The Last Chance Ranch (17 page)

He closed his eyes. Somehow these past few weeks, he had fallen in love with Tanya Bishop. Not the infatuation of a randy boy, but the sustained and powerful love of a man who had learned what was important in a mate. Tanya had everything he ever hoped to find.

And if things were different, if fate had not cheated them so cruelly, he might have been able to say to her now, “Marry me.” A marriage would be a good thing for the boys at the ranch to see, an honorable, passionate union between a man and a woman. At the thought, he felt a deep and powerful yearning to make it so.

But it wasn’t fair to use Tanya’s long unfulfilled hunger to be complete for his own ends. He could make love to her until she was senseless—heaven knew how much he wanted that—but she wasn’t the kind of woman to take sex lightly.

Nor was he that kind of man. When he’d imagined making love to her tonight, it had been with the wish that they become one, that they create a precious and mighty union of souls.

If he actually made love to her, if he allowed them to be joined, allowed the mingling of souls that would accompany such an act for them, he would never have the strength to let her go and find her own life.

“We’re going to have to cancel our appointment for tonight,” he said at last.

“I know.” Her voice was resigned.

“It isn’t for lack of—”

“Ramón, please don’t go into all kinds of explanations. Let’s just leave it at this. There are complicating factors we both understand.”

He caught her and tugged her close to him, putting his face against her hair. She clung to him, and he felt her take a huge, shuddering breath. “I want you, Tanya,” he said into her neck. “I wanted to teach you—”

Abruptly, she lifted her head and covered his mouth with her fingers. Cold fingers. “No more. I don’t want to hear anymore.”

She extricated herself and scooted back to her place by the window.

Ramón, feeling the weight of a box of condoms in his pocket, started the truck and drove back to the ranch. It was the right decision, the moral decision, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

* * *

An almost palpable glow hung around Tonio that evening. Ramón kept his peace throughout supper, but afterward, he asked Tonio to stay when Tanya got up to help in the kitchen. In a minute, she came back with a steaming mug of coffee for him. She set it before him, and asked Tonio if he wanted anything. When he refused, she faded away.

Some women rebelled at performing such chores for men. Some women would also find Tanya’s acceptance of work in the kitchen degrading. But she seemed to take joy in the small gestures that made people comfortable—she liked taking care of people, tending them, making their lives easier. A rare and precious thing.

“What’s up, Dad?” Tonio asked, shaking Ramón from his reverie.

Ramón cleared his throat and hunched forward over his coffee, putting his hands around the heat of the mug. “Did you have practice this afternoon?”

Instant guilt shuttered Tonio’s features. “Uh, no.”

“You were pretty late home, if you didn’t go to practice. What did you do?”

Tonio frowned. “Why do I get the feeling you already know?”

Ramón sipped his coffee.

“I went to Fiddler’s for an ice-cream soda. That’s not so bad.”

“No. Except I thought you were at practice. What if something had happened and I needed to find you right away?” He sighed and shook his head—he promised himself he’d be honest with this child whenever he could. “That’s not even the real problem for me, Tonio, although I wish you’d remember to call when you change your mind about where you’ll be.”

“Sorry.”

“I saw you in town,” Ramón said. “With the girl. Is that Teresa?”

Faint color gave warmth to Tonio’s dark skin. “Yeah.”

“I don’t want to stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong, son, but—”

“Then don’t.”

“I have to. You’re not thinking with your head, but with your emotions. Emotions can get you into trouble.”

“They won’t. I’m not!” He shoved back from the table in frustration and looked away. But he didn’t quite dare to leave, and that was a good thing.

“How do you think Edwin is going to react when he hears about it? And why do you want to be with a girl who can’t make up her mind?”

“She can make up her mind. She’s coming to the dance with me.”

“Yesterday, she was going to be Edwin’s date.”

“That was before I told her—”

“Told her what?”

“Nothing.” Tonio shook his head. Arcs of light caught in the glossy blackness of his hair. “Just leave me alone, okay?” He jumped up.

“Sit down.”

Tonio sat, mutinously staring at Ramón.

“It’s not just the fighting I worry about,” Ramón said quietly. “I worry about you getting in over your head with this girl.”

