The Cowboy's Healing Ways (Cooper Creek)

by Minton, Brenda

  She shivered. Jesse shrugged out of his jacket. He draped it across her shoulders and she huddled into it.

  “Let’s get in my truck before the rain hits.” He put a hand on her arm and steered her in the right direction.

  When they reached the passenger side of his truck she turned away from him, coughing again. The cough racked her thin body and when the spell ended she leaned against his truck, breathing deeply to catch her breath.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m good.” She turned, smiling, her face pale and her eyes huge but rimmed with dark circles.

  “Right.” He opened the door and she climbed in. “When we get to town we’ll stop at the store for some cough syrup and maybe herbal tea.”

  “You don’t have to.” She clicked the seat belt in place. “Look, you can stop pretending you’re my appointed keeper. I don’t need one. I’m good on my own. I’ve been on my own for a long time.”

  “I’m not pretending anything. I’m just trying to help you.” He started the truck and shifted into Reverse, glancing into the rearview mirror as he backed down the driveway. “I’m trying to make sure you’re going to be okay.”

  “I’m trying to let you off the hook.” She closed her eyes and his big coat enveloped her. “I’m so tired.”

  “I know you are. On both counts.” He drove through Dawson and headed toward Grove. “You don’t have to let me off the hook.”

  He glanced her way and then turned his attention back to the road. “Do you have job experience?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?” He drove out of Dawson, wondering if she was being purposely vague.

  “I worked in an office and then as a manager for a cleaning crew. I was going to school to be a nurse.”

  “Hmm.” He didn’t know what else to say. It seemed like a lot to throw away.

  “Now I’m a felon and no one will hire me. I can’t even rent an apartment.”

  “There has to be somewhere you can go.”

  She sighed. “In a perfect world there would be justice and I would get a do-over.”

  “There are those things—sometimes they’re just hard to find.”

  She nodded but didn’t respond. He found himself wanting to know a whole lot more about her than she seemed willing to tell. The curiosity grew when she reached into the side pocket of her purse and pulled out a tiny framed photo. She held it tightly and closed her eyes.

  Everyone had a story, his grandmother liked to remind him. They all had things they wished they could do over. He would have been more careful with other people’s feelings.

  When they reached Grove, he pulled up to the grocery store. “Let’s run in here and we’ll get what you’ll need for a few days.”

  She didn’t answer. He leaned to touch her shoulder. She opened her eyes wide and moved back a little.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m going in. You stay here and rest.” He reached into the back seat of the truck and grabbed a blanket. “I’ll trade. Blanket for the jacket.”

  She took off his canvas jacket and handed it to him. He draped the blanket over her. She smiled a weak smile.

  “Back in a few.”

  She nodded and he got out of the truck. As he crossed the parking lot he remembered that he’d left his keys in the ignition. He looked back and saw her in the passenger side, leaning against the door. Sleeping.

  His truck would either be there when he came out, or it wouldn’t. He sighed and walked through the automatic doors of the store, shooting one last glance in the direction of his truck.

  The things he let his grandmother get him into. He’d never learn.

  * * *

  Laura woke up in an empty truck parked in front of a grocery store. She remembered Jesse telling her he would be back soon. She glanced at her watch and pulled the phone out of her pocket.

  She dialed the number she had memorized. This phone call was all she could have for the time being. It wasn’t enough, but it was better than nothing.

  After a few rings a woman answered.

  “Mrs. Duncan, this is Laura White.” She coughed a little and then cleared her throat. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Laura, you sound terrible. Are you okay?”

  “I think I have the flu, but I’m good. Things are good.” She hated the lie, but she couldn’t admit that her life was falling apart. She wasn’t even close to where she needed to be.

  “Did you find a place in Dawson?” Mrs. Duncan hesitated, then cleared her throat. “Do you have a job?”

  “Not yet.” She glanced out the window at the grocery store. “I’m getting a place to stay, but it isn’t permanent.”

  “Oh, I had hoped this would work out for you.”

  Laura closed her eyes. “Me, too.”

  “Okay, let me get Abigail.”

  And then there were shouts, laughter, her daughter. “Mommy.”

  “Abigail, I miss you.” She swallowed the tight lump in her throat and fought the burning sting of tears.

  “I miss you, too.”

  “What have you been doing?” Laura closed her eyes, remembering her daughter’s face, how it felt to hold her. Abigail had dark brown hair and gray eyes. Laura held the memories tightly. “How’s school?”

  “I made all As and Gina gave me money and we ate pizza. I made cookies last night with the other kids.”

  Normal moments. A normal life. Her daughter should always have those things. “That sounds like fun. And I’m proud of you.”

  “I’m proud of you, too, Mommy. Okay, I have to go. When do I get to see you?”

  “Soon. Very soon.” Promises she hoped she could keep.

  “I pray for you, Mommy.”

  Laura nodded and her throat ached. “I know. Me, too, sugarplum. Bye.” She whispered the words as her daughter rushed through another “I love you” and hung up.

