Free Emmy's Equal by Marcia Gruver Page A

After ruining his hat, he’d likely never forget.
    “Mesquite grows like a house afire and provides a nice habitat for the wildlife,” he continued. “Cattle eat the beans when grass is scarce. Many people use them for food, too, as well as medicine.”
    Aunt Bertha flipped up the brim of her bonnet and gawked at Diego in disbelief. Slapping her leg, she laughed. “Young man, I swallowed that part about picking fruit off a cactus, but don’t try to tell me folks around these parts eat trees.”
    He laughed softly. “Only the beans, Mrs. Bloom. Wood from the larger trees makes good shelter and beautiful furniture. But most mesquite that size grows across the Rio Grande.” He shaded his eyes and stared, as if he could see the river. “It also fuels a fine cooking fire. Gives smoked meat a wonderful flavor.”
    Diego directed the last part to Emmy, so she raised her head and nodded to be polite. His warm smile flashed teeth so white against his bronzed skin it took her breath and delivered absolution to her repentant heart. She couldn’t remember ever seeing so handsome a face. Even the no-account scoundrel from her past couldn’t compare to this man, and she’d always thought Daniel Clark the best-looking man she’d ever met ... until now.
    Up ahead, lanky, towheaded Cuddy reined in his horse and turned in the saddle. “Hey, Diego!” He pointed toward a distant cloud of dust. The tension in his voice drew Emmy’s attention. “Riders. Heading our way.”
    Diego. So that’s his name.
    Papa sat forward on the seat as Cuddy wheeled his horse and rode to meet them. “Can you tell who it is, young man?”
    Cuddy shook his head. “Not from this distance, but they’re closing fast.”
    “Maybe it’s your father coming to greet us? Or someone sent by him?”
    “No, sir, that’s not Father’s mount,” he said grimly. “Besides, he sent us to greet you.”
    Mama gasped when Cuddy unsheathed his rifle and Diego slid a handgun from his boot.
    Looking helpless, Papa frowned up at them. “So you expect trouble then? Banditos?”
    Cuddy chewed his bottom lip before he answered. “Could be. I guess we’re about to find out.”
    Papa spun toward Diego. “Do you have extra firepower? I’m a fair shot.”
    Aunt Bert stood up in the wagon. “I can blast a buzzard off a carcass from a hundred yards.”
    Diego sat straighter on his horse, his pleasing mouth a firm line. “We appreciate the offer, Mr. Dane.” He nodded at Aunt Bert. “You, too, ma’am.” His watchful eyes remained pinned on the horizon. “But you can be most helpful by sitting down and staying low.”
    Pulling his attention from the intruders, his comforting gaze settled on Emmy. “Don’t you fret, miss. We’re prepared to defend you with our lives.”
    His assurance made her feel better, but she prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
    Diego tipped his chin at Cuddy. “Let’s ride out to meet them, draw them away from the wagon. No need to advertise all the luggage.”
    He pulled a shotgun from his scabbard and handed it down to Papa. “Keep the rig moving south toward the ranch while we stall them. You’re almost there. If anything goes wrong, push this wagon as if the devil were chasing you.” He gathered the reins, jutting his chin toward the horizon. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll catch up.” Pausing, he nodded at the gun. “And don’t be afraid to use that.”
    Papa patted the barrel. “If necessary, I’ll find a use for it.”
    Diego tapped his horse’s side with his heel and trotted toward the band of four men, closer now than Aunt Bertha’s buzzard.
    Cuddy followed, his rifle braced across his saddle.
    Papa shook the leads and the wagon jerked into motion.
    No one made a sound, save that of heavy breathing. Their rapid, shuddering pants reached Emmy’s ears despite the creak of the wheels and the pounding of her heart. She had no desire to die that day but, oddly, didn’t fear for herself. Her muddled thoughts centered on