Dios, hed forgotten about her. Was she hiding in the mogotes (thick patches) and cejas (thickets) like before? Like last night?
Yesterday shed stolen his clothes and laughed when hed run. Then shed snuck up on him when hed lit a fire on the beach and danced. Sucking in a fierce breath, Roque jerked his dick inside his pants and zipped his fly.
Had she seen him? Shyness made him flush.
If she had seen him, he hoped it hadnt turned her off. He wanted to kiss her, to see how far shed go. Maybe shed have some pot or booze. She was the kind who would. He wanted to forget about his father. He had to forget.
The air was cool and breezy after the long, hot afternoon. The glassy pond with the ducks and willows and the taller oaks along the southern bank was a place Roque often came to sit and watch the grass blow and the clouds sail in the utter silence and stillness. Not that it was all that pretty really with the water so low and so much muddy shoreline exposed. But it had a wild, lovely aspect that had grown on him.
Sometimes he sunbathed on a rock. Sometimes he walked in the woods or swam in the raw. Sometimes he just felt homesick for his mother and his sisters who spoiled him, for all his boisterous Moya aunts and uncles and cousins, for Mexico, its art, its music, its people, its passion. Not that he really belonged down there, either.
He had a gringo father, whod divorced his mother and broken her heart. Mamacita never let him forget it, either. Neither did his uncles. Stillnobody up here knew how to cook like his mother. Nobody made him tamales Yucatán or did anything special for him. Nobody except Caleb.
Sometimes Roque just daydreamed. About horses sometimes. About girls mostly. About white girls when he was up here.
Not tonight.
Not when his father had just beat the shit out of him at the corral.
For nothing.
Not for nothing. Cause he was a Mexican. Cause he was scared hed hurt his precious Caleb.
As if hed ever hurt Caleb.
The only reason Roque had started coming to Texas a few years back was that when Caleb had found out he had an older brother, hed begged to meet him. Their father couldnt deny Caleb anything.
Roque had felt so angry and out of place on that first visit, he hadnt known what to do with himself. One afternoon when Pablo and his men had been working cattle, Roque had gotten so bored, hed set off a string of firecrackers and thrown them into the pen. When the livestock stampeded, hed dived into the pen with them. What a thrill that had beenwhooping and yelling and running with those bulls while their hooves pounded the earth. He hadnt cared whether hed lived or died. Then Calebs thin, fearful cry had rent the air.
Through a blur of horn and red flank, hed watched Calebs bright head bob and then disappear. Roque had grabbed onto the biggest bulls horns and hung while the beast pushed through the others. Miraculously Roque had reached Caleb before he was trampled. All Caleb suffered was a broken wrist and a bad case of hero worship, but to this day, their father still believed Roque had deliberately stampeded the bulls because he was so jealous of Caleb that he wanted to kill him.
All of a sudden Roque wanted to be as bad as his father always told everybody he was. He wanted to screw and drink and get wasted with a pretty, wild girlto forget, to go dead on the inside, to lose the hate, or at least some of its edgejust for a little while. He was too Mexican to ever fit in up here.
Where the hell was she?
Suddenly the hair on the back of Roque Moyas neck stood on end. Good, he wasnt wrong about her. He stared at the woods and felt her eyes on his fly. He was about to call her bluff and go after her when he heard flying footsteps and shouts right behind him.
Roque
His father? Roque felt a surge of panic and despised himself. His daddys eyes had gone colder than a rattlers right before hed lifted that chain a while ago. Roque leaned down, his hand closing around a rock. If his father so much as raised a hand to him ever again
Whirling, staring over his shoulder, he caught a whiff of cow dung and fresh grass. Then he saw that familiar, beloved, bright head bobbing against the pink sky.
Caleb. His slim, lithe form dashed through the waist-high grasses toward him. Caleb, who followed him everywhere.
Fury mingled with jealousy. Then his heart swelled with love. Damn, you Caleb! Damn you for being so smart and sweetand braveand perfect. For being the easy kind of kid fathers were proud of. He made straight As. He liked books. He could read better than most college kids, which was galling to Roque, who practiced reading secretly every night.
Roque was good at math like his Moya uncles, who were engineers, but math bored him. He preferred liberal arts. Not that he did well in them. Whenever he tried to read, words got all mixed up on the page. Spelling was even harder, but at night before they went to bed, Caleb often tried to teach him. If alone, Roque would struggle over the words for hours.
