by Linda Broday
“No need. We simply don’t see eye to eye.”
“All the same, I would still like for us to be friends.”
“What kind of friends?”
“The sort that don’t want to kill each other.”
She had to admit he’d sorely tried her patience, but the thoughts that invariably kept her awake at night were of kissing, not killing.
Sudden laughter bubbled up. “My dear Mr. Thorne, I’d never do anything involving blood loss.”
“I feel so much better now.” His mouth quirked up at one corner as if he wanted to smile but wouldn’t let himself.
“You’re very welcome.”
“So, this friends business…how about it?”
“For now, we’ll see how it goes.”
Cooper nodded, adjusting his worn Stetson back on his head. “Guess I’ll pay a visit to the saloon before I head back.”
“Speaking of that, I met your brother Rand. He’s quite the charmer. Has lovely manners and is a perfect gentleman. He invited me to take supper with him last evening. We had an interesting conversation.” Let the man chew on that.
His face darkened. “I’ll just bet.”
From the corner of her eye, Delta saw Mr. Abercrombie watching. His face got tighter and more furious with each passing second.
“Well, as absolutely fascinating as this conversation has been, I have work to do, Mr. Thorne.”
“Then I bid you good day.” He tipped the brim of his hat to her. The bell over the door tinkled when he left.
Despite the fact that she should count her blessings every day that she hadn’t married him, she couldn’t stop herself from hurrying to the window to watch him walk down the street. That loose-jointed saunter of his…oh my, it made her pulse race. It was a lot like watching a lazy river meander along its course as if it was in no hurry at all to get there.
Part of her would give anything—
Stop it right there. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. No use thinking of things beyond her reach.
Snatching up her cleaning rag, she turned her attention to the unruly shelf. In removing every scrap of paper, every receipt, and every bit of clutter, she knocked a book to the floor. Something flew out.
Delta bent and picked up a small envelope. On the outside in flowing penmanship were the words To my darling John.
Unsure what to do with it, yet sensing it was something important, she took the envelope to Mr. Abercrombie. “Sir, this fell out of a book when I was cleaning just now.”
“Well, what is it?” he snapped.
“It looks like a letter or something. Might be important.”
“Did you read it?”
“Of course not! I would never do that.”
The man jerked it from her. “I don’t have time for such nonsense. You’re always messing with my things, and I’ll thank you to leave ’em alone.”
Anger rose. “Sir, you can be angry with yourself, or life, or your circumstances, but I’ve given you no cause to treat me worse than a guttersnipe. Whatever is inside that envelope is probably from your wife. The least you can do is look at it.”
Delta turned away, blinking back sudden tears. She didn’t know why people, men especially, were so quick to criticize or sling blame. She’d faced more than one such man in her life. Langston Graham had been worst of all. She could say nothing to excuse the man who’d fathered her. He’d passed her on the street every day in Cedartown with no word, not a speck of kindness, not even so much as a smile. She’d been invisible to him.
A child he’d never wanted, much less acknowledged.
His utter scorn had turned her heart to stone.
Shaking herself, she forced her thoughts back to the present. She’d wasted enough tears on that matter. She put Langston Graham out of her mind and returned to her shelf.
When she next cast a glance at Mr. Abercrombie, it broke her heart. He stood clutching a paper valentine to his chest. Tears streamed down his gaunt cheeks. Her hunch had been right. He’d never seen it before.
She stood, undecided what to do. Though she longed to comfort the shopkeeper, she didn’t want to intrude on his privacy, or worse, wound his pride.
All of a sudden, he crumpled to the floor, heaving great sobs. She quickly went and put an arm around his shoulders.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have—”
John Abercrombie’s watery eyes met hers. “It’s from Nell. A decorated valentine. This was probably one of the last things she did before she died the morning of February 15. Which book did you find it in?”
“Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre.”
“That was her favorite book. She kept it in the store and read every spare minute. She must’ve stuck the valentine in there, intending to give it to me, but she passed too quickly. This means more to me than anything on earth. I’ll always treasure this. Thank you for finding and insisting I open the envelope.”
“You’re very welcome, sir.”
“You must think I’m a foolish old man.”
“Quite the contrary. I think you’re still very much in love with your wife,” she said softly.
“Sometimes the yearning for her smile, the sound of her laughter, eats inside me with such a fierceness that I can barely stand it.”
“I feel the same about my mother.” Even though Phoebe Dandridge had never shown a lighter side.
“When did she pass over, if I’m not too bold?”
“Christmas Day.”
“Then your grief is as fresh as my own.” He clutched her arm. “Will you help me up?” Then he added, “Please. Before a customer comes in?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Stop with this ‘sir’ business. I’m John. Plain and simple.”
Letting him rest his weight on her, she helped him to his feet.
What a surprising day. First Cooper had tried to mend burned bridges, and now Mr. Abercrombie was allowing deep emotion to show through his stern facade.
Delta had a feeling she may have reached a turning point with both men.
