A Baby Changes Everything

Two

S avannah made it upstairs less than half an hour later, after clearing the table and putting away all the untouched food. She’d gone to the trouble of cooking mainly for Cruz. The way her stomach was behaving, it didn’t welcome eating no matter what time of day she tried. The best she could hope for was to keep down a few crackers at a time.

Crossing the threshold into their room, she found him facedown on the bed, his face pressed against a pillow. Cruz was sound asleep.

She sighed. Her husband looked as if he’d crashed on the bed the second he came into the room. His body was sprawled on top of the covers, his opened shirt fanned out on either side of him like denim wings. Savannah shook her head. Cruz hadn’t even bothered getting undressed, except for his boots.

The air in the master bedroom was oppressively heavy. It felt sticky, still ripe with the day’s humidity. Savannah walked to the windows on either side of the king-size bed and opened them as far as they would go, hoping to get a little air circulating through the room.

Nothing happened. If there was a breeze in the vicinity, it was avoiding them.

Not bothering to shed the loose-fitting sundress she had on, Savannah lay down on the other side of the bed and pretended that all was well in her life.

“Why didn’t you put your nightgown on last night?”

It was the first question she heard when she walked into the kitchen the next morning.

Savannah felt groggy. Her stomach was just now inching its way down from her throat after being lodged there for the better part of the last fifteen minutes, as she’d knelt over the toilet bowl. She’d then crept down the darkened stairs, making her way through the all but pitch-black house, guided by the light coming from the kitchen.

Cruz was sitting at the table, eating. He’d fixed his own breakfast. Again.

So now she felt useless as well as harried and ignored.

“You noticed.” Savannah hadn’t meant to let the cryptic words escape, especially in that tone, but they had.

A piece of toast raised to his lips, Cruz looked at her as if he thought her pregnancy had somehow loosened a few screws in her head.

“Of course I noticed. You were lying right there beside me.”

Savannah shrugged as she opened the refrigerator and moved a few things around. “Since you were wearing your clothes, it seemed like the thing to do.”

Taking out a container of milk, she poured the glassful she forced herself to drink every morning. As she raised it to her lips, she felt her stomach tighten in rebellion.

Taking her words to be a criticism, Cruz did his best to stifle the annoyance that rose up like a tidal wave inside of him. He’d never had a long fuse, but lately his temper was exceedingly short. “I was exhausted.”

Savannah put the container back in the refrigerator and sat down at the table, joining him. “You’re always exhausted.”

His back went up, even though he continued eating. “Running a ranch takes a lot out of a man.”

Savannah set the glass down after only two sips. She absolutely hated milk. “Then let someone help you run it.”

He used the edge of his toast to coax the last of his scrambled eggs onto his fork. “You mean like you?” He shook his head as he took another bite. “You’re already doing the bookkeeping. And you’ve got Luke and the house, not to mention that you’re—”

Savannah cut him off. How could someone so smart be so thick? “I know exactly what I’ve got to do.” The words rang a bit too sharply in her ears, but she couldn’t seem to control the tone of her voice this morning. “And I didn’t mean me. I meant one of the hands.” She thought a second. “What about Paco?”

Cruz could literally feel annoyance creasing his brow. In the next minute it was gone as he reined in the frustration that seemed to appear more and more quickly these days whenever he was home.

“I told you before, Paco left.” Impatience returned despite his best efforts to keep it in check. “Don’t you listen to me?”

“I listen to you,” she said with indignation. “I can count every word you’ve said to me in the last month. There haven’t been many.”

Was she going to start in on that again? “Look, Savannah—”

She didn’t want to argue. She wanted to find a solution. Desperately, she went over the names of the other ranch hands. “What about Hank?”

Cruz stopped and stared at her. Just what was his wife up to? “Hank?”

“Why can’t he share some of the burden in running the ranch?” she asked slowly. “Maybe you can make him your foreman.”

He had never appointed a foreman. It was something he’d meant to do, but found himself putting off time and again. Naming a foreman meant giving someone else a share of the responsibilities that he viewed as his own. It was his ranch. His brand on everything. His good name that hung in the balance if anything went wrong.

