Cooper’s Redemption (Crimson Romance)

by D'Ann Lindun

  “Just be careful,” Sabrina warned.

  • • •

  The temperature had dropped ten degrees. Elizabeth shivered when she stepped out of the Durango. She went around to the trailer and let Splash out. Cooper had his gelding tied inside the barn. “Where do you want him?”

  “I use the first two stalls for my horses, so use either of the others.”

  Elizabeth led Splash into the last stall and turned him loose. He dropped his nose to the ground and snorted. “It’s just for awhile, until it’s safe for you to come back home,” she whispered.

  “Feed him whatever amount of hay he normally gets,” Cooper called from outside.

  Filling the manger with sweet-smelling alfalfa, she then ran a tub of water from the hose. Satisfied that Splash was properly taken care of, she turned away.

  Cooper was busy saddling his horse. “I’m heading out to gather the heifers in the divide field.”

  “Wait for me,” Elizabeth urged. “I want to come.”

  He jerked his head toward the trailer. “Your saddle is in there. You can ride my bay.”

  Stunned for a moment by his lack of chivalry, she only nodded. Not very movie hero like. Moving quickly, she bridled the quarter horse. As she placed the heavy, old-fashioned saddle on his back and tightened the cinch, she said, “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

  Cooper shrugged. “Suit yourself. You ready?”

  “Yes.” Elizabeth untied the bay and led him a few feet from the trailer and checked the cinch one last time. Then she swung on him. Overly conscious of Cooper’s gaze on her, she gathered her reins and nodded at him. “Ready.”

  • • •

  Before half an hour passed, Elizabeth thought her feet might freeze and fall off. To distract herself, she asked, “How did the visit with the branding iron fellow go?”

  “Brand inspector.” He filled her in as they rode.

  “I hired an investigator. Sabrina Frazier. She said she knew you.”

  “Yeah. She’ll do a good job.”

  Elizabeth jerked her lips tight to keep from asking what their business together had been.

  They topped a ridge and below them in a bowl, rested a herd of Herefords. Cooper took a quick count.

  “Are they all here?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Let’s eat, then get them headed home.”

  “Where?”

  “There’s a few pines over there. We’ll be out of the wind. I’ll build a fire.” Together, they rode down the steep slope. Winding through knee-high sagebrush, they avoided the young cows. Suspicious of them, the heifers began to mill and bawl. “Don’t stir ‘em up any more than necessary,” Cooper commanded. At the trees, he stopped and dismounted. Surprising her, he reached for her hand. “Careful, your feet will likely hurt.”

  Giving him a disbelieving look, she jumped down. And let out a yelp when her cold soles met the hard ground. Pins and needles shot through her toes, arches, and heels like hundreds of tiny fires. If Cooper hadn’t caught her around the waist, she would’ve fallen. Strong arms circled her mid-section, holding her steady. Surprised, and a bit uncomfortable in his grasp, she looked up. His eyes were hooded, unreadable.

  “You okay now?”

  “Yes.” She moved out of his embrace and winced when she took a step. “But my feet hurt.”

  “Takes a bit to get the circulation going. I’ll build a fire.” He moved off and gathered a few sticks and arranged them in a neat pyramid, then lit them. A flame quickly flared, licking at the wood. “Walk around a bit before you get too close to the fire. Don’t warm up too fast. It’s not good for the circulation.”

  Elizabeth took a few painful steps and found each one hurt a little less. Finally, she came back to the fire. Cooper had laid out his duster on a stump. “Sit there. I hope you eat bologna.”

  She didn’t normally eat red meat, and not sure bologna qualified, she tasted it anyway. Discovering she liked downing two days’ worth of calories in one sitting, Elizabeth finished every morsel. She sipped the coffee Cooper provided, finding her mocha lattes had nothing over black cowboy coffee.

  “Tasty stuff,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, just like a real cowboy. She might’ve been mistaken, but she thought she saw him hide a smile behind his cup. A cloud blew across the sun and she shivered.

  “We’d better move.” With efficient, practiced movements, he kicked snow over the fire and packed the remains of their lunch. “Ready?”

