A Cowboy's Redemption. Marin Thomas
two best friends, Alonso and Vic. Alonso because he couldn’t bear to see the sympathy in his eyes, and Vic because he should have been the one sitting in prison—not Cruz.
Included in the envelope was a list of summer rodeos. Shorty had backed Cruz into a corner. The last thing he wanted to do was ride another bronc, but out of respect for the old man, he’d rodeo until he figured out what to do with his life.
First things first. He needed a job. The fifty dollars in his pocket wouldn’t last long. His best bet was to look for work in a city like Las Cruces. Instead, he drove west, hoping to find temporary employment on a ranch or a farm. As soon as he earned enough money to keep the gas tank filled and pay a handful of entry fees, he’d hit the circuit.
Cruz drove over two hours before giving in to the gnawing hunger in his gut. When he whizzed past a billboard displaying a faded and tattered advertisement for Sofia’s Mexican Cantina in Papago Springs, he took the exit and drove the frontage road for a mile before arriving in the one-horse town.
The two-block map dot consisted of abandoned mobile homes and bankrupt businesses. The gas station’s single pump was missing its hose and the attached convenience store was packed from floor to ceiling with junk. Behind the station an antiques shop and Cut & Dry Hair Salon sat vacant.
The only two places that appeared open for business were The Pony Soldier—a bar with a life-size plaster horse spinning on a pole attached to the roof—and Sofia’s Mexican Cantina, which was located inside an adobe house. Next to the restaurant sat a corral with two donkeys and a horse, a lean-to, a barn and a rusted, windowless single-wide trailer. A newer SUV was parked alongside a battered pickup in front of the home.
He’d dreamed of his first meal as a free man taking place at a Waffle House. His mouth watered when he thought of how long it had been since he’d eaten homemade biscuits and gravy. But it appeared he was destined—at least for today—to eat what he’d eaten in prison, more bland refried beans and rice. He parked next to the SUV and noticed a Help Wanted sign in the window of the restaurant.
He knocked but no one answered. When he tested the knob, the door opened. The smell of chorizo and fry bread assaulted his nose and he forgot all about biscuits and gravy. The front room had been converted into a waiting area. He tapped the bell on the counter to announce his presence. A beautiful blonde with blue eyes and an engaging smile appeared out of nowhere.
“Hello.” Her feminine voice sounded foreign to Cruz and he thought for a moment that he’d imagined it. “Welcome to Sofia’s Mexican Cantina.” She peered behind him. “Are you dining alone?”
Temporarily speechless, he nodded.
“Right this way.”
The subtle sway of her feminine hips mesmerized him as he followed her into another room. She ushered him to the table by the window, which looked out at the donkeys and the lone horse. He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
She held out a laminated menu. “My name is Sara Mendez.”
Her smile and twinkling blue eyes shot his concentration to smithereens. It had been a long time since he’d been this close to a pretty woman.
“If you’re not in a hurry, José will cook anything you want.”
Oh, man, he was so not in a hurry.
“His specialty is pork tamales and chicken enchiladas.”
Hopefully anything José cooked would be better than the prison slop he’d consumed. “I’ll take a tamale and an enchilada.”
“You won’t be disappointed.” She hurried off, her long ponytail swinging behind her.
Left alone he stared out the window, watching the animals in the corral. He’d thought a lot about the day he’d finally be free from prison and none of the scenarios he’d imagined had been anywhere close to this.
And today wasn’t over with.
His ears caught the sound of shoes scuffing against the floor and he spotted a miniature shadow ducking out of sight behind the doorway. Sara returned with a basket of chips, homemade salsa and a glass of water.
“I apologize for not taking your drink order.” Her cheeks turned pink, and he wondered if he made her nervous—and not in a good way. Could people tell he’d just been released from prison?
“I’ll take a beer—” He’d better not drink alcohol in case he got pulled over by the highway patrol. “Make that a Coke.”
“Coming right up.” As soon as she left, the tiny shadow darted from the doorway and hid behind a chair. He munched on a chip, waiting for the little spy to show herself. He didn’t wait long before she popped up next to him. The sprite had dark pigtails and brown eyes.
“My name is Dani. What’s yours?”
“Cruz.”
“Cruz?” She pulled out the chair next to him and climbed onto the seat. “That’s a funny name. I’m five years old. How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
“That’s really old. Do you know my grandpa?”
“No, I don’t.” The child was pure innocence, reminding Cruz not to get too close.
“My papa’s a good cook.”
Cruz pushed the basket of chips toward Dani. “Help yourself.”
She grabbed a chip and took tiny bites with her tiny teeth. “My daddy died.”
Shocked at her blunt statement, Cruz fumbled for something to say. “I’m sorry.”
“Mama wants Papa to come live with us.”
Pity for the child and her mother filled Cruz, surprising him. He hadn’t believed he had any compassion left in him, but the little girl’s sweetness tugged at a place deep inside him—a place he’d shut the door on as soon as he’d been locked up inside the prison walls.
“Dani.” The blonde returned. “I’m sorry. My daughter is a chatterbox and we don’t get many customers.” She set the meal and drink on the table then brushed a strand of hair from Dani’s face. “You miss your friends back home, don’t you?”
Cruz wanted to ask where home was but didn’t.
Dani pointed. “Cruz can be my friend.”
Sara quirked an eyebrow and he felt as if he’d just been reprimanded. He held out his hand. “Cruz Rivera.” She shook his hand and the calluses on her palm surprised him.
“Nice to meet you.” Sara switched her attention to her daughter. “Go into the kitchen and help Papa with the dishes.” Sara grabbed her daughter’s hand and helped her from the chair, then they left him to eat in peace.
Cruz savored his first bite of real food, letting the spices soak into his tongue before chewing. A lump formed in his throat as he swallowed. Once the first bite hit his stomach, he devoured the meal.
“Oh, my,” Sara said when she returned with a water pitcher and gaped at his empty plate. “You must have been starving.”
“It was real good.”
“I’ll make sure to tell my father-in-law.”
Without asking a single question Cruz knew more about the lives of three strangers than he knew about himself anymore. Sara set the bill down and walked off.
He left a twenty on the table, then stood. He didn’t want to wait for his change—a hefty tip would be his first good deed since leaving prison. He snuck out of the house, hopped into Shorty’s truck, then started the engine and flipped on the AC. Then he sat and stared at the damned donkeys.
After five minutes he shut off the truck and entered the restaurant where he found Sara clearing his table. Their gazes met across the room. Man, her eyes were pretty.
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