Someone Like You (Night Riders) (2 page)

“That may be what my father wanted, but I can turn around and go back to Texas. I’m sure Dolores will pay you anything you want if you can figure out some way to get around the will.”

“First, the will states that the present Mrs. Jerry is never to have control of any portion of the ranch or its management. She has her allowance and nothing else.”

Rafe found it hard to believe that his father would make such a provision. He had loved his first wife, but Dolores
had captivated him with her youth and beauty when he was grieving and vulnerable.

“If you reject the provisions of the will,” the lawyer continued, “I’m directed to sell the ranch. A portion will be set aside to increase your stepmother’s allowance tenfold. She will retain that allowance even if she should remarry. The remainder of the proceeds will be used to create a park in honor of your stepmother. You will, in essence, disinherit your brother and yourself.”

Rafe’s fury at the net his father had woven around him was so hot, he was sure his temperature had risen ten degrees. He had no doubt his father had added that provision to make sure he didn’t ignore the will and just disappear. Rafe wouldn’t care whether he lost his half of the ranch and he might not care whether he was disinheriting his brother, but his father knew Rafe would do what ever was necessary to prevent the creation of
anything
that honored the whore who’d become his stepmother.

A question gradually penetrated his rage, a question he’d asked before, but which now assumed added significance: What had happened to cause his father to make such a will? As much as he wanted nothing to do with Dolores or his half brother, he needed to know what had changed.

“Why?”

A veil dropped over the lawyer’s eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t fence with me. This is the opposite of what I expected. You’ve got to have some idea what caused him to change his mind.”

The lawyer lost all signs of affability. “I was your father’s lawyer, not his confessor.”

The man had to know, or at least suspect, what had happened, but he wasn’t going to say anything. Rafe would much rather be chasing Laveau, but Laveau would have to wait until he solved the puzzle of what had happened at Rancho los Alamitos.

Damn. How did a small ad in a Chicago newspaper find its way to Texas? Five more months, and I could have been richer than I’d ever imagined. I can’t give up now. I’m too close
.

“Rafe is coming to the ranch. That horrible lawyer said he’ll be here sometime today.”

Maria couldn’t understand her sister’s excitement. Dolores had been running around the house giving instructions to every servant she saw. She’d changed the dinner menu three times, discussed and discarded a half dozen ideas for which dress to wear, and had driven poor Luis into a nervous state with a string of instructions about how to behave so he wouldn’t upset his brother.

“Did he say anything about the will?” If anyone had consulted her—and Dolores rarely did—Maria would have suggested meeting Rafe in the lawyer’s office. The decision as to whether he would be the executor was more important than any impression they might make on a single visit.

“He said Rafe had agreed to be the executor.” Dolores looked at the dress she was holding up with disfavor. “I’ve got to get him to increase my allowance. I can’t keep going around in this rag.”

The
rag
she was talking about had been worn only once. The black velvet glittered with hundreds of tiny glass beads in swirling designs that made the gown seem alive when Dolores moved.

“If you want to convince him you need an increase in your allowance, don’t wear that dress,” Maria advised. “Not only does it look expensive, but it makes you look especially young and beautiful.”

Maria had never envied her sister’s beauty nor her need to be the focus of attention. Managing the house hold and overseeing Luis’s education was a big job, but she enjoyed the responsibility. The servants were hardworking and loyal, and she loved Luis like her own son.

Dolores paused before her mirror, critically studying her reflection. “I can’t welcome him home looking like a faded old woman.”

“You look neither faded nor old.”

“He last saw me when I was nineteen. That was ten years, one husband, and one child ago.” She made a face. “His father kept telling him I was his stepmother. I’ll die if he still thinks of me like that.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t. And if he did, one look at you would change his mind.” Maria smiled at her sister’s pleased reaction to her comment. “Now get dressed. I’m going to see about Luis.”

“Rafe never liked children. Maybe Luis had better stay in his room.”

