Free Ryan's Hand by Leila Meacham

kissed his smooth-shaven cheek. Blinking at the tears that threatened, she stammered, “You’ve been so kind. I can never repay—”
    “Shh.” He stopped her gently by touching a finger to her lips. “Take care of yourself now, and let me hear from you.”
    Once he had gone, Cara found a secluded seat in a vacant passenger lounge and cried out the grief and despair that had needed release for weeks. She felt better afterward and resolutely drew a breath. That will have to do me, she thought. No way can I afford to do that once I’m on The Conquered Land!
    The next morning she was wide awake long before the desk called to awaken her. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling and tried to calm herself by mentally lining up the defenses she could call on to protect herself from Jeth Langston’s expected vengeance. There was the matter of the land, which would be hers by law within the year. She must not be squeamish when it came to holding that over his arrogant head in case he decided to get rough with her. Also, she would watch her decorum carefully and in no way give anyone reason to call her—she could hardly bear to think of it—Ryan’s whore! She would stay out of everyone’s way, but if allowed, she would certainly pitch in and help with whatever needed doing.
    But for all the practical advice she gave herself, the knot remained tied in her stomach. Not even the elegant suit she chose for her flight helped to soothe her anxieties. She had come to take pleasure and comfort in the large assortment of beautiful clothes that soon would be hanging in her closet on La Tierra. They reminded her of Ryan and brought him close to her in memory. She wore them proudly, knowing that he would have wanted her to.
    Cara preferred time to drag, but it did not. By the time she had finished packing and forced herself to eat several bites of melon for breakfast, she had to leave for the airport. She dressed warmly in the sable-lined raincoat, for spring was late arriving in Texas, and in no time at all she was deposited before the flight desk and her bags were being checked.
    A flurry of worrisome questions besieged her as the airliner winged its way over the vast reaches of Texas. Were the two big boxes containing her clothes and the belongings she had sent by air freight waiting for her in the small airport where she’d be landing? Would there be someone there to meet her? Cara cringed at the thought that it might be Jeth Langston. She shrugged off that worry immediately, thinking it unlikely that the owner of La Tierra Conquistada performed such menial chores. How would she get to the ranch if no one was there? She could rent a car, but how could she return it? Finally, already exhausted from the burden of her anxieties and a sleepless night, she laid her head back, closed heavy lids over troubled eyes, and slept.
    The steward woke her, it seemed to Cara, just a few minutes later, and yet she felt a surge of fresh strength and well-being. The young man smiled down at her, enjoying her beauty. “I thought you’d like to be awake before we land,” he said, “especially if this is your first trip to West Texas.”
    Cara thanked him, and the steward remained at her seat to get her reaction when she looked out of her window. The sight below made her gasp. The handsome young steward smiled. “That’s something, isn’t it? Everybody has that reaction the first time they see West Texas from the air. Someone once said this part of the state can best be described as ‘miles and miles of miles and miles.’ ”
    An accurate statement, Cara agreed, as she gaped down at the vast, seemingly endless desert that surrounded two oasis-looking patches of green. Cara assumed they were the only towns of any size in the area. In between them was the airport, but beyond and around them was nothing—no trees, lakes, or highways—to break the sweeping brown panorama of the West Texas plains. A tough, rugged land, she decided—like the man who