  “Can you help me figure out where I am? I’m so lost out here.”

  Cooper led her to the crest of a small hill. He pointed to the west. Those mountains are the La Sals. They’re in Utah. He turned her around. “These are the San Juans here in Colorado.” He pointed toward a dip in the terrain. “Salt Lick sits over there.”

  Awestruck by the enormity of it all, Elizabeth stared. She had no idea how vast the area was. How could she ever find her mother in so much space? Shoulders sagging, she turned away to hide her distress. Going to her horse, she untied him and mounted as tears burned behind her eyes and hopelessness filled her soul.

  Chapter 5

  Elizabeth looked around. “What do I do?”

  “Go to the far left of the herd, and head them toward the ranch. I’ll do the same on the other side.”

  Nodding her understanding, Elizabeth kicked the bay into an easy lope. She made it to the far side of the herd and waved one arm and hollered. The nervous cattle ran from her, bawling. In spite of the cold and all her worries, she enjoyed herself more than she had in a month. Being out in the fresh air, miles from other people, riding a good horse all added up to a good day.

  Throwing a quick glance at Cooper, Elizabeth decided he made the Marlboro man look like a sissy. He seemed hand-picked for the role of lonesome cowboy. Was she a fool for trusting him? Had he killed her uncle and cousin in fits of rage that she hadn’t seen? Had he seen her mother? Somehow, she had to find the truth.

  Once the herd began to move, Elizabeth relaxed and fell in behind them. Cooper rode nearby, his gaze on the cattle. Allowing her mind to wander a bit, she surveyed the horizon. Something unexpected jumped out at her. “Cooper,” she stage-whispered, “look on the bluff to my right. Be sneaky about it.”

  Acting as if he was searching in his coat pocket, he tilted his jaw so that he could look without being obvious. “I see ’em.”

  “Are those riders up there?” she whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Do you think we’re in danger?”

  “Probably not.”

  Her heart jumped into her throat. “What do you mean? Do you know those men? Could they be the rustlers?”

  “Possibly.”

  She wanted to scream. Why wasn’t he as nervous as she was? Hadn’t he seen any western movies? This was where the bad guys galloped over the hill, kicked their butts and left them for dead. Biting her lip, she risked a glance at the mysterious riders. They hadn’t moved.

  “They’re still there.”

  He flicked his reins carelessly. “I know.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Just ride.”

  “But — ”

  “If they come toward us, fall in behind me. I’ll handle it.”

  How could he be so calm? There were at least five people on the ridge. “Okay,” she muttered.

  “Ignore them, Elizabeth,” Cooper said quietly. “They’re most likely trying to scare us into abandoning the cattle. I won’t be run off from my cows.”

  Good God, he had seen westerns. Apparently too many of them. Only actors like John Wayne or Charlton Heston would stand and fight over a bunch of steers … heifers … whatever. If she was writing the script, they’d run like hell and forget the cows. But she wasn’t in charge, and this wasn’t a movie. Cooper was the boss here and it was his call what they did. Hopefully, he could handle this situation.

  After a few minutes of tense silence, she
stole another glance at the hill. The riders were gone. “They left.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you think they’re waiting for us up the trail?”

  “I’m not sure, but if they are, we’re going to fool ‘em.” He pointed to a stand of aspen trees. “I’m going to ride ahead to those trees and cut out a gate in the fence. I’ll circle back and turn the cows in there. Just keep pushing from behind. Mischief will help you.”

  Not giving her time to reply, he galloped away.

  “It’s just you and me, dog,” Elizabeth said and the heeler yapped in agreement.

  “C’mon, girls, let’s get moving.” Elizabeth slapped her leg with the end of her reins, and the resounding pop carried like through the thin mountain air like a shot. She felt foolish, but the cows picked up the pace. Some began to trot, in fact. When the heeler nipped a few on the heels, the whole herd started moving at a fast clip. The gelding snorted and tossed his head. Seeing that he only wanted to keep pace with the cows, Elizabeth let him have his head. What a wonderful scene this would be for a movie — galloping through the snow, chasing a herd of cows. No actress had ever been so lucky.

