Rio Grande Wedding by Ruth Wind Read Free Book Online

the back bedroom and peeked in on her patient. Morning sunlight poured through the row of white eyelet curtains, and onto the man still asleep in the small double bed.
    She’d been hoping he might be a little less... overwhelming by daylight. No such luck. She paused in the doorway, admiring the smooth copper angle of his elbow, the breadth of his wrists and the fine, large hand cast loosely over his waist. Nearby the pillow, Leo was curled comfortably, his tail covering his eyes.
    As if her gaze awakened him, the man stirred, legs shifting below the blankets until the remembrance of pain in one of them stopped him. He went still again, and only turned his head, shaking hair from his face. He opened his eyes.
    Molly felt a hitch in her throat. Stunning eyes, startlingly dark irises against whites as clear as a child’s. For a moment, he stared at her, perplexed, then lifted that big dark hand and brushed his hair all the way out of his face. “I thought I dreamed you,” he said.
    Oh, my. His voice, till now, had been rough with pain, his words broken. After sleep and antibiotics, the voice was as rich as Mexican coffee, the accent lacing through it like cinnamon, a delicious and surprising stroke. “I’m real,” she said, crossing her arms. “How are you feeling?”
    He inclined his head, as if listening to his body. “Not bad.”
    She smiled. “Not bad, or just better than yesterday?”
    He raised his eyebrows, a faint smile of agreement turning up his wide mouth. “Not great.”
    â€œI’m going to make some scrambled eggs for breakfast. And there’s coffee. Can you eat?”
    â€œOh, yes.” It was heartfelt.
    Abruptly, he sat up and Molly flew to his side when the stabbing pain of broken ribs made him put both hands to his chest with a strangled groan. His hair fell in his face. “Take it easy,” she said.
    Leonardo, disturbed, made a plaintive noise of complaint and sat up by the pillows, but he didn’t run this time. Interesting, Molly thought.
    The man’s breath stuttered, then settled, and he raised his head. “Did you find my niece?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    Despair flickered over his face and he closed his eyes. “I have to find her.”
    â€œSeñor, you are not able. Don’t worry—I haven’t stopped looking.” She put a hand on his arm. “Let me get us both some breakfast, and give you some more medicine, and I’m going over to the orchard to see if Wiley has found her.”
    â€œWiley.” He nodded very seriously, put a hand on her shoulder, patting. “Yeah. That’s good.”
    â€œNeed some help up?”
    â€œSi.” He said it with resignation, and Molly chuckled.
    â€œYou’ll be better in just a day or two, I promise.”
    He nodded. “I do not like this—” his dark hand swept out as if to fling the weakness away “—fault.”
    â€œI know ” With practiced gestures, she indicated he should put his arm around her shoulders and they stood up together. She glanced up to his face, and saw his jaw set very tightly, that licorice hair hiding everything else. The pain had to be intense, but he bore it fairly well.
    She helped him limp across the hall, and left him, pointing out towels and soap and a plastic, wrapped toothbrush she’d put on the sink, before leaving him to it. “Call me when you’re ready, and I’ll help you get to the kitchen,” she said. He gave a single nod.
    Molly went back to the kitchen and without thought, she turned on the radio, and poured a cup of coffee and turned to the fridge, opened the door and stared for a long time without seeing anything but the fall of his hair, his bladed face, the red-gold burnishing of his skin.
    Slowly the vision faded, leaving her staring blankly at the contents of her refrigerator. Eggs. Right. She took the carton out, grabbed the butter, closed the