I did it.
The entire ride down the mountain, that was the only thought Franny’s mind could form. As they’d calmed the dogs—who were almost as excited as she—strapped the lion to her horse, and packed up camp, she’d repeated it over and over again.
Interspersed with: I saved the herd—saved the rancho.
As they came closer to the place she’d saved, the rest of the world began to penetrate the fog of triumph. The birds calling, the scent of dew in the air, the landscape she’d known her entire life.
And Felipe—his anger came through as well. Since the lion was tied to her horse, she sat behind him on his horse. He avoided the slightest touch, as if she were a clump of poison oak tied to his saddle. As if even a brush of her skin against his would set his skin afire.
I saved his life.
She wasn’t going to hold it over him, but he might at least act somewhat glad about it.
But he wasn’t acting glad or admitting that he’d been wrong all along, that he should have been kinder to her. That she was strong, capable, skilled.
Instead, he presented her only with his stiff back and silence.
Fine. Let him be beastly. She’d get a hero’s—no, heroine’s—welcome at the rancho. She couldn’t wait to see Juan’s face when she presented him with a lion of her own.
Her father would be so proud.
Perhaps he might even be persuaded to overturn her mother’s edict and allow Franny to do ranch work again.
Perhaps…
She was so busy composing arguments to sway her father, she didn’t notice they were at the rancho until they were already through the gates. The cows in the pastures kept their heads down, uncaring that she’d saved them from the predator stalking them. But she knew better than to expect gratitude from cows.
Her fingers tightened on the cantle of the saddle, only inches from Felipe’s stiff back. Soon. Soon she’d get the thanks she deserved. If not from him, at least from everyone else.
They came across Juan first, riding out with his dogs at his horse’s heels. The two packs rejoined with yips and barks and other expressions of canine joy.
“Well, well,” Juan called out. “I was just headed out to look for you two.”
She leaned around Felipe, her arm brushing his. He pulled away. She ignored his distaste. “I got it,” she announced, not wanting Felipe to steal a march on her.
There it was—shock. Delight. Pride. The exact reaction she’d been craving. “You?” Juan’s eyebrows rose, but his mouth split into a smile. “How about that?” He craned his neck to get a look at the lion. A whistle slipped past his lips, high and admiring. “You made that shot?”
Her grin was wide enough to make her cheeks hurt. “Yep. While it was in the air.”
“Well, look who’s turning into quite the hunter. You’ll be almost as good as me soon.”
Already better than you, actually. Best to keep that inside though. The lion would boast well enough of her skill.
“We’ll have to take your picture with it,” Juan said. “You and Felipe.”
“Not me.” Felipe’s voice was as tight and flat as his back. “I had nothing to do with it. The thing attacked me. Franny saved me.” He sounded as if he wished she hadn’t.
Juan’s smile slipped a hair at Felipe’s mood. “Well, lucky you. I got the other just yesterday, so the herd is safe. And the red nose is clearing up too. Come on up to the house. Papa’ll be glad you’re safe.”
Safe. Not pleased that she’d gotten the lion. Oh dear. “Was he terribly mad?” She’d cajole her father into pride once she’d shown him the lion, but there was likely a scolding to endure first.
Juan laughed. “Of course. But you got a lion, didn’t you?”
She had. Whatever punishment her father gave her, it wouldn’t take that achievement away.
Several of the hands appeared as they made their way up the drive, Franny repeating her story and receiving handshakes and whoops of congratulations. Everyone admired the lion and made noises of delighted shock when they saw her shot.
This. This reception was all that she had hoped for. She could feast on this approval and adulation for the rest of her days.
And if Felipe didn’t want to acknowledge what she’d done—what she’d done for him—fie on him.
A figure waited for them on the porch, deep within the shadowed corners.
Oh, her father would be so proud—he’d forgive her for running off, soon as he saw the lion and her shot.
But it wasn’t her father waiting.
It was her mother.
The adulation and congratulations fell away, along with Franny’s confidence, until nothing but trembling anxiety was left.
Her mother wouldn’t care about the trophy Franny was bringing back. That Franny had saved their herd—had saved Felipe—would never sway the Señora.
She would only care that Franny had disobeyed her. And her punishment would be fearsome.
