by Jodi Thomas
“Why didn’t you tell us, Winnie? How could you have simply kept his things?” Emma circled the table, a one-woman war party. “Sewing a gentleman’s clothes as if he were your man and not some stranger. It beats all I’ve ever heard of.”
Embarrassment warmed Winnie’s round cheeks. “I’m sorry.” She lowered her head. “I didn’t mean any harm. I only wanted to pretend for a while.”
Cooper felt so sorry for Winnie he wanted to hit Woodburn again. The Yankee didn’t much look like he would mind. He must have hated like hell to ride all the way out here and accuse Winnie of stealing.
“How’s your jaw?” Cooper wanted to say he was sorry, but the words clogged his throat.
Woodburn rubbed the side of his face and met Cooper’s stare. “It’ll be sore for a few days, but I’ll live.”
Apology issued. Apology accepted.
“Did you read his journal too?” Emma rounded the table again. “Winnie, you read a man’s private thoughts? How could you? It’s a crime, nothing but a crime. Why, you never even got so much as a letter from a man, and now you read a whole journal. It’s a wonder someone doesn’t lock you away for doing such a thing.”
Winnie took a step backward, offering no defense.
Woodburn stood so fast coffee splashed from every cup on the table. “Mr. Adams,” he said in almost a shout, “as the only male in this family, I feel it is only proper to address you about a matter.”
No one breathed as Cooper stood. He wasn’t sure what he would do if Woodburn suggested filing charges against Winnie. She’d already admitted her guilt, but Emma was the only person alive who’d think of locking Winnie up for mending someone’s clothing.
Cooper closed his eyes and waited. Right or wrong, she was his sister and he’d fight any battle the Yankee lined out if he had to for her. “What do you suggest, Mr. Woodburn?”
“I suggest, Miss Winnie agreeing, of course, that you give me permission to call on your sister. My intentions are honorable, I assure you.”
Winnie giggled in surprise.
Emma hit the floor in a dead faint.
Chapter Nine
COOPER FROWNED EVERY time he thought about the Yankee courting his sister, but he couldn’t help smiling when he remembered the way Emma reacted to the news.
Woodburn and Mary came to dinner the following Sunday. Everyone silently agreed to allow Winnie and her caller the privacy of the porch for courting after the meal. Cooper still didn’t like the man, but he did enjoy talking about books with Mary after the dishes had been cleared.
By the third Sunday their visits became a pattern that Cooper looked forward to. Mary’s shy questions and comments on what she had read the week before made Cooper think. Johanna and Emma were always in the room, but lost interest quickly in any discussions. Mary, on the other hand, had a good mind. Her intelligence kept him reading late most nights. She might be plain, from her simple hairstyle to her drab clothes, but there was nothing ordinary about her logic.
Cooper wished he could talk to her of other things, but knew the time was not right. He learned that she tutored several children in town. Every week, when she talked about her students and their lessons, he heard excitement in her voice. Her kind way made her a natural teacher.
When the conversation turned to the party his sisters were planning, Mary showed no interest. Finally, one Sunday when they walked out alone to view his newest colt, he asked if she planned to attend the dance. He wasn’t surprised when she mumbled an excuse while giving most of her attention to the colt.
Cooper accidentally brushed her hand as he reached to pat the colt’s head. To cover up the awkward moment, he said, “I call this one Future because I bred her special from a descendent of the famous Steeldust. The way I see it, she’s the future of this ranch.”
Mary asked a few questions about the horse, but she kept glancing back at the house as if wanting to return to the others. Or maybe, Cooper thought, not wanting to be alone with him.
Since the party was the topic of choice for his sisters, Mary usually remained silent around them, fading into the background, almost as invisible to them as she used to be to him.
Fear slowly ebbed from her eyes as the Sunday visits continued. Yet late one Monday afternoon when Cooper walked into the mercantile she glanced up and he saw terror flicker once more.