Cruz frowned, looking down at his plate. “Hank’s not ready for it.”

Why not? Savannah asked herself. Just the other day her husband had mentioned how well the man was working out. Didn’t Cruz remember? “He’s been here almost two years—”

“I said he’s not ready for it.”

She pushed herself away from the table, glaring at Cruz. Damn it, he was doing this on purpose. “In your opinion, no one’s ready for it. I think you’re just using the ranch as an excuse not to come home to us at a decent hour.”

Like a man standing on one leg on a tightrope, Cruz felt as if he was being pushed beyond his endurance. “You want decent hours, you should have married some fancy businessman who clocks in from nine to five, not me.”

She stared at him. Where had that come from? There’d never been anyone but him in her life. “I didn’t want a fancy businessman, I wanted you.”

He caught hold of the one word that threw everything they had into jeopardy. “‘Wanted?’”

“Want. I still want you,” she amended, realizing what her slip must have sounded like. “But I never get to see you.”

He finished his cup of coffee and put it back on its saucer. “What are you talking about? We see each other every day.”

That didn’t count and he knew it, Savannah thought. “For what?” she demanded. “Ten, fifteen minutes at a clip? You’re always either on your way out the door or too tired to keep your eyes open.”

“If that’s true, how did that happen?” Cruz shifted his eyes toward her belly and the child who was growing there.

Picking up his plate and empty coffee cup, Savannah took both to the sink. “Once in five months doesn’t count.”

His manhood insulted, Cruz required a hefty dose of self-control to keep his temper and reaction in check. “It’s been more than once,” he corrected hotly.

She ran hot water on the plate and left it in the sink to soak for a moment. Then she shut off the tap and wiped her hands.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t know what you mean,” he retorted, addressing his words to the back of her head. “You make it sound as if I’m having fun out there.”

Tossing the towel aside, Savannah swung around. “Well, aren’t you? In a way, aren’t you having the time of your life out there? Horses are your first love, aren’t they?”

Angry words sprang to his tongue. Cruz pressed his lips together, struggling to hold them in, knowing that once they were said, there was no way to take them back. He tried to cut her some slack because of her condition, even though she seemed bent on not cutting him any.

“I’m beginning to think the horses understand me better than you do,” he said darkly.

Her eyes narrowed. They were fighting. The fight was unfolding in front of her and she felt like a bystander at a train wreck, unable to stop what was happening. Unable to curb the words that kept flying up to her lips, demanding release.

“That’s probably because they get to see you more often.” Taking the glass of milk, she threw the contents down the drain, then clutched the sides of the sink, trying to pull herself together. None of the words being exchanged were ones she’d meant to say this morning. She took a deep breath, trying to center herself. “Look, Cruz, I don’t want to argue.”

Standing up, he threw down the napkin he’d used to wipe his mouth, echoing the movement of knights of old when they threw down a glove as a silent challenge.

“For a woman who doesn’t want to argue, you do a damn poor job of reaching your goal.”

And then, because he truly did love her, Cruz made his own attempt to smooth things out. Maybe he hadn’t been supportive enough, but hell, he was busier than God these days. Every time he turned around, there were more bills to face, more problems to smooth out. And that didn’t even include the training. Cutting horses required a great deal of time and attention.

“Look,” he began again, “you’re pregnant. Your hormones or whatever are all over the map. Why don’t you leave Luke with one of my sisters today and take a bubble bath or something?”

As if soapy water could somehow magically change everything between them, she thought.

Well, she amended, maybe it could at that. Or at least it could help her take a stab at starting over.

Turning from the sink, she crossed to him, then smiled. “I’d like to take a bubble bath. With you.”

He felt the effects of her smile. It was like watching sunshine rise over a darkened land. “That’s too girlie.”

Another wave of nausea threatened to overtake her. Savannah concentrated on pushing it back. This was far more important. She wound her arms around her husband’s neck, playing with the dark locks of hair at his collar.

“Not if I’m in the tub with you…”

He could feel the heat from her body. The heat from his own. “Yeah, well…”

Sensing her advantage, Savannah pressed herself against him, her eyes taking him prisoner. “Like we used to, Cruz.”

