, clasping her arm to her chest.

“Zach! Are you all right?”

He was on his knees, coughing, and Tanya bent over him. “Are you okay? Did anything get hurt?”

“No.” He put a hand to his chest. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.”

She patted his back. “That was quite a fall.”

“Scared me.”

“Are you okay?” Her arm stung sharply and she looked down. Blood spilled from a long jagged cut in the soft flesh of her forearm.

“You’re cut!” Zach cried.

Tanya shrugged out of her jacket and wrapped it tightly around her arm to staunch the blood. A fine trembling stirred in her limbs, the first signs of shock. She looked for Ramón. The cut would need stitches.

A spate of furious Spanish curse words blued the air. Tanya and Zach whirled. A burly counselor held a struggling, yelling Tonio against his chest. Blood marred the boy’s lip. Edwin stood off to one side, breathing hard. The bandanna he wore to hold his hair from his face had fallen off, and thick hair washed onto his forehead. Tanya felt chilled at the expression on his face.

A second counselor picked Edwin’s bandanna from the grass and gave it to him. Edwin took it without a word, his flat gaze fixed on the counselor dragging Tonio away.

Ramón materialized beside Tanya and Zach. “I saw you fall. Are you okay?”

Finally Tanya lifted her arm and peeled back the jacket. Blood soaked the fabric. “No,” she said. “Sorry. I need some stitches.”

Ramón winced and reached for her. “Oh,
pobrecita.”
Lightly, he took her elbow in his fingers and pulled her closer. “You’re right.” He tugged the jacket back around her arm. “Keep it tight, and let’s get you to town.”

Tanya swallowed. She licked her top lip and tasted salt. “It won’t hurt much till later,” she said, and heard the breathy sound of it.

She felt Ramón’s gaze sharpen. “Zach, run and tell Mr. Mahaney what I’m doing, okay? Tell him he’s in charge until I get back. Can you do that?”

Wide-eyed, Zach nodded. “Sorry, Ms. Bishop. It’s my fault.”

“Oh, no, honey, not at all!” She bent and touched his head. “I wasn’t paying attention and I slipped, that’s all.”

The boy’s mouth tightened, and Tanya knew he still felt guilty. Dull pain throbbed along her arm, and she sucked in a breath. She would deal with Zach’s feelings later. To Ramón, she said, “Let’s stop and get some ice at the house. That will help.”

“Can you make it to the house, or do you want me to go get the truck?”

“I can walk.”

“Let’s go.”

It was not the most fun she’d ever had, Tanya had to admit. As hard as she tried to keep her arm still, there was no way to keep her movements fluid enough so that the arm wasn’t jarred at all.

But it was oddly warming to have Ramón with her. At the house, he made her sit on the porch while he went inside. A few minutes later, he returned with a plastic bag of crushed ice and a towel.

Kneeling in front of her, he made a table of his knees and spread the towel over it. On the towel he put the large bag of crushed ice and smoothed it until it was a squat, wide shape. Gently, cupping her elbow and lifting the arm with one flat finger below the straight bone, he settled her arm in the cradle of ice. The first touch burned like the devil and Tanya made a noise. Tears stung her eyes.

He covered her hand with his own and looked at her. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts.”

Breathlessly, she said, “Have you had stitches?”

As if he recognized her need to shift her focus, he smiled. “Not a one, actually. It’s pretty amazing, considering how much time I’ve spent with horses.” Firmly, he wrapped the towel around and around her arm to hold the ice. “Broken bones, that’s what I had. Twice on each wrist, three fingers, two toes, and—” he grinned ruefully, drawing a finger over his dented cheekbone “—my cousin broke my face.”

It seemed sick to laugh about it, but Tanya did, anyway. “Yeah. Mine, too.”

His liquid gaze softened. “What do you know—we have something in common.”

“Broken faces?”

“Laughing in spite of broken faces.”

Tanya bit her lip, a thick stirring in her chest. A light wind stirred his wavy hair, and a strand touched the small indentation below his eye. In the gray day, his skin seemed incredibly perfect—supple and smooth and golden. His gaze held hers steadily, and that was where the true beauty of him was, in those fathomless, unutterably kind eyes. The expression in them shifted as she stared at him, turned molten and rich, and Tanya found her gaze slipping to his mouth, then back up. “Laughing can save your mind,” she said.

“Yes.” He remained kneeling for a moment, then stood and held out a hand to her.

As she stood up, David Mahaney, the counselor who’d dragged Antonio away from the fight, came striding over the open square. “You’d better wait a minute and see if Tonio is okay,” she said.

“Tonio is fine. Come on.”

“Ramón!” David called. “What do you want me to do with Tonio?”

“Just treat him like you’d treat one of the others.”

David scowled. “That’s not fair, Ramón. He’s a good kid.”

“Yes, he is.” A hard sinew marked his lean jaw. “I want him to stay that way. He goes to his room with no supper.”

“You know what a creep Edwin is,” David protested. “He probably took the kid’s girlfriend just because she liked Tonio. He’s been on Tonio since he got here.”

Tanya’s arm throbbed, and her heart ached. A cool wind touched her face. She wanted to cry for all of them—Tonio and Ramón and even Edwin, who was far, far too young to be so hard.

“Violence solves nothing,” Ramón said, opening the truck door. “Tonio has to learn that like everyone else. Now, if there’s nothing else, this woman is bleeding like a stuck pig and needs stitches.”