He didn’t bother pretending not to notice. “What is it, Mary?” he asked, not caring that her brother might be within hearing distance. He felt they had become friends and guessed she enjoyed visiting with him as much as he did with her. It troubled him that he could still frighten her so easily.
Mary stared down at the ledger she’d been working on. “Nothing.”
Removing his hat, Cooper leaned against the counter. “Yes, there is. I see it. What frightened you so when I walked in just now?”
She remained perfectly still as if waiting for him to disappear. When he didn’t, she answered, “Your spurs. Or rather the sound they make. I heard them before I made out who you were.”
Cooper bent over and pulled the silver and leather straps from his boots. He laid them on the counter. “Anything else?” He grinned. There were a hundred questions, but they’d wait. “Or should I just continue stripping?”
She smiled, the tension forgotten. “No, only the spurs.”
Raising an eyebrow, Cooper waited.
“I won’t tell you why.” She lifted her chin an inch.
“I won’t ask.”
“Good.” She let out a long-held breath. “How can I help you, Mr. Adams? My brother is not here.” She rushed to add, “Though I expect him back at any moment.”
“I could wait if you like.”
“Oh, no. I’m sure I can fill your order. Then I have to lock up. It’s almost time to close.”
Cooper couldn’t remember what he’d been planning to buy when he walked into the store five minutes before. It was some item he’d decided he needed on the way in to pick up the mail.
“Have dinner with me, Mary.” The words were out before he realized he’d said his thoughts. Hurriedly, he added, “I want to discuss the book you loaned me a few weeks ago.” His reasoning made no sense, he saw her yesterday, but she was kind enough not to notice.
When she met his gaze, they both knew the talk would not be of books tonight. Every time he saw her there were things both almost said. For just an hour he wanted to visit with her, just her. Not of books or his sisters and her brother, or the town.
“We’ll walk down Main and eat by the window at the hotel, then I’ll walk you right back here. You’ll be safe, and your brother only has to look around to know where you are. I promise to have you back at your door by sundown.”
To Cooper’s surprise, Mary turned without answering and lifted her shawl from a peg.
He offered his arm. Of all the things he’d thought of telling her, the topics he had wanted to discuss, the questions he wondered about her life, Cooper did not say a word as they walked down the street.
After ordering two of the café’s specials and coffee, they sat by the window as he’d promised, eating their meal in silence. He guessed they should be talking, but all he could think about was how good she smelled and how he enjoyed the comfort of her near. She was so different from any woman he’d ever met. She was the first female he’d ever thought of as a friend.
The sun’s dying glow lit the street as they strolled back toward the store. Cooper decided that somewhere over the past six years of living alone he must have lost all ability to communicate. Unless he counted “Pass the gravy” or “Would you like some pie?” he hadn’t thought of a thing to say to her. At this rate he would stand around all day at his sisters’ big party and just stare at the eligible women from all over the county. He pictured them walking past him, gawking at him or, worse, pitying him as a fool. Picking a bride wasn’t like bobbing for apples. At some point he would have to talk to the woman he planned to marry. What chance would he have if he could not even think of somethi
ng to say to Mary?
“I’ve never been much of a talker,” he said aloud.
“I guessed that.” She tried to hide a smile.
He rested his hand over her fingers on his arm. “You don’t mind the silence?”
As always, she was kind. “I don’t mind.”
“Then, we should be great friends?” He liked the idea. Friends didn’t make him exactly a ladies’ man, but at least it was a start.
“We are friends.” She lifted the hem of her skirt as they stepped onto the porch in front of the mercantile. “Thank you for dinner.”
“You’re welcome.” Cooper watched her unlock the store. “If you ever need me, Mary, you’ll let me know.” When she glanced back at him, he added, “That’s what friends do. They watch out for one another.”
“I promise. And you’ll do the same?”
“Cross my heart.” Cooper tipped his hat and walked away.
Mary stepped inside, humming softly. He’d done it again, she thought. He’d made her feel like she had her own private guardian angel. Someone watching over her. Someone caring.