  Suddenly, the Herefords took a sharp left. The gelding followed on their heels. Elizabeth spotted Cooper out of the corner of her eye. He waited until the herd passed streamed through his makeshift gate, then he pulled the wires together and made a knot in them.

  As he came up to her, he said, “Good job.”

  “Thanks.” Pride filled her. It was a low-key compliment, but he’d handed one out. She was reasonably sure he didn’t offer up praise very often. “Do you think we lost those men?”

  “Yeah. For now.”

  • • •

  It didn’t take any time at all before the animals were fed and bedded down for the evening. As she opened the door to the SUV, Elizabeth surprised herself by blurting out, “Can I buy you dinner?”

  He shook his head. “That’s not a good idea.”

  So much for a polite refusal. Still, she persisted. “We might hear a bit of gossip that might help you find out who killed Mr. Pritchett. Maybe something about my mom.”

  “Elizabeth, no one would open their mouth to tell me what side of the street it is, much less let me in on any theories they might have,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “If people see us together, it could shock them into saying something they may not ordinarily,” she argued.

  “It might, but not tonight.” He turned to go inside his house. “Thanks for your help today.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll get Splash as soon as I think it’s safe for him to come home.”

  “There’s no rush. Leave him as long as you like.” Cooper waited in his doorway while she climbed in her vehicle and started the engine.

  With as small wave, she wheeled around and left. As Elizabeth drove, she mulled over the day’s events. Her mind still wasn’t made up. Cooper was as much a mystery as he’d been the first time she’d laid eyes on him. Could Tom be right, was Cooper a cold-blooded killer? Had he bludgeoned Lyle Pritchett to death in her barn? She didn’t think so, but there were enough questions without answers she couldn’t be sure of his innocence.

  A tinge of disappointment coursed through her that he hadn’t agreed to have a meal with her. The idea of going home and facing frozen TV dinners wasn’t appealing. Salt Lick wasn’t far. The glowing lights on the dash showed it was only eight; surely there was a place where she could grab a veggie sub. She sped toward town.

  As she drove down Main Street, Elizabeth decided small-town life wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Not a single café was open. Of course there were only two, but she’d expected one of them to stay open at least until the cows came home. Apparently that meant shortly after the winter sun went down in these parts.

  Her stomach felt like it could eat itself. Had it only been hours since she’d shared sandwiches with Cooper? It felt like days. With a sigh, she headed toward the only gas station that still had a light in the window. She prayed they had a vending machine with salt-free chips and diet soda.

  As she turned into the parking lot, Elizabeth noticed a low-slung brick building hidden behind the gas station. A flashing blue neon sign proclaimed the place as Ruby’s Bar. Not a pub, grille or nightclub. Just a plain old bar.

  She drove into the parking lot, undecided. With her stomach telling her it would soon be willing to eat shoe leather, she parked under the single street light. After carefully locking the SUV doors behind her, she took several deep breaths. If it hadn’t been for the mouth-watering odor of grilled meat floating on the cold night air, Elizabeth never would have ventured inside the seedy-looking joint alone.

  She kept mentally chanting she was safe as she opened the heavy oak door and stepped inside. Such a place in L.A. would’ve invited robbery, rape, maybe even worse. But this was Salt Lick, Colorado. Small Town America. A woman alone should be safe enough. Had her mother thought the same thing and run into trouble?

  She opened the door and stepped inside. A yellowed, cracked mirror hung behind the oak bar which ran the length of the room. A few scattered tables were empty. An old jukebox played the only Kenny Chesney tune she knew.

  As she moved through the establishment, Elizabeth felt the gaze of several men upon her. They sat at the bar, all eyeing her. Swallowing hard, pretending to ignore them, she ducked under a dingy light embossed with a beer slogan and found a booth.

  Remembering from countless Sunday afternoons spent watching old westerns to always face the front door, she sank into the cracked leather chair and removed her coat and gloves.

  When she glanced at the group of men, they seemed to be discussing her. One of them tipped his hat. In L.A., she would have stuck her nose in the air and ignored him. But this wasn’t the city. These men could be possible avenues of information. She nodded back.