Nine
Cooper rested his long frame against the oak bar at the Lily of the West. Rand stood beside him, idly fingering a brass ring with over two dozen keys on it. Cooper had never known why his brother carried so many keys. He just knew Rand had started collecting them as a boy, snatching up every one he ran across.
“Might as well spit it out, Coop. What’s stuck in your craw?”
“Did I say something was?”
“Didn’t have to. I can recognize when you’re looking for someone to whip. I ain’t blind, you know.”
Cooper shot his brother a glare. “Delta Dandridge told me she took supper with you last evening. I think you owe me an explanation.”
Rand straightened to his full height. His words came out smooth as velvet but left in no doubt the layer of steel underneath. “I don’t owe you a damn thing. Reckon my dealings with Miss Dandridge are a private matter. I didn’t do anything wrong. Just because you’ve had your nose out of joint since she arrived doesn’t mean mine has to be.”
“I want you to leave her the hell alone.” Cooper knew full well Rand’s reputation where lovely females were concerned. He could list a whole slew of them who’d had their hearts broken by his lothario middle brother. Delta Dandridge would end up just another conquest. That fact sat like soured milk in Cooper’s stomach.
“I don’t exactly care what you want, brother. She’s beautiful, charming, and has a sharp mind. I intend to see her whenever I take a notion, whether it rubs you the wrong way or not.”
Tension so thick Cooper could cut it with a knife lay between them. Finally, he allowed a tight smile. “If that’s the way you feel.”
Rand’s glare could’ve melted snow off a mountaintop. “It is.”
“Then all I have to say is
watch out. The lady has quite a temper. Don’t come running to me when she gives you a piece of her mind. I warned you. And you’d better not show her anything but respect either.”
While he still thought Rand should abide by his wishes, Cooper recognized that his brother had a right to his own opinion. Rand was always the one who had to figure things out for himself and dared anyone to interfere.
Now that the set-to had passed, Rand put down his keys, lifted his beer, and took a gulp. “How are things at the ranch?”
“I just came from ordering enough barbed wire to fence off the Long Odds.” Cooper told him about the newest dead cow and how it didn’t wear any kind of brand.
“And you now believe someone is deliberately trying to spread this disease?”
“Sure looks that way.” And if he didn’t catch the culprits soon, he’d lose every single thing he had in this world that meant anything.
By the time Cooper left the saloon, it was nearing noon. He swung into the saddle and meandered toward the ranch. He went around the burial plot that sat dead center in the middle of Main Street and as usual wondered who lay beneath the soil. Folks had told him how Indians massacred a group of government surveyors here in October 1838. Only seven out of twenty-four survived. More than likely these four graves held the bones of some of those men.
The small section of hallowed ground had created lots of arguments over the years. But to him, the townsfolk of Battle Creek had a sacred duty to protect those buried there. You could tell a lot about a town by how its citizens treated the dead. He liked that they hadn’t moved them when Battle Creek was settled.
Cooper paused near the edge of the community at a run-down shack adjacent to Mabel’s Boardinghouse when an animal’s frantic yelps split the air. A burly man with a head full of wild red hair, Cyrus Tull, was chaining a young dog to a tree. The poor animal’s ribs and hip bones protruded—the result of being starved for most of its young life, by the looks of things. The pooch’s pitiful cries cut Cooper to the quick. It was so weak it could barely stand.
Anger stewed inside Cooper. He never mistreated an animal and couldn’t abide anyone else doing so. He dismounted.
“Mind me asking what you’re doing, Cyrus?”
“Ain’t no concern o’ yours,” the man snarled.
The hell it wasn’t. “Well, I’m making it my business. Unchain that dog, if you know what’s good for you.”
“And if’n I don’t?”
“You won’t like that option much. Trust me.” Though Cooper spoke softly, he could tell by the flicker in Tull’s eyes that he’d gotten the man’s attention. But would the drunk heed the warning?
***
On her way to the boardinghouse for a quick bowl of soup, Delta Dandridge stopped, transfixed by the scene playing out before her. She’d seen the poor dog and had watched in horror as it became weaker from lack of food and water, its situation ever more desperate. Several times under the cover of darkness she’d slipped over there and had shared with the pitiful animal what little morsels she could sneak from supper.
Before becoming a bag of skin and bones, it must’ve been a pretty dog, all white except for a black ear on the right and a circle around the left eye. It reminded her of an eye-patch-wearing pirate.
Now she watched Cooper Thorne try to save the animal.
“This is my dog, an’ I’ll do as I damn well please with the stupid mutt.” The man Cooper had called Cyrus remained defiant.
“Not today. Today you’re going to unchain it and let me take it.”
“You gotta be smokin’ locoweed,” the ill-tempered fellow snorted, pulling a revolver from the waist of his pants.
Cooper’s long legs covered the space and he knocked the gun from the dog owner’s hand. His powerful arm shot out, his fist connecting with muscle and bone. The blow sent his adversary tumbling to the dirt.
But Cooper wasn’t finished. He grabbed Cyrus’s shirt. Hauling him to his feet, he hit him again. Blood spurted from the mean good-for-nothing’s nose and mouth.