“You’re making a mistake, Ramón.” David put his hands on his hips. “I’m speaking as your friend. He’s a good kid. Don’t punish him for this.”

A warm color washed over Ramón’s cheekbones, and Tanya could see the mark where the bone had been broken under his right eye. “Back off,” he said in a dangerous voice. “Being strict doesn’t hurt kids. Being permissive hurts them.”

“But—”

“A week of KP duty. That’s as lenient as I’m willing to be.” Ramón got in the truck and slammed the door. Tanya walked around and climbed in the other side. Without a word, he drove off toward town.

* * *

At the small clinic, Ramón waited in the front while Tanya was led back into the bowels of the place. He played with some toddlers and watched a young girl, enormously pregnant, fidget restlessly, swinging her foot back and forth. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen. She should have been popping bubble gum while she doodled in the margins of her history notebook, not sitting in a clinic waiting for her baby to be born.

Looking at her pretty, ever-so-young face, he was reminded of the reasons he’d started the ranch in the first place—and he wished he could open another, for the girls who were his boys’ counterpoints. Truth was, though, girls weren’t often violent offenders, or even particularly criminal. Girls were arrested for shoplifting, boys for burglary. Girls were arrested for forgery, boys for armed robbery. Girls were arrested for disturbing the peace, boys for assault.

Not always, of course. He’d known some mean, bad girls in his time in the probation system. Hopeless. But girls turned their brutal anger inward. Boys turned it outward—and so boys got more help. Girls got pregnant. Hooked up with a bad guy. Ended up on welfare, or maybe even in prison, but no one noticed as long as it wasn’t society toward which the anger was directed. Boys took assault rifles into the streets.

The girl noticed his stare and turned a heavy-lidded gaze toward him, as if daring him to say a word. Her eyes were lined with thick eyeliner, black, her cheeks powdered white, her lips rouged a strong red. Her hair was meticulously styled, long and curly.

He ached for her, but forced himself to look away. Maybe one day, one of his boys would find her, and the manners and respect he’d learned would make him a good man for this girl. A man who would take care of the child she carried and make sure she didn’t have to stand in a welfare line, a man who would love her. It was all he could do.

A doctor in a white coat came out of the back. “Ramón?” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

Ramón got to his feet. John Arranda, the doctor, had been his friend since high school. He had a kind face and a goatee neatly trimmed, and warm dark eyes. “What’s up?”

John touched his nose. “You know this woman?”

He nodded.

“I just got her X rays back.” They had wanted an X ray because of the fall. “This arm has been broken in three places at different times.” He held the gray-and-black negative up to the light, pointing with the eraser end of a pencil to one heavily scarred place just above the elbow. “This one didn’t get much help for a while. It healed badly. It has to hurt pretty bad in the cold.”

“She was abused when she was younger.”

John lowered the film. “I see. Is she out of that situation now?”

“Yes.” Ramón swallowed the rising anger in his throat and looked away. “Yes, she’s away from it. Has been for a long time.”

“Nobody breaks this part of their arm,” John said quietly, touching the place above his elbow. “He probably hit her with something.”

“Yes.” Ramón took a long breath and blew it out. John regarded him without speaking for another minute. “Come on in and hold her hand while I sew her up.”

Ramón followed John into the examining room. Tanya lay on the table, her eyes closed. She looked pale, but otherwise okay. As John and Ramón came in, she opened her eyes. Seeing Ramón, she smiled.

Bright emotion stabbed him, and he went to stand alongside her. “Doc said I should come hold your hand. Is that okay with you?”

Wordless, she nodded. Ramón looked down at her slim, small hand lying next to her thigh on the table. He picked it up and sandwiched it between both of his own. Her fingers were cold and he rubbed them between his palms, smiling. “Cold hands, warm heart.”

Tanya smiled.

It aroused him. He couldn’t help it. Her smile was as sweet and ripe as a chocolate-covered cherry, and he wanted to taste it. He wanted to mold his hands to her breasts, and open his palm on her belly. He wanted her.

Her fingers jumped against his palm. Ramón closed his eyes, and smoothed his palm over her fingers again, willing his desire back to wherever it lived. It didn’t help a lot.

“Ready?” John asked.

Ramón looked at Tanya. She took a breath and nodded. John removed the cotton covering the wound and gave her a shot, then took out his needle. It took twelve stitches.

“Done,” John said.

Tanya sighed hugely. “That wasn’t so bad.”

Ramón stroked her hand. “You’ve been so good, I’ll buy you an ice cream when we’re done here.”

“Rocky Road?” The blue eyes glinted.

“Whatever you want,
grilla.”
He restrained himself from touching her face. “Whatever you want.”

“Careful, now,” she said, and her grin turned impish. “You say ‘whatever’ and I might ask for a lot.”

Ramón chuckled. “What you want, I’ve got.”

Tanya looked at John. “He’s terrible.”

“Yes. Always has been.” John finished cutting a tube of gauzy material and skimmed it over Tanya’s arm. “You have to watch out for his type, you know.”

Tanya looked at Ramón, and a curious sobriety touched the dark blue irises. “I know.”

Dear Antonio,

I have met an amazing woman. Her name is Iris, and she is in prison for three life terms for crimes I’d rather not tell a boy. She’s been in prison since she was nineteen, and she’s quite a bit older than me—though I couldn’t tell you for sure how old. Around here, you don’t ask what people don’t volunteer.