Alejandro showed Dalton to the end cubicle in the dormitory, told him he could bunk there, then took him back to the kitchen, where they joined Chuey and Harvey, who were putting together sandwiches.
Breakfast was buffet-style, prepared by the two wives of the married workers. Las esposas, Alejandro called them, a mark of respect, and to make it clear they were married and off-limits. Lunch was make-it-yourself from sandwich fixings or whatever was cooking on the back burner. Supper was sit-down at the kitchen table.
He and Alejandro ate their sandwiches in silence, then went back to the round pen and worked more colts.
It was a long but good day. Dalton was encouraged by the quality of the horses he’d be handling and the men he’d be working with. Being outside and doing something constructive was a pleasant change, and as the day wore on, some of the wary restlessness he’d battled in prison began to fade. By the time the supper bell sounded he was ravenous.
The kitchen table was already crowded when Dalton and Alejandro arrived, but two more chairs were scrounged and space was made. The food was tasty and plentiful, and Dalton had enough Spanish to get the gist of the conversation going on around him.
Mostly, it was speculation about him, his prison record, his spotty experience, and why he wasn’t eating at the main house like most trainers did. Dalton didn’t participate, but finished as fast as he could, thanked the cooks, and escaped to get his old army duffel from the truck.
A familiar sense of alienation crept over him. After living with dozens of soldiers in a hostile foreign country, and later, with over a thousand inmates behind windowless walls, and now in a houseful of people who spoke a different language—Harvey never spoke at all, so Dalton didn’t know what language he spoke—he should have become accustomed to feeling isolated. Yet it still bothered him. He wondered if it would always be like that, or if someday he might be able to carve out a place for himself and feel that sense of belonging again.
“Evening,” a voice called.
Dalton turned and saw Hicks walking toward him. He couldn’t tell if the foreman was bringing bad news or not. The guy never seemed to change expression.
“Mrs. Coralee was wondering why you didn’t come down to the house for supper.”
“Didn’t know I was supposed to.”
“Trainers and foremen eat supper at the main house. Alejandro knows that. Probably funning you. Food’s pretty much the same as what you’d get at the bunkhouse since the cooks are the same, but it makes the owners feel democratic to have a few workers at their table.”
“I doubt her daughter wants me there.”
That almost-smile. “Sounds like you met her already. Kind of protective about her horses, Raney is. Wants things done her way. Bear with her. If you’re good for the ranch, she’ll put up with you. Even if she hates you.”
“Sounds fun,” Dalton said. And in an odd way, it did.
* * *
* * *
“Why did you have to put him on contract?” Raney demanded the following afternoon—the first time she’d seen Mama since talking to Dalton Cardwell the previous day.
After leaving him and Alejandro by the paddocks, she had spent most of the rest of Friday in Gunther with their accountant and lawyer, finalizing the changes necessary now that she had officially taken over management of the ranch. She’d gotten home late to a cold supper, and this morning had overslept again. By the time she got up, her mother had already left for her Saturday beauty parlor and shopping trip. Mama could be slippery as an eel when she put her mind to it.
But now, Raney had finally cornered her at her dressing table in between wardrobe changes, and she was determined to get some answers before her mother could escape again to some meeting, or church do, or another hot evening with the menopause set. “Not even Hicks has a contract.”
“Nor does Alejandro,” Mama argued. “They’re family. And I didn’t have to, I chose to. I thought we were through arguing about this, Raney. Do you like the way Marlene feathered my bangs? They seem a bit long to me.”
“Plus, you’re giving him room and board? Is that really necessary?”
Mama put down her brush and swiveled on the stool to frown at Raney. “Of course it’s necessary. Trainers are valued employees. The top ones get houses, trucks, a hefty salary plus expenses, and a cut of the winnings. Anyway, the Cardwells are moving to Plainview. Dalton has no place to stay.”
Great. Another stray. “But he’s not a top trainer,” Raney pointed out. “He’s won nothing. He hasn’t even trained a single horse for us.”
“But he will. I’m certain of it. And, Raney . . .” Her mother gave her a stern look. “I expect him to be at the supper table tonight. You, too. And from now on, he will take his evening meals and Sunday lunch here at the house, the same as Glenn and Alejandro. That’s the way it’s done at the top ranches and Whitcomb Four Star is no exception.” She let that sink in for a moment, then in a gentler tone said, “Now, let me ask you a question. What is it about Dalton Cardwell that has you so upset? Has he done or said something I should be made aware of?”
“Other than causing another person’s death?” Raney let out a deep breath and, along with it, most of her anger. She knew she was being hardheaded. But the guy made her uneasy. She wasn’t sure why, but something about him put her on edge. “No,” she finally answered, plopping down on the end of her mother’s bed. “I’d never even spoken to him before yesterday.”
“Then why are you so opposed to him? It’s not like you to be intolerant. In fact, you’re more often too easy on people and only see the good.”
Mama didn’t say it, but they both knew she was referring to her botched engagement.
Raney crossed her arms and looked away. “And that’s bad?”
“Of course not. In fact, it’s one of the things I most admire about you. Which is why I’m so confused by this aversion to Dalton.”
“It’s not exactly an aversion. But the fact that he’s spent time in jail concerns me. Prison hardens people. He might have picked up bad habits there that we don’t know about.”
“Good point.” Mama rose and went into her closet. Raney heard her flipping through the hangers. A moment later, she came back out in a lightweight sack-looking thing that should have looked frumpy, but only enhanced her mother’s slim, yet curvy figure.
“I’ll admit I have concerns, too,” Mama said, turning to check the fall of the dress in the full-length mirror on the inside of the closet door. “There’s something about that accident that never seemed right. I think there’s more to it than what we’ve been told.”
“Like what?”