Page 12 of Vaquero
Chapter Four
Meg had never felt better in her life. Never! Help had really come. She and her babies were saved. Orlando could have this part of Brazil, because she was on her way back to the land of milk and honey. Streets of gold. The good old US of A. And somehow, she was taking these kids with her.Thank you, Jesus!She felt like dancing. Or singing. But that’d make too much noise, and they weren’t on North American soil yet. But soon. Oh, baby, soon!
“He hurt you,” Pepe grumbled. They’d taken a spot and were sitting a way from Mr. Juarez. “And you like him better than me.”
“Oh, sweetheart, no, he didn’t hurt me at all. And I don’t like him better. I would never,” Meg assured her handsome, albeit too-young and very jealous suitor, even as she glanced surreptitiously at the badassed man in question. “I’m just happy to see another American. But I also believe what Mr. Juarez said. He is here to help us, and he’s one of the good guys. I can tell. But you know I’ll always love you.” To prove it, she tugged Pepe close enough to hip-check him, even sitting like they were. “I’ve known you lots longer than that grumpy guy over there. Trust me. You’re my main squeeze.”
Pepe’s handsome face brightened as he wiggled his skinny backside enough to hip-check her in return. “I kind of like him, too. Sort of,” he admitted, his gaze drifting over his shoulder to the man in question, who was now staring at the way he’d come. Back to the land of Oz. “He is taking good care of Dominic. I can see that, but he is so ugly. No wonder he is a soldier. People must scream in fright and run away to hide when they see him coming.”
That made Meg chuckle. Mr. Juarez, make that Julio, did look fierce and scary, with those masculine brows knotted like ropes drawn too tight across his forehead. They all but shadowed the upper portion of his face. And that perpetual scowl. He seemed not to know how to smile, maybe because he’d seen too much on his tours with the Navy? That seemed a plausible deduction.
There were no laugh lines at the corners of his beautiful, deep brown eyes, either. Which was unfortunate. Those grumpy eyes were fringed in black, his lashes so thick, they could have passed for brushes—or wings.
He was an enigma. One moment a kickass warrior, leading with that scowl and military, take-charge attitude. The next, as humble as a Boy Scout, calling her ma’am, and trying to please. But darkness hovered over him. Or was it just his all-black attire, dark as sin button-up shirt and tactical pants that gave Meg that impression? Maybe. But she’d seen past that harder-than-nails masculine façade when she’d forced this big, tough guy to take Dom.
There was a sadness lurking inside this man, a need. She was sure of it. If not, he would’ve quickly handed Dom back and grouched that he wasn’t a nursemaid, or something just as heartless. He would’ve acted offended that she’d challenged his masculinity. Most men would have.
But Julio hadn’t. Not even for a second. If anything, he’d immediately secured that frail little body inside his shirt and tucked Dom against his chest. He looked more like he’d latched onto a lifeline instead of an unwanted duty. The stoic, hard-core look on his grumpy face had even brightened for a few seconds with unabashed wonder, or something equally as bright. That was the word that fit best what Meg had witnessed inside her rescuer. Bright. Julio’s countenance had changed the moment he’d looked at Dom and realized he was holding a little boy. For some reason, he needed this sickly little guy, and Dom sure as heck needed him.
“I think Mr. Juarez is handsome,” Meg replied, keeping her tone level so none of her emotions showed. Julio wasn’t just handsome. Uh uh. Grown men with the kind of emotion emanating from his dark eyes, with such an intense feeling for a motherless child, were hot as hell in her little black book. Not that she had a little black book. Her dating days ended the day she’d woken in the ER after her stroke. But she could dream, couldn’t she? And when she dreamed of her future white knight, there was always a real man in that suit of armor. Not some slacker who tolerated ‘babysitting’ his own children. But a kind, gentle guy who truly wanted to be a good father. Who truly loved his wife and children.
“When a person risks their life to save yours, they change into the most beautiful creature on earth,” she told Pepe. Julio Juarez was beautiful. No doubt about that.
