Texas Mum

“He said he’d spent a fortune on your education and you weren’t going to throw away his dream of you being a veterinarian on some oversexed foreigner. He followed me as I rounded up my crew, making sure we left the ranch. He swore if I tried to reach you, Estancia Sanchez would never sell another bull in Texas or surrounding states. That’s the bulk of our US business. I held up my end of the bargain, but he did all he could to ruin us. On top of that, we had to eat the cost of transporting home eight expensive bulls at a terrible time for my family. It’s only recently that Vicente was able to get anyone from the Southern rodeo circuit to consider our animals. If you don’t believe me, ask your father.”

Delaney massaged the suddenly icy skin of her upper arms. “I can’t ask him. The week after you left, he was out on the range, miles from the house, and his appendix ruptured. A neighbor saw buzzards circling late in the day and rode over to investigate. He found my dad on the ground, his horse watching over him. The medical examiner said gangrene had poured through Dad’s bloodstream, killing him. The weeks that followed were the worst of my life. For one thing, I had no idea he’d mortgaged the ranch to pay for my schooling. The banker said that rather than sell off land, Dad floated a second lien to buy the bulls. I didn’t even know Dad had become involved as a rodeo stockman. The bank ordered the bulls to be returned to you, not my dad. I had no home, no father and no practice to go with my new doctorate when what I thought was the flu turned out to be morning sickness.”

Dario’s eyes widened. “If what you say is true, Delaney, I’m sorry.”

“It is true. Every word,” she said huffily.

“But why didn’t you get hold of me then? Why wait so long?”

“My God, Dario, you had dropped out of my life. A woman has her pride.”

“You wait years, then spring this kind of news on me? Bah! So, who spread the word to other stockmen that our bulls were flawed?”

“I’ve no clue. Maybe my dad didn’t trust us, and called people anyway. He could see how badly I wanted to hear from you.” Delaney’s voice gave out.

Dario threw up his hands. “I tell you what, Delaney. Bring the boy to Buenos Aires. I’ll arrange for our family physician to do DNA testing. If that proves my paternity, I’ll undergo the other tests you want me to take.”

Gazing into his unyielding eyes, Delaney didn’t know where the kind, playful man she’d fallen in love with had gone. He could send off a swab to be tested. “You’re an ass, Dario Sanchez. Nickolas is too sick to travel.” Blinking back tears of frustration, she caught the eye of Dario’s sister who had ridden closer, and she beckoned to the girl. “If Maria Sofia will take me back to where I left my rental vehicle, I’ll go home and do all I can to increase the circle of potential donors. I’ll cast a wider net in the Texas Latino community.”

He met her glare for a moment, then shifted his gaze to the bull pens.

Maria Sofia barged between them on her horse. “Dayo, go to Texas to have the tests. I’ll go with you. I’m bored here at the estancia,” she said, tossing her long golden curls over one shoulder. “You all refuse to let me help with the business. While you’re at the hospital, I’ll explore Texas. We had a visiting professor from there, and I’d love to see the state. But Papa will never let me go unescorted.”

“Stay out of this, Maria Sofia.” Dario’s exasperation was evident. He ran both hands over his hair. He began to speak, excluding Delaney as if she wasn’t standing there. “Take Dr. Blair back to where you found her and get a phone number where she can be reached tonight. When I decide on a course of action, if any, someone will contact her.” He turned and walked away, dismissing Delaney completely as he called to the men lounging around the chute. “Bring in the next bull for tagging. Ahora mismo!”

Delaney’s heart sank lower. She’d failed Nickolas. She didn’t believe Dario would go through with the tests, but what more could she have said? Maybe she should have begged harder. Somehow she doubted if even crawling on her hands and knees to Dario would have made a dent. “He’s angry at me for things I had no part in doing,” Delaney said.

Maria Sofia stared after her brother. “This is so not like Dayo. Of all my brothers, he’s always the most thoughtful and reasonable. Maybe he needs time. You shocked him,” Maria Sofia said, gathering the reins and mounting her horse. She kicked out of one stirrup and offered her hand to Delaney to help her to swing up behind again.