Felipe stopped in front of the house and swung off his horse. Before she could do the same, he clasped her waist and lifted her off—which he’d never done before. His hands lingered, and sympathy was written in his expression.
He couldn’t congratulate her on taking down a lion, but he knew she was afraid to face her mother. Confusion spiked in her—he was such a puzzle. She might never understand him.
“Francisca.”
She turned at her mother’s gentle call, Felipe’s hands falling away along with the bewilderment they’d created.
“Yes, Mother?” She lifted her chin. She wouldn’t show her trepidation with everyone watching. She’d brought down a lion, after all.
“Your father wishes to see you in his office.” Deceptively calm. The hair rose on Franny’s neck.
Catarina had been hauled into her father’s office when she’d been caught with Jace, her mother wearing the same eerie calm then as well.
Isabel had been summoned to the office when she’d had come back from San Francisco married to Sebastian—which had been almost as big a scandal as Catarina and Jace—but Sebastian had come along as well. Franny couldn’t imagine her parents scolding Isabel while Sebastian towered behind her, as forbidding as he was.
There would be no man behind Franny when she faced her parents across that desk. Not that she needed one.
“I’ll be right there,” she answered. Just as calm. Just as serene.
Her father was waiting when she entered the office, wearing an expression of furious worry. Franny dropped her gaze, remorse weighing on her.
Her mother came silently behind her, but Franny didn’t need to hear her to know she was there.
Franny leaned across her father’s desk as her mother shut the door. “I got it,” she whispered hurriedly to him. “Me. Not Felipe.”
The concern on his face brightened into surprise. “You?”
She nodded, biting back her grin.
“My girl,” he said with astonished pride. “Bringing down a lion.”
This was better even than the cowboys’ adulation. Her father’s mouth stretched in a smile, his eyes warming with approval—
The door snapped shut and Franny snapped herself into the chair as her father’s smile died.
He cleared his throat, put on a stern expression. The scolding was about to commence. “What were you thinking, to run off like that?”
“To run off at all.” Her mother came to stand behind her father’s chair. “Such a thoughtless thing to do.”
Franny gritted her teeth against the truth of that. Her father would bluster and shout, but the true woundings would come in her mother’s soft tones.
“I’m sorry,” she offered. And she was. She’d never meant to worry her father. As for her mother, there was no hint of worry—or relief—on her features. Nothing at all, really.
Likely she was only angry Franny had evaded her rule for a few days.
“I ought to cut a switch and lay it across your backside,” her father rumbled, his brows forming a thundercloud.
He’d never do any such thing, but Franny put on her best attempt at a contrite expression. Arguing wasn’t going to get her through this any quicker, but a show of remorse might.
“Do you know how worried we were, when you disappeared like that?” He was picking up steam, his voice rising, cheeks flushing. “With only a note left behind?”
Ah, that hit its mark, her head bowing with shame as her father’s words vibrated with emotion.
“Thank God Felipe was there,” he finished.
Perhaps Felipe should be thanking God that she’d been there, since otherwise he might be dead. She’d tell her father that bit later, when he’d calmed down. And the lion… Oh, she couldn’t wait to show him that. That would erase all his anger.
“Of course,” she answered.
Her father’s expression eased.
Was it over so soon? She sat straighter, ready to bolt if her father was done.
Her mother, however, was not.
The anger that had left her father’s face now seeped into her mother’s. It was an expression wholly foreign to the Señora —the pinched lips, narrowed eyes, taut throat. A chill crept into Franny’s limbs.
“When does your selfishness end?” Her mother’s question was clipped and cold.
Selfish? She wasn’t selfish. She’d just wanted this one last thing for herself, before she surrendered completely to her mother.
She’d saved Felipe. She’d saved the herd. Didn’t her mother care about any of that?
Franny set her teeth together.
No, her mother didn’t.
“Your wildness must come to an end,” her mother went on. “This incident with the lion proves that. Only a spoiled, headstrong girl would have done what you did. You clearly had no thought for your father and I, disappearing as you did.”
Another arrow that hit, sending ripples through her chest. She had been a bit selfish there.
“Have you anything to say for yourself?” An angry, curt demand from her mother.
Franny simply shook her head, resisting the urge to rub at her nose. Thank goodness her eyes were dry. As dry as her mother’s.
