Page 21 of Deadly Evidence
“Okay.” She dumped her duffel bag on the ground and scanned the darkened aisle behind him, then the corrals to either side of the barn. “Where’s Mom?”
“Town. Oughta be back in an hour or so.”
Her heart sank.
“Maybe sooner,” Vicente added, his voice gentle. “I s’pose you want to tell her about all your adventures and your new friends.”
She looked down at the toes of her boots and gave a deep sigh. “Nah. I was just gonna tell her that I’m home. Is Loco up by the barn?”
He hitched a thumb toward one of the corrals. “Waitin’ for you.”
She’d been homesick from the first day she’d been at camp and had been counting the minutes during the long drive back today.
No matter what happened at school or anywhere else, talking to Mom always made things feel right again. But taking Loco out for a good long ride would be the second best thing.
In a few minutes, she had him caught, cross-tied in the aisle of the barn and saddled.
“Where are you heading?” Vicente asked as she led the gelding out of the barn.
“Not far. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” She tightened the latigo on her saddle, tested the girth, then flipped the stirrup off the saddle horn. Loco bent his head around to nose at her pockets. “Beggar! No treats today, buddy.”
She swung up into the saddle and gathered her reins, then turned toward the lane leading out to the west pasture.
A feeling of peace settled over her just as it always did when she was on a horse.
Camp had beenawful.How could those other girls talk about nail polish and clothes and boys twenty-four hours a day?
Shuddering at the memory, she nudged Loco into an easy jog past the house.
A tall, dark-haired guy stepped through the front screen door onto the porch, settled his hat into place, then waved at her, his lean, tanned face creased by a smile that flashed even white teeth and crinkled the corners of his eyes.
Stunned, she pulled Loco to a stop and stared at him.
With endless miles of rough road, sagebrush, and sand between here and town, strangers rarely found this place and locals rarely made the trip.
The nearest ranch—Uncle Gil’s—was a whole five miles away, if you took the cross-country shortcut instead of going out on the highway.
“You must be Lacey.” The guy took the steps two at a time and sauntered over, rested a hand on Loco’s neck, and studied the horse with an approving eye. “Nice gelding. Is he yours?”
She gave him a wary nod. “Does my mom know you were in our house?”
“She does. There’s someone else here who you’ll want to meet—Vicente’s granddaughter.”
Granddaughter?
Just then, a drop-dead gorgeous Latina teenager stepped out onto the porch.
Slender and graceful with beautiful dark eyes, she was as pretty as any actress on the cover ofPeoplemagazine. Her waist-length black hair gleamed as it lifted on the breeze.
She was exactly the type of girl Lacey had just endured by the dozen at camp for the past five days.
Next to them, with her own kinky, red-blond hair, freckles, and total inability to giggle with them about stupid girl stuff, Lacey had felt like an ugly stepsister.
From their snide little comments and superior glances, she knew they concurred.
“Vicente doesn’t have a granddaughter,” Lacey snapped. “Who are you?”
She sounded rude, but she flat-out didn’t care. During that endless week at camp, she’d longed to be on her horse, on her own, with only the high desert breezes for company.
