by Jodi Thomas
Winnie drove. Johanna and Emma sat on either side of him in the back of the wagon. It had taken weeks to reach home and months before he recovered, but they never deserted him.
From his desk he could see down the hallway to the three doors that were his sisters’ bedrooms. Four years ago he’d built the house over a dugout his parents had used. He’d planned three children’s rooms, but now wondered if they would ever be used as such.
If his sisters wanted a party, maybe he could talk them into coming back over Christmas. Then there would be an excuse for one and it wouldn’t look like he was the door prize at the box supper.
Cooper glanced down at a guest list on his desk that Johanna and Emma had already started. Beside each name he could think of at least one reason why he wouldn’t want the unmarried daughter or sister as a wife. Men out here outnumbered women several times over and all that was left in most families were the ill-tempered and homely.
Wilson, the rancher south of Cooper, had two daughters of the right age, one with a full mustache, the other with beaver teeth big enough to down a tree within the hour. Smith, a farmer to Cooper’s north, had a sister who never missed a chance to visit. The good thing about marrying her might be that her tongue was so sharp she would make any man forget it was cold outside. Her husband would work himself to death to keep from coming home every night. Then there was Miller’s . . .
Cooper heard a sound and glanced up from the list. “Winnie?” he asked as his sister hurried toward the kitchen with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
She stopped as if she’d been caught while on a secret mission. “I . . . I was just getting your sewing kit,” she said without looking at him. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“That’s all right,” he said, watching her continue the journey.
A moment later, she reappeared, the cigar box he used as both a sewing and medicine kit in hand. “Cooper Boy,” she whispered, as if she feared her sisters might hear her, “could you hitch the buggy for me first thing after breakfast? I could walk to town, but it’ll be muddy. I seem to have forgotten a few things and need to make a quick trip.”
“Do you want me to drive you?” Winnie wasn’t known for turning the right direction and four miles was no short stroll. He would rather take the time to drive her than worry about her until she found her way home. “I need to pick up some lumber in the morning. If you don’t mind riding in the work wagon, we could start early.”
Winnie smiled. “Oh, no, I don’t mind, but just tell the sisters I’m riding along with you. Don’t mention my forgetting anything.”
Cooper almost felt sorry for Winnie. It must be hard to live all your life with one perfect sister and one who reminded you of all your shortcomings. “You got a deal.” He winked at her. “I’ll drop you at Debord’s General Store, load the lumber, then pick you up. We’ll be back before they think to miss us.”
“Deal.” Winnie almost danced as she hurried away. “Good night. I have to go to bed now. I’m really quite tired.” Her blanket blew behind her in full sail.
Cooper mumbled good night and began the paperwork he’d been putting off for a week. An hour later, when he lowered the wick on the lamp, he noticed the light under Winnie’s door still shone.
Even so, just after breakfast she was all ready, dressed in her same purple traveling suit, when he pulled the wagon around.
“Certain you want to go?” he whispered. “We’re sure to get caught in the rain today. Those clouds have been promising all week and so far all we manage to get are a few sprinkles.”
Winnie giggled. “A little rain won’t hurt me. Maybe I’ll get lucky and shrink.”
Neither Johanna nor Emma paid more than passing interest as Winnie climbed up beside Cooper and announced loudly that she was going along for the ride. Winnie was always the extra in the first few days after the sisters invaded Cooper’s house. She was never given an assignment in the cleaning that had to be done before Johanna could relax. Winnie had always been the extra who was called to do one task after another while the two generals organized.
But today, Cooper had the funniest feeling Winnie wasn’t running from work, but escaping on some grand adventure. She talked of how pretty the day seemed even though thunderclouds looked like a mountain range to the west. And she laughed at nothing as if she were in her teens and not a woman of almost forty.
He let Winnie out at the general store and picked up the wood he needed. Cooper took the opportunity to stop in for one drink, hoping to give Winnie plenty of time to visit. To his surprise, when he returned to the general store, Mrs. Debord and her husband said they had not seen her.
Frustrated, Cooper walked out of Debord’s General. He didn’t have time to waste looking for Winnie. His sisters always visited with the Debords like they were old friends when they came to Minnow Springs. And in truth he usually enjoyed listening to the town gossip on the ride home. Why would Winnie say she needed things, then not even bother going inside the store? If he didn’t know better, he would think she had a secret lover somewhere.
Cooper caught himself laughing out loud. Wouldn’t that be a kick to find out Winnie had a lover? If ever there was a woman born to be the maiden aunt, Winnie fit the bill. Everyone loved her for her sweet, confusing ways, but no man seemed likely to give her his name.
Cooper gazed along what little there was of the street everyone called Main. Two saloons, a hotel, a carpenter/undertaker shop, the stage and livery station, the telegraph office, and Woodburn’s dilapidated mercantile. Winnie would never go in one of the saloons. The hotel was not much better. She had no reason to see the undertaker; although sometimes Cooper felt his sisters’ schemes might be the death of him, they all three appeared to be in good health.