No point defending herself, not that she could summon any argument to do so. What could she say when her own mother thought her awful?
“Very well,” her mother said. The disappointment in her words settled heavily on Franny’s shoulders, bowing them inward. “It grieves me that I’ve raised such a thoughtless, selfish daughter. But we will correct that, now that you’re no longer running wild. You will learn to be a proper lady.”
Franny went still, the blood freezing in her veins. She’d known this would happen, but now… now there truly was no escape. She’d had her adventure. There would be no more. The rest would all be drudgery.
“You may leave.” Her mother dismissed her with a sweep of her hand. “Your father and I have more to discuss. Wash up and change into something suitable. Then you may start the supper.”
Franny rose, shame and anger and hurt corroding her insides.
“One last thing.”
She halted at her mother’s words.
“I want you to consider your actions. Consider them long and hard. And then think up a properly remorseful response for your father and me.”
Oh, she’d ponder them all right. Ponder them while she was trapped in this house, being twisted into her mother’s version of a lady.
There would be nothing she’d ponder more than this last adventure.
Franny escaped then, outrage making her hand tremble as she shut the door behind her.
Dusting. When would she ever be done with the dusting?
Franny halfheartedly wiped at the mantel in the parlor with a rag. Three days stuck in the house, but it already felt like three years.
Three decades.
Three centuries.
She moved on to dust the frame of a family photograph from some years ago. It had been taken just before Catarina’s marriage, so six of them stared out, each face set in the stern lines a crisp photograph required. Franny had wanted to smile, certain she could hold it for the time required—after all, she hadn’t wanted to look as humorless as her sisters—but the photographer had firmly denied her.
She studied the image, letting the rag fall to her side. It had been taken five years ago and so much had changed since then—first Catarina had married, then Isabel had left for San Francisco, where she had married.
Only Franny and Juan had stayed much as they were.
Felipe wasn’t in the picture. At the time, it hadn’t occurred to her that he should be. But the family appeared incomplete without him.
Too late now—the picture was taken, frozen forever without him.
“Francisca.”
She jumped at her mother’s voice right behind her. She jerked the rag up to the picture in an attempt to appear busy and knocked it over in the process. Damn. She fumbled to put it to rights, the glass clattering in the frame, then turned to the Señora.
“Yes?”
Her mother’s frown was her usual one—a crease between her brows and a tightening of the corners of her eyes—but its subtlety somehow made the expression more terrifying.
Or perhaps Franny was going a bit mad, being stuck inside.
“Please be more careful.” Disappointment—more disappointment. It made Franny weary, the constant press of her mother’s criticism. “When you have finished dusting here, join me in the kitchen and help with the baking.”
Baking? Franny nearly groaned. Couldn’t they simply eat tortillas instead?
“Yes, Mother,” she said, looking down at her skirt. Yet another of Isabel’s castoffs. Give her mother enough time, and she’d mold Franny into a new Isabel—proper, obedient, ladylike. Perhaps her mother might even find a pair of old spectacles to slide up Franny’s nose.
The Señora left the room, no doubt certain of Franny’s perfect obedience. Why wouldn’t she be?
Her mother ordered, and everyone obeyed. It was ever so.
Felipe didn’t miss her.
He’d been telling himself that every day for three days. One of these days, it would be true and he wouldn’t have to keep repeating it.
He and Juan were moving a herd to pasture land south of the rancho, his dogs following close at the cattle’s heels. One cow began to drift a little too far away and Felipe whistled to his dogs. They moved the cow back quicker and easier than any cowboy could.
Trixie followed along at his side, as subdued as a dog could be. The little spaniel had become Felipe’s shadow the past few days, neither hindering nor helping in his work. Just keeping him company.
He wouldn’t admit how much he liked having Franny’s dog close by. No more than he’d admit that he missed the girl herself.
He looked up at the pure white of the clouds overhead. One looked just like a turtle—head, shell, four legs, and even a tail. Such a thing would have tickled Franny.
He turned to tell her so, already anticipating her laugh at the sight. And nearly cursed at his own stupidity.
Of course she wasn’t there.
He didn’t miss her.
That reflex of his, that unthinking turn of his head to check if she were there? It wasn’t longing. It would fade, once his body became accustomed to the lack of her at his side. It certainly didn’t mean he missed her.
