With the help of Cruz’s vaqueros, the work went much faster. What they found as the debris was cleared away was not encouraging. Ana was dead, and Josefa, both crushed to death by the kitchen wall and ceiling, which had collapsed. Where were the rest who had been inside the hacienda? Could they possibly be alive?

“They might have gotten to the root cellar,” Sloan said, panting with fatigue as she threw adobe bricks behind her.

Cruz remained silent, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He was less willing to be optimistic, but neither did he wish to take away what hope Sloan still had that her son might be alive.

Two hours later, they found Tomasita alive and unhurt. The two women embraced each other, and Sloan fought tears of relief as Tomasita explained she had found refuge under her mahogany bedframe, which had kept the weight of the adobe from crushing her. She was fine.

“You should go rest,” Sloan urged.

“I want to help,” Tomasita said. “Please. Let me do this.”

Sloan didn’t take time to argue, but returned to the unpleasant task at hand. It was Miguel who uncovered Doña Lucia’s hand under a large chunk of adobe. There was no pulse.

Sloan met Cruz’s eyes and shared with him the painful knowledge that his mother was dead. He said nothing, but his face paled and Sloan saw that he had his jaw clamped tightly to prevent the quiver that threatened.

“Get her out of there,” he said at last, his voice hard and flat.

They worked carefully, revealing, at odd moments, a thick strand of her black hair that had worked loose from her bun, the layered ruffles of her skirt and a black shoe.

She was curled protectively around something. It only became apparent what that something was in the last moments as her body was uncovered.

“It’s Cisco,” Sloan said in a disbelieving whisper. “Cruz, it’s Cisco!” she shouted. She fell to her knees beside Cruz, who was gently loosening his mother’s grasp on her grandson.

“Oh, Cruz, please, I want to hold him.”

“Be patient, Cebellina. He may not be-”

“I know he’s alive!” Sloan said fiercely.

At that moment, Cisco whimpered and blinked open his eyes. He rubbed them, trying to clear away the dust. When he saw Sloan and Cruz, he cried, “Papa! Mamá!” and reached out his arms to them.

A crushing embrace followed as they clutched one another. Sloan saw through blurred eyes the tears that scoured Cruz’s cheeks, and heard him swallow over a sob, in the way a man will do.

She closed her eyes and held on, feeling she had been given another chance to be a wife and mother. Another chance to start over with this man and this boy. Another chance for happiness.

She intended to reach out and grab it.

Chapter 19

SLOAN POUNDED TWICE ON THE FRONT DOOR TO Three Oaks and had lifted her fist to pound again when the door opened.

Luke took one look at her torn and dusty clothes, at the tear-streaked face of the child in her arms, and at the dishabille of the young Spanish woman who stood, eyes downcast, behind her and said, “What the hell happened to you? Where’s Cruz?”

“A tornado hit Dolorosa. Cruz will be here in a minute. He’s taking care of the horses.”

Luke encircled Sloan with one arm and led her into the house. “Are you all right? And Tomasita-” His anxious glance skipped past Sloan to the young woman behind her.

At that moment, Tomasita lifted her eyes to meet Luke’s gaze. Sloan saw that Luke wanted to take Tomasita in his arms, but he made no move toward her. Then the moment was gone.

Sloan closed her eyes and swayed with fatigue. Everything was such a mess. Here she was at Three Oaks, and while it was fortunate that Tomasita now had a chance to work out her differences with Luke, Sloan had to face the fact that circumstances had put Cruz exactly where the Englishman wanted him.

And yet, where else could they have gone?

“What happened?” Luke asked again.

“There’s nothing left of the hacienda but a pile of rubble. Cruz’s mother was killed, and Ana and Josepha.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Luke said.

“We need a place to stay until the house can be rebuilt.” Sloan swallowed and said, “There wasn’t anywhere else to go.”

Luke swore under his breath. “This is your home, Sloan. This is where you should have come.”

At that moment Angelique LeFevre appeared from the parlor and joined Luke. The former chargé’s daughter was a petite, blue-eyed blonde whose golden hair was styled in lovely sausage curls that framed her face and bounced when she moved her head. She wore a long-sleeved lavender day dress of muslin de laine trimmed with purple ribbon.

Angelique laid a proprietary hand on Luke’s arm and said, “Won’t you introduce me to your guests?”

“They’re hardly guests, Angel,” Luke said. “You might remember Rip’s eldest daughter Sloan. I believe you met her four years ago, when you first came to Texas with your father.”

“Yes, I believe I did.” Angelique smiled broadly. “How are you? This must be your son. You were expecting a child at the time I met you, as I recall. What an adorable little boy. What’s his name?”

“Cisco.” Sloan stepped away so Angelique’s hand missed connecting with the curls on Cisco’s head.

“The child’s father was…” Angelique tapped a slender finger against her chin, thinking.

“Tonio was killed,” Sloan said bluntly. “I married his brother, Cruz.”

“Ohhhh. Really?”

Sloan’s lids shuttered her flashing eyes and her hands fisted in the folds of the blanket covering Cisco. If Angelique LeFevre said one more word about Tonio…

“Uh… this is Refugia Adela Maria Tomasita Hidalgo,” Luke said, shifting Angelique’s fascinated attention from Sloan. “Tomasita is Señor Guerrero’s ward.”

“How interesting.” Angelique eyed Sloan as she shook hands with Tomasita, and Sloan saw the speculation in the petite woman’s eyes.

“Tomasita is betrothed to Don Ambrosio de Arocha. Their marriage was supposed to have taken place next week,” Sloan said. “But of course there will be a delay now because of the damage caused by the tornado at Dolorosa.”

Sloan saw from the tension in Luke’s body and the way his eyes flew to Tomasita that he was surprised and disconcerted by this news. Thank goodness. She hoped he realized he was going to have to act quickly if he wanted Tomasita for himself.

“You must be devastated by the delay,” Angelique said to Tomasita, eyeing her thickened waist speculatively. “Perhaps Luke and I might come to the wedding?”

Sloan watched Tomasita stiffen at the way Angelique had invited herself to the wedding and also laid claim to Luke’s company.

“I won’t be going to Tomasita’s wedding,” Luke said.

Tomasita flushed, and Sloan wanted to grab Luke by the ears and shake him. Couldn’t he see the young Spanish woman was in love with him?

Cruz arrived at the door to a welcome greeting from Luke. Cruz took Angelique’s hand and said, “I am charmed, señorita. You are every bit as lovely as I had heard you were.”

Where had Cruz heard such a thing? Sloan wondered. She caught Angelique’s eye and flashed the message, This one’s mine! Only belatedly did she realize what she was admitting by making such a claim.

“Where’s Rip?” Sloan asked.

“He’s in bed,” Luke replied.

Sloan felt a sudden tension in her shoulders. “It’s barely suppertime. What’s he doing in bed?”

“He hasn’t been feeling well the past couple of days. He picked up a spring cold and can’t seem to shake it. You can check and see if he’s awake. It’s about the time he usually comes downstairs,” Luke said.

Sloan was already halfway up the stairs when she said, “I think I will. I’ll just put Cisco down for a nap first in the crib in Cricket’s old bedroom.”

Cruz watched Sloan go with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hoped Rip wasn’t seriously ill. Rip’s death would force to a head the issue of who was to inherit Three Oaks.

Even if Rip willed the plantation to Luke, there was the distinct possibility Luke might deed it back to Sloan. If she ever got title to Three Oaks, she would have to make a choice.

And Cruz still was not sure she would choose him.

He turned to Luke and asked, “Is it only a cold that has Rip laid up?”