Ryan's Hand Read Free

on the mantel—“I can’t help but worry about that rawhide-tough brother of mine. Jeth seems so alone to me. The big house is as empty and quiet as a tomb. With all that gray tile Jeth chose for the floors, it looks like one, too. Our mother never had a chance to decorate the house. Only the construction was finished when she and Dad were killed in that plane crash. I’d like to see Jeth marry a wonderful woman who will give him children to make that house a home.”
    “Then why doesn’t he?” Cara asked. “He certainly can’t be without choices.”
    “He has those, for sure. But Jeth thinks the kind of woman he’d want to share his life with doesn’t exist.”
    “Perfection rarely does,” Cara commented dryly, then felt herself flush as Ryan lifted his head to look down at her quizzically. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve no business passing judgment on your brother.” Cara slipped her hand into his. “Please go on, Ryan.”
    “The kind of woman Jeth needs would have to be special, not perfect,” Ryan explained patiently. “She’d have to be the kind of woman who could love the land like he does, accept its demands and flaws—the heat and wind and sandstorms and isolation. She’d have to respect its people too, all the different breeds and cultures of them. And she’d have to love Jeth, really love him, not his fortune or his power or his empire, but the man who lives behind that rock-hard exterior of his that’s gotten thicker through the years.”
    “That’s quite an order,” Cara said softly. “Ryan, have you never thought of marrying and having those children to make that house a home? I’d hate to lose the best friend I’ll ever have”—she smiled wistfully—“but still that’s a possibility. The ranch belongs equally to both of you, doesn’t it?”
    Ryan shook his head. “On paper, yes, but the land, the house, the oil, the cattle—they really belong to Jeth. He has a philosophy that land, like horses—anything wild held captive by man—must be cared for or he has to let it go. I remember the day he demonstrated that to me. I was eighteen that summer. I’d been so busy studying for the entrance exams for Harvard I’d completely withdrawn from the ranch’s operation. One day Jeth asked me to go out to the stables with him. Texas Star, my horse, was snorting around the corral, and I realized then what was on Jeth’s mind. He’d found out that one of the hands had been taking care of him. At La Tierra, a man takes care of his own horse. He asked me how long it had been since I’d ridden Texas, and I had to confess I couldn’t remember. I could see that he was reverting to the wild stallion he’d been when I captured him for the roundup…”
    “So what happened?” Cara urged as Ryan paused.
    “Jeth walked over to the corral gate and opened it. Then he slapped Texas’s flank, and my horse took off for the mountains where I’d found him.”
    “But that was cruel!” she gasped.
    “It was kind , Cara! Don’t you see? Texas could never belong to anyone else, and he didn’t belong to me anymore, so he had to be set free. I can still see that horse. He was a three-year-old palomino and at the base of his mane was a perfectly formed white star. He raced off for a distance, then he stopped and looked back. I started to go after him, but Jeth stopped me by saying something I’ve never forgotten…”
    Wide-eyed, Cara prompted on held breath, “What was it?”
    “He said that I should never tame anything I wasn’t prepared to love.”
    Ryan’s eyes closed tiredly, and there was silence in the room except for the faraway cries of the seagulls and the opulent sound of a fine antique clock ticking on the mantel. The sunlight filtering through the French doors did little to dispel the sudden chill that had crept into the room.
    “I understood what he was telling me.” Ryan spoke again, laying his head back. “The name of our ranch, you know, is La