She started into the dark corners of the cluttered store. Unwanted memories crept out to greet her, reminding her of another time. Even the glow of the sun had disappeared that night. The store had been quite like it was now. She came down from the apartment above to retrieve a book she’d forgotten and noticed the door standing open. Dirt blew in from the street, thickening the air. Before she could reach the lock, she heard the jingle of spurs and a moment later she was fighting for her life.
The attacker swore she asked for it as he pulled at her clothes. She had talked to a stranger that afternoon, even flirted a little. The cowhand had laughed as she screamed, accusing her of playing with him before he smothered her mouth with his and ended her cries.
Now, the fear from that night choked Mary.
She couldn’t remember how many times she had broken free and screamed. Once, twice. Miles hurried down the stairs to help. But at the bottom step, he hesitated. He froze, without reacting, allowing the stranger’s two friends to attack.
Mary glanced over at the counter, pushing the memories aside. Trying not to remember the way they had beat him without Miles ever landing a blow. He’d just stood there, like a man made of straw, while they’d took turns hitting him. If someone hadn’t walked by the open door and shouted for help, Miles might have died and she didn’t even want to think what might have happened to her.
Trying to remember to breathe, she fought the memory, forcing herself to look around the room, to see that there was no one in the shadows waiting.
Cooper’s spurs reflected in the dying light, pulling her back to the present. He had taken them off and placed them on the counter without thinking her silly or asking questions. He’d done it simply because she had asked.
On impulse, she grabbed the spurs and ran out the door. She was halfway to the post office before she realized she wasn’t running away from her fears this time, but to something. To him.
Cooper stood next to his horse, checking the saddle’s straps. He decided he might ride into town again in a week or so and see if she’d go to dinner with him a second time. The food at the hotel wasn’t nearly as fine as his sisters cooked but his ears sure enjoyed the rest.
The tapping sound of someone running across the boardwalk registered a moment before he glanced up. Mary ran off the end of the walk. Cooper raised his arms just in time to catch her in flight.
She held tightly as he swung her down beside him. He pulled her close, breathing in her nearness with deep hungry breaths.
The shadows of buildings hid them from prying eyes, but he wouldn’t have cared if the entire town saw them. Cooper held her inside the circle of his arms, feeling her heart beat against his own, surprised at how glad he was to see her once more even though it had only been minutes since he had left her at her doorstep.
Slowly, she relaxed, but she didn’t pull away.
“Are you all right?” he whispered into her hair, fearing that someone might have bothered her again.
“Yes.” Her answer was muffled by a nervous laugh against his throat. “I just brought you the spurs you left. I was afraid . . .” She held tighter. “I was afraid I’d missed you.”
Sliding his hand along her arm, he took them from her fingers. “It’s all right,” he said as he looped the spurs over the saddle horn. “I would have returned.”
Stepping a few inches away, she remained close. “Would you do me a favor as a friend?”
“Of course.” He patted her shoulder, liking that they were now good enough friends to touch. “Name it. I’m at your service.”
“Would you mind terribly kissing me good night?”
Cooper didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. How could he tell her that he wasn’t sure he felt about her that way? She was his friend. He admired her intelligence. He enjoyed her company. He looked forward to seeing her. He even liked the way she smelled, but he didn’t feel about her the way a man should about a woman he kissed.
He leaned forward and lightly brushed her cheek with his lips.
Mary vanished into the darkness as quickly as she’d appeared. Like a rush of wind, she was gone, leaving only the slight sound of an escaped sob behind.
It took Cooper a moment to realize what he’d done. Dear God, he hadn’t meant to hurt her. She’d been asking for something else, something more.
He ran toward the store, but as he neared he saw Miles Woodburn unloading a wagon, limping back and forth. It was too late to talk to Mary. Too late to say he was sorry.
