Fearless. Diana Palmer

seemed to realize where they were, as if he’d lost his train of thought. “I’ll have Consuelo get a room ready for you,” he said without enthusiasm. “She’s been putting up the jellies and preserves herself. It’s a new line. We have a processing plant for the vegetables. If the fruit line catches on, we’ll add it into the plant. Consuelo said the kitchen here is plenty large enough to do for a sampling of products.”

      “I won’t get in her way,” she promised.

      “Come on, then. I’ll introduce you before I leave.”

      Was he going to quit already, then, to keep from having to work with her? she wanted to ask. Pity he had no sense of humor.

      She reached back into the car for her red dragon cane. She had an umbrella stand full of the helpful devices, in all sorts of colors and styles. If one had to be handicapped, she reasoned, one should be flamboyant about it.

      She closed the door, leaning on the cane.

      His expression was inexplicable. He scowled.

      She waited for him to comment about her disability.

      He didn’t. He turned and walked, slowly, back to the house, waiting for her to catch up. She recognized that expression. It was pity. She clenched her teeth. If he offered to help her up the steps, she was going to hit him right in the knee with her cane.

      He didn’t do that, either. He did open the door for her, grudgingly.

      Great, she told herself as she walked into the foyer. We’ll communicate in sign language from now on, I guess.

      He led the way through a comfortable living room with polished bare wood floors, through what seemed like pantries on both sides of the narrow passage, and into an enormous kitchen with new appliances, a large table and chairs, a worktable, and yellow lace curtains at all the windows. The floor was linoleum with a stone pattern. The cabinets were oak-stained, roomy and easy to reach. There was a counter that went from the dishwasher and sink around to the stove. The refrigerator was standing alone in a corner. It must have offended the cook and been exiled, Glory thought wickedly.

      A small dark woman with her hair in a complicated ponytail down her back, tied in four places with pink ribbon, turned at the sound of footsteps. She had a round face and laughing dark eyes.

      “Consuelo,” the tall man said, indicating Glory, “this is the new canner.”

      Consuelo’s eyebrows arched.

      “I told him I can can and he called me an exotic dancer,” Glory told the woman.

      The other woman seemed to be fighting laughter.

      “This is Consuelo Aguila,” he introduced. “And this is…” He stopped dead, because he didn’t know who the new arrival was.

      Glory waited for him to get on with it. She wasn’t inclined to help out.

      “You didn’t ask her name?” Consuelo chided. She went to Glory, with a big smile. “You are welcome here. I can use the help. What is your name?”

      “Gloryanne,” came the soft reply. “Gloryanne Barnes.”

      The tall man raised both eyebrows. “Who named you?”

      Her eyes grew solemn. “My father. He thought having a child was a glorious occasion.”

      He was curious about her expression. She seemed reluctant to add anything more.

      “Do you know who he is?” Consuelo asked her, indicating the tall man.

      Glory pursed her lips. She shook her head.

      “You didn’t even introduce yourself?” Consuelo asked the man, aghast.

      He glowered at her. “She won’t be working with me,” he said flatly.

      “Yes, but she’s going to live in the house…?”

      “I don’t mind sleeping in my car,” Glory said at once, very pleasantly.

      “Don’t be absurd,” he growled. “I have to go to the hardware store to pick up some more stakes for the tomato plants,” he told the small, dark woman. “Give her a room and tell her how we work here.”

      Glory opened her mouth to protest his attitude, but he whirled and strode out of the room without another word. The front screen door banged loudly as he went out it.

      “Well, he’s a charmer, isn’t he?” Glory asked the older woman with a grin. “I can hardly wait to settle in and make his life utterly miserable.”

      Consuelo laughed. “He’s not so bad,” she said. “We don’t know why he took over when Mr. Wilkes resigned. The boss—that’s Mr. Pendleton, he lives in San Antonio—told us that Rodrigo had lost his family recently and was in mourning. He came here to pick up his life again.”

      “Oh, dear,” Glory said quietly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have been so sarcastic toward him.”

      “It rolls off his back,” the woman scoffed. “He works like a tiger. He is never cruel or harsh with the men who work in the fields. He is a cultured man, I think, because he loves to listen to DVDs of opera and classical music. But once, we had a worker get into a fight with another man, and Rodrigo intervened. Nobody saw him move, but in the flash of a light, the aggressor was lying on his back in the dirt with many bruises. The men don’t give Rodrigo any reason to go after them, since that happened. He is very strong.”

      “Rodrigo?” Glory sounded out the name. It had a quiet dignity.

      “Rodrigo Ramirez,” she replied. “He worked on a cattle ranch down in Sonora, he said.”

      “He came from Mexico?”

      “I think he was born there, but he does not speak of his past.”

      “His accent is very slight,” Glory mused. “He speaks Spanish, I guess.”

      “Spanish, French, Danish, Portuguese, German, Italian and, of all things, Apache.”

      Glory was confused. “With a talent like that, he’s managing a truck farm in Texas?”

      Consuelo chuckled. “I, also, made this observation. He led me to believe he once worked as a translator. Where, he did not say.”

      Glory smiled. “Well, at least this is going to be an interesting job.”

      “You know the big boss, Jason Pendleton?”

      Glory nodded. “Well, sort of,” she amended quickly. “I was more friendly with his sister,” she confided.

      “Ah. Gracie.” Consuelo chuckled again. “She came with him once. There was a cat with a broken leg lying beside the road, a stray that hung around here. Gracie picked it up, blood and dirt and all, and made Jason take her to the nearest vet. She was wearing a silk dress that would cost me two months wages, and it didn’t matter. The cat was what mattered.” She smiled. “She should marry. It would be a very lucky man, to have a wife like that.”

      “She doesn’t want to get married,” Glory said. “Her real father was a hell-raiser.”

      “Hers and Jason’s, you mean…”

      Glory shook her head. “You see, Jason and Gracie aren’t related. Her father died when she was in her early teens. Her stepmother married Jason’s father. Then her stepmother died and Jason’s father married again.” She didn’t add that Jason’s stepfather was also her own stepfather. It was complicated.

      Consuelo took off her apron. “I must show you to the guest room.” She turned, and only then noticed the cane, half hidden behind Glory’s jean-clad leg. Her eyebrows met. “You should have told me,” she fussed. “I would never have let you stand like that while I gossiped! It must be painful.”

      “I didn’t notice. Really.”

      “The room is