Read Online And Yesterday Is Gone by Dolores Durando - Free Book Online

morning. But under that fine linen shirt beat the same heart.
    His eyes widened, but only slightly, at the appearance of several young women, exquisitely gowned, who appeared from nowhere. None were seated until Carlos made his choice.
    The festivities lasted through the night and into the next day, but on the third day, it was all business. The women, with one exception, had been sent back to the city.
    The men, sequestered around a long table, were interrupted only by the appearance of food.
    Plans were being made to enlarge the operation.
    â€œI’ll need at least two men to start the new field—and double the supplies. Now let your barn help enjoy the mutton.”
    When the truck appeared as if by magic, it was fully loaded with extra supplies and two young Mexican men.
    â€œI’ll be back soon—I liked the accommodations,” Carlos said as he closed the door.
    The truck pulled away and the woman waved indifferently, pulling her fur coat tightly about her. Two men in the back clutched the tarp tightly to keep themselves and the supplies out of the wind.
    The windshield wipers worked furiously as the heavily loaded truck moved toward the Calaveras Mountains.
    She lay asleep, her legs curled under her, her head on Carlos’ thigh, his hand caressing through the long, auburn hair, then sliding about in the luxuriant fur.
    The two men, wet and cold, huddled beneath the tarp that struggled to free itself from the desperate clutch of their hands, cursed the gringos, the driver, the rain and prayed for their destination to appear.
    The younger Mexican spoke through chattering teeth, “I’d sooner swim the river.”
    â€œNot me, at least nobody’s shooting at us.”
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    At the ranch, Lupe agonized. What if? What if? What if Steve had been discovered? Her life would be on the line. Juan would probably get off with a beating. All too well, she knew Carlos’ murderous temper.
    She watched the pickup bounce up the driveway and stop at the bunkhouse, surprised to see strange men unloading supplies. Why there? she wondered.
    Carlos was carrying something up the walkway. After pushing the door open, he stepped in and kicked it shut as he released his hold on the woman in his arms. She swayed against him, her coat slid to the floor in a soft heap around the high-heeled shoes. She smiled vacantly at Lupe.
    Carlos steered her to the bedroom where she collapsed on the bed with the same vacant smile. He covered her with the coat.
    Fear and rage made Lupe’s voice tremble as she demanded, “Who is this woman? Why is she here?”
    With a smile, Carlos answered, “She is my woman, my cook.”
    A fleeting memory of a time she had been all Carlos had ever needed forced the words, “Since when haven’t I been your woman, your cook?”
    â€œSince Ollie.” He sneered. “You go down to the bunkhouse and cook for those new men. Help the gringo with the sheep. It gets chilly down there—take a blanket.”
    â€œCarlos, are you crazy? You know I won’t sleep in the bunkhouse. I won’t go—and to hell with the sheep.”
    His eyes glittered. “You? You’ll tell me what you’ll do?” His voice was hardly above a whisper. He stepped closer and held her by the arm with one hand; a finger of the other traced a line below her chin from ear to ear.
    He dropped her arms and hissed, “Get out.”
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    Two days later, the rain still fell, washing away the dirt that covered the roots of the hillside brush and causing streams of water to cascade down the steep slopes of the canyon. When the downpour paused momentarily, the men rushed up the eroded path to the safety of the tent.
    Carlos watched through the rain-streaked window, but turned when he smelled the scorched eggs, heard the sizzle of the coffee as it boiled over.
    The woman slumped at the table, barefoot,