by Jodi Thomas
They ate with Cooper answering one question after another. Tatum wanted to know how to catch fish, how to hunt. Was water from the river at the bottom of the canyon okay to drink? What would they do if they ran out of toilet paper?
“I’m taking you back to town, kid, before you have that problem,” Cooper said at least a dozen times.
“If you gave me that box of matches, I could stay here. I could survive. I’d be a mountain man.”
“You can’t be a mountain man on a hill, and there’s a lot more to surviving. I’m taking you back as soon as we can get down safely.”
“Will you teach me to shoot while we wait?”
“No.”
A cloudy afternoon arrived, with the temperature never reaching high enough to melt the snow. When the wind died down, they walked out to feed Hector and the extra mount Cooper had brought along. They cracked the ice that had formed on the water buckets. Then, with walking sticks, they carefully maneuvered up to the ledge and looked down at the valley.
There, a half mile from the stream, Cooper caught his first sight of the wild horses. Mustangs, their coats dark against the white earth.
“How’d those horses get there?”
“No one knows,” Cooper whispered, as if the horses might hear him. “There were no horses around here hundreds of years ago. The Spanish came through this area, exploring, and either lost a few horses or abandoned them when they headed home. The herds grew and roamed wild from deep in Mexico to the Rockies.
“Maybe a few of the horses came down looking for grass after a dry year. Or one of the tribes who roamed this area might have driven them down. Maybe they just got trapped here in the canyons and couldn’t find their way out. Coronado’s men rode across Texas looking for the City of Gold. They would have traveled with extra mounts and pack animals, just in case they found the gold.”
Tatum looked up at Cooper. “I got a lot of questions about that explanation.”
Cooper smiled. “I figured you would.”
That night when Cooper finally said, “No more questions,” the boy protested, but curled up in his blankets while Cooper turned out the lantern.
The low fire flashed shadows along the walls. The wind howled so loud it sounded like a wolf, and tumbling branches knocked at the door. The echo of a horse screaming in fear drifted through his mind and he knew sleep would be slow to come.
Before Cooper could settle, he heard Tatum counting... No, he was adding.
“One plus one is two. Two plus two is four. Four plus four is eight...”
Cooper decided it was just the kid’s way of counting sheep.
A few minutes later the adding turned to multiplying. “One times one is one. Two times two is four. Three times three is nine. Four times four is sixteen.” The door rattled and he started again. “One times one is one.”
“What are you doing, kid?” Cooper asked over the wind.
“It’s how I get to sleep. I add. I’m good at it. But when I’m scared, I multiply. It’s harder, but my grandma taught me. I know all the way to my twelves. Only I forget some of the sevens.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. This shack has stood for a hundred years. It’s not going to fall down tonight.”
“What if something breaks in?”
Cooper stood up and took his rifle off the high shelf. “I’ve been coming here to take care of the horses since I could ride, and nothing’s ever come through that door. In fact, I’ve only used this rifle a few times to put a dying horse down, and I shot into the clouds to scare a bear once.” He set the rifle beside his bed