Waking an hour later than normal the following day set Casta into a panic. Was Papá’s night a good one and allowed him restful sleep? Did he eat well? As she jumped from bed, she spotted a note had been slipped under her door.
Casta preciosa,
I hope your evening was enjoyable. I’m off for a carriage ride with Rafael and Yoana to meet a neighbor. See you this afternoon.
Besos,
Papá
He truly is on a healing path. She drew a deep breath. Once finished with her morning ablutions, she donned her oldest dress to go downstairs. After a few minutes of searching, she gave up on locating Joaquin inside the house and walked into the kitchen to ask about his whereabouts.
The cooks, Josefa and Luisa, informed her he ate at his usual time and rode out with his brothers to tend the cattle.
Casta accepted a mug of coffee and a plate of eggs with cheese, peppers, and onions topped with warm tortillas, then wandered into the dining room. As she ate, she plotted. The affected bull must be inside the big barn. If the animal was still in the sling, then identification would prove easy enough. But because Joaquin spoke of the lack of results, that method might already have been abandoned and the sling removed. She scooped up the last of the eggs onto half a tortilla, folded it into a cylinder, and finished it in three bites.
Ingredients for an inflammation poultice ran through her mind. In her medicine bag, she carried the basics—case wort, comfrey, poke root, and yarrow. Spices found in most cupboards could be added, depending on the desired outcome. But she really needed to see the wound before she could calculate the percentages or minutes. Maybe just a quick peek to provide her with an overall idea of what was at stake. Casta stood with her plate in hand.
“Oh, there you are.” Olinda bounced into the room. “Wasn’t last night so much fun?” She sashayed the length of the table, linked elbows, and grabbed Casta into a spin.
Coffee dribbled onto her hand. But Casta went along with the levity. “I agree. Very diverting.”
Ventura joined them, and soon the sisters sat with breakfast plates and cups of tea before them.
Not wanting to appear rude, Casta sat again at the table. Breakfast was spent in recounting who Veronica and Olinda danced with for each musical number the previous evening.
Casta wished she could ask about the reason for the observable tension between Joaquin and Berto. But she decided that question needed to be answered by the man involved. She couldn’t concentrate on anything Ventura or Olinda proposed as an activity and begged off. “I think I’ll go for a walk.”
“Don’t forget to wear a hat against the sun.” Ventura carried a novel and her coffee cup toward the parlor.
Casta walked through the kitchen to collect a hat from the mud room.
“Miss Casta?”
She stopped and turned toward Josefa, who held up a small woven basket in her wrinkled hand. “Sí?”
“Since you’re headed outside, would you mind harvesting what lettuce and radishes are ready?” Smiling, she cocked her head, and a long salt-and-pepper tendril dropped from her bun.
This will not take long. “All right.”
For the next three hours, every time she finished a task, she was asked to help with another. Not that she minded. Helping was always small compensation for the Galteros’ generous hospitality. Then, the elders returned for a late lunch, and she was expected to join.
By the time she set foot into the big barn mid afternoon, she fought back frustration at being thwarted from the task she contemplated during breakfast. She found fresh comfrey growing in the garden, and she carried a bowl with a mash containing ginger and cinnamon with chopped comfrey leaves and mashed poke root. Strips of cotton hung over her left arm. The agreement she made with Joaquin floated through her mind, but she shoved it aside. Tending the injured animal was more important.
Scents of dry hay and earthy manure slammed her senses before she became accustomed to the odor. Wandering along one row of closed gates, she inspected each stall. They were either empty or housed a horse. She discovered the same situation in the stalls on the other side of the aisle. From the opened double doors, she scanned the space. Overhead, birds in flight chirped cheerful notes. A few chickens pecked at the ground. Horses grazed in a nearby pasture. A brown dog slept in the shade of a Jacaranda tree, with a couple of purple petals dotting its side.
Where is the bull? Would it be in a pasture? The idea of traipsing around blindly didn’t appeal. She stepped to the edge of the barn and peeked around the corner of the wall. A smaller barn stood not far away. She started in that direction. Before she reached it, she heard a low bellow.