“I’m sure Rafe will expect to see his brother.” Maria hated to use that word to describe the relationship between Luis and Rafe. She’d promised herself she would be cordial because this meeting was important to Dolores and Luis, but she wasn’t sure how she could be pleasant to a man she despised. She wasn’t a good actress like her sister. It had always been easy for people to guess her feelings.

“Very well, but don’t let him stay more than a few minutes.”

“I’ll take care of that. Now get dressed. You’ve got to be downstairs when he arrives. You’re the only one he knows.”

Maria left her sister’s room and tried to put Dolores and Rafe out of her mind. His mother’s strictures had upset Luis so much that he couldn’t eat his lunch. He was well grown for his age, but he was so shy, his sunny temperament and natural inquisitiveness could disappear at a moment’s notice. He wasn’t so young that he didn’t know his father had wanted little or nothing to do with him. Maria could understand that, but she couldn’t forgive it. Unfortunately it was impossible to explain the reason to Luis. She knocked on the door to his room before entering.

Luis was seated next to a window with a view of the road leading up to the house. He looked so darling in his formal
clothes, Maria was tempted to hug him. He never stinted in his show of affection for his aunt, but recently he had become uncomfortable with the hugs and caresses he’d enjoyed so much when he was younger. At nine he was already showing signs of the young man he would grow up to be.

Luis turned when Maria entered the room. “Do you think Rafe will like me?”

“Of course he’ll like you. You’re his brother.” Maria tried to sound reassuring, but she didn’t know Rafe, so she could only guess how he might respond.

“Maybe he doesn’t want a brother he’s never seen. Mama says he hates children.”

“I don’t know what he was like when he was growing up, but I’m sure he must be fond of children by now. He’ll surely be happy to know he has a brother as smart and handsome as you.”

“Rosana says he’s so handsome, every signorina from here to Sacramento will be sighing over him. Juan says he can outride and outshoot anybody in California. I can’t do anything like that.”

Maria hated it when people compared Luis to Rafe. “He’s a grown man. You’re still a boy. I’m sure he couldn’t do any of those things when he was your age.”

“Juan said he could ride a horse before he could walk.”

Maria laughed. “I’m sure he rode sitting in his father’s lap and holding on tight.” She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth.

“Papa never took me in his lap. He didn’t teach me how to ride.”

Maria had been grateful to Warren Jerry for giving her a home, but she would never forgive him for the way he’d treated Luis.

“Your papa was older when you were growing up, and he was sick a long time before he died. I’m sure he would have taught you to ride if he had been younger and in good health.” She knew that wasn’t true and suspected Luis knew
it as well. The picture Warren had kept by his bedside, and his will, confirmed Maria’s belief that he’d spent his last years regretting his separation from Rafe.

“Will he send me away to school?”

The question caught Maria off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Juan says all boys are sent away to military school when they’re ten or eleven. He says it turns them into men. He says it’s a Spanish tradition.”

“Your father was not Spanish.”

“Both my grandmothers were.”

Maria deplored the pattern of Spanish fathers marrying their daughters to Anglo men, even though it had proved to be the best way to hold on to Spanish land grants after California became part of the United States. She rested her hand on his shoulder. “I promise I won’t let him do anything to make you unhappy.”

“Maybe I should go to military school. All the boys on the ranch ride better than I do.”

“Only because riding is part of their work.”

“I wish I could ride well. I wish I could do
something
well.”

Maria had done all she could to give Luis confidence in himself, to make him feel loved and valued, but that was next to impossible when neither his mother nor his father showed any interest in him.

“You do lots of things very well,” Maria assured him. “You’re a brilliant scholar, you—”

“No one cares about that.” He sounded dismissive of his own achievements. “They only care about how many tricks you can perform on horse back or how well you can shoot.”

Maria had always enjoyed the contests the local men indulged in during festivals, but she disliked that they used such stunts as a mea sure of manhood and character.

“Is that my brother?” Luis pointed at two men approaching the house along the lane from town. The darker one was leading a pony.

“I’ve never seen him. The lawyer didn’t say anything about someone being with him.”

