The Gentrys: Cinco Page 7

  "Living this far removed from civilization, women must have strength of body and will to raise both cattle and a family." Cinco stopped, reflected on his words, then chuckled. "Well, come to think of it, that part about the 'rootstock' was another one of Nanny's great garden sayings."

  He watched as the wind tugged a few strands of Meredith's severe braid from under her hat and playfully whipped them around her face. "I guess most of the women, except for one, that have ever been in my life were from sturdy rootstock."

  When the ache began in his chest and slowly spread, he wasn't really surprised. "They're all gone now … except Abby of course."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. I think I would've liked meeting your grandmother. She sounds like a real pistol."

  "She was."

  He thought about all his lost loves and broken memories, but the ache he normally felt was merely bittersweet this time—not acute and heartbreaking the way it had been every day for as long as he could remember. Absorbed in his thoughts, he didn't notice Meredith start to fidget.

  Meredith tried hard to find something to say to bring Cinco out of his silent grief. She really wasn't very good at small talk, but she wanted to do something to help him. Hadn't she heard somewhere that it was good to keep the discussion going by asking questions?

  "Uh. Did you say one of the women in your life was not like the others? Which one was that?"

  He paled and tripped slightly over a clump of gravel. "I was in love once, Meredith. Even asked the girl to marry me. She was a city-bred woman much like yourself. Gorgeous and intelligent, she would've eventually hated it out here." He sighed softly, then shrugged. "Probably would've ended up hating me, too, if she'd had the chance."

  Meredith's next question slipped past her lips before she'd thought it through. "What happened between you?"

  "She died."

  He'd said it in such a deadpan tone that she almost missed the meaning. His fiancée, his lover, had not had the chance to become disenchanted with the ranch or with him because she'd died. Wow, that was more than she'd bargained to hear.

  Now what should she say? Did she dare ask anything else about this, or should she change the subject?

  She decided she had to ask one more little thing. "How did she die?"

  Cinco grabbed the brim of his hat and tugged it lower on his forehead while he cleared his throat. "I'll tell you all about it some other time." He lifted his chin to look at the sky. "Looks like the norther we've been expecting will be in later tonight. See those dark clouds on the horizon?"

  "You mean that leading edge of a cold front heading toward us— What did you call it?"

  "A norther. It comes in like an unwanted winter tourist from the North. We need the water, like liquid capital, but it sure leaves us with a chill in the air when it's gone."

  Okay, fine. He'd made a little joke about the weather. Now what else could they talk about until they managed to reach the barn? The sweet scent of the yellow rose came to her mind.

  "Uh … tell me what else your grandmother used to say about roses. Do the other colors mean something, too?"

  He glanced over at her and the smile on his face sent a beat of lust skittering all the way to her toes. Geez, the man did something weird to her with every look.

  "Glad you want to know. I thought maybe flowers might be a boring subject for you."

  Meredith managed a curt smile, wondering if anything Cinco wanted to talk about could possibly be boring. Especially if he kept smiling at her that way.

  "All right, let's see how much I remember, sugar," he drawled. "White means purity and reverence, and pink is for gratitude, admiration or sympathy. White and pink together makes for a good funeral bouquet."

  He frowned then continued. "Sorry. That's probably not what you'd be interested in hearing. Hmm. What else?" Another smile graced his face as he must have been reflecting on his grandmother's words. "Oh, yeah. The dark pinks to clear reds mean love and respect … and deep scarlet roses are given by … lovers."

  "Anything else?"

  "The only other thing I can think of right now is that unopened buds represent an unawakened heart."

  "Let me see if I've got this straight," Meredith said. "If a woman received scarlet rosebuds from a man, then he'd be after only one thing, right?"

  Cinco's face flushed … even through his tan.

  Meredith was thrilled that the big, tough Texan was actually embarrassed by her teasing words. It made him seem more human somehow.

  Before he could recuperate and gather his senses, they arrived at the show barn. The reason they'd walked all the way out here came to her with a resounding thud in the stomach.

  Abby's riding class.

  There was nothing for her to do now but simply … do it. She hesitated, then straightened her shoulders.

  Cinco took a few steps into the barn before he realized she hadn't followed.

  He stopped and came back. "You okay, darlin'?" He offered her his hand, palm up. "I don't know why you're so afraid of horses, but you can hang on to me for support if you want."

  "I'm not afraid…" Meredith looked down at his hand for a moment, then reached out and slid hers into it. "Very well. Maybe I'm a little concerned."

  When he started forward, she didn't follow, pulling gently on his hand. He remained where he was, waiting for her to either say something or move on.

  She looked up into his eyes and seemed to be searching for something she hoped to find there. "I guess it all started when my mother died."

  "Your mother? How old were you?"

  "I had just turned four." Her speech slowed as she gazed off into space. Her mind appeared to be many miles and many years away from the ranch.

  Cinco stepped closer and covered both their hands with his free one. "What about the animals, sugar? What does your mother's dying have to do with how you feel?"

  "Everything," she murmured as she refocused on him. "My whole life changed forever when my mother left me."

  "Left? Don't you mean died?"