“We never took a bubble bath together,” he protested, but not too vehemently.

“No,” she agreed, grinning. “But we took showers together. Don’t you remember soaping up each other’s bodies?” Her voice was soft, low. It stirred him. “Don’t you remember what it was like, Cruz, drying each other off?”

His body was rebelling, betraying him. Now wasn’t the time or the place! “Savannah, you know you’re making me crazy.”

“Am I, Cruz? Am I?” Hope lit a tiny candle in the dark center of her soul. She pressed her body against his, feeling the imprint of it along her own. Feeling him harden. She had him, she thought in heady triumph. She just needed to press her advantage. “Why don’t you take the morning off? We can drop Luke off at one of your sisters, just like you said.” She raised herself on her toes, her face turned up to his. “Spend a little time together.”

Her mouth was seductively close. Temptation leaped out at him, taking hold.

He wasn’t made out of stone and he loved his wife. From the moment she’d returned to the Double Crown Ranch, there hadn’t been another woman around who could even remotely tempt him. He didn’t want anyone else. It was as if he’d buried that part of him that had searched for answers in other women’s beds. Savannah was the only answer he’d ever wanted or needed.

But right now he was needed elsewhere, not here, giving in to his own desires.

Cruz struggled to hold himself back. He knew that if he gave in to the ever-increasing wave of desire within him, if he even kissed Savannah, he’d be sunk.

He couldn’t afford to let that happen. There was so much to do today.

Very gently, he took hold of the arms around his neck and untangled himself from her. He saw the confusion, the disappointment in her eyes and felt something twist within his gut.

But she’d been his wife for over five years now. She understood about this life they led. What was required. “Honey, I just can’t today. I’ve got five new horses coming in.”

Frustrated beyond words, she wanted to scream, to rant. For the first time in her life, she wanted to throw a full-scale tantrum. “And you have to greet them personally?”

He tried to put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. They were back in their corners again. “Savannah, you know better than that.”

Stepping away from him, she sighed. “Yes, I know better than that.”

He couldn’t stand to see the sadness in her eyes. Allowing himself one final moment before hurrying out the door, Cruz paused to take her chin in his hand. Tilting her head back just a little, he lightly brushed his lips over hers.

“Soon,” he promised. “Just be patient a bit longer.”

“What choice do I have?” Savannah murmured, feeling dejected. She saw another endless, frustrating, lonely day stretch out in front of her. A day without Cruz. She dearly loved her son, but she needed a break from him. A break from him and time with her husband. But that wasn’t going to happen.

Her eyes met Cruz’s, willing him to stay. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” he told her. “This is all for you, you know that. For you and Luke.” Grabbing his hat, he started to leave the kitchen.

“No,” she said sadly to his back. “It’s all for you. Because I could live in a mud hut, as long as you were right there beside me.”

Wearily, Cruz spun on his heel to look at her. She was spouting romantic nonsense and he was in no mood for it. “No,” he said evenly, “you couldn’t. Because you can’t wear mud, you can’t eat mud, you can’t hand a bucket of mud to the doctor. It takes money, Savannah. Everything takes money and I’m earning it the only way I know how.” And he was getting damn tired of having to justify himself to her on top of everything else he had to do. “Go call one of my sisters. Take that bubble bath,” he instructed. “You’ll feel better.”

She said nothing as the sound of his boots receding on the wooden floor echoed through the silent house. The next moment, she heard the front door closing.

“No, I won’t,” she countered. “The only thing that will make me feel better is knowing that you’re still in love with me.”

And she had grave doubts about that. Doubts that her giving in to her heart and marrying Cruz had been the right thing to do, after all.

Maybe she had made a mistake.

She’d held out in the beginning because she hadn’t wanted what her parents had had. Theirs was a marriage forged by guilt, held together by desperation, and eventually disintegrated by mutual loathing. All because they’d set out to “do the right thing” in the beginning. Her mother had been pregnant with her when she and her father had gotten married, and not a day went by in her childhood that they allowed her to forget it. To forget that she was the reason for their misery.