“He looks like the man in the picture Papa had next to his bed.”

Maria didn’t know when Luis had been in his father’s room, but she couldn’t deny that even at a distance, the rider looked like Rafe. “You go on downstairs. You don’t have to meet him by yourself,” Maria said when the boy looked stricken. “I’ll be down as soon as I tell your mother he’s here.”

Maria wasn’t surprised to find Dolores sitting in front of her mirror, inspecting her makeup. “Rafe is here.”

Dolores didn’t take her gaze off her reflection. “Do you think I have too much color? I hear Southern women often use buttermilk to keep their perfectly white complexions.”

“You look beautiful, as always. Now come on downstairs. He’ll be at the door any minute.”

“I need to put on more powder. I swear, this California sun can penetrate the walls.”

“Stop imagining faults that aren’t there and come downstairs.”

“I’ll be down soon.”

Maria knew her sister wouldn’t stir from her room until she was satisfied with her appearance. Since that might take five minutes or half an hour, there was nothing to do but go down and meet Rafe Jerry by herself. It annoyed her that Dolores would neglect her role as hostess, but her sister had always left the unpleasant and uncomfortable duties to Maria. Maria figured it was part of the price she had to pay for being rescued from poverty. “Come down as soon as you can. You’re the only one he knows.”

Dolores was too absorbed with her reflection to answer. Maria squared her shoulders and marched downstairs.

Luis was standing inside the parlor just a few steps from the wide hall that ran through the center of the house. Maria held out her hand and forced herself to smile. “Your
mother will be down in a minute. You and I will meet your brother together.”

Taking Luis’s hand, she walked to the door. Luis opened it, and she stepped forward to greet the man who was coming up the steps. When he saw her, he frowned.

“Who the hell are you, and where’s the bitch who ruined my life and sent my father to an early grave?”

M
aria’s initial impression was that she’d just met the most overwhelmingly handsome man she’d ever seen. He was tall, with broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist and powerful thighs. The look in his eye, the way he carried himself, bespoke a man who was sure of himself. Unfortunately, he was also the rudest man she’d ever met.

“My name is Maria de la Guerra,” she said with as much calm as she could command. “I’m Dolores Jerry’s sister. This is my nephew, Luis Jerry. I’m afraid I don’t know your name or that of your companion.”

Rafe’s presence was so commanding, she’d almost forgotten his companion.

“I expect Dolores makes you do all the work. Too bad you aren’t more forceful—but if you had been, Dolores wouldn’t have brought you here.”

If the first speech had shocked Maria, the second rendered her mute.

“Where is Dolores? Does she still sit in front of her mirror for hours before she’ll let anybody see her?” He glanced down at Luis, who was virtually cringing at her side. “You must be Luis.”

That remark galvanized Maria. “Sir, I still don’t know your name, though I expect—”

“I’m Rafe Jerry. Unless Dolores has thrown them out or burned them, there are enough pictures of me in the house for anybody to recognize me. May I come inside?”

“Before he makes you so angry that you show him off the
property, I want to introduce myself. I’m Rafe’s friend Broc Kincaid. He’s not always this rude.”

Maria swung her gaze to the man standing next to Rafe, only to receive another shock. She could see that the perfection of the right side of the man’s face was counterbalanced by terrible scars on the left. Guessing they were the result of a war wound, she found it remarkable that a man of such outstanding looks could be so cheerful in the face of such disfigurement.

“I’m Maria de la Guerra. This is my nephew, Luis Jerry.”

Broc extended his hand to Luis. “Glad to meet you, young man. You look rather big to be just nine years old. I bet you end up being taller than Rafe. Then he’ll be
your
little brother.”

Broc couldn’t have said anything that could have made Luis feel better about himself. He had lived in awe of Rafe most of his life.

Maria moved back inside the door and to one side. “Please join me in the parlor. My sister will be down in a moment. May I offer you something to drink?”

Broc flashed a smile that tugged at Maria’s heart. “Bless you. I’ve been thinking of beer for the last hour.”