Free The Last Chance Ranch by Ruth Wind, Barbara Samuel Page A

school then.” He wondered if the annoyance had to do with the report he had mentioned. “How is your girlfriend—Teresa?”
    “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said. “She’s going out with Edwin Salazar now.”
    Tanya’s head came up. Ramón saw the wary coyote expression cross her face—alert and skittish. He frowned. Edwin was the worst case they had at the ranch, and there had been a lot of debate over whether to let him come in. In the end, Ramón had voted to allow him at the recommendation of a social worker he trusted. Edwin had been abused by not only his father, but also other relatives, and the social worker hoped that Edwin had a chance at rehabilitation if he could see a normal environment. Ramón made a mental note to ask Tanya about the boy, but in the meantime, he had a wounded child. “I’m sorry, son,” he said.
    Tonio shrugged, his face thunderous.
    “That doesn’t help much, does it?”
    “No.” He lifted his eyes. “I want to know how to get her back.”
    Ramón took a breath. “Is that what you really want? She’s chosen someone else—that means her feelings aren’t the same as yours, right?”
    “I guess.”
    “So wouldn’t it be more satisfying in the long run to let her go and find somebody who likes you as much as you like her?”
    Tonio’s lip curled. “Jeez, Dad, do you think you could be anymore wise?”
    Ramón glanced at Tanya. “You’re a female,” he said. “Tell him what you think.”
    The wariness had made a mask of invisibility over her features. Her mouth was without expression, her eyes opaque as if there was nothing at all behind them. A single wisp of streaked hair hung next her cheek. Her gaze slid from Ramón’s to Tonio’s. “I think there’s nothing that will make it better except time. And nothing we say will make it hurt any less. Just let it hurt and go on.”
    Tonio stared at her for a long minute, then stood up abruptly and left the table. Ramón started to go after him for his lack of manners, but Tanya stood with him and touched his arm. She shook her head. “He doesn’t want to cry in front of us.”
    Her nearness slammed into him. She was so much smaller than he—her head just came to his shoulder—and her body was lean on a frame of surprising strength. Her hand was on his upper arm and he could feel the press of her fingers against his muscle like four small round brands.
    Slowly, he looked at her, looked down into her piquant face and thought again of the Madonna in his old parish church. As he looked into her eyes, the opaque shield fragmented, and he saw the heat below. She wanted him, too. While he was thinking of her mouth, she was thinking of his. While he imagined lifting his hand to gauge the weight of her breasts against his palm, she was thinking of his chest and what it would be like bared. He wanted to offer a trade, but she was still far too skittish.
    Instead, he just looked at her, and let the heat of their close bodies mingle, let his gaze touch her mouth and her neck, let her fingers move on his arm ever so tentatively. He let his desire show. And waited for her to run away.
    For a long time, she didn’t. She just looked up at him with that stricken expression, her fingers lingering on his arm. He didn’t move.
    At last she looked at her hand on his arm and removed it. “That’s twice today I’ve touched someone willingly,” she said. “I don’t do that.”
    He winked. “I’m irresistible.”
    In gratitude, she smiled. “Let’s eat, O Magnificent One,” she said. “My eyes are well fed, but my stomach still needs some filling.”
    For an instant, he wondered if he could make her forget her stomach. He wanted to try. Instead, he sat down and put his napkin in his lap.
    After dinner, they played chess and told jokes. And it wasn’t until he was turning out his light many hours later that he realized he’d forgotten to ask her about Edwin.

Chapter Six
    Dear Antonio,
    The leaves are falling