“I suppose. I’m not sure how I would react if our positions were reversed,” Delaney said, wanting to look back as the girl clucked to the palomino and they trotted off. But she didn’t. Instead she wondered whether her father had gone to the lengths Dario claimed. Perhaps. He’d raised her alone from the age of three after her mother had drowned. She and Dario had loss in common. He’d told her his mother had died of a pulmonary embolism shortly after his youngest brother was born. And now his stepmother—killed in a car accident. They’d all suffered. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Nickolas.

* * *

IGNORING THE PAWING, snorting bull his two helpers dragged toward him, Dario tracked the retreating women. He wasn’t proud of the way he’d acted. He should call them back. Too late. Distracted by the amount of leg Delaney was showing, he’d let them get too great a head start.

The bull lashed out, one of his back hooves grazing Dario’s thigh. The handlers wrestled the animal into submission long enough for Dario to clip a brand pin through the bull’s ear. The men rattled off apologies, asking Dario in Spanish if he needed to have his leg looked at.

He shook his head. In spite of limping, he motioned for them to bring in the next bull. As he waited for them, his mind wandered. A son. Had he really fathered a child? The very notion sent warmth curling through his chest.

It wasn’t until he’d pinned three more bulls that he allowed himself to think about Delaney again. Five years had done nothing to dull the attributes he’d found so appealing when they’d met. Her red hair blazed like a wildfire. No less spunky, for sure, but maybe now she was thinner. He had noticed a change in her eyes. Still clear aqua in color, the bubbly spark had dimmed, replaced by a weariness he feared he’d had a part in causing. Undoubtedly he bore some blame. Maybe her dad hadn’t told her he’d kicked them off his ranch. His own Papa would do that if he caught someone sneaking out of Maria Sofia’s bedroom.

What a mess. Delaney’s life had certainly been altered forever. Not just having borne a child alone, but dealing with the abrupt death of her father. He could sure relate to that. And if, as she’d indicated, Mr. Blair’s demise had left her without the only home she’d ever known, well, it’d be a high hurdle to overcome. He had thought his family had weathered too much in the accident that took his stepmother’s life and paralyzed his dad from the waist down. Always stalwart, strong and larger than life, Arturo Sanchez had been left crotchety and bitter. Hell on wheels was how Vicente put it. Add to that their business problems, and their family dynamics had been transformed, leaving all of them short-tempered. Maybe losing their share of the US bull market wasn’t Delaney’s fault. She’d acted surprised. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to excuse the fact she’d waited five years to inform him he had a son—if indeed he did.

* * *

MARIA SOFIA RAISED her voice as she chattered nonstop on the ride back to Delaney’s SUV. Much of her conversation blew away on the wind.

As she reined to a halt by the automobile, she said, “Instead of leaving and going back to Buenos Aires, you need to stay. I know, why don’t you share our evening meal? If you like steak.” She wrinkled her nose in apparent distaste. “Consuelo is an excellent cook. She always prepares enough for a half dozen guests.”

“I can’t barge in on a meal. It’s clear I’m persona non grata with the bulk of your family,” Delaney said with panic, as she dismounted and shook down her dress. “With luck I may be able to have the hotel concierge arrange an earlier flight back to Texas for me. I’ve hit a brick wall here. I shouldn’t have come, but I had to take the chance, don’t you see?”

Leaning out of the saddle, Maria Sofia squeezed Delaney’s shoulder. “Don’t give up hope. Have faith that Dayo will think this over and do the right thing.”

The girl looked so earnest, Delaney’s dispirited heart gave one tiny lurch of hope. “I appreciate all you’ve done, Maria Sofia.” She slipped out from under the girl’s touch and opened her driver’s door. Taking her purse out from under the seat, she dug out the ignition key and slid beneath the wheel.

“Wait,” Maria Sofia called, dismounting in a leap. “Dayo said for me to get your phone number. And I’ll give you mine so you can let me know if you’re able to get a seat on an earlier flight.” She tugged a phone from her jeans pocket and hit a few keys before turning an expectant gaze on Delaney.

Delaney rattled off a string of numbers, then retrieved her cell and keyed in Maria Sofia’s contact information even though she was nowhere near as optimistic as Maria Sofia that Dario would have a change of heart. She managed a smile and a wave while sparing a last look at the walled estancia as she drove off.