She had grown up feeling responsible for generating the unhappiness of not just one person, but two. She’d also grown up vowing that when it was her turn, she was not going to marry for any other reason than love.

Everlasting love.

And when she’d looked into Cruz’s ruggedly handsome face, that was exactly what she’d felt. She’d known that she was always going to love him all the days of her life, no matter what.

But as far as being assured that he would feel the same…well, that had taken some convincing on his part. But he’d worn her down, making her believe that he truly wanted her, not because it was the honorable thing to do, but because he loved her.

Maybe he was a better actor than she’d given him credit for.

Or maybe she’d just talked herself into it. After all, if Cruz did love her, would he be using the ranch as an excuse to be away from her except for a few hours a day? Would he be so caught up in his horses that he didn’t have any time to spare for her or the child he’d given his name to?

Cruz had been extremely fussy when it came to hiring men to work on his ranch. Right now they had three very capable hands, two who lived on the property in a mobile trailer Cruz’s parents had given them. Men he’d told her he relied on.

So why wasn’t he delegating any responsibility to them? Why did he have to be personally involved in every single tiny aspect of running the ranch? He was so completely hands-on. From the feeding and handling of the horses right down to the maintenance of the fences that kept his herd of twenty-five within the five-hundred-acre ranch, he was there for everything.

First one up, last one down.

It was as if he had something to prove. Over and over again, every day. As if he was the last man hired instead of the one who handed out the paychecks.

Despite the summer heat, which was still stifling in the early-morning hours, Savannah poured hot water over the tea bag she’d plunked into her cup. Maybe tea would help soothe her stomach, although she didn’t hold out much hope.

She took the cup back to the table, hoping to pull herself together before Luke bounced out of bed.

Clutching the cup with both hands, she brought it to her lips and blew before taking the smallest sip and letting the liquid wind down into her stomach.

Granted, she’d known when she married Cruz that he would never be a gentleman rancher. That he wouldn’t be just marginally involved in the day-to-day activities but would plunge into them, full steam ahead. That was what she loved about him—that he could get involved with something wholeheartedly.

She just never thought that it would ultimately be to the exclusion of her and their child.

Cruz had been a horse whisperer when she’d first met him, a man who had an almost uncanny affinity for the animals he trained. He could take a horse with a broken spirit, a horse that seemed infused with the very devil himself, and somehow find a way to reach the animal. To form a bond and communicate with it until that animal had completely transformed into a horse that could be trained, managed. A horse that any owner would be proud to have.

First Cruz would breach the chasm, then became one with the horse, and the horse would become one with him. It was a thing of beauty to watch.

But now it seemed that he had thrown her over for the horses.

The horses and everything that went with them. The care, the cleaning, the feeding and the mucking out of the stalls, every aspect of the animals’ lives came before sharing time with his family.

And she hadn’t a clue how to change that.

Savannah felt tears stinging her eyes. How had she lost him?

Why didn’t he love her as he used to?

She thought of the tiny moment they’d shared just before he’d left. The old Cruz was still in there somewhere. She just needed to find a way to bring him out again.

To have him want her again.

Savannah glanced at her reflection in the darkened window just above the sink as the first rays of dawn began to materialize along the horizon. She turned sideways, critically studying herself. Her body wasn’t misshapen yet.

Maybe she could seduce him.

A hopeful smile curved her lips. The idea had merit.

Three

T he second Savannah finished making the last of the new entries into the computer program she used to track La Esperanza’s expenses, she saved the data and turned off her computer.

Closing the laptop, she turned toward her son, who was still very enamored with the action figures Vanessa had given him yesterday. Both monster and monster eradicator were making awful noises, courtesy of Luke. Any other time it might have been enough to get a bad headache rolling in Savannah’s skull.

But not today. She had a plan to get rolling instead. And a marriage to get back on track.

Glancing at Luke, she saw that he was perched on top of the sofa, a figure in each hand. Obviously the fantasy he was acting out had taken the two characters and their orchestrator up to the top of some mountain.

“You know the rules, Luke,” she called out to him. “No flying off the sofa.”

Clutching his figures to him, he pushed out his bottom lip. “Aw, Mama.”

