Cooper’s Redemption (Crimson Romance)

by D'Ann Lindun

  “Cooper arrived at your place on a horse, so he could’ve been in the barn for some time before you realized he was there.” Marlowe gave her a gotcha smile.

  “He could’ve been,” she agreed. “But he wasn’t. I already told you I followed him inside.”

  “Do you believe there was a herd of cows in one of your corrals this afternoon?” Marlowe curled his thin lips in disbelief.

  “I don’t know,” Elizabeth admitted. “I didn’t see them.”

  “So, you’re telling me you didn’t notice the herd of cows Cooper claims he trailed to your place, but you know exactly when a man wandered into your barn?”

  He had her there. “Why don’t you suspect me? I was alone with Lyle in the middle of nowhere.”

  Marlowe smiled like a cat with a canary in its paws. “Who says I don’t?”

  Elizabeth blanched. She’d better shut up or she’d find herself locked up next to Cooper, convicted of a murder she hadn’t committed. Had her mother asked questions, too? Had she seen rustling? There were too many questions and no answers.

  “I don’t suspect you because you have no motive,” the sheriff said. “First, I can’t think of one earthly reason why you’d want to kill Lyle. Second, it would take a great deal of strength to crack open someone’s skull. I don’t think you have that kind of power. On the other hand, a man Cooper’s size wouldn’t have much trouble.”

  Elizabeth had to admit it had looked like Cooper had a lot of muscle. Still, she pressed. “What’s his motive? What makes you so sure he did it?”

  “That’s what I intend to find out,” the sheriff said. “Last time, Cooper announced his intentions to the whole town. I guess a little age made him a little wiser.”

  “Are you implying Mr. Cooper said he was going to kill my uncle before he did it?” Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face. “Did Mr. Cooper murder my Uncle Henry, or is that just gossip?”

  “They were alone, and Henry ended up dead from a blow to the head. You do the math.”

  “I see.” Were her instincts so wrong? She didn’t have time to think about it before Marlowe dropped another bombshell.

  “Cooper moved here, made friends with the Harpers, then tried to steal their water. When Henry protested, Cooper killed him in cold blood.”

  “That’s insane,” Elizabeth whispered. “This is the twenty-first century. No one kills someone over water. You can buy a million different brands in any supermarket.” Her feelings swirled around in a crazy circle. She should hate Cooper. He’d been accused of killing her Uncle Henry. But the way he’d sat there like some character out of a Clint Eastwood film and never even flinched when Tom had berated him had taken guts. His quiet dignity had impressed her. A lot.

  Marlowe’s mouth quirked, but he didn’t look amused. “Not drinking water, Miss Adams. Irrigating water. Water wars still exist. Just pick up a newspaper, or listen to the news. A network of ditches keeps this land lush, and ranchers and farmers pay dearly to use it. You’re from Los Angles, you should know about water wars.”

  “Cooper was stealing Uncle Henry’s water? Why? Didn’t he have any of his own?” She couldn’t believe he’d killed — not once, but twice. Over water? Insane.

  “Yeah, Cooper has water, plenty of it. He swore, and still does, that Henry was the one stealing. But, hell, Henry wouldn’t have done that. Your aunt and uncle were from this area, settled since the late 1800s. Some of the original homesteaders. There wasn’t any contest as to who I believed. Cooper is an outsider.”

  “Like my mother?” Bile rushed up Elizabeth’s throat. “Like me?”

  “Has it occurred to you that two of your family members have died where Cooper was the only one on the scene? Maybe you ought to wonder if he was in contact with your mother.”

  The room spun, throwing her out of focus. “May I go now?”

  “Don’t leave town,” Sheriff Marlowe warned her with a frown.

  “I won’t,” Elizabeth promised as she stumbled into the hall. “Not until I find out what Cooper knows about my mom.”

  Chapter 3

  Cooper’s head ached. At thirty-five, he wasn’t exactly over the hill, but he felt ten years older than he was. Marlowe had let him go at about four-thirty in the morning with a warning not to leave town. With a grimace, Cooper washed in the bathroom sink. He scrubbed under his fingernails, remembering Lyle’s blood on his hands. Who had murdered the harmless old guy? And why?