Both lions had been stopped, spring roundup was finished, and life went on.
Franny or no.
Trixie tore off to investigate something in the brush. She’d be perfumed with sage all day, thanks to her little excursion.
“Do you ever think about leaving?” Juan asked, out of the blue.
Felipe rubbed at his forehead, trying to ease the ache behind his eyes. “Leaving? You mean Cabrillo?” Leaving Cabrillo had never occurred to him. His family was buried here and he meant to be buried next to them.
Juan slapped the ends of his reins against his chaps, the hit of leather against leather loud in the stillness. “Yes, Cabrillo. The valley. Hell, even California.”
“Leave California? But where would you go?”
“Where?” Juan spread his arms wide, indicating the entirety of Creation. “Jesus, Felipe, there’s a whole wide world out there! Where wouldn’t I go?”
“But your father means for you to take over the rancho someday.” Juan had responsibilities, duties—running off wouldn’t make them disappear.
“And if I don’t want it?”
A tight burn began in Felipe’s chest. Must be nice for Juan, to have the choice of turning his back on his family and everything they’d built.
Felipe steadied his grip on his temper. “What would you do instead?” Juan’s schooling could only be called sparse. Cattle were all he knew.
“I don’t know. I suppose one day I will run the rancho. Only… I want to be ready. And I won’t be ready until I see what else is out there.” Juan gave Felipe a searching glance. “You could come with me.”
Felipe stilled. No, he wouldn’t. But he didn’t want to admit all the reasons why. “I could,” he said, forcing levity into his words, “but who would run the rancho if both of us were gone?”
“Franny,” Juan said without hesitation.
They exchanged an arch look and began to laugh.
But before the mirth had a chance to settle in, Felipe sobered. They might laugh at her now, but she was stuck in the house, while they rode with the cattle on this fine afternoon. “Do you think she’s all right?”
He almost—almost—turned to search for her again.
She’s not there!
Idiot brain, to look for what he knew perfectly well wasn’t there and wouldn’t be again.
Juan shrugged. “You see her at dinner. She’s certainly not happy.”
Felipe did see her at dinner; sometimes he could gaze on nothing else. She sat still in her chair, hardly ever speaking, but the spark in her eyes was wild, desperate. It put him in mind of that bear in San Francisco, caged at a newspaperman’s whim.
Better five minutes of freedom than a life in cage. He’d thought her foolish when she’d said it, but seeing her misery at being caged… Perhaps she’d been right.
“If she wants out of that house,” Juan was saying, “she’ll find a way. Trust Franny for that.”
“I suppose.” He pulled at his mustache. He didn’t want to think about Franny running away again. He wouldn’t be there for her to run to, and who knew what would happen? He gave himself a shake. “Are you really thinking of leaving?”
“I think on it, sometimes, late at night. Don’t you? Leaving the rancho and setting up at your family’s place? It’s still yours, you know.”
That hollowed-out house, sitting as empty as a new grave—no, he couldn’t live in that house again, not by himself. And there was no wife he could bring with him.
“I’m not ready to move back. I’m happy here.” And if contentment wasn’t quite the same as happiness—well, what of it?
Juan gave him a queer look, then cleared his throat. Then cleared it again. “If you’re uh, waiting for someone to uh, realize something… well, you know she can’t see past the nose on her face.”
Sometimes Felipe forgot that about Juan—that just because Juan didn’t discuss a thing openly didn’t mean that he hadn’t noticed that thing.
“I’m not waiting on anyone.” Felipe cleared his own throat. “I prefer being a bachelor.”
He wasn’t lying—he’d rather return to that house all alone than married to a girl who made his heart stop. Because if he fell in love with her and she was taken from him…
“Fair enough. I just thought…” Thankfully, Juan didn’t elaborate. “But you know your own mind best. Will you ever go back to your rancho?”
Felipe watched his horse’s withers as they shifted up, down, up, down with the gelding’s steps. He did want to return to the family house, but the trouble was he wanted it as it had been before—as it would never be again.
“That house isn’t going anywhere.” And it wasn’t. It was only slowly falling in on itself. Someday it might collapse entirely and the question of moving back would be solved.
As for waiting on someone… He turned in the saddle, his mind making some kind of stuttered, irrational grasp for her.
But she wasn’t there.