  She shrugged. "It felt the same when I was four. My father behaved as though he believed she'd left us, too. I don't think he ever got over thinking Mother betrayed him somehow by dying. I…"

  The expression on her face clearly revealed her pain. Cinco wanted to fix it. To make everything better for her.

  "Look, Meredith, you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. And you certainly don't have to take a riding lesson if it's too painful."

  "No. No. I need to say this. Now that it's finally over, I need to get on with life."

  Cinco wasn't positive what she'd meant by being finally over, but he knew enough to just let her talk.

  "My mother had a little dog. His name was Hercules. Thinking back, I'm not sure of the breed, but he was white and fluffy, and I thought he was the cutest thing in the whole world."

  She paused and took a breath. "I played with him some, but he was definitely Mother's pet. He followed her everywhere," Meredith told him. "When she died, he cried and whined incessantly. I tried my best to quiet him, but he didn't want me. He wanted Mother." A single tear glistened at the corner of her eye, but she took another breath and held it off.

  "When we returned from the funeral services, Hercules was gone. I cried over both my mother's death and the loss of her beloved pet. My father was furious that I would mourn the loss of an animal when my mother had just died. He lectured me again and again about how people didn't really have relationships or control over animals, that it was all just an illusion."

  "But…" Cinco started to break into her speech, thinking how wrong-headed that attitude was.

  Meredith held up her free hand to stop him. "Let me finish. Deep down I guess I knew that wasn't true, that somehow he'd missed something about our relationships with animals. But it took me a long time to get over the loss of Hercules. I didn't have anyone to talk to about it and I was too little to know how to go about finding him—or how to keep my father from discovering him if I had."


  Meredith's shoulders slumped as she fell deeper into her memories. "One afternoon while I was playing in the yard, a little stray dog approached the fence. He was white and looked sad, so I opened the gate to pet him. But when I reached out to him, he snapped at me. Caught me in the chin by mistake … at least it seems that way after all these years.

  "I tried to hide the cut from my father, but he naturally found out the minute he saw me. He rushed me to the emergency room. They never did find the stray, so I had to endure an entire series of rabies shots, just to be on the safe side."

  Her voice dropped off, and she hesitated for so long that Cinco wondered if she had finished. "Meredith?"

  She smiled. "I've never told anyone this, Cinco. And I'm sure it was not nearly as bad as I remember, but I want to tell you now. I need to tell you."

  Her smile disappeared. "My father apparently wanted to teach me the lesson for good. He locked me in a closet and, saying it was for my protection, brought in an attack dog to keep me there. Every time I tried to open the door the dog would snarl and bark at me." Her voice trailed off again, but she must have had one more thing to say. "I was terrified after what had happened with the stray so I just cowered in the dark all day. I daydreamed about being able to sprout wings and fly away from that closet because I was feeling absolutely lost and lonely … and so afraid."

  Cinco had her in his arms before he gave it a second thought. "Oh, darlin'." He patted her gently on the back, trying to find a way to bring comfort to the scared four-year-old all these years later. "It's okay. Nothing to be afraid of while you're with me."

  When she quit trembling within his arms, Cinco leaned away to look at her. Her face was quiet, reserved.

  "Sugar, you shouldn't force yourself to be around the animals. I'll explain the problem to Abby and we'll think of other ways to keep you entertained."

  He felt her muscles stiffen beneath his fingertips. Then she pulled away.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she narrowed her eyes. "Listen, Gentry. I haven't run from things that might be a little scary ever since I was in grade school. And I'm not about to start now. I didn't tell you that story to make excuses. I just wanted you to understand."

  Her gaze was blazing. Hot, intense. And suddenly sexy as all get-out.

  She'd gone from scared little girl to warrior Viking queen all in the space of a few seconds. Cinco was enthralled with the changes—and as confused as hell.

  He wanted to protect her from any more hurt, to cuddle her up in his arms and keep the bad memories at bay. But the capable, extroverted Air Force captain persona aroused him in ways he couldn't fathom.

  And not one of the things he was feeling at the moment had anything to do with making her a friend.

  "Fine," he growled. "Let's get you to your class, then, and I'll be on my way. I have other things I should attend to this afternoon."

  Meredith managed to suffer through her first riding class without dying. She'd even quietly endured two more classes the following week. The lesson she was attending at the moment, however, was almost more than she could bear.

  The cold front had come through during the weekend and covered the ground with slushy frost. So Abby had decided to teach her little class the basics of saddling a horse today, which meant that all eight of them along with their eight mounts were closed up inside the barn and out of the weather.

  The smell of horses, manure and sweat was oppressive. And being enclosed in such a small space with this many animals sent a creepy steam seeping right inside Meredith's jacket.

  She took off her coat and hung it on a post, wanting to concentrate on watching the others practice their lessons one by one. At this point she'd almost gotten used to how jaded and old for their ages the teenagers seemed.

  Paying attention to them took her mind off the horses … and off Cinco. The man was a royal pain in the neck. She'd thought he could be trusted. After all, he'd told her about his fiancée, hadn't he? Well, maybe not everything about her, Meredith admitted. But he'd seemed so friendly, as if he wanted to get to know her better.