* * *

DARIO LIMPED IN late to the evening meal. He’d finished tagging the entire crop of young bulls, separating out a good number to be made steers at a later date. He hadn’t been surprised to find his leg turning purple where he’d been kicked by the bull. He was bloody where the sharp hoof had split his skin.

“You’ve kept us waiting almost fifteen minutes,” Arturo Sanchez groused from his seat at the head of the large dining table. His wheelchair was within reach, but the family patriarch refused to remain in the chair at mealtimes.

“You didn’t have to wait on me,” Dario said, sitting next to Vicente. The whole family knew their father was a stickler for dinner being served at nine on the dot, as did most Argentinians.

Their cook, Consuelo Martinez, who’d been hired by Maria Sofia’s mother, bustled into the room bearing a large metal platter filled with sizzling bife de lomo, sirloin steaks grilled to each man’s preference. Arturo insisted his meat be muy jugoso—very rare. Vicente took his jugoso—not so rare. Dario and Lorenzo liked theirs a punto, or medium. Maria Sofia didn’t like meat, and so Consuelo served her a crisp ensalada before she set the family-sized salad bowl in front of Arturo, along with a newly opened bottle of red wine. The old man tasted the wine, approved of it, then passed the bottle to Vicente to pour for the others. Each night, Arturo’s sour expression showed his anger that the accident had left him unable to walk around the table to fill everyone else’s glass. No one spoke until after their father offered up a short prayer to the Blessed Virgin. Since the accident, mealtime discussions had become restrained.

But this evening everyone quit eating when, seconds after the prayer, Dario picked up his glass of wine and casually announced, “I banded all the bulls today. Tomorrow Marcus and Jesus will start castrating the animals we culled out. Then I’ll be going to America for a week or so to take care of some private business.”

Maria Sofia clapped her hands and squealed. “I knew you’d do what’s right. And I’m going with you, Dayo,” she said in English.

Their father’s head shot up, and his upper body stiffened. “What is this nonsense? You can’t go anywhere during calving.” His Spanish was precise.

Vicente let his fork clatter against his plate. “How did the woman find you? I ordered her to leave the property when she buzzed at the gate.”

“Who buzzed?” their younger brother Lorenzo asked. “What woman? Are you holding out on us, Dayo?” he added with a laugh.

“It’s the Blair woman from Texas,” Vicente spat. “The one whose father screwed us over and cost us a bundle in money and prestige the month Papa had his accident.”

“Oh. Her.” Lorenzo scowled at Dario.

“I repeat, how did she find you?” Vicente sneered as he shoved aside his plate.

“I took her to see him,” Maria Sofia said lightly. “She had good reason to be here. And Dayo has good reason to make this trip. Tell them,” she said. “Papa, you won’t let me sell bulls, so I’ll go have a look at Texas.”

Arturo pounded his fist on the table. “Enough,” he roared. “There is nothing the Blair woman could possibly say or do to warrant Dario going to see her. If she’s come sniffing around, she’s probably discovered that you’re now a full partner in the estancia, son. And Maria Sofia, you only just got home from London. You need to enroll in a dance class and volunteer at the museum. I already spoke to the curator on your behalf. We’ll stop this talk and everyone will eat the flan Consuelo prepared.”

Anger simmering, Dario wadded his napkin and dropped it on his plate. For some reason he didn’t like his family tearing into Delaney. “I don’t recall asking permission to take a week off, Papa. I’m going, and my business with Dr. Blair is personal.”

“I’ll say,” Maria Sofia purred. “Delaney Blair claims she has a four-year-old son, and Dayo’s the boy’s father.”

Everyone’s utensils clattered against their china. Stunned silence hung in the air. Suddenly, Arturo swore in rapid-fire Spanish, and Vicente and Lorenzo shouted questions in Spanglish—which wasn’t uncommon as they frequently switched from one language to the other for business.

“Why now?” Vicente’s voice rose above the others.

“I told you,” Arturo snapped, “she’s somehow learned that I divided the estate between you three boys, which makes Dario a wealthy catch.”