That left Woodburn’s Mercantile or the stage line. He headed toward the tiny store, guessing Winnie would have no business with the stage line. Johanna always booked all reservations and carried the tickets for all three sisters when they traveled.
Few locals went into Woodburn’s Mercantile. It was small and offered little choice compared to Debord’s General. The front door was so plain anyone might miss it stuffed in between the hotel and the undertaker. Cooper noticed the wind had blown off the last three letters of his sign, making the business look even less prosperous.
Miles Woodburn was a Yankee who’d settled here after the war. Most of his business came from the cattle drives and settlers passing through. He took trade for foodstuffs so folks down on their luck usually found his door.
Winnie must have forgotten about Woodburn being from the North. Like most folks in the South, Cooper tried to put the hatred behind him, but it wasn’t always easy. Woodburn’s limp reminded Cooper, even before his clip northern accent greeted him, that a half dozen years ago they might have faced one another across a battlefield. Cooper’s bullet could be the reason Woodburn limped or had a thin scar across his left cheek. Woodburn, and a thousand like him, were the reason Cooper walked the floor most nights, afraid to sleep. Afraid he would dream.
Cooper hurried across the street trying to forget memories that haunted him. He had been in Woodburn’s place a few times when Debord was out of something he needed. Most of the merchandise was dusty on the shelf. Poor Winnie would never find what she was looking for in a place like that.
As he stepped onto the planked porch, he thought he saw Woodburn unloading a wagon at the side entrance, but Cooper pretended not to notice the man. They would nod at one another, but they weren’t the “pass the time of day” kind of acquaintances.
When Cooper pushed the door open, he heard Winnie’s musical giggle. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the store’s shadowy light. Clothing hung from the rafters like floating ghosts and the smell of spices thickened the molasses air.
Winnie leaned over the counter helping a slender woman wrap purchases into one square of brown paper. She giggled again as items slipped from her grip.
“Maybe we should put it in two bundle
s.” Winnie laughed.
“Maybe.” The young woman answered without a hint of southern accent in her voice. “Or you can hold it closed and just bind everything else up with your hands.”
Winnie finally noticed Cooper moving toward her. “Oh, Cooper. I’m sorry I’m late. You see, Mary and I were just wrapping the few things I bought.”
Cooper met the young woman’s stare. She was as plain as her name with blue-gray eyes. Stormy day eyes, he thought, deciding she must be Woodburn’s sister. He’d heard folks talk about her, said she was a real bookworm, reading, instead of dusting, when the store wasn’t busy.
“Morning, miss.” Cooper removed his hat. There was no reason not to be polite, no matter whose sister she was. To be honest, he must have seen her before. The town was too little to miss anyone for long. But he couldn’t remember her.
“Good morning,” she answered. A hint of fear darkened her eyes as she studied him. “We could use some help, Mr. Adams,” she finally said, “if you don’t mind.”
He wasn’t surprised she knew his name, but the alarm he’d seen cross her gaze startled him. The woman had no reason to be afraid of him. He meant her no harm. Unfriendly to her brother, maybe, but no danger to her.
Cooper set his hat down and offered his support to holding the packages together. His large hands made easy work of the chore. Mary wrapped the string around tightly. When she leaned closer to him to tie the knot, a strange fragrance rattled through his senses. She smelled of fresh-baked bread and spices, and spring water and blankets warmed in front of an open fire.
The scent of her was nothing like he would’ve expected. She was plain, washed away even more in her faded brown dress. Yet there was nothing false or bottled about the aroma in the air when she stood so close.
“I’m finished,” she said a few inches from his ear. “You can let go now.”
Cooper stood back, embarrassed that he’d leaned so close. He crammed his hat low on his head and picked up the purchase. “I’d say you forgot quite a few things.” He teased Winnie as he nodded politely to Mary.
“You won’t tell the sisters, will you? I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I promise,” he said without glancing back toward the girl. Winnie had always called Johanna and Emma “the sisters” as if they were a matching set of bookends.
When he turned to leave, Winnie stopped him, taking the bundle from his hands. “I did buy one more thing. Mary will show you while I say good-bye to Mr. Woodburn.”
Cooper had no choice but to follow Mary to the back of the store as Winnie headed out the front.
“I hope my sister wasn’t any trouble to you.” He was searching for something to say. “Sometimes she can get to talking and . . .”
“She was no trouble,” Mary told him. “She’s a treasure.”
Cooper tried to see the woman’s face as she wound around counters and shelves. Surely she was kidding. He loved his sister dearly, but few others saw her charm.
As they passed into the crowded storage room, Cooper had to duck to keep from hitting rusting clutter hanging from the rafters. The place was a wreck, boxes, empty trunks, old furniture stacked, piled, and hanging everywhere, skeletons from a better day.
Mary stopped so suddenly, Cooper bumped into her. He gripped her shoulders in an effort to steady both himself and her.
“I’m sorry,” he said against the back of her hair.
The smell of her surrounded him once more. That clean, fresh fragrance almost made him believe there was still a kindness in the world he once saw as a child. He’d take that aroma over any he’d ever smelled from a bottle, but he couldn’t name exactly what it was.