Her healer’s instincts kicked in, and she moved forward, hurrying toward a smaller barn. Once inside, she stopped and gazed around the interior lit by sunlight through high windows. Dust motes dotted the air. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and listened for the animal’s next sound.
Snap.
The wood of a stall creaked and moaned.
Following the sound, Casta hurried to the middle stall and looked inside.
A huge black bull swung his head from side to side, huffing out breaths. He stood with his right rear hoof tilted against the dirt.
“Oh, you poor thing.” She uttered consoling words in Spanish, assessing any other visible physical symptoms from several feet away. Between movements, the bull hung its head low, as if fatigued.
Smack.
Ah, the right back foot. Cracks appeared in the lumber. She stood too far away to catch sight of swelling or infection. Agreement or not, she couldn’t ignore the obvious fact this animal suffered and needed help…help she could provide. Throwing the metal bolt aside, she eased her way into the stall, reset the latch, and pressed her back against the gate. “Cálmate, pobrecito. I’m here to help you, Tornado.” Still along the perimeter, she inched along the wall, keeping her gaze on the bull’s head. Abreast of the hind quarters, she spotted the swollen foot above the hoof. The herbal mash she prepared would definitely help.
Careful to make only slow moves, she squatted and aligned her body opposite the injury. With her right hand, she smeared on the poultice, then wrapped a cloth strip around the leg to keep the mash in place. What was Joaquin worried about? She should have come out here immediately upon waking to tend the wound. This poor animal would have enjoyed many additional hours of recuperation. Straightening, she accidentally stepped on her skirt hem and stumbled backward to regain her balance. Her body banged against the stall’s boards with a clunk.
In reaction, Tornado jumped to the side.
The bull’s rump pinned her against the stall’s wall.
Pressure on her chest allowed only half-breaths. Cálma. Her arms hung useless at her sides. She just had to wait until the bull moved again. To keep herself from panicking, she recited childhood nursery rhymes as she sucked in as much air as she could. Black dots swam through her vision, and she closed her eyes, leaning the pinned twist at the back of her head against the boards.
Tornado seemed to relax and snooze.
“Casta?”
The faint calling of her name worked its way into her thoughts. She opened her eyes to a much dimmer stall. Without enough breath to speak, she swung a fist against the wall but barely made a sound. I’m here.
Running footsteps pounded the packed dirt ground outside.
Again, she pounded the wall.
“Casta! Answer me.”
Joaquin. He found her. She stared at the open space over the stall gate that showed the barn’s center aisle.
He ran past, looking side to side, then returned, his eyes wide. “Dios mío. What have you done?”
Shaking her head, she held her left hand up to her throat and forced her eyes open. Her pulse raced.
“Whoa. Easy.” Joaquin threw open the gate and stepped next to Tornado. He planted his boots wide, then wrapped his hands around the base of the horns, and leaned his body backward.
Breathing hard, Tornado stepped sideways with his right foot.
The pressure against her chest eased, and she slumped alongside the side wall, gasping. Blood pounded in her ears. Before she felt completely revived, she was scooped up into strong arms and carried outside.
Joaquin lowered her to sit on a low bench and crouched, resting his hands on her knees. “Take it slow. Breathe deeply.” Frowning, he brushed a strand of hair from her left cheek.
Casta pressed her right hand against her chest, as if she could push in more air. Finally, her pulse returned to normal. Again, she leaned her head back against the barn’s wall. Warmth from the sun-kissed boards seeped into her body. “Gracias, amigo.”
Bracing a hand on the bench, he swiveled and dropped onto it. “You’ve got your breath back?”
“I’m fine now.”
“Que bueno.” He reached over and clasped her right hand. “Did you forget what I told you?”
His voice was so gentle she thought the conversation to be idle. But then, she glanced at his face with frown lines across his forehead and an intense, dark glare. Guilt pinched her chest. She opened her mouth, but no response formed. Maybe she had been a little headstrong.