Not that she’d found him unattractive before he’d proven he had a tender heart. Not at all. If anything, Juarez was a sturdy bulwark of a man, his body compact and built like a bull’s. A very handsome bull. Yes, that fit him, too. He was a beast of burden, but a workhorse maybe, instead of a bull. Not Hollywood tall or handsome in that vain and shallow, look-at-me, I’m-somebody-important-and-you’re-not kind of way. Not one of those prissy, high-strung thoroughbreds. But definitely noticeable. Maybe even eye-catching if a woman knew what to look for.
Meg knew as surely as she was sitting there that something traumatic had happened to this noble creature. It was a wild guess after spending so little time with Julio, but Meg was a decent judge of characters, and she knew trauma. Her diagnosis of this strange, tender warrior felt right. This big fierce draft horse needed the tiny life tucked so carefully against his heart.
Yet, somehow in their first meeting, Mr. Juarez had also ended up being in command, and that was disconcerting. Meg was not a pushover. Despite her handicap, which was getting better every day, she excelled at everything she put her hand to. She, a single woman and a dedicated foreign aid-worker, was here in the Highlands, wasn’t she? She had rescued and saved her kids from a fate worse than death, hadn’t she? And she’d done that alone. Well, almost alone until he’d shown up. So why was she arguing with herself? She didn’t need to convince anyone that she would, by hell, overcome the ridiculous limitation the Lord had ‘blessed’ her with. But she was, and she knew it, and that was just plain aggravating. Attitude. She needed to change her attitude. Julio was not in charge. She was.
Yet look at him. He sat there cross-legged with his free hand on his knee, the other cupping Dom’s scrawny backside. There was something incredibly tender about the way he cradled the boy while they rested before completing the walk into camp. Julio wasn’t holding the boy like most men would. Like a football. Casually.
Uh uh. Julio was holding Dom like he’d been entrusted with a gift he didn’t want to drop. He hadn’t stopped murmuring to the boy or kissing the top of Dom’s head through the space he’d left unbuttoned in his shirt. Which made Meg cringe, because that little guy’s head had to reek of sweat and filth by now. Lord, all these kids desperately needed baths. But Julio didn’t seem to notice. And her crack about worms and parasites? That hadn’t stopped him from kissing Dom’s head for a second.
Julio’s chin came up suddenly. He didn’t blink, but man, he glared as if he’d read Meg’s mind. As if he wanted her to stop thinking he was some kind of hero. Too bad. That boat had already sailed. He was a hero, at least, for today.
“It’s time to leave this place, ma’am,” he said respectfully. “Oz will have scouts out looking for you.”
She nodded back at him, unable to stop thinking and wondering about him. Not even going to try. “Yes, you’re right. We’ve already run into them. And him. Pack up, kids. Let’s go home.”
Like they had anything to pack. But brave Pepe assumed his position as a mule for Maria, crossing his arms behind his back to cradle her skinny backside once she’d climbed up his body again. Joachim took hold of Pedro’s and Phillipe’s hands, and they were moving again.
Meg led the way, while Julio hung back, making certain no one followed. Make that, as he and Dom followed. Because there were two warriors guarding this tiny flock of ducklings now.
“There it is,Senhorita. Look,” Pepe said, pointing excitedly at the stone monolith peeking through the branches and leaves of the wide green canopy overhead.
“Madre de Dios!”Julio murmured as his gaze drifted higher and higher until he was nearly looking straight up. “What is that?”
“I see it. I see it,” Maria whispered. “Is that our new home?”
“It’s a geological formation called Giant’s Toes,” Meg explained. “Yes, Maria. We’ll stay here for now. Circle the toes, Pepe, but be cautious. We won’t go into camp until we’re sure the way is clear.”
By then, Julio had advanced to the front of the group and rested his big hand on Pepe’s shoulder. “Are you a brave man?” he asked the boy quietly.
Pepe’s head bobbed. “Yes. I am brave like my Papa, and I am strong, too. See?” He flexed his bicep like any excited ten-year-old boy would.
Julio gave him a quick, appreciative nod like a man gave his equal. Then he squeezed the barely there bump on proud Pepe’s bicep. “I see. You have been working out. That is good. Then we will go into camp together,amigo. You and I will make absolutely sure it is safe before we let the women and children enter.”
Meg couldn’t believe her ears. This man seemed to know precisely how to speak to little boys.