Twisting suddenly from his grip, Mary backed away. Even in the shadows, he saw the fear in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to slam into you.” Cooper felt as clumsy as a drunk staggering on the street. “I was looking up trying not to bump my head when you stopped.”
She watched him for a moment as if considering screaming for help. Then, slowly, she took a deep breath and seemed to force herself to relax. “It’s understandable. This room can be traitorous at times.”
No smile softened her words.
He found himself studying her closely, wishing he understood her. There were secrets behind her cautious eyes. Secrets he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to investigate. She’d been hurt by a man, sometime, someplace, and as the brother of three sisters, Cooper hated to think of any woman being harmed.
“Your sister’s purchase.” Mary pointed to a huge wooden rocker hanging from nails on the back wall. “I wasn’t strong enough to lift it down.”
Cooper evaluated the ugly chair. Too large, too old, too scarred to be of much use. “Are you sure Winnie bought this?” He felt like a fool for asking even before the words were out of his mouth.
Mary nodded. “She asked if we had a rocker and insisted on this one the minute she saw it. She said something about every woman should have a rocker sitting next to her hope chest.”
Groaning, he reached for the chair. When he’d been a kid, he remembered his sisters having hope chests filled with what they called “someday items.” Surely Winnie had given up on the idea of someday having her own home and family.
As he lifted the heavy oak from the wall, his hat tumbled. Cooper twisted trying to find a place on the floor to set the chair while he retrieved his hat. There was no room.
“I’ll get it,” Mary finally offered, squeezing past him and the chair.
When she leaned up and placed the hat back on his head, her body brushed against his arm. Cooper flinched like he’d been hit by a cannonball in the gut. Her nearness in the shadows was the most intimate feeling he had ever known. He wasn’t some schoolboy who had never been close to a woman, but every part of his being reacted to her.
For one moment, totally by accident, they had connected. He felt as if, with her slight movement, she’d somehow brushed against his beating heart.
He forced himself to move, to follow her back to the front of the store and out the door. He was being foolish. Nothing had happened between them. They had touched by accident, nothing more. He wasn’t even attracted to her. But for all his bravery, he couldn’t force himself to look at Mary Woodburn.
Maybe she hadn’t noticed a thing.
Maybe she was still as afraid of him as she had been earlier.
If he met her expressive eyes, he would know. She couldn’t hide the truth any more than she could hide her fear.
One thought kept his gaze on the ground. What if, when they touched, she’d felt the slight shift in the earth he had? By magic, or witchcraft, or pure fantasy, what if they both had felt it? What if the shy little woman truly had touched his heart?
Chapter Three
MARY WOODBURN STOOD at the window of her brother’s store and watched the tall cattleman maneuver his wagon down the muddy street. He seemed hard as leather, yet he’d worried about her when they bumped together. A kindness lay just beneath his weathered toughness; a kindness she’d guess might be there when she observed him moving about town.
“Best stop your dreaming, girl,” her brother said when he noticed her staring. “He wouldn’t give you the time of day, that one. Only reason he spoke to you now was because you were so nice to his sister.”
“You don’t know, Miles. Maybe he’s different.”
“If there’s one thing I do know it’s the men in these parts.” Miles blocked her view of Cooper Adams. “They’re a wild bunch, probably only half tame when the war called them and completely loco when they came home. The fellows out here are too wild to live in respectable towns. Murderers. Thieves. Rebels. And worse even than the Johnny Rebs are the deserters who hid out in these parts refusing to fight.” He mumbled the same things he had said for years. “I might hate the Rebs, but at least I can respect them. For all you know that Adams was one of the worst.”
Mary didn’t want to hear any more of her brother’s never-ending lecture. “But
Adams took good care of his sister just now. He was kind to her even though I could tell he was in a hurry.”
Miles nodded. “That he did. I’ll give him that much. A nice lady like that must be pained having such a mean brother.”
“You don’t know he’s worthless or mean. Winnie says he’s killing himself trying to run his ranch all alone without a wife to help him.”
Miles frowned at her as if he felt truly sorry for her. “Mary, don’t go making up some story in your head. There are no ‘happy-ever-afters’ out here. You know firsthand how mean these men can be.”
Mary felt her face redden. She quickly backed into the corner so her brother wouldn’t see how his words had hurt her.
“I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat.
“I don’t need reminding,” she whispered.
“I know. I just don’t want to see you hurt again.”
She watched Miles limp toward the back of the store. He didn’t mean to be cruel, he’d just hardened a long time ago.
Mary shoved a tear from her cheek. She was slowly mirroring him. Before long they’d be made of rock. The first two petrified humans to still be breathing.
Maybe Cooper Adams wasn’t mean or even worthless, but she knew he was not for her. She didn’t want to marry a rancher and look like she was fifty by the time she turned thirty. She had seen the settlers’ women come in the mercantile with children hanging all over them while they traded their last family heirloom for a month’s worth of groceries.
She’d been told there were only two kinds of women out here, wives and whores, but as long as she had her brother to live with she would be neither. She’d stay here hiding. Invisible.