Chapter Ten
ANY HOPE COOPER had of finding time to apologize to Mary evaporated in the frantic days that followed. He’d agreed that the final cattle drive before winter would start from the natural corral on his land called Echo Canyon. As each rancher brought in his small herd, Cooper had to be there to help. For many of his neighbors the success of this drive would mean surviving the winter without having to go to Dallas to find work.
His sisters planned the country ball for the night before all the men had to leave so there would be enough dance partners for every single woman. The big day arrived on Saturday amid cloudy skies and high spirits. Ranchers and their families started pulling onto Cooper’s land by midmorning.
Though the Adams ranch was throwing the shindig, custom required no one come to call empty-handed. Cakes, pies, and cobblers were added to the sisters’ desserts. Jellies, jams, and fresh breads were piled atop Cooper’s desk. The Williamses brought cider they had shipped from Tennessee. The undertaker proudly displayed three bottles of peach wine he had bought in the hill country when he’d gone after hardware. And of course, the Kileys lugged in apples for everyone.
Unmarried daughters were presented, first to Cooper’s sisters, then to him. Thanks to an abundance of cowhands, Cooper had no difficulty introducing each woman to eligible men more than happy to monopolize her time.
Cooper spent his time hanging around the pit built to roast half a beef. The heat and smoke kept the women away. He was in no mood to be sociable. The fact that he’d hurt Mary’s feelings bothered him and the more time that passed, the more awkward he felt about saying something to her.
Lunch consisted of sandwiches sliced from the first brisket to be declared cooked and desserts. As the afternoon wore on, several of the families spread blankets out in the loft and on the porches. Some were for visiting, some for sleeping children. The slight nip in the air made cuddling comfortable as couples paired off to get better acquainted. As far as Cooper could see, no unmarried girl wandered around looking for him with an expression that said she might just die unless she became Mrs. Cooper Adams. In fact, they all seemed pleased with their choices, smiling up at some stammering cowhand with true love in his eyes. It had never occurred to Cooper until today that the ladies might consider him too old, or too hardened for marrying. He’d been thinking he wanted the pick of the litter. Now the question seemed to be, Did the pick want him?
Several men stood around the cook fire, talking of weather and the threat of rustlers; women bordered a quilt frame. Cooper had no idea what they talked about. For a man with three sisters he should know more about women. Mary taught him different. He thought they were friends. But before he could get at ease with the agreement, she ran into his arms and asked him to kiss her.
He managed to figure one thing out in almost thirty years. Women were nothing but trouble. He liked the idea of being friends with her, but he had no right to be thinking about how good Mary felt next to him.
She had asked him a simple favor. “As a friend” she’d said, and without a word he had let her down. His peck of the cheek must have made her feel ugly and unwanted. No woman wanted to feel that way. He’d done what he thought a friend would want him to do and somehow it had all gone wrong.
“That’s women for you,” he swore under his breath. “Should’ve kept my distance.”
Cooper glanced up and noticed his sister Winnie standing on the porch. He smiled to himself. She’d never had a gentleman caller. Now she ran around singing and blushing like a young girl. He wasn’t sure if Woodburn asked to court her because he liked Winnie, or because the man simply didn’t like the way everyone treated her. When Cooper checked on them one Sunday, Winnie had been talking away and Miles sat all straight and stiff as if waiting on his turn to get out of purgatory.
If Woodburn was just being nice, allowing Winnie her fellow for a while, Cooper still couldn’t say he liked the man, but had to admit the Yankee irritated him less.
Cooper turned the slowly cooking beef and stared out at the boiling sky to the north. The color reminded him of Mary’s eyes. Stormy weather blue. For all he knew, he was the first man she’d ever asked to kiss her. Maybe she figured no man would try. She asked a friend to let her know what it was like.
Cooper knew that even if he explained she wasn’t homely, she wouldn’t believe him. How could he say the words and be honest with both her and himself? She might never be a great beauty, but she was easy to look at. He should have told her that. She had pretty eyes, the kind a man could get lost in. And her voice was soft, like her words were meant only for him to hear. He should have said something. Maybe that would have helped.