  She should be tied to a post and whipped for forgetting that no one could be trusted with intimate thoughts. She'd never attempted such a breach before—and she was unlikely to ever try it again from now on. But he was just so … not boring. And then there was the matter of his eyes. Those deep thoughtful eyes, the color of rich wood, had fascinated her with each long, slow glance and heated gaze. To say nothing of the smooth sound of his voice combined with the slick, intimate moves that left her breathless and dreaming of him every night.

  But when she'd told him about her reason for fearing animals, he'd turned into a controlling jackass, ready to tell her what to do and how to feel about it. She'd been ready to split him in two.

  Five days of not seeing him, and Meredith's main emotion was one of guilt. She'd come on a little strong, she supposed. Thinking about it now, she realized he'd only reacted the way any new friend might've.

  She simply didn't have any experience with this friendship thing.

  But he hadn't given her a chance to apologize, either. When she'd gone looking for him after that first class, she'd run into his Mexican-American housekeeper Lupe just returning from her vacation. Lupe told her that Cinco had left a note saying he didn't want to be disturbed—by anyone.

  So for the last five days Meredith had waited for Cinco to reappear. She'd used up the time by driving Abby out to the far reaches of the ranch in one of the pickups to check on a steer. She'd helped Lupe work in the greenhouse where the roses were now grown. Meredith had also worked out in the weight room until her muscles burned.

  She'd even managed to survive those first two riding classes. But still Cinco was nowhere to be found.

  Meredith sighed and refocused on the little class. Two boys and four girls. Abby told her that they were far more streetwise and weary than Meredith thought it fair for mere children.

  Three of the girls and one of the boys had been abused at home. Taking to the streets as soon as they could run that far, each had learned to sell themselves for survival.

  At an early age, the state had ripped away the remaining boy and girl from their neglectful parents. Both had spent years bouncing from one bad foster home to the next. It came as no surprise that each of them had become expert hustlers.

  Meredith rolled her shoulders. Everyone had to face one kind of prison or another in life, she guessed. Hers might not have been as bad as she'd always thought.

  By the end of the day's class in how to tack up, the small group was beginning to show signs of working together. Meredith was impressed with Abby's patience and knowledge in handling tempers and typical teen foolishness.

  While they all stood around in the barn after class, waiting for Abby to take the last horse back to its stall, the kids were joking and whispering in a corner as Meredith attempted to loop a coil of rope.

  "Hey, there, Meredith," Bryan, one of the boys, yelled out at her. "Wanna go dancing with me tonight?"

  "I'm afraid neither one of us has any transportation, Bryan." Meredith didn't really know how to dance, but she liked the good-natured camaraderie she shared with the kids. "That is, unless you want to try going out on the back of one of these horses we both seem to ride so well."

  Abby had introduced her as Cinco's computer consultant, Meredith Jones. But Meredith really wanted the kids to think of her as a friend. Her teasing put-down brought a roar from the rest of the teens as they jabbed at Bryan, howling and giggling too loudly.

  "Excuse me, ma'am," one of the girls said as she stepped away from the others and came closer to Meredith. "Bryan's a jerk, but we really do need your help tonight. You see, a bunch of kids from school are going to the Roadhouse Café later. They're having a kind of dance contest and charity barbecue and … well, we sort of told them that we'd be there."

  Meredith looked at their young, supposedly innocent faces. She wasn't getting the whole story here.

  "What about t
he families each of you is staying with, can't they take you? What do they think about this dance idea?" Meredith asked.

  "They all understand," another girl chimed in. "But they're too busy to take us."

  Meredith turned to each of the kids. "Did everyone's foster family say you could go?"

  "Most of the families have kids or neighbor kids our same age," Heather answered for the rest. "They know about the contest. But a couple of them insist we can't go without a responsible adult going along with us as chaperon. That's part of what we wanted you to do."

  Meredith hesitated. She wanted to help, and she would dearly love to escape the ranch for a night. But…

  "Look," Jack spoke up from behind a couple of the others—which Meredith found amazing, considering she'd only ever heard him speak once before. "We figured you'd have some idea of what being an outsider is like. We thought you might be willing to help us out, 'cause maybe you'd been in the same kind of spot at some time. But if we were wrong … just skip it. We'll find another way."

  Meredith did know what being an outsider was like. She'd been one most of her life. First in school where she never managed to fit in, then at the Academy where all women were slightly outcast—and now here on the Gentry Ranch.

  "I'd like to help you out, really," she told them. "But I simply don't have a way to get us there. Sorry."

  Abby came bustling into the barn after seeing to the last of the horses. "Sorry for what, Meredith?"

  "Your gang here needs a ride and a chaperon to go to the roadhouse tonight." All of a sudden Meredith thought she'd figured out an answer to their problems. "Would you take them?" Abby would do it, she was sure.

  After they explained the dilemma to her, Abby scrunched up her nose and scowled. "I heard some of the ranch hands' kids talking about that contest the other day. Didn't know it was tonight, though."

  Abby stuck her thumbs in the back pockets of her jeans. "Let me talk to Meredith a minute, will you guys?" she suggested to the group.