“Over my head?” he sneered.

Ramón eyed him. “I’m talking about sex, Antonio. It’s too important to take lightly.”

Tonio bowed his head, and Ramón knew he was right to bring it up. The thought—maybe more than the thought—had crossed the boy’s mind.

“I’m not naive enough to believe you’ll hold out forever, but I wish you would take time to really think it through. Sex is deep, Antonio. It’s supposed to bind you to another person, soul to soul, and anything else makes it cheap.”

Tonio didn’t speak. He kept his head bowed.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

The boy nodded. “I will.”

“I trust you to do the right thing, you know.”

“Thanks.” Tonio stood up. “Can I go now? I have some homework to do.”

“Sure.”

A sharp gust of wind struck the farmhouse as Tonio ambled out of the room. Ramón heard the windows rattle and wondered if it would snow. It would suit his mood.

Body to body. Soul to soul. Binding and deep and important. He sipped his coffee and sighed. He wished so much for that joining with Tanya that he could barely breathe. He wanted to meld with her, become one with her. He wished there was some way to do it fairly.

Damn. He didn’t want Tanya to go anywhere or find any other life. He wanted her to take the place he had for her here, in his life, in his heart, next to him.

But he couldn’t ask it. Not yet. Not until she’d had some time to find her own life first. It wouldn’t be fair.

Fair. What a mockery life always seemed to make of that word.

Dear Antonio,

I saw the parole board today. They are going to let me go. I can hardly believe it. And as if that weren’t enough joy for one day, Ramón has written to say it was never his wish that you and I be separated. He offered me a job at the ranch, cooking, when I’m done with the program at the halfway house. It’s hard to believe I will actually see you again one day soon.

Love, Mom

O
n the night of the dance, Tanya dressed carefully. Her thoughts were on Ramón, and his decision to not have sex with her. She pretended to accept it.

But her body had not accepted his decision. The night they’d seen Tonio in town with his girlfriend, when Ramón had so hastily retreated, Tanya had lain awake for hours, her body on fire. She wanted to make love to him, as they’d planned. She wanted to hear his low groans, and touch his hair and feel his mouth upon her breasts. She wanted to hold him, be joined, and shatter with him.

She wanted him. It seemed almost decadent to be so clear about it, but she didn’t lie to herself. She wanted him in the worst—no, make that the best—way.

And it wasn’t as if he were running from the idea. He wanted to be with her just as much, but was resisting out of some sense of mistaken nobility.

As she lay there in the darkness, remembering the feel of his hands, his body, his mouth, she made up her mind. All her life, she’d been acted upon, instead of being the actor. Her daily runs were the first thing she’d ever initiated on her own, and in turn they’d given her the courage to initiate her bid to work in the prison kitchens, so she could be in a place where she could express her creativity.

That success had led to her decision to ask for visitation rights with Antonio when she was released, which led to her position here at the ranch.

Which led to Ramón.

And she wasn’t going to fade passively into the background now, either. There was something deep and rich between her and Ramón, and she would always wonder what might have happened if she didn’t act.

So tonight she donned a seductively elegant dress of black velvet, cocktail length, with cap sleeves that showed her lean arms, and a square neck that bared a good deal of chest. Not cleavage, because she lacked that particular commodity, but she thought the small swell of breast over the neckline was quite nice. She’d kept the boys in mind, of course, so it was only a little low-cut, just enough.

She left her hair loose, brushing her collarbone. Her stockings were sheer black, the shoes strappy little black sandals that showed off her slim ankles.

Stepping back to admire herself in the long mirror over her dresser, Tanya smiled. The reflection showed her a woman, strong and whole and fully grown—and for one tiny moment, she felt a shift in her awareness, as if she were part of all the women who’d ever claimed this power, as if they were all with her.

And when she came down the stairs, Ramón was standing by the fireplace in the living room, adjusting his bolo tie in the mirror over the mantel. He caught sight of her in the reflection, and froze, hands on his collar, then turned slowly to watch her descend. His liquid dark eyes were ablaze.