  Cooper couldn’t believe he’d been caught up in this thing. He didn’t know if he was more angry or frightened. How had his life gone all to hell in just hours? Who wanted to ruin him? He wasn’t Mr. Popular in Salt Lick, but he didn’t think anyone, even Tom Harper, cared enough about him to try and destroy him. Had he been set up? But that made no sense. After all that happened with Henry, it was unlikely for anyone to think that he’d go to the Harper place. Unless the rustled heifers had been taken there as bait to get him.

  He was getting paranoid.

  Still, four months as the prime suspect in an unsolved homicide had made him skeptical. Who knew better than he just how slow the rusty wheels of justice rolled? Salt Lick’s finest might find the real murderer if they were willing to look past him to see there was someone else out there with a motive. Cooper vowed he would not be falsely accused again. Even if he had to find the killer himself.

  After making eggs and toast and downing two cups of hot, strong coffee he felt better. The wind howled, hurling gusts of snow against the windows. He’d fed the horses when he arrived home, and the cold cut him to the bone. He would’ve picked a nicer day to go and check the rest of his herd, but he hadn’t been left a choice. Chucking another piece of wood onto the fire, he allowed himself a few minutes to warm up before heading into the storm.

  The clock read almost seven. If he was lucky, he might be able to catch the brand inspector in his office. Cooper picked up the receiver, but the line was dead. He didn’t own a cell phone; they didn’t work right here anyway. He’d have to run down to Salt Lick and see if he could find the man before he went on his rounds. As he tugged on his coat, Mischief began to growl. The hair on her neck stood up and she bared her teeth.

  “What is it, girl?” Cooper laid a reassuring hand on her head. She wagged her stumpy tail at him before turning her attention back to the door. Pulling a curtain back from the door’s window, Cooper peered out in the snowstorm. The weather had intensified. Swirling gusts obliterated his view.

  Through the raging blizzard he spotted headlights. A blue SUV pulled into the driveway and braked. As a person struggled in his direction, he realized it was Elizabeth Adams. Opening the door, he waited as she came toward him.

  She sniffed and swiped at her nose with a gloved hand. “I apologize for dropping in without calling, but your phone seems to out of order.”

  “Probably the wind. The lines go down on regular basis around here.” Beside his knee, Mischief wiggled. Her fury had turned to ecstasy now that their visitor was in sight.

  The cold had turned her nose and cheeks cherry pink. “Boy, is it cold.”

  “Come in before you freeze out there.” Cooper moved aside as she stepped inside his house. He followed her into his small front room, wondering what she thought of his sofa with an authentic Navajo blanket tossed across the back, the leather wingback near the fireplace, his novels stacked nearby. The strong scents of brewing coffee and burning cedar hung in the air. Neat, tidy, masculine. His refuge.

  “Nice place.” She stretched her palms toward the fire. Pulling off her hood, she allowed her shining red-gold hair to tumble free. The light caught and shimmered on strands. He ached to see if the texture was as soft as it looked.

  “It’s home.” Too late, he reminded himself he didn’t give a damn what she thought.

  Silence fell like a blade between them.

  Suddenly, she turned and appraised him with large amber eyes. Cooper studied her just as openly. Her nose had a fair splattering of light brown freckles across the bridge
. He couldn’t see her figure under her long, bulky coat, but he remembered she’d filled out a green sweater very well. Thinking of her and the previous evening made him tighten his lips. “What can I do for you, Miss Adams?”

  “I … uh … ”

  “Wanted a closer look at a killer?”

  “That’s not why I came.” Her rosy cheeks darkened to scarlet. “I wanted to see if you could help me. Obviously you’ve got a chip on your shoulder, so I’ll be going.” She began to pull on her gloves.

  “Are you afraid of me?”

  “Of course not.” Her shaky voice gave her away. She was terrified.

  “I didn’t kill Henry or Pritchett.” He wondered why he bothered talking. Somehow, though, it was important she know the truth.

  “I didn’t think you did.” She twisted her gloves between her hands. “If I thought you were the killer, I never would have told Sheriff Marlowe I believe you’re innocent. I repeated myself several times, in fact.”