  She cried. Holding the school picture she kept in her purse, she cried. Abigail prayed for her. She thought back to childhood stories of faith and God. She hadn’t thought much about either since her mother died. Her stepfather had been abusive and Laura had left and taken to the streets, believing life on her own had to be better than under his control.

  A string of boyfriends, a marriage that hadn’t lasted long enough to change anything, a stepbrother who put her in prison and now this. She’d had plans and dreams for her life. She’d wanted more than this, more than barely getting by. She’d wanted more for Abigail. She still wanted more for her daughter.

  She shivered in the cool truck and closed her eyes against the bright sky. Nothing was the way she’d planned. She’d really thought her aunt Sally, a woman she remembered from childhood, would be here to help pick up the pieces of her life, to help her believe again. She’d prayed that she would find something here, a way to get Abigail back.

  Instead she had the kindness of a stranger and little more than she’d had the day before. She rested her forehead against the cool glass of the window and thought through the list of things she had lost. She used to believe in people. She used to believe in herself. A long time ago she’d had faith.

  She closed her eyes and prayed to get all three back. She had never been a quitter. She wouldn’t quit now, not on life or herself. She wouldn’t quit because of Abigail.

  Chapter Three

  Jesse walked across the parking lot and watched as the woman in the passenger seat of his truck wiped at tears streaming down her cheeks. He didn’t know how to help her. He shook his head and shifted the paper bag to his other arm. The last thing she needed from him was a promise he couldn’t keep. He knew he couldn’t fix her life.

  He walked up to the passenger side of his truck and peeked in. Laura didn’t look up. In her hand she held a school photo of a little girl. He stepped away from the window and walked to the back of the truck to store the groceries in the metal toolbox in the bed of the truck. When he opened the door, Laura wiped the last of her tears. She smiled at him, a watery smile.

  “How do you
feel?” He shifted into Reverse and then looked her way for a quick moment.

  “A little better.”

  “I bought cold medicine.” He didn’t know what else to say. “Who’s the little girl in the picture?”

  She closed her eyes and shrugged. When she looked at him, the pain in her gray eyes was tangible. He drew in a quick breath before he looked away, focusing on the road.

  “She’s my daughter.”

  The words hit him hard. He shook his head and kept driving.

  “Where is she?” None of his business, but he had to ask.

  “They took her. When I was in jail. Of course they took her.” She sniffed and when he looked, her face was buried in her hands, auburn hair falling forward. “She’s in a foster home.”

  “You’ll get her back?”

  She pushed her hair back with pale hands that trembled and nodded as she looked at him.

  “Yes. When I get a job and a permanent home. I didn’t think it would be this hard. Trying to get her back. Trying to find a normal life again.”

  “It isn’t easy.”

  “No, it isn’t. Someone else is taking her for pizza, praying with her, tucking her in. It should be me. If I hadn’t let my stepbrother...” She shook her head. “I have to stop blaming him. I let him move in. I knew it would be a mistake, but I felt sorry for him.”

  He nodded and kept driving.

  Laura continued to talk. “Which is why I don’t blame you for not wanting me in your grandmother’s house. You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’ve done, what is or isn’t true. People lie.”

  “Sometimes we have to trust people.” He cleared his throat and looked at her. “Sometimes we have to give them a chance to prove they can be trusted.”

  He pulled into the parking lot of a motel with a sign that said they rented by the day, week or month.

  “Sometimes,” she said in a soft voice that told him trust was hard for her.

  He parked, sighing because he couldn’t leave her here. She had a daughter she didn’t want to let go of. She had gray eyes that didn’t beg him to give her a chance but begged him to trust her. Believe her.

  “I could use someone to help me at my place,” he said as he stared at the little motel that had been around longer than either of them had been alive. He switched his attention to look at the woman sitting next to him.

  “I’m not looking for a handout. I need a job. I’m willing to work.”

  “It isn’t a handout.” He turned in his seat to face her. “I work odd hours and sometimes take shifts at a hospital in Tulsa. I’m also the doctor on call for the local residential care facility. On top of that I might be going out of the country.”

  “A vacation?”

  “No, I’m thinking about going to the mission field, to Honduras.”

  “For how long?”

  “A year.”

  She nodded. “And so the job would be?”

  “I have a small house on my place at the lake. You could have that home and a small salary. In return, I could use a housekeeper and if you aren’t afraid of horses, someone to feed my livestock when I’m not there.”

  “A job and a house.” Her voice tightened with emotion. “But do you really want me on your property? I’m a convicted felon.”

  “Tell me your side of the story and I’ll decide.”

  “I didn’t know that my stepbrother was a drug dealer. He used my apartment that last day to make meth while I was gone. The police had been watching him and they thought I was involved. Ryan jumped out of my car and they never caught him. I got busted with meth, some prescription drugs and the money. I was just naive when it came to Ryan. I saw him the way I saw myself—as a victim of our childhood.” She shrugged thin shoulders. “I wanted to fix him.”