She gave him her best no-nonsense look. “No ‘aw, Mama.’ Down, mister.”

Luke scooted his bottom down along the upholstery, then scrambled off the cushion. Before she could blink, he was on the floor, using the massive coffee table as a new battlefield.

Satisfied that Luke was safe for a nanosecond, she picked up the receiver and dialed Rosita’s home phone. Her mother-in-law was always her first choice when it came to Luke. The woman and her husband doted on the boy. If, by some wild chance, Rosita and Ruben were busy tonight, she knew she could always fall back on any one of her four sisters-in-law, or Vanessa, for that matter. Luke felt equally comfortable with all of them.

Tonight, Savannah decided, her firstborn was going to be sleeping in a bed other than his own. And she was going to reclaim what was rightfully hers.

Theirs, she amended, as she listened to the phone on the other end ringing. Because Cruz had been happy once, too. Happy making love with her. Happy with just loving her, the way she did him.

All married couples went through doldrums, Savannah told herself as she silently counted off the number of times the phone rang. Discord was only natural. It was up to her to see that they carved out a little island of time for themselves, recharged their batteries, so to speak.

It wasn’t that she had less to do than Cruz. In her own way, she firmly believed that she had just as much if not more to do than the man she’d promised to give her love to for all eternity. He had the ranch to run, she had everything else to run. The house, the books, their son and any emergency that might come up.

But then, women were far more resilient than their male counterparts and capable of multitasking on top of that. Ordinarily she was that way herself, when she wasn’t pregnant. Lately, though, she kept flagging, as if she couldn’t hang on to her energy for more than a few minutes at a time.

She didn’t remember being this exhausted when she was carrying Luke.

The phone on the other end was finally picked up. She straightened, eager to set her plan in motion.

“Hello, Mama?” The woman had insisted that she call her Mama after the wedding, and in truth, Savannah felt closer to Rosita than she ever had to her own mother. The name rolled easily from her tongue.

“Savannah?” There was immediate concern in the other woman’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

Savannah did her best to sound as cheerful as possible. Anything less and Rosita would be over in a flash, thinking the worst. It was Rosita’s belief that she had far too much happiness in her life, and she was always anticipating a reversal.

“Nothing’s wrong, Mama. I was just wondering if you’d mind taking your grandson for the night?”

“You know I’d love to have Luke over here anytime, but why tonight? Are you two going somewhere?”

To paradise, I hope. Savannah gauged her words carefully, not sure just how much Cruz would appreciate her telling her mother-in-law. He was very proud and this might offend his sense of independence. “Cruz has been working very hard lately—”

She could almost see Rosita nodding her dark head in agreement. “Takes a lot to run a ranch.”

“Yes, I know, he said the same thing.” Savannah suppressed the sigh that tried to rise to her lips. “But he’s forgotten how to unwind.”

“Unwind?”

The woman was probably unfamiliar with the term. “To relax. To enjoy himself.” Savannah paused. Then, because she liked the woman and because she had a feeling that Rosita would guess anyway, she added, “To be a husband again.”

Rosita caught on immediately, as Savannah knew she would. “Ah, I see. Of course. I can have Ruben come by and pick the boy up now if you’d like. It would give me extra time with my beautiful grandson—and you extra time to do whatever it is you need to do to help Cruz…unwind.”

Savannah didn’t want to seem as if she was eager to ship her son off, but in reality, Rosita had a good point. She’d get twice as much done without having Luke in tow. “Well…”

“Consider it done,” Rosita said, taking the decision out of her daughter-in-law’s hands. “Ruben will be there in less than half an hour. Have Luke and his favorite toys ready. And, Savannah?”

“Yes?”

“Good luck.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t bother commenting that if she had to rely on luck to make Cruz come around, then her marriage really was in serious trouble.

Cruz was well pleased.

The four quarter horses he’d arranged to buy looked even better walking off the back of the transport than they had when he had first seen them running free on Eric Tyler’s ranch. All four were fine specimens of their breed. And intelligent.

He could tell that the horses he’d picked were intelligent just by moving among them, the way he was now. He was getting a bead on them and they were getting one on him. He liked that.