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Cooper surprised himself. He hadn’t expected to see this woman again. He couldn’t encourage any relationship with her.

  “Decaf?”

  “Regular.” He moved toward the kitchen.

  “Love some,” she called after him.

  “Make yourself at home while I get it.” He filled two generous mugs, and as an afterthought, opened a tin of canned milk and filled a small bowl with sugar. As he carried the items into the living room, he saw Elizabeth had removed her jacket. His memory hadn’t failed him. Her figure could turn a scarecrow’s head. She wore a tan-colored sweater that clung to her curves, tight jeans and a pair of English riding boots.

  She sipped the steaming coffee and made a face.

  He grinned. “Milk?”

  “Please.” She held out her cup and the sweater rode up her arm. Her pale skin, dotted with freckles, contrasted with his own sun-darkened hand. Only one example of the differences between them. The diamond bracelet she wore illustrated yet another. Her jewelry probably cost what he made in a month. “Sugar, too. Lots.”

  He poured an ample amount of both in her coffee. His mouth curved upward for a moment. “Better?”

  “Yes, thanks.” Elizabeth tasted the hot liquid again. “Ah, that’s good.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “My mother came here to take care of things, and she’s gone missing.”

  “I heard something about that,” he said.

  “What? Do you know anything at all?” She stared at him, trying hard to see if he seemed guilty of anything.

  Cooper flinched. “I don’t know much.”

  “I need every detail. Mom came here a month ago, and except for one brief call, I haven’t heard from her since.” Elizabeth’s voice broke. “I’ve got to find her. No one will tell me. Please, you’ve got to share what you know.”

  “I heard mention a lady was packing up Henry’s place, getting it ready to sell. Then she left a note on my door asking to meet with me. But I didn’t see her or talk to her.” His gaze was steady, calm.

  “When? What day? What did the note say? Do you still have it?” The hope in her face twisted his heart.

  He moved to the fireplace and rummaged through a stack of papers. Finding a single white sheet, he handed it to her. “It was last Saturday. I know because I was in town buying feed. I never saw or spoke to your mother.”

  “Oh my God. This proves she was here. If this doesn’t convince Salt Lick’s police, then I’m going to find her myself. Even if it takes me forever.” She wiped tears with the back of her hand.

  “What about your life back in L. A.?”

  “None of that matters. Finding Mom is all that counts. My mom and I own a flower shop, but someone is taking care of it. I don’t know your name. Cooper, right?”

  He nodded. “Just Cooper.”

  “First or last?”

  “Last.”

  “How did you know my uncle?”

  “Henry’s wife Bea used to talk of his sister some.” Cooper shifted, ill at ease with the questions. “She tried to locate Lillian several times. I didn’t know she succeeded.”

  “She didn’t.” Elizabeth blinked back another onslaught of tears. “I didn’t know about any of this until about two months ago. My mother found she was the owner of his property when Henry’s lawyer got hold of her. I guess Henry and Bea had no children of their own, so they left everything to Mom.”

  Cooper studied her without comment.

  Elizabeth fiddled with her cup. “There’s one thing I don’t understand. Why didn’t my uncle leave the inheritance to my cousin, Tom?”

  “I’m sorry about Henry,” Cooper offered. “But he didn’t get on well with people. Carl, Tom’s dad, and Henry had a falling out a few years back. Carl died many years ago without their feud ever being patched up. Maybe Henry wanted a second chance with his sister.”

  “I wish I could have known my uncles. The few details I know my mother parted with very reluctantly. All I know is that Mom fled to California, where she met my dad. She refused to acknowledge her brothers. She didn’t even mention Carl, and only said she and Henry lost touch years ago. She wouldn’t go into specifics. Maybe he hoped to somehow make things right. But it was too late.”

  “That’s about what I know of the story, too,” Cooper agreed. “Although I didn’t know about you. Henry only mentioned your mother to me once.”

  “He did?” Elizabeth straightened. “What did he say?”

  “Just that he had a sister in California. Bea was the one who opened up and talked about Henry wanting to find her.”

  “I wish I could have known Uncle Henry.” Her tone was wistful. “Maybe we could’ve been close.”

