Read Online Emmy's Equal by Marcia Gruver - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marcia Gruver
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who swiped drool from his face with his sleeve.
No doubt, she was the prettiest woman Diego had ever seen, but it wasn’t just her beauty. Greta was pretty. This girl carried herself like a stallion, fierce and proud, yet her eyes were wide and cautious, like a doe protecting her young.
She followed her three companions across the platform, heading his direction. As she neared, Diego’s chest tightened. When they came to a stop in front of the wagon, her roaming blue eyes locked on his, and he sucked air like a drowning man—a condition very difficult to hide. The effort rendered him speechless.
Luckily, Cuddy, who now seemed as sober as a preacher, stepped forward and offered his hand. “You folks must be the Danes.”
The older gentleman latched onto his palm and gave it a hearty shake. “That we are. I’m Willem. You must be John Rawson’s son.”
“Guilty as charged, sir.” Nodding at the women, Cuddy lifted his Stetson and pressed it to his chest, using the other hand to run his fingers through his hair. “Welcome to South Texas, ladies.”
He tugged on Diego’s sleeve, pulling him closer. “This here is Diego Marcelo, our foreman. We’ve come to escort you out to the Twisted-R Ranch.”
A sizable woman with hair the color of coffee beans returned his nod. “Thank you kindly, son. I’m Magdalena Dane.” She motioned to the slip of a woman at her side. “Allow me to present Mrs. Bertha Maye Bloom of Humble.”
The smaller woman, spry as a barn swallow, bobbed her head like one, and then Mrs. Dane turned to the vision in pink. “This is our daughter, Miss Emily Dane.”
The girl offered Cuddy her hand.
He bowed slightly and kissed it.
Diego’s hat came off fast when she turned his way. He wet his lips and opened his mouth to speak, not certain any sound would come out. “Miss Dane. I’m honored to make your acquaintance.”
“Thank you, Mr. Marcelo. I ... I’m...” The glow of color drained from her face.
Mrs. Dane clutched her daughter’s arm. “Emmy, are you all right?”
She nodded. “Fine. I just...”
She didn’t look fine. She looked green.
Diego stepped forward. “Perhaps the lady could use a glass of cool water? This part of Texas can be hard on a person unaccustomed to the heat.”
Swaying toward him, she blinked once before bending over and depositing her lunch in his hat.
CHAPTER 8
Once they left the depot in Uvalde, the scenery shifted and changed like the slow turns of a kaleidoscope. Instead of the miles of desert sand Emmy had expected, acres of waist-high grass covered the landscape, set off by an occasional grove of trees.
Farther along, after crossing the Nueces River, it changed even more. The grass alongside the road grew as high as the rider’s stirrups in some places then disappeared in others, choked out by rocks, sand, and brush. Live oak trees lined up next to sapling elms along the riverbank. Wide vistas of patchy grass mixed with scattered scrub brush and squatty trees that sported a tangle of wiry branches. Cacti dotted the landscape, lone sentinels, their fat green arms laden with purple fruit.
This piqued Emmy’s interest so much she couldn’t sit quietly another second. Scooting to the edge of her seat, she waved her hankie at them. “Look, Mama. What are those lovely bulbs on that cactus? I’ve never seen anything like them.”
Beside her, Aunt Bertha laughed. “That’s because you ain’t never seen any cactuses, child. Maybe the little ones in pots, but nothing like these beauties.”
Papa, who seemed in much better spirits, leaned around Mama for a better look. “Those are cactus pears. Very juicy and sweet on the palate, once you get past the spines, which I understand is very hard to do.”
“You mean you can eat them things?” Aunt Bertha’s voice was shrill with wonder.
“Yes, you can, Bertha.” Papa actually smiled. “According to John, they’re regular fare on the Rawsons’ table in season.”
Mama twisted on the
No doubt, she was the prettiest woman Diego had ever seen, but it wasn’t just her beauty. Greta was pretty. This girl carried herself like a stallion, fierce and proud, yet her eyes were wide and cautious, like a doe protecting her young.
She followed her three companions across the platform, heading his direction. As she neared, Diego’s chest tightened. When they came to a stop in front of the wagon, her roaming blue eyes locked on his, and he sucked air like a drowning man—a condition very difficult to hide. The effort rendered him speechless.
Luckily, Cuddy, who now seemed as sober as a preacher, stepped forward and offered his hand. “You folks must be the Danes.”
The older gentleman latched onto his palm and gave it a hearty shake. “That we are. I’m Willem. You must be John Rawson’s son.”
“Guilty as charged, sir.” Nodding at the women, Cuddy lifted his Stetson and pressed it to his chest, using the other hand to run his fingers through his hair. “Welcome to South Texas, ladies.”
He tugged on Diego’s sleeve, pulling him closer. “This here is Diego Marcelo, our foreman. We’ve come to escort you out to the Twisted-R Ranch.”
A sizable woman with hair the color of coffee beans returned his nod. “Thank you kindly, son. I’m Magdalena Dane.” She motioned to the slip of a woman at her side. “Allow me to present Mrs. Bertha Maye Bloom of Humble.”
The smaller woman, spry as a barn swallow, bobbed her head like one, and then Mrs. Dane turned to the vision in pink. “This is our daughter, Miss Emily Dane.”
The girl offered Cuddy her hand.
He bowed slightly and kissed it.
Diego’s hat came off fast when she turned his way. He wet his lips and opened his mouth to speak, not certain any sound would come out. “Miss Dane. I’m honored to make your acquaintance.”
“Thank you, Mr. Marcelo. I ... I’m...” The glow of color drained from her face.
Mrs. Dane clutched her daughter’s arm. “Emmy, are you all right?”
She nodded. “Fine. I just...”
She didn’t look fine. She looked green.
Diego stepped forward. “Perhaps the lady could use a glass of cool water? This part of Texas can be hard on a person unaccustomed to the heat.”
Swaying toward him, she blinked once before bending over and depositing her lunch in his hat.
CHAPTER 8
Once they left the depot in Uvalde, the scenery shifted and changed like the slow turns of a kaleidoscope. Instead of the miles of desert sand Emmy had expected, acres of waist-high grass covered the landscape, set off by an occasional grove of trees.
Farther along, after crossing the Nueces River, it changed even more. The grass alongside the road grew as high as the rider’s stirrups in some places then disappeared in others, choked out by rocks, sand, and brush. Live oak trees lined up next to sapling elms along the riverbank. Wide vistas of patchy grass mixed with scattered scrub brush and squatty trees that sported a tangle of wiry branches. Cacti dotted the landscape, lone sentinels, their fat green arms laden with purple fruit.
This piqued Emmy’s interest so much she couldn’t sit quietly another second. Scooting to the edge of her seat, she waved her hankie at them. “Look, Mama. What are those lovely bulbs on that cactus? I’ve never seen anything like them.”
Beside her, Aunt Bertha laughed. “That’s because you ain’t never seen any cactuses, child. Maybe the little ones in pots, but nothing like these beauties.”
Papa, who seemed in much better spirits, leaned around Mama for a better look. “Those are cactus pears. Very juicy and sweet on the palate, once you get past the spines, which I understand is very hard to do.”
“You mean you can eat them things?” Aunt Bertha’s voice was shrill with wonder.
“Yes, you can, Bertha.” Papa actually smiled. “According to John, they’re regular fare on the Rawsons’ table in season.”
Mama twisted on the
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