Tanya felt her stomach flip. Ramón, too, had dressed up. He wore a black shirt, cowboy cut with pearlized snaps, and close-fitting black jeans, and fancy black boots that made his legs look even longer. His hair, though it could never be entirely tamed, had been brushed back from his high forehead.

A wave of heat struck her, so fierce she wanted only to rip the clothes off him and make love right there. It didn’t help that the same wish was in his face as his gaze moved over her, lingeringly, taking in the cut of the dress, the square bodice, her legs in the black stockings. His nostrils flared, and he met her at the foot of the stairs. He stood close, and looked at her, touched her shoulder with one finger. “Did you do this to torture me?”

“Yes.” Up close, he smelled of aftershave and soap. “You smell good,” she said.

He didn’t move, just stood there, admiring her until Tanya felt almost uncomfortable. “Don’t you think we should go on in? It’s almost time for the buses to arrive.”

“I can’t move,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m slain where I stand.”

Tanya gave him a half grin and swung around. “Well, I can move.” She headed down the hall, hearing him come behind, his boot heels sharp against the wooden floor. As they passed through the kitchen, Tanya gave Desmary a broad wink.

* * *

Ramón couldn’t take his eyes off her all evening. As the kids filed in, spit-shined and shaved and buttoned, and the music started to play its pounding beat, he watched her from the corner of his eye. How could he hope to resist her now?

The dress was a killer. And he wasn’t the only male in the room to notice. Dave was solicitous as she approached the punch table, and two of the other counselors stood alongside her as she drank from her glass of punch.

When had she become such a hot-looking woman? Always before, she was sweetly attractive. Or when she came out of prison, attractive with that hungry coyote edge. Now she looked like a well-groomed tigress, sleek and lean, her hair gleaming, her skin glowing. Her breasts, softly curved above the square bodice, invited the lingering eye, the caress of a tongue.

He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if every boy in the room noticed, too. Probably not, actually. To them, Tanya was older than dirt.

Behind him, a soft voice said, “Shee! Lookit Ms. Bishop.”

Maybe she wasn’t so old. And the truth was, her dress was elegantly cut, very simple and attractive. It didn’t show off more flesh than it should. It was just the way it fit her. Or maybe the way she moved.

Or maybe he just had it bad. She turned to put her glass on the table and her hair flowed away from her skin to clasp her face, leaving behind a bare, uncovered spot on her shoulder that was unbearably tender.

“Hey, Dad,” Tonio said, next to him. “I want you to meet somebody.”

Relieved at the distraction, Ramón turned.

Tonio, neat in a blue sweater that showed off his eyes, and a pair of creased khakis, held hands with a girl. “This is Teresa Guerro. Teresa, this is my dad, Mr. Quezada.”

Small and neat, she lifted her shy gaze to his. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, but Ramón saw instantly the quality that made Edwin and Tonio fight over her. There was a luminosity in her large dark eyes, an inviting curve to her full lips.
“Hola,
Mr. Quezada.” In her words he heard the accent of a native Spanish speaker.

“Hello,” Ramón said. “Tonio has told me a lot about you.”

“He’s talked a lot about you, too,” she said, and gave Tonio a bright glance.

“Do you want to stand here with my dad for a minute while I get you some punch?” Tonio asked.

Teresa nodded. “Okay.”

Which left Ramón needing to make small talk with a fourteen-year-old girl he didn’t necessarily think was the best person in the world for his son. Tanya’s black dress caught his eye, and he gestured for her to come over.

“So, are you from Manzanares, Teresa?” he asked. “I don’t think I remember any Guerros from my days there.”

“Umm, no. We just came here. We’ve been in Texas. But my mom wants me to finish high school in an American school.” She blushed bright red. “I mean a New Mexico school.”

Ramón smiled to reassure her he wouldn’t pick up on her gaffe, but it told him what he needed to know about her family—and made sense of the fact Tonio said she was really smart, but not too good at schoolwork. “Is your mother a farm worker?”

Teresa nodded. “My dad, too, till he had a heart attack two years ago. It’s been just me and my mom since then, but she got married this year.”

“That’s nice.”

Tanya joined them, and Ramón introduced her. “Oh, Ms. Bishop!” Teresa said. “Tonio talks about you all the time.”