Dark Secret Read Free

the rails.
    “Are you all right, Colby?” Paul demanded anxiously, flinging himself on his knees beside her in the powdered dirt.
    Colby groaned and rolled over to stare up at the darkening sky, a humorless smile curving her soft mouth. “What a stupid way to make a living,” she told Paul absently. “How many times has that worthless animal thrown me?” She sat up, pushing at the damp tendrils escaping from her thick red-goldbraid. The back of her hand left a streak of dirt across her forehead.
    “Today or altogether?” Paul teased, then hastily wiped the grin from his face when she turned the full power of her eyes on him. “Six,” he answered solemnly.
    Gingerly she stood up, swiping at the layer of dust on her worn, faded Levi’s. Ruefully she examined her tattered shirt. “Who owns this beast anyway? Whoever it is had better be someone I like.”
    Carefully Paul brushed dust off her hat, avoiding her gaze. Unless a horse was being trained for rodeo riding, Colby allowed Paul to handle all the details. Worst possible luck. “De La Cruz,” he muttered apprehensively. At sixteen he was taller than his sister. Lean, tanned, already with the muscles of a horseman, Paul was unusually strong for his age. His face held the stamp of someone much older. He held out the weathered flat-brimmed hat almost as an offering of atonement to his sister.
    There was a small silence while the wind seemed to hold its breath. Even the chestnut stopped snorting and reefing while Colby stared in horror at her brother. “Are we talking about the same De La Cruz who came to this ranch and insulted me? The same one who demanded we pack up our things and leave our father’s ranch because I’m a woman and you’re a child? That De La Cruz? The De La Cruz who ordered me to turn you and Ginny over to the Chevez family and gave me a whale of a headache with his insulting domineering disgusting male chauvinistic behavior?” Colby’s soft husky voice was nearly velvet, the delicate perfection of her face utterly still. Only her large eyes betrayed her mood. “Tell me we aren’t talking about that De La Cruz, Paulo. Lie to me so I don’t commit murder.” Her brilliant eyes were fairly shooting sparks.
    “Well,” he hedged, “it was Juan Chavez who brought the horses over, sixteen of them. We had to take them, Colby. He’s paying top dollar and we need the money. You said yourself Clinton Daniels was pushing us about the mortgage.”
    “Not their money,” Colby snapped impatiently. “ Never their money. It’s conscience money, for their sins. We’ll find other ways to pay the mortgage.” She shook her head to clearit of the anger welling unexpectedly out of nowhere. Slamming her hat against her denim-clad thigh, she muttered unladylike things under her breath. “Juan had no right to offer you the horses behind my back.” She glanced at her brother’s miserable face and instantly the anger evaporated as if it had never been.
    She reached out to shove her hand affectionately through his jet black hair. “It isn’t your fault. I should have expected something like this and warned you. Ever since that family showed up, that De La Cruz person has been nothing but trouble. I wrote the letter to the Chevez family for Dad nearly three years ago. Isn’t it a blooming miracle they’re finally getting around to answering it?” Colby swung around to face the chestnut, watching it carefully with wary eyes. “This horse is probably their way of getting rid of me so they can have you. With me out of the way they might have a chance at taking you and Ginny with them back to their South American hellhole. And robbing you of your inheritance while they’re at it.”
    Colby was short and slender with soft full curves, large deep green eyes fringed with lacy dark lashes, and an abundance of long silky hair. Shapely arms deceptively hid strong muscles. White scars marred the deep tan on her arms and on her small hands, showing the years