Delta bit her lip, praying Cooper wouldn’t kill him, even though she was glad to see the miserable excuse for a human get what was coming to him.
At last the horrible man lay in a heap in the dirt. Cooper stepped over him and undid the chain, then gently lifted the shivering dog, tucking him close to his side beneath one arm.
“What are you going to do with the little thing?” Delta hurried toward Cooper.
She realized she’d made a mistake when he spun around with a doubled fist and murder on his face, ready to take on another foe. It took a few seconds for him to grasp that she posed no threat. Her heart resumed its normal beat when he relaxed.
“I’m taking him to the ranch.” The words rumbled in Cooper’s throat before finding their way out. “With luck, I can nurse him back to health. It’ll take time to undo the damage.”
The dog gazed up at Cooper with its big brown eyes and licked the rancher’s hand, his tail feebly wagging.
“It might mean trouble for you.” She glanced at the bloody man who was slowly coming around. “He’ll come after you.”
“Let him. I’ve got a bullet waiting for him if he sets foot on my land. I don’t tolerate anyone who mistreats animals. I’d like to chain him up and starve him. See how he likes it.” Cooper smoothed the dog’s short fur, which was bare in spots. “What brought you here, Miss Delta?”
When his gray gaze swung to her, she forgot everything except how much she wished things could’ve been different between them.
Finally, she managed to say, “Lunch. Mr. Abercrombie relieved me so I can eat.”
John Abercrombie had been quite different since he read the valentine that his wife had left in the book. Never before had he allowed her time to eat a bite of anything, not even an apple. She burned to know what the card said, but he hadn’t offered that information. Whatever it was, he seemed more at peace now.
Cooper gave her a crooked smile that made her stomach dip and her pulse race like a herd of runaway wild horses.
“Well, I’d best let you get to it. Don’t want to put you on the wrong side of John again.”
“Thank you for rescuing the dog. I had wondered if anyone even cared. It broke my heart to see him so mistreated.” Delta held the dog while Cooper mounted, then handed the animal up to him.
“Good day, Miss Dandridge.”
“Mr. Thorne.”
For a moment, she stood watching him ride toward his ranch. He sat tall and straight in the saddle, his body as one with the handsome buckskin.
It appeared no one sat a horse quite like this big Texan. Cooper Thorne was indeed a man to be reckoned with.
Her estimation of him had risen considerably after witnessing him with the unfortunate animal. The belligerent, bloody man in the yard began to stir. She turned and hurried inside the boardinghouse before he caught her gawking.
***
Zeke ambled from the barn as Cooper rode up. “Where’d you find this little fellow, boss?”
“In town.” He passed the dog to Zeke and dismounted. “He’s had a hard life so far.”
“Yep, ain’t disputin’ that. Poor thing.”
“This place needs a dog after Rowdy died last year. See if you can round him up some food while I find him a place to sleep.” He took the animal from Zeke and walked toward the barn.
It didn’t take long to make a warm bed on a mound of fresh hay. He added an old blanket and gently lowered the dog. Then he got a pan of water. The dog drank thirstily.
“You look like a bandit.” Cooper examined the critter and didn’t find any broken bones. He got some salve and rubbed it on the raw place around the dog’s neck where the chain had been. “Yep, Bandit will be a fitting name for you.”
The dog gave a sharp bark and licked Cooper’s hand as though in agreement.
Ze
ke entered just then with some food. “I like that. Bandit’s a mighty good name. How old you reckon he is?”
“I’d say about six months old.” Cooper put down a piece of salt pork left from breakfast. For a while they were going to have to go slow, feeding Bandit four or five small meals a day. Too much too quickly would make the dog throw up.
“Mack had a fit when I asked him what he had to feed a starved dog.” Zeke laughed. “The fool man started gettin’ out his pots and pans and doodads, all set to whip up a meal for the little feller. I ’spect Bandit will be fat and happy before you can hum ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic.’”
Cooper sat with the dog for a while, thinking of all the ways he’d like to kill the animal’s previous owner. If the heartless man hadn’t wanted the dog, he should’ve set it free so it could scrounge for food. Didn’t make sense to watch an animal, or a person either, for that matter, waste away, knowing you could do something.
“Rest easy, boy, I’ll watch over you.” Cooper patted Bandit’s head.
The dog whimpered, then sighed and closed his eyes.
Other images from the day crowded into Cooper’s mind. Delta Dandridge in particular. The lady had a way of barging into his thoughts, not to mention his life. She’d been equally concerned about Bandit’s welfare.
She seemed to have a heart as big as the brilliant smile that snuck past all his defenses and filled the ache in his chest with a strange longing.
He fished in his pocket for the lemon drops and popped one in his mouth.
All he knew was that Rand had best not break her heart, or he’d answer to him.
Ten
Over the next week, Delta found being around John Abercrombie almost pleasant. He’d been less grouchy and more obliging. He’d insisted that she take lunch every day, and lo and behold had even given her a five-cent raise. The world must surely be coming to an end.
And yet it thrilled her to have won the man over. This town might be a wonderful place to settle down.
