Texas Gothic - By Rosemary Clement-Moore Page 0,23

Heads turned, as they say. Baseball caps, wide-brimmed straw hats, and one Stetson I recognized—oh effing hell—all swiveled to stare up the hill.

I’m sure I made an unimposing picture in my T-shirt and cutoff shorts, my hair in pigtails. On the other hand, I was fully clothed, so this was a marked improvement over yesterday.

Nothing to do but brazen it out. “Lila, Sadie!” I didn’t bother to yell at Bear, because he had only gone five steps and was looking very ashamed of himself. “Stay right there.”

I made my way down the steep slope, which was full of loose scree that made my descent anything but graceful. But I stayed on my feet, more or less, and caught up with the dogs at the bottom.

Ben McCulloch crossed the field on an intercept course. He did not look happy to see me. There was a shocker.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Mr. Personality stopped in front of me, his hands resting on his hips, which should have looked prissy but didn’t. It made him seem imposing, which I was sure was his aim.

But I needled him anyway. “Were you born a cranky old man?”

The dogs swarmed around him, holding no grudges, beating his legs with their ecstatic tails. He ignored them and glared at me. “What happened to ‘see you on the other side of never’?”

Slayed with my own words. “I didn’t know you’d be here. And as it happens,” I began with dignity, intending to tell him I was invited. But it occurred to me that “we” were invited might well be Phin’s interpretation and not the mysterious Mark’s intent. And that would have been humiliating. So I finished lamely, “I was just taking a walk.”

He gave me a look of exaggerated suspicion, and feeling like a coward, I busied myself calling the dogs to heel. “Stop that. Sit, Lila.”

To my shock, she did, and what Lila did, the others imitated. Ben raised his brows, but he looked more sarcastic than impressed. “They’ve learned some manners since yesterday. What did you do, cast a spell?”

If I could have cast a spell, it would have been to wipe that snide curl off his lip. I hadn’t forgotten the deputy’s visit.

But I had forgotten about the ranch hand until just then. “How is your guy?” I asked. “The man that went to the hospital.”

He looked confused, but that might have just been from the rapid-fire change of expressions on my face: anger, realization, chagrin, worry. His made its own progression: bemusement, surprise, irritation, then finally grudging admission. “He’s recovering. Cracked ribs, mild concussion. Lots of bruises.” Then, even more reluctantly: “Thanks for asking.”

And then, because he couldn’t be nice for a millisecond, he asked, “How did you know? Did you see it in your crystal ball?”

“No,” I snapped. “Don’t you think I would have better things to spy on in my crystal ball than your ranch?”

He shrugged and adjusted his stance, hooking a thumb in his belt, oh-so-unconcerned. “Well, you don’t have anything better to do than to trespass on it.”

I drew my words out sweetly. “I just wanted to stretch my legs. We have such an itty-bitty two hundred acres, and y’all have such a big, fine place over here.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re a lot sassier with your clothes on, Underwear Girl.”

While I struggled for a riposte to that, a young man joined us—a tanned Latino god in jeans and a worn-thin T-shirt. For a startled moment, my brain had no room for anything but appreciation, until I saw his amusement and curiosity. He’d definitely heard what Ben had just said. And I definitely wanted to die, but not without taking McCulloch with me.

“Hi,” said the newcomer, sounding very collegial for a deity. His razor-sharp cheekbones were sunburned and his straight blade of a nose was peeling. Human after all. “Are you Amaryllis?”

Ben’s brows shot up, and I saw the first hint of a smile from him. At my expense. Of course. “Amaryllis?”

“Amy,” I corrected, my arctic tone daring him to make something of it.

The other guy held out his dirty hand, then brushed it off on his equally dirty jeans before offering it again. “Mark Delgado. I’m an intern on this dig. I met your sister in the store yesterday. She isn’t with you?”

I wondered if he didn’t look a little disappointed. Phin was nuts, but she was pretty and delicate and strawberry-blond. And magic clings to her; it gives her a sort of charisma. People sense it, but