A Cowboy's Redemption. Marin Thomas

might get in Mr. Cruz’s way.” This morning he’d removed several broken boards from the corral and replaced them with wood he’d found in the storage shed. Tools and hardware littered the ground and Sara didn’t want Dani accidentally cutting herself or stepping on a rusty nail.

      “Pleeease...”

      “Stop whining, Dani!” Sara rubbed her brow, regretting that she’d snapped at her daughter. She blamed her short temper on José. Every chance he got, her father-in-law grumbled and complained about the work Cruz did. He thought the broken boards gave the corral character. Then, when Cruz had removed all the donkey poo from the ground and thrown it in big trash bags to take to the dump, José had grumbled that it was a waste of good manure and should be used for composting. “C’mon.” She reached for Dani’s hand. “Let’s see if there’s something Mr. Cruz can find for you to do.”

      Dani’s expression brightened and Sara’s heart swelled with love. Tony had been taken from them too early, but she drew strength from her daughter and she credited Dani with helping her move on.

      When they stepped outside, Sara shielded her eyes from the midday sun. Keeping hold of Dani’s hand, she led her over to the corral, where Cruz worked with his back to them. She stopped short of the tools strewn on the ground and waited until he quit hammering to speak.

      “Mr. Cruz,” Sara said.

      He glanced over his shoulder and Sara sucked in a quiet breath at the way his gaze rolled down her body before returning to her face.

      “Is there any chance you might have a chore Dani could help with?”

      He crossed the enclosure, stopping in front of them. His shirt was soaked through and for an instant she wished he’d take it off and give her a glimpse of the muscle hiding beneath. The temperature was rising but it hadn’t gotten so hot that her mouth should feel like a dry riverbed.

      “I’m a good helper,” Dani said.

      His lips quivered and Sara was disappointed when he didn’t smile. She suspected a full-blown grin from him would knock her feet out from under her.

      “I found two cans of white paint in the shed. Dani can help paint the corral.”

      Her daughter tugged on Sara’s T-shirt. “I wanna paint. Can I paint? Please can I paint?”

      She brushed Dani’s bangs out of her eyes. “Go change into the shorts with the tear in the pocket and the T-shirt with the Cheerios box on the front. If you get paint on those clothes, it won’t matter.”

      “Yay!” Dani raced into the house.

      “Are you sure she won’t be in your way?” Sara studied his face, wondering about his age. The lines etched next to his eyes and his chiseled jaw had her guessing between thirty-five and forty.

      “I can’t guarantee she’ll keep the paint off herself, but if that’s okay with you, then I don’t mind,” he said.

      She tore her attention from his face and stared at the pearl snaps on his sweaty cotton shirt, then her gaze dropped to the worn leather belt that hugged his hips.

      “I’m collecting a pile of garbage for the dump if you have anything to add to it.”

      She snapped out of her trance. If he noticed her ogling him, he was too much of a gentleman to mention it. “I’ll go through the house and see.” There was nothing left to say, but Sara’s feet remained firmly planted. If that wasn’t perplexing enough, she didn’t understand why he hadn’t gone back to working.

      His eyes shifted to the house, then to her, then to the ground before returning to her face. “Dani said her father was shot.”

      Sara’s breath caught in her throat and suddenly the roots on the bottom of her shoes broke off, and she swayed.

      “Hey, are you okay?” Cruz grabbed her arm. “Sorry. It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked.”

      It took her a moment to find her voice—not because of his question. It wasn’t her deceased husband’s memory, but Cruz’s touch that had rendered her temporarily speechless.

      “Antonio volunteered at a free medical clinic in a tough area of Albuquerque. One night while he was closing up, two local gangs got into a shoot-out and a stray bullet came through the window and struck him in the chest. When he hadn’t arrived home by ten o’clock, I called the police, but he was already dead when they arrived.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      She cleared her throat. “The next day the police decided it had been a stray bullet from a Los Locos gang member that had killed Tony.”

      Cruz stiffened. “I better get to work.” He disappeared inside the shed, leaving Sara gaping after him.

      She made him uncomfortable. All the signs were there—he barely made eye contact. He always took a step back when she approached him. And he answered her questions with as few words as possible. She sensed he was hiding something. But what?

      It’s none of your concern. Turning off her desire to help others wasn’t easy. Cruz isn’t asking for your help. If there was ever a man who should wear an approach-at-your-own-risk sign around his neck, it was Cruz.

      When Sara entered the kitchen, Dani raced past her. “Mind your manners, young lady, and do what Mr. Cruz says.”

      “I will!” A slamming door punctuated her daughter’s exit.

      Sara went into the dining room and stood in the shadows near the window facing the corral. She watched Cruz place a can of paint on the ground at Dani’s feet. Next, he demonstrated how to dip the brush into the can and wipe off the excess paint. Dani followed his example and whatever he said to her made her beam at him. Cruz might be uncomfortable around Sara but he didn’t seem to mind Dani’s company.

      He carried the second can of paint to another section of fence and worked there. The corral should be torn down but the animals had to be contained somewhere. After a few minutes, Dani set her brush aside, then walked over to Cruz and sat in the dirt. While he worked, she chatted and Sara wished she could hear their conversation. Dani was a friendly child and had inherited her outgoing personality from her father. Antonio had believed helping the needy would make him immune to violence and crime in the barrio. He’d been wrong. Dead wrong.

      “Are you lonely, hija?”

      Sara’s father-in-law had an uncanny ability to read her mind. Forcing a smile, she turned from the window. “A little.” In truth she was beyond lonely and it had begun long before Antonio had died. Once Dani had been born, her husband had mistakenly believed their daughter would keep Sara so busy she wouldn’t notice the long hours he put in at the hospital during the week and then at the clinic on weekends. But Sara had noticed and she’d begged him to spend more time with her and Dani, but her husband had chosen to help strangers over his family.

      “He’s not the right man for you,” José said.

      She swallowed a gasp and glanced at the window. “I’m not interested in Mr. Rivera.” At least not in a happy-ever-after way. “Why would you think that?”

      “Because your eyes follow him everywhere.”

      This was not a conversation she should be having with her father-in-law. “I want to be sure Dani doesn’t make a nuisance of herself.”

      “And I will make sure you don’t bother Mr. Rivera.” José turned to leave but Sara stopped him.

      “Wait.” She didn’t want this subject hanging between them when they returned to Albuquerque. There would come a time when she brought a man home, and she didn’t want her relationship with José to be adversely affected by that. “Antonio has been dead for over a year and half.”

      José’s stern face crumbled and she rushed to his side, coaxing him to sit in a chair before taking the seat next to him. She didn’t have the heart