Tracker's Sin

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 to go home,” she told Josefina. There was the slightest hesitation before the older woman set Miguel down on the blanket on the floor of the main room.

“You are home.”

Ari licked her lips and tried again. It was so painful for the Moraleses when she brought up their son. She couldn’t blame them for always changing the subject. “I know this is difficult for you, but I need to go to the home that I shared with Miguel’s father. I know you think it’s only going to…upset me again, but it’s something I need to do. I need to touch something from Antonio’s and my life together.”

So it would feel real.

“You have proof of your life together in your son.”

Ari had tried before and never succeeded in convincing Josefina that Miguel had nothing to do with his father in her mind. He somehow seemed more connected with her survival than her past. Of course, she hadn’t tried very hard. But Tracker’s arrival had done more than stir feelings of being a woman. It had also stirred her need to find some part of herself that had been lost on that bloody day when her husband had been killed.

“When I look at Miguel, I see nothing of Antonio. When I look at my baby, I see Miguel’s eyes, Miguel’s nose, Miguel’s face. It’s almost like Antonio never existed.”

Josephine stumbled and bumped into the small table beside the horsehair sofa. The lamp on top rocked. Ari hurried over to catch it before oil spilled over the floor.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Josefina straightened and smoothed her hair with a hand that shook. The shaking might have been from the small fright, but that sick feeling in Ari’s stomach grew worse.

“Antonio did exist, didn’t he?”

Josefina made the sign of the cross. “How dare you ask me such a thing? My son was very much a man.”

Ari immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I keep trying to explain that he’s just not real to me. I need him to be real. I need to go home to touch that part of me that I lost.”