“Querida, I can’t believe you did this.” Lips flattened into a straight line, he tightened his grip and stroked her arm with his free hand. “I was muy worried.” He blew out a long breath. “I told you yo quiero to accompany you, because yo tengo a good reason…as you discovered. You promised to wait.”
He’s mixing English and Spanish. She cut him a sideways look. He’s really upset. “I never said the actual word.” Early in her life, she learned the word promise constrained her actions. Pápa and her older brothers professed wanting to keep her safe was a good enough reason to extract her promises. But too often, they were more concerned with proper appearances.
Needing him to understand, she wrapped her free hand over his, holding tight to this connection. “But you weren’t here, and the animal was in obvious pain. I heard the anguished bellows. When hurting, an animal will lash out while attempting to gain some relief. He kicked against the wall and probably damaged it. Those actions hurts me here…in my healer’s heart.” Hoping to convince him, she pulled their clasped hands to her chest. Warm tingles spread outward from the intimate contact. Then immediately, she realized what she’d done. Still flush with her trauma, she couldn’t control her emotions in a detached, professional way. Blinking fast against the sting of encroaching tears, she stared into Joaquin’s dark brown eyes. “I couldn’t not help Tornado. Not when I have the skill and know-how to ease suffering. I couldn’t stand back and wait. Lo lamento.”
“But the danger, querida. The bull weighs more than fifteen hundred pounds.”
Did he just speak an endearment? Her pulse raced but for all the right reasons.
Loosening his grip, he cupped a hand on her cheek. “I should have been present to protect you.”
Tilting her head, she leaned into the warmth of his touch, swallowing against a tight throat. “I wanted to help you and ease your worries. This bull is important to the rancho, right?”
“Essential.” He nodded, a thumb running along her jaw.
“Then I’m glad the poultice is now in place.” She offered a smile to help fade his scowl. “The healing herbs will bring relief within a few hours.”
“You’re not hearing me.” Joaquin wrapped a hand around her neck. “I can buy another bull…multiple bulls. But if something horrible happened, I couldn’t replace you, sweet, lovely, and headstrong Casta de la Luz.” The left corner of his mouth quirked upward. He touched his forehead to hers. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
His breath puffed against her lips in an imitation of a kiss. Warmth flooded her body, and she inhaled a long breath, letting his words settle into her soul. He’d been upset at maybe losing her? “I hope I do. But maybe you can say it a different way.”
His lips quirked upward. “I want you alive and breathing so we can know each other better.” With a thumb, he caressed her right cheek.
A smile beamed its way across her lips. “I hesitate to tell you how long I have dreamed about just that. You might think me silly.”
“Oh, yeah?” Pulling back, he grinned, and his gaze roved over her face.
“You’ll only get a swollen head.” She rested her temple against his arm. “But I very much want to learn more about you, too. What you like to eat, what your read, your favorite foods.”
“Can you stand?” He straightened to his full height.
She extended both hands and wiggled her fingers. “With a little help, por favor.”
Joaquin helped her to her feet and embraced her. “Allow me to steady you.” Keeping their gazes locked, he lowered his head. “¿Con permiso?”
She maintained a still-legged stance but acknowledged his gentlemanly gesture with a nod. Tilting up her chin, Casta stared upward until his handsome face blurred before letting her eyelids close. Her heart skipped a beat before galloping double-time. His breath brushed her mouth a moment before his lips did. Tingles emerged from every spot their mouths connected, spiraling through her chest. The desire he displayed filled a hole she’d felt in her soul, and she doubted would ever be filled.
Joaquin angled his head and nibbled little bites on her lower lip.
A broad hand cupped the back of her head, making her feel cherished. The longer the kiss lasted, the more feelings swirled through her body. His lips incited passion that had lived dormant in her soul and brought it roaring to life.
When they parted, both sucked in a deep breath and locked gazes, speaking silent messages of love.
Casta lifted her fingers to cover her mouth to hold this exciting sensation close. “Wow.”
Grinning, he winked and linked his hands together at her lower back. “I hoped it would be that good.”