  “No one was close to Henry,” Cooper said. “He was a cantankerous old man who was suspicious of everyone and everything. Don’t mourn for a fantasy relationship you wouldn’t have had.” He stood and made toward the kitchen.

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  “I have to see the brand inspector, and I’ve got to move the rest of my heifers close to the house where I can keep an eye on them.”

  “I’m keeping you then.”

  “I should get going,” he said mildly, wanting to end this interview.

  “Do you really believe your cows were rustled?”

  “I know they were stolen.” He paused. “I followed their tracks to your place last night, but we both know they weren’t there.”

  “Is there any hope of recovering them?”

  He hesitated. “I doubt it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ll have to figure it out on my own.” He came back and took her still-full cup. “The law’s got more important matters to deal with, I guess. Like figuring out how to pin a murder on me.”

  She tugged on her gloves. “Do you have any idea who’s behind it?”

  “I thought your place might be a likely spot for rustlers to run cattle,” he said. “I was right. The tracks led straight there. The place has been empty since … ”

  “My uncle Henry died last fall,” she finished.

  “Yes.”

  He made another move toward his kitchen, and Elizabeth surprised him by saying, “Maybe I could tag along today?”

  He spun around. “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know. I was thinking you could show me the layout of the land. Maybe I could find a clue to my mom’s whereabouts.”

  “No way.”

  “Why not? I won’t be in the way.”

  “You’re not cut out for the kind of work I’m facing.” His tone was final. “Cowboying is a tough job. One for a man. I don’t have time to babysit a city girl.”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed. “I thought women here pitched in beside men. Like equals. Haven’t you ever seen any Barbara Stanwyck movies? I’ve ridden quite a bit. You wouldn’t need to babysit me.”

  “Miss Adams,” Cooper interrupted, “don’t waste any of your woman’s lib lines on me. I’m awa
re that a woman can work every bit as hard as a man. But a city girl like yourself isn’t up to this job. Ranch life isn’t like you see in the movies. Not a day spent galloping through wildflowers. I’m talking about a long, hard day in a cold saddle.”

  “I’ll be fine if you give me the chance. As I said, I’m a horsewoman, not unaccustomed to riding long hours. My mother might be out there somewhere. Please?” Her big eyes beseeched him.

  “The only spare horse I have isn’t bombproof,” he said. “I need to ride the sorrel in case I have to rope one of the cows.”

  “Then let’s go get my uncle Henry’s,” Elizabeth urged. “We could cut off some riding time by starting at my place, right? Besides, you wanted to look around last night. Did you get to see everything you wanted to?”

  He didn’t want to give in. He clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Can you be ready in fifteen minutes? It’ll take me that long to ride over to your place. I’ll come across the back way.”

  • • •

  Cooper wished he’d stood his ground. Now on top of moving a herd of young cows into the face of a storm, he had to ride herd on a city slicker, too. If all that wasn’t bad enough, the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off her twisted his nerves in a knot. What did Elizabeth want from him? She had money written all over her. They had nothing in common. He knew almost nothing about her mother, and what he knew about Henry he didn’t want to share. So why was he so unsettled by the curvy redhead?

  He filled his thermos, made four bologna and cheese sandwiches, and on impulse added a bag of chips and a half-dozen cookies to the pile. He grinned a little thinking of Elizabeth’s reaction to his coffee. She’d probably faint if she counted all the calories in this meal.

  • • •

  Cooper saddled his sorrel and rode over to the old Harper place. Elizabeth wasn’t in the barn, so he tied his gelding to the hitching post outside and studied the building. In daylight it looked worse than the night before. The roof sagged, and one side of the building leaned so far in he was surprised the strong wind didn’t knock it over.

  He stepped inside. The interior was dim, poorly lit. Sagging yellow tape surrounded the spot where Lyle’s body had lain. He scouted the area for a weapon, but there wasn’t a shovel, hoe, or anything else that looked like it could’ve been used to bash Lyle’s skull. A plastic rake stood near a stall, but it was too light to do any damage. The earth in the aisle had been churned up by the horse’s hooves. The gelding had run from one end to the other several times like he’d been in a blind panic.