The Man From High Mountain. Kay David
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the distance, but she knew he wasn’t seeing the enormous ranch he’d just bought. He was seeing the succession of mobile homes and dirty apartments and temporary shelters he and his brothers had lived in as children. He was seeing the hard life and the missed opportunities and the mother buried at the county’s expense. He was seeing how far he’d come—from being a kid who owned one shirt to being a successful businessman who had now fulfilled his final dream. Owning a three-section ranch flat in the middle of West Texas. One thousand, nine hundred and twenty acres to be exact.
She swallowed the words she’d been about to say and put her arm around his shoulder. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. Truly gorgeous. I love it!”
He turned to her, his eyes sparkling. “Do you really?
“I do,” she insisted loyally, nodding her head up and down. “It’s absolutely perfect. Ranch heaven. I couldn’t have picked a better place myself!”
Reassured by her words, as she knew he would be, he stepped away from the truck, the gravel beneath his boots crunching in the total and absolute isolation. The silence around them was overwhelming. Twenty miles off the main highway, they’d come at least fifty miles beyond that from the nearest town, High Mountain—which was, in fact, little more than a general store, a sad motel, and one lone Mexican food diner.
She glanced uneasily toward the guide at the rear of the truck. She hoped he was as good as he was supposed to be. What if they got lost? What if someone got hurt? They could be out here for days and see no one, absolutely no one. She studied the tall, slim man, understanding now that their lives literally depended on him.
He hadn’t said two words to her after their introduction, but Jack had been totally at ease with Cole Reynolds. Usually cautious around strangers, Jack had been impressed with the taciturn man, telling Taylor last night that Cole knew the area better than anyone around. He was part Jumano Indian, Jack had explained, and had lived in the area all his life. Chattering about the details as they’d gotten ready for bed, Jack had seemed to enjoy the fact that their ranch was so huge they needed a tracker to lead them in.
“Once we get the roads paved, we’ll be fine,” he’d said, slipping between the covers, “but until then it’s best if we let Cole help us. He’s terrific—we definitely won’t get lost with him in charge.”
She walked to the back of the truck where the guide was unloading supplies. She paused by the bumper. “Need some help?”
At her voice, Cole Reynolds glanced up and met Taylor’s gaze. She told herself she was being silly, but looking into his endlessly dark stare was like peering into a bottomless pit, and something tripped over her nerves. His eyes were so black she saw nothing except her own reflection. Suddenly rattled, she shifted her gaze. The skin that was stretched over his high cheekbones and bladelike nose was burnished into a deep rich tan. The dark hair that curled around the planes of his face only served to emphasize the copper tones.
“I’d like to do something,” she said, repeating her offer just to break the tension she felt under his silent gaze. “May I help?”
“No thanks,” he said curtly. Reaching back into the truck, he pulled out another pack, the muscles of his back straining beneath the white T-shirt he wore, the faded denim of his jeans stretching across his buttocks. He straightened. “You’re gonna have enough to do once we start walking. You’d better wait in the shade by the truck for now. Conserve your energy.”
His answer made perfect sense, and there was no hint of condescension in his voice. He was quietly competent and interested only in doing his job. Still, Taylor felt herself react. She had a sixth sense about people and something told her there was more to this man than the calm, cool exterior she saw. She wondered nervously what it was.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Reynolds?” She spoke lightly, making her voice hold amusement. “Think I can’t make it?”
The guide continued to pull gear out of the truck. After a moment he stopped and straightened completely. She hadn’t realized how tall he was until then. Six feet plus, she figured.
“I think you’re from Houston, I think you’re not accustomed to this kind of heat, and I think you’re in for a shock about just how rugged this part of Texas is.” He stared at her a second longer, then reached into the back of the truck for a beat-up black cowboy hat. Tugging at it, one hand in the front, one in the rear, he settled it onto his head. “That’s what I think.”
She didn’t quite know what to make of his answer. “Well, if that’s the case, why did you agree to bring us out here?”
“It’s what I do.” The soft words, spoken in his West Texas drawl, hovered in the air between them. “I take people places they can’t get to on their own. Then I bring them back.”
“Are you two ready?” Jack appeared suddenly at Taylor’s side, rubbed his hands and grinned engagingly. “I am. Can’t wait as a matter of fact.”
Grateful for the interruption, Taylor turned to her husband and smiled. “Think you’ll feel that way tomorrow?”
He leaned over and kissed her on the nose. “No. By then, I’ll want a hot bath and a pitcher of margaritas. But right now, I’m ready to see my ranch.”
They spent the next half hour strapping on their backpacks and getting ready, Cole explaining the terrain they’d be crossing and what to watch for, including rattlesnakes. They had a lot of ground to cover. There was a deep water spring in the southwest corner and Jack wanted to check on the old ranch house that was supposed to be somewhere near the western edge, too. They set out, Taylor quickly forgetting about the man leading them as her husband eagerly began to show her his “spread,” as he laughingly called the ranch.
By noon, though, Taylor’s feet were screaming and she was a nervous wreck from imagining snakes under every rock. Just as she was about to give in and request a stop, Cole raised a hand and pointed to an outcrop of rocks ahead of them in the distance.
“That’s the edge of the canyon. We’ll stop there and eat lunch. Rest for a bit.” He turned around and glanced at Taylor. His voice was noncommittal. “Okay with you, Miz Matthews?”
She answered breezily. “Whatever...”
He nodded once and continued to walk, the picture of competence. Something about him bothered her, but he definitely knew what he was doing, she had to admit that. Jack was right—they wouldn’t get lost with Cole Reynolds in charge.
They reached the rocks within minutes. As she peeled off her pack, Jack came to her side. “Walk over to the canyon with me,” he said. Glancing at Cole who was preparing their lunch, Jack smiled, the expression lifting his mouth and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I want to show it to you by myself.”
She forgot about her feet as she saw the enthusiasm in his expression. A surge of love came over her, and she took her husband’s hand. “I’d like that.”
She’d expected something different, but the sight that greeted them when they reached the edge stole Taylor’s breath. As if a giant had taken a hatchet and chopped open the earth, a red slash, at least a hundred feet wide, gaped at their feet, going on for miles and miles. The gorge was deep, too, so deep even the noontime sun didn’t dispel the shadows in the bottom. In the eerie silence she could hear the faint sound of rushing water at the bottom and a jingling sound, almost like a horse’s halter. They edged closer until they were standing right on the rim, on one of the rocky ledges surrounding the very perimeter. Taylor felt dizzy.
Jack pointed downward. “That’s the Rio Diablo. The ranch got its name from the river. El Rancho del Diablo—The Devil’s Ranch.” Tilting his head to indicate the land on the other side, he spoke again. “And that’s Mexico.”
“It’s beautiful.” Looking around the stark and lonely landscape, Taylor realized for the first time she meant what she’d just said. The land was beautiful. Bleak and barren, it stretched on forever, the red rocks and few gnarled trees standing out starkly against a sky that particular shade of blue that burned