Nothing worse than a dumb animal, he thought, at least for what he had in mind. He trained quarter horses to become cutting horses, animals specifically intended to herd cattle. A good horse could even prevent a stampede from getting under way, separating one frightened steer from the others before the mindless pounding of hooves and the surge of escape began.

Not that he couldn’t handle an animal blessed with less than the intelligence he saw on display today. Very slowly, he wound a lariat around his arm as he eyed the newest additions to his herd.

He had a way of communicating with horses that at times surprised even him. Had he been one of the Plains Indians, he might have said he was bonding with his brothers. But no such thought crossed Cruz’s mind when he walked into the small, tight corral to transform yet another horse from a skittish, rebellious animal to one that was willing to work for its master. To bring the fruit of its abilities to the man or woman who fed and cared for him or her.

However, something happened when Cruz was alone with a horse, something he could not explain. Something that almost allowed him to form a spiritual bond with the creature, to feel what the horse was feeling, to understand what caused its distrust or its pain.

When he had worked for the Double Crown, he had been given the toughest horses to break. Horses that had long since been given up on were brought to him in hopes that he could turn them around.

He’d never had a single failure. Sometime it took weeks, even months, but the object was not to rush, rather to succeed.

That was when he’d had the luxury of working for someone else, however. Now that he was his own master, now that what he accomplished put food on his table and clothes on the backs of his family, it was a slightly different matter. There was an urgency inside of him, an urgency to succeed, to build up the ranch, as well as his reputation. To have the kind of things he had always dreamed about having, not because he wanted them—he couldn’t care less about fancy cars or pricey clothing—but because those outer trappings meant that he, Cruz Perez, was a success.

A man to respect.

A man who could not only compete in a world populated by the likes of the Fortunes, but could also carve out a sizable place for himself.

That took dedication and work, tireless work. Not an easy matter when he was far from tireless. Especially when he walked into the house and heard recriminations thrown his way. Or when he saw the disappointment in Savannah’s eyes.

She never seemed happy anymore when he did have a moment to spend with her. That meant he was failing her somehow. More than anything else, he didn’t like failing.

A fifth horse was being led off the transport. The hand was having a difficult time bringing him over to the corral. This was the horse that Tyler had thrown in for a song.

“You’ll be doing me a favor taking it off my hands,” Eric Tyler had told him. Tugging off his hat, the older man had scratched his thinning hair and shaken his head. “I purely don’t know what to do with him.”

Even though he’d seen the other four as a sound investment of his time and money, Cruz had been drawn to the last animal immediately.

There was something about the black horse, an air that separated him from the others. There was the same amount of intelligence in its eyes as the other four—more, really—but also something else. A wariness coupled with fire.

He seemed almost human.

This one, Cruz had thought, watching as several of Tyler’s hands scattered after trying to herd the horse into a smaller corral, was a prize. A warrior.

Turning him into a working cutting horse wouldn’t be easy.

But Cruz loved a challenge.

“What’s his name?” he had asked, approaching the corral.

“Diablo,” Tyler had told him.

Diablo. The devil. It fit.

Inside the corral now, Diablo shook his proud head, his deep brown eyes locking with Cruz’s across the length of the field. Cruz found himself smiling.

“You think you’ll come out on top, don’t you?” he murmured almost to himself. “You’re in for a surprise, my friend.”

But taming and training Diablo was going to take time, and right now he needed to get busy with the four he’d purchased. He had a contract with the Flying W to turn over four fully trained cutting horses by the end of the month. That meant focusing his day a little differently, but it could be done.

The July sun beat down mercilessly.

Cruz could feel the line of sweat forming around the rim of his worn Stetson. Taking it off, he wiped his brow, then set the hat back on his head as his eyes swept over the field. One of his hands was still in the stables, mucking the stalls out before spreading a fresh layer of straw. The other two were caring for the horses that had been led into the corral. Horses needed to be washed down, especially in this heat.

Two of his mares were expecting. One had given birth to a dead colt last year. He hoped that her luck would be better this time around. There wasn’t anything to do but wait and see.

A thousand details to keep tabs on.