  As she finished he nodded. “I believe you.”

  She nodded and looked away, her hand coming up to swipe at tears. “That’s good to know.”

  “This will be good for both of us. I need a housekeeper and you need a home.”

  “Why haven’t you hired someone? There would have to be any number of people who would want a position like the one you’re offering me.”

  “I interviewed a few people but most of them know my family. The older women feel as if they have to mother me and watch over me.” And the younger women wanted a husband.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Will you take the job?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  The battle with her tears was lost. She swiped at her eyes but tears streamed down her cheeks. Jesse found a napkin in the console between the seats and handed it to her. The most impulsive decision he’d made in years was sitting next to him crying, and he couldn’t take back the offer. Not when a child was involved. Because Laura was a mom who wanted to keep her little girl.

  Jesse started his truck and pulled out of the parking lot of the motel. He told himself he’d done the right thing. He’d let her clean his house. He’d provide her a home. No strings, no attachments. Easy.

  * * *

  Laura wiped her eyes and tried to think through what had just happened. Too good to be true? In her life strings always seemed to be attached. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done anything for her that didn’t require something back.

  She closed her eyes tight and tried to think, which was hard to do in her present condition. First, she had to consider Abigail—not just getting her back, but keeping her safe. She had so much at stake. She couldn’t take chances, not with her future or her daughter’s.

  With a sigh she faced the man who had offered her the opportunity of a lifetime. “Why would you do this for me?”

  He shrugged and pulled out on the road. The truck eased through the traffic and he didn’t answer for a few minutes.

  “Because you deserve a second chance.” He paused to make a left-hand turn. “I want to help you out because your little girl deserves to have you.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He looked at her for a brief second, then refocused on the road. “I’ve seen a lot in my life, Laura. I’ve seen the best and worst of humanity. I think I know when someone is decent and really needs a second chance.”

  She knew there was more to his story. She saw it in the sometimes-lost look in his eyes, as if he might have been a little boy needing a mother. But she had to remind herself that he was a man, not a little boy anymore. And in her experiences with men, limited as they were, there were usually consequences.

  “Where are we going?” She touched the phone in her pocket, reassured by its presence.

  “If you want the job, I thought I’d take you out to the house.” He glanced her way again. “I think we’re both going to have to make a stab at trusting.”

  She nodded, glancing out the window. They were close to Dawson when he turned down a paved road with signs giving directions to different points of interest. A few minutes later he turned into a driveway, hit a remote on the visor of this truck and the gates in front of them opened wide.

  Laura shivered in the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and watched out the window. A few deer jumped from the woods and ran across the road in front of them. Her breath caught as she watched the creatures bound out of sight.

  A few hundred more feet and the woods gave way to grass. And then a tiny house surrounded by a picket fence. Ahead she could see a small stable and barely could make out the exterior of a house surrounded by tall trees.

  “This is the original house.” He pulled in the drive. “It isn’t much, but it’s in good shape, easy to heat and cool. Two bedrooms and it’s furnished.”

  She swallowed the lump of fear that said this couldn’t be real. Things like this didn’t happen, not to her, not in this life. She remembered a prayer that God would help her find faith again—that He would provide a way for her to get Abigail back.

  “We can go in.” Jesse pulled the keys from the ignition and he had his hand on the door.

  Laura lo
oked at him, at the house. She could trust him. He was Myrna Cooper’s grandson. He was a doctor. And she didn’t have a lot of options. She had to take this chance if she meant to get on her feet again.

  She reminded herself that decent men existed. Laura barely remembered her real father, but he’d been one. He’d been kind, caring, always worried about his family. After he passed away, her life had been filled by men who were sad replacements. She’d known selfish men, abusive men, users.

  “Are you okay?” He had opened his door but pulled it closed again. “Look, there are other options if you don’t think this is what you want.”

  “I’m fine—just amazed and worried that I could never repay you.”

  “It isn’t charity. You’re going to work for this.”

  “You don’t understand. This means everything. I have a daughter who I haven’t been able to bring home with me for months.”

  He smiled, the gesture settling in his chocolate-brown eyes. “Laura, I get it. Let’s go in and see if you’re going to be okay living here.”

  Laura got out and met him at the front of the truck. The yard was pretty and neat. The leaves on the trees were budding and still the bright green of early spring. She walked through the gate and up the sidewalk to the front porch of the little white house with the green roof.

  Jesse reached into his pocket for the key and after opening the door, he motioned her inside.

  Laura stepped into the tiny but bright living room. She walked around the room, touching soft chenille-upholstered furniture and lingering in front of the wide window that overlooked the lawn, the driveway and, across the way, a tiny view of the lake. She drew the blanket around her shoulders a little tighter.

  Jesse walked up behind her. He touched her shoulder and she turned a little, smiling at the man who had offered her this place, this chance at a real life and the real opportunity to get Abigail back.

  She looked into his deep brown eyes and saw a flicker of something, just before he shook his head and stepped back, his hand dropping from her shoulder.