When Caleb saw him look his way, his warm white grin spread from ear to ear the way it always did. Involuntarily Roque smiled back. Caleb, not the money his rich daddy bribed Mamacita with, was the only reason Roque ever came to Texas.
Roque dropped the rock and stared from his little brother to the green line of oaks where he knew she was waiting for him. Since last night hed hoped she was a real puta in heat. Not that hed ever had a puta. Still, he told himself he hoped she wanted a bellyful as much as shed wanted an eyeful.
Gringas. He hoped his macho tíos were right when they said that gringas were even hornier than most men. Even the pretty, young ones. His uncles were always telling him that a real man screwed every pretty girl he could. Once, anyway. This girl had black curls and big boobs and the whitest, softest skin hed ever seen on any girl, even a guera.
He had to ditch Caleband fast.
With seeming casualness, Roque began unbuttoning his loose white shirt. When Caleb was within earshot, Roque said, Didnt I tell you not to follow me unless I invited you along?
Can I
Daddy said I wasnt supposed to go near you! Sono!
The sparkle went out of Calebs face and he looked down. Its a free country, he said sullenly, kicking rocks. Since when do you care what Daddy says?
Since this!
Roque peeled his bloodstained cotton shirt off, and Caleb winced at the blood-crusted wounds crisscrossing Roques already scarred brown back.
His little brother loved himso much. In his own way, every bit as much as Mamacita did.
Calebthe favorite son. The perfect son. The white white son.
Why dont you ever just tell him youre sorry, Roque, so hell stop? Caleb demanded in a soft, worried voice.
Cause Im not. Cause I hate him for always thinking I want to hurt you.
Caleb gasped. Youre dumb. If
Dont say that!
So dumb, your dumb zippers half open! If you hadnt mouthed off, I couldve explained and your back wouldnt look like hamburger meat.
Roque fumbled with his fly until he got the zipper up.
His father had grown angrier at each stroke. Caleb was the one who had run forward and risked the chain himself by grabbing their fathers hand. Not the cowboys. Not even Pablo, the ranch managerPablo, his friend. Theyd just stood there, their boots planted in the thick dirt, their black heads hung low, some of them snickering nervously.
I told you to get lost. I came here to be by myself so I can think.
I wont say anything. Think away. Caleb circled him, his green eyes almost popping out of his freckled face as he edged closer to get a better look at his brothers bloody back.
Roque wadded his shirt into a ball and pitched it angrily into the pond. Nothing was working out. He glanced toward the trees. No sign of the brazen girl, who had stolen his clothes yesterday.
Caleb squatted down and rocked back on his heels. He beat you even worse than last time.
I said scram.
You didnt have to smart off.
GitDaddys pet.
Caleb, who was fourteen, rubbed his glistening eyes in shame. Then he shook his head proudly making his blond bangs fly.
Suddenly hoofbeats rumbled. Both boys swiveled when the strange, sorrel horse shot out of the forest, interrupting their standoff. The mare stopped when she heard them, her chest heaving. Her ears were pointed straight at them.
Thats the Keller girls horse, Caleb said.
La princesa. Roque had seen her once or twice. She was very white, plain, and ever so haughty.
Not anymore. Be quiet and watch this. Roque whistled to the mare.
Her friend mustve ridden over. Hed steal her horse to pay her back for stealing his clothes.
The mare tore a mouthful of grass out of the ground. Watching him, she began to munch warily.
In long graceful strides, Roque moved through the grass toward her.
What are you going to do?
Get lost, kid. Youll only get in my way. He paused. If Daddy catches you with me, hell beat me. Is that what you want?
Caleb went so white every freckle stood out. His thin shoulders sagged. Roque was stunned when his own dark heart twisted with remorse.
Get, he said.
Who wants to catch a dumb old horse anyway, Caleb said.
Roque really felt chagrined when Caleb turned his back on him and started walking home.
Caleb
Roque forced himself to let it go. Im a real jerk, kid, he muttered to himself. Just like Daddy! The sooner you get that, the better for all three of us. When I go home this time, Ill stay there. Ill forget I ever had a gringo brother. I will! If its the last thing I ever do, I will!
