Tracker's Sin. Sarah McCarty
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anger struck her like a blow.
She took a step forward. His hands tightened on the reins. If he turned away now he’d never know how she felt, because she’d never get the courage to say it and he would always think her a coward. Formless memories howled behind the wall as she took that step. He scared her and he drew her.
But she owed him. That was all that mattered.
The horse tossed his head as she placed her hand on his rider’s thigh. Tracker controlled the nervous prancing with tension on the reins and the pressure of his knees. Muscle flexed against her palm. He was a very strong man with a reputation that made the worst outlaws cower. They said he was lethal with a knife, deadly with a gun and brutal with his fists. But looking up at him, all she saw was a man with the same haunted look in his eyes that she saw when she looked in the mirror. She wore a calm facade to hide her turmoil. He wore anger. But beneath both facades was pain. Common ground.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
He snorted and backed the horse up. “Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?”
She closed her fingers around the lingering warmth from his skin. Both. She couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m not afraid of you.”
He gave a curse she couldn’t understand, then muttered, “I’m going to get that drink.”
She didn’t have anything to say to stop him. Ari watched as Tracker walked the horse out of the barn, ducking his head to avoid hitting the lintel. Not for the first time, she missed the freedom to vent her frustrations that men had. Since her husband’s death she’d often wanted to pound on something or someone. And failing that, drink away the pain of memory she couldn’t recall.
Josefina called again. Before she left the barn, Ari grabbed Tracker’s untouched plate of food. Because of her, he was going hungry. Why did life have to be so complicated?
When she got to the yard, she could just make out rider and horse in the distance. Blowing errant curls off her forehead, she sighed and muttered, “Have one for me, too.”
Miguel was his normal cheery self. After tying his nappy, Ari blew on his plump little belly before tugging his shirt down. His toothless smile and happy giggle were as familiar as the routine. If it hadn’t been for him in those bleak months following her husband’s death she wasn’t sure she would’ve survived. Until his birth, her nights had been plagued by nightmares and her days with the struggle to remember.
But the day Miguel was born, she found an anchor for all the emotion inside, a reason to live that had nothing to do with needing to remember. Miguel was her future. She followed it. Josefina had been worried about her getting up to nurse the baby. She’d felt that maybe it would be too much for Ari to handle, and had suggested they put him on a bottle. But Miguel’s frequent need to feed had been a blessing, breaking the pattern of nightmares and allowing Ari to start a new, healthier pattern.
She touched Miguel’s button nose now and smiled into his deep brown eyes. She loved him so much. He gave her so much. She slid her hand down his cheek, marveling at the perfection of his much darker skin, searching as she always did for some familiarity in his features, checking the shape of his eyes, the sound of his laughter for some reminder of the man she had married. As always, there was nothing.
She picked him up, not finding her usual peace in his presence. “Your daddy would’ve loved you very much, cutie pie.”
“Sí, he would have been a very proud father.”
Settling Miguel against her shoulder, Ari turned to Josefina. “I wish I could remember him. It would be good to be able to tell Miguel something of his father.”
The woman smiled. “Vincente and I will tell him what he needs to know.”
There was that possessiveness in Josefina’s voice again that had been showing up more and more of late. Combined with the wording that eliminated Ari’s importance, it made her uneasy.
Josefina held out her hands. “I will take the little one.”
Ari turned away, not missing a flash of displeasure beneath the other woman’s smile. She refused to feel guilty. Miguel was her son. “Thank you, but I thought I’d take him outside to play.”
“It is dirty outside.”
“I’ll put a blanket down.”
“You are still unsettled from this morning.”
No, she wasn’t. She was actually doing quite well. Better than she had in a long time. And that was because of Tracker. The man had blown into her life like a tornado. All she knew of him was from legend and their brief interaction, but she felt she’d known him forever. Felt as if she needed to know more.
Are you sure you’re getting the right answers?
The Moraleses had given her a safe haven in which to heal and to have her child. She hadn’t questioned anything in those early months, just accepted the past as it was painted for her by Josefina. But with the rising tension in the household during the last few weeks, she’d begun to do some thinking on her own, because something was wrong and no one was talking. Josefina had become snappish and possessive of Miguel. And as a result, Ari had begun to notice how much of her life was controlled by the Moraleses.
And now they were going to send Tracker away under the pretext that he had upset her. Why? When he was the best protection they had?
Miguel grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled. She winced as she gently pried his fingers free before holding his hand in hers and bringing his fingers to her lips.
“He is getting muy fuerte,” Josefina praised, stroking his little arm.
Ari smiled. “Yes, thank goodness.” He was precious. The most precious thing there was. It didn’t make sense that Vincente would send away a Texas Ranger. And not just any Texas Ranger, but the legendary Tracker Ochoa, a man they said had once ridden into a blind canyon filled with outlaws lying in wait, and came out unharmed, with ten bodies draped over saddles. Men like that didn’t ride into their tiny town every day. They should be thinking of ways of keeping him there, not sending him away.
“I think we need to ask Tracker to stay.”
Josefina’s expression snapped closed. “No. He is a bad man. He will bring trouble.”
“We already have trouble.”
“Vincente will handle it.”
“Vincente is only one man.” And not a young one.
“It will work out.” Josefina patted Ari’s hand. “You will see. Vincente will talk to these men. We do not need the likes of that one.”
“That one is a respected Texas Ranger.” Ari didn’t know why she felt the need to defend Tracker, but she did.
“He has bad blood.” Josefina made a sign to ward off evil. “He attracts evil to him. You can see it in his eyes.”
The only things Ari had seen in Tracker’s eyes were pain and loneliness. And desire.
Josefina squeezed her hand before taking Miguel from her. “Your illness affects your judgment. You must trust me in this.”
Must she? The inner discontent that had been growing this last month flared. Ari wanted to reach out and grab Miguel out of the woman’s arms. Lord in heaven, was she really so crazy that she would turn on her family?
Are you sure you’re getting the right answers?
The skepticism in Tracker’s question bled into her beliefs. What did she really know about the Moraleses beyond what they told her? And if she was their daughter-in-law, why was there nothing of hers in the house? She and her husband had lived elsewhere, but couldn’t someone have brought her things? If for no other reason than to stimulate her memory?
“I want