“William and I are staging a horse race. Bannister’s invited half the city. It’ll be quite an affair, as you might imagine.”
Carly leaned forward, feeling a burst of excitement. “A horse race? Here on the ranch?”
“Exactly. William has purchased an extremely splendid animal. A Thoroughbred stallion named Raja, just arrived from Australia. He’ll be running against de la Guerra’s Andalusian.”
“You don’t mean Don Ramon’s palomino?” She had seen the magnificent animal that night outside the barn.
“That is indeed the one. So far the horse is unbeaten. William tried to buy him, but de la Guerra refused every offer. Bannister wouldn’t give up. He challenged the don to a horse race, then searched to hell and gone till he found an animal he believes can win.”
“But you said the don has very little money. Surely they must be wagering something.”
He nodded. “Bannister’s put up two thousand dollars against the don’s Andalusian.”
Carly mulled that over. If money was a problem, Don Ramon could probably use the winnings, and the thought of his losing such a beautiful horse seemed utterly unbearable. She found herself hoping he would win.
She hadn’t seen the don since the night of the fiesta, though his tall, darkly handsome image had surfaced occasionally in her mind. She thought of him now and tried to tell herself the excitement coursing through her blood had only to do with the festivities ahead.
She tried—but something told her it wasn’t the truth.
CHAPTERTWO
Ramon de la Guerra led his palomino Andalusian stallion, Rey del Sol—King of the Sun—across the dry grass toward the group of people gathered to watch the race: William Bannister’s wealthy friends from San Francisco accompanied by a small number of women, Austin’s Anglo neighbors, and Californio rancheros from nearby haciendas.
At least forty vaqueros were gathered near the finish line. The Montoyas were there, as well as Ramon’s mother and his aunt Teresa.
Austin had gone all out, clearing a two-mile race course, building high wooden benches for his guests to sit on, decorating the starting line with red-and-blue bunting, as well as an arch at the end. The crowd was eager, laughing, and boisterous, the betting steep all around.
With thirty minutes left till time for the race to begin, Ramon paused at the finish line to speak to some of his men and saw his brother, Andreas, among them. Though he stood two inches shorter, Andreas, like Ramon, was lean, hard muscled, and swarthy. He was handsome, and if his hair had been blond, his skin more fair, perhaps almost pretty. Andreas was intelligent and far too charming.
Only longtime friends knew of their kinship. During his years in Mexico, years he had spent feuding with his father, Andreas had changed a great deal; and with the coming of the gold rush, many of the old Spanish families had lost their lands and moved away. Except for the de la Guerras, no one knew of Andreas’sreturn. Then their father had died and Andreas had gone into the hills, vowing to seek justice and revenge. Now to most people, he was simply a vaquero known as Perez.
“Don Ramon!” his brother called out, addressing him as if they were merely acquaintances. “Un momento, por favor?May I speak with you for a moment?”
Ramon just nodded. He had expected his brother to be there. At twenty-six, three years his junior, Andreas de la Guerra was impetuous, high spirited, and even a little bit reckless. He wouldn’t miss this chance to see Ramon best the Anglo horse and rider. Andreas disliked the Norte Americanos even more than Ramon did. He would enjoy this chance to see them bested—he had no doubt that his brother would win.
Ramon inwardly smiled, not nearly as certain himself. But his honor had demanded he accept the wager, and Bannister’s bet was a fair one.
“Buenas tardes,little brother. I am not surprised to see you, though in truth, you probably should not have come.” They stood off beneath an oak tree, where they could be sure no one would hear.
Andreas smiled and clapped him affectionately on the shoulder. “I did not want to miss the race. Besides, I grow weary of confinement.”
Ramon smiled. “You grow weary of having no new woman to warm your bed. I hear they have brought some into San Juan Bautista. Perhaps you should stop by the cantina, see if you can find one to your liking.”
Andreas’s eyes strayed toward the group of Anglos clustered down at the starting line. “I think I may not have to go so far.” Ramon followed his brother’s gaze to Fletcher Austin’s niece, resplendent in a peppermint striped taffeta day dress and tiny matching parasol. Her fiery hair clustered in shiny ringlets on her shoulder. “I think I may be falling in love.”
Ramon frowned. “Do not be a fool, little brother. That one means nothing but trouble.”
“You have met her?”
“Si.At Austin’sfandango.She is shallow and pretentious, not worthy of your attentions.”
“Perhaps not.” Andreas glanced at her one more time, and the sound of her high sweet laughter floated toward them on the wind. When it lifted the hem of her skirts, giving them a glimpse of small feet and tiny stockinged ankles, Ramon felt a tightening in his groin.
“Then again…” Andreas said, “perhaps the senorita is well worth whatever trouble she might bring.” He grinned in that devilish way of his but this time Ramon did not smile back.
“One of these days,hermano,such a woman will be the death of you.”
“Ah, but if a man must die, what better way to go?”
