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Gaspar. That is one of the things you would have to become accustomed to as my wife—the presence of guards in your life.”
    She nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sure life in Gaspar would be far different from life here in Texas.” She pulled her hand from his in order to open a gate that led to a pasture.
    As they walked through the lush green grass dotted with wildflowers, she shared with him some of the history of the ranch.
    He listened with interest as she explained to him about Big Bill Carson and J. P. Wainwright, who had met on a cattle-buying trip in 1898 and become good friends. In 1923 the two families had founded the Lone Star Country Club.
    When the large herd of cattle came into view, Omar was surprised at how knowledgeable she was about the breeding, buying and selling process.
    While he found the conversation interesting, far more fascinating to him were the expressions on her lovely face as she spoke. She had a face made for storytelling, expressive and animated. It was easy for him to imagine her entertaining their children with stories of her days in the faraway land of Texas.
    â€œI’ll bet you were a wonderful teacher,” he said, as they paused to rest for a few minutes in the shade of a small grove of trees.
    â€œWhy do you say that?” She leaned with her back against a tree trunk.
    Omar stood directly in front of her and braced himself with a hand on the trunk next to her head. “Yourface lights up when you speak of things you care about. You must have generated a lot of enthusiasm among your students.”
    â€œI liked teaching.” Shadows momentarily doused the light in her eyes.
    He fought the impulse to reach out and stroke the shiny length of her hair. Instead he eyed her curiously. “You never told me why you decided to take some time off from your teaching position.”
    A frown creased her delicate forehead, and she gazed off into the distance. When she finally looked at him once again, the shadows in her eyes were deeper, darker.
    â€œIt was three days before the end of the school year,” she finally said. “The bell had just rung for the end of the last class of the day, and the students were all leaving the building. I was gathering up my things, also getting ready to head home, when Donny Albright burst into my room.”
    She paused, and once again looked off into the distance. “And who is Donny Albright?” Omar asked.
    She sighed, a deep, tremulous sigh that made Omar want to sweep her up into his arms and hold her against his chest. At the moment she looked achingly vulnerable.
    â€œHe was a senior, a troubled young man. But until that day none of us realized just how troubled he was.” She reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Anyway, when he came into the room, he was distraught, crying and yelling so that I couldn’t understand what was wrong. I finally managed to get out of him that he’d failed his math class and wasn’t going to graduate.”
    She pushed herself away from the tree trunk and gestured to Omar that she wanted to walk once again. He grabbed one of her hands, surprised to find it bone cold and trembling slightly. “What happened?”
    â€œDonny wanted me to speak to Mr. McNair, his math teacher. He wanted me to get McNair to change his final grade. When I told Donny I couldn’t do that, he pulled out a gun. He held me at gunpoint for three hours before I finally talked him into giving up to the police, who by then had surrounded the building.”
    Horror shot through Omar, and he halted in his tracks, drew her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. He couldn’t imagine the terror she must have gone through.
    She leaned into his embrace, as if gathering strength from his arms. The clean scent of her hair filled his senses, and he tried not to focus on the evocative sensation of her warm breasts pressed against his chest.
    â€œYou