  “What can I get you?”

  Elizabeth glanced up, startled. A petite brunette stood poised above her. “I’m sorry, I was a million miles away.” That was a small white lie. Her mind had been on her day with Cooper. Again. “What’s good?”

  “The steak. The enchiladas.”

  “Chicken? Fish?”

  “Bob, the guy who owns the place, won’t allow fish or chicken on the menu.”

  At this point Elizabeth didn’t care that she had vowed to never allow red meat to pass her lips. She’d already eaten bologna today and it hadn’t killed her. Of course the day wasn’t over. “I guess I’ll take a steak. Well done, please. With rice, wild, if you have it.”

  “Bob doesn’t believe in overcooking good meat. You’ll get medium-rare at best. No rice. Just potatoes. Baked, mashed or fried?”

  Elizabeth’s stomach growled. “Baked. A teaspoon of sour cream and butter, too.” What the hell. If she was going to succeed in fitting in around here, then she’d better get used to the way of life. If that meant eating animals, and vegetables laden with fat, then she’d have to make a few changes.

  She’d always expected small-town life to be uneventful, peaceful. A place to be safe. A wave of grief caught her and she fought back tears. Would the pain ever end? She blinked furiously. No tears.

  Her attention was drawn to the men huddled at the nearest end of the bar. They now ignored her, for which she was grateful. One of them especially stood out from the others. He wore a long, black duster and knee-high cowboy boots. A rakish black Stetson completed his look. Just like every bad guy in every movie she’d ever seen. Outlaws always wore black.

  Cooper’s hat wasn’t white, but brown. She supposed the good guy didn’t always wear white.

  Cooper again. Why couldn’t she get her mind off the man? If he had indeed killed Lyle Pritchett, she was making a serious error in character judgment. Why did her gut tell her so strongly that he hadn’t done the dirty deed?

  The jukebox went silent and the men at the end of the bar didn’t seem to notice. One of them gestured wildly. His tone was urgent. “I didn’t sign on for this. It’s gone too
far.”

  Intrigued, Elizabeth eavesdropped. What exactly did the one man want out of? What had gone too far? Could this be the group of rustlers who had stolen Cooper’s cattle? She studied them, but the riders on the hill had been too far away to recognize. Dressed less flamboyantly than his friend, the speaker wore a black Stetson, but no long coat. Two other men had on the black dusters. She shivered. They looked like a gang. Bad men. Outlaws.

  Surely they wouldn’t talk openly about committing a crime. But then, why not? The sheriff had shown how much help he would give figuring out who the true killer was. He had made absolutely no effort to find her mother. It made her mad thinking about it. Sheriff Marlowe’s laziness was bad, her own cousin’s attitude worse.

  As if thinking about Tom could conjure him up, he opened the door and walked in. She was relieved when he went to the bar and ordered a beer. Was beer the only beverage the men around here drank? Her mouth quirked when she pictured any of these men sipping a martini.

  Tom must’ve spotted her in the mirror because he spun around and headed toward her. Elizabeth wanted to groan. She wasn’t up to another lecture from her cousin. Without being invited, he sat at her table. “Long time, no see.”

  “I saw you most of last night,” she returned acidly. “Have you found out anything more about my mom?”

  He took a long swig of beer and burped. “Nope.”

  “Have you tried?”

  “I’ve been a bit tied up trying to solve a homicide.”

  “Have you? I was under the impression you know exactly who did it.”

  “We know who killed old Lyle,” he insisted. “And so do you.”

  “I don’t know anything of the sort,” she retorted sharply. “I had hoped you would have looked into the events of last night a little further instead of closing your mind to any new evidence.”

  “All I know is Cooper murdered our uncle in cold blood.” He took a long swig from his beer. “And he’s done it again.”

  “Prove it.” Elizabeth stared at her cousin until he dropped his eyes. “Can I ask you something?” At his nod, she continued. “Why did our uncle leave his property to my mother instead of you or Mr. Pritchett? You grew up here, after all. Didn’t you get along?”