Catching her horse soon distracted him from his guilt trip. It wasnt long before Roque had the reins and was stroking the mares dark nose with the flat of his hand. She was leaning her head into his every touch, nuzzling his open palm.
Friends? he whispered when he mounted her.
A dazzling white smile crept across Roques lean, tanned face. He made a clicking noise. Wheres your sexy mistress, girl?
If only she would be as easy to seduce as her horse.
Ritz was running down the caliche road when she heard the violent thunder of hooves thudding behind her.
She turned. Roque Blackstone was galloping Buttercup straight for her, stirring up thick clouds of white dust. His hair streamed like wet black ink back from his dark face. His wet shirt was plastered against his lean body. His eyes flamed a savage, incandescent green.
With a yell, she tried to run faster. Just when she thought hed surely trample her or grab her up by the hair and scalp her, the furious pounding stopped. Then Ritz was enveloped in dust so thick, she had to put her hands up over her tear-filled eyes as she began to cough.
Buttercup snorted and stomped the earth.
When she could breathe again, Ritz sprinted for the gate.
Whoa, girl! Whoa! yelped a harsh, male voice. You cant outrun me or my horse.
She stopped. My horse!
Yours? He laughed, the soft, velvety sound jeering her. Who the hell are you? His green eyes raked her skinny body.
He was looking at her, his eyes burning, challenging her the way all those other boys challenged Jet.
Oh, if only I were as gutsy as Jet
Roque Moya had a peculiar effect on her. Last night shed felt all grown up and on fire. Suddenly she felt strange, almost gutsy. Almost pretty.
Ritz Keller! Thats who! she snapped, pushing her glasses up her nose.
You really think youre somebody, dont you? A real princesa?
Up close his eyes were so fierce, she felt consumed by their unholy fire. Im not scared of you, Roque Blackstone!
Liar.
So, you know who I am?
She almost stopped breathing when he smiled. Jet would have smiled back and said something clever.
Youre a Blackstonethe worst of a bad bunch. You flunked
His face twisted. If you dont like us, what the hell are you doing on Blackstone land, Meeez Know-it-all Keller? Wheres your pretty friend?
Jet?
Are you like her? Did you come to watch a meens swim naked and steal heez clothes?
Man? she corrected, tilting her nose in the air.
He flushed.
Sassily she put her hands on her hips. Youre no man.
Like youre some expert
Youre just a stupid, mean boy nobody likes. Not even your father!
You dont know what youre talking about.
Last year he sent you hometo Mexico cause cause
Roque swore violently under his breath, first in Spanish and then in English. Cause a bad girl told my father she liked metoo muchFour Eyes.
Well, I dont like you. Ritz stuck out her tongue.
He laughed. Most girls do. That gets boring after a while.
You are too conceited to believe.
Another quick burst of his male laughter made her heart skitter.
Im not boy-crazynot like Jet.
Jet. He purred. So, thats her name. She is pretty, your boy-crazy friend. Older. She follows me.
The red sky burned green.
Shes only a year and a half older!
More than that, he said, peeling clothes from her skinny frame with his indecently bright, emerald eyes. Youre a baby. Shes a woman. Last night she
Are you going to give me my horse or not?
He shook his head. Shes mine now.
He pranced back and forth. And youre on Blackstone land.
A red sun slanted a kaleidoscope of rays behind him, giving him the devils own halo while keeping that pretty face of his in the dark. She had to squint to make out his well-shaped, glossy, black head and that hair that was so long it whipped against his hard, dark jawline and tangled with the ends of the scarlet bandanna he wore at his neck.
With the sun at his back, he was mostly a black figure. Still, she got an eyeful of sleek, brown torso under that wet shirt that seemed made of nothing but ripply muscle. Indeed, even up close, every part of him seemed made of muscle, toohis squared-off shouldershis armshis lean waist andhis legs. He looked better by sunlight than by firelight.
Black jeans clung to those powerful legs. Jet said boys who wore jeans that tight were too nasty for nice girls to talk to. And here she wasRitz Keller, fourteen years old, talking to just such a boy.
Shed watched him dance, seen his thingy. Catching a scared, little breath, she remembered he wasnt nearly as big as Cameron. And he wasnt as mean, either, no matter what people said about him.
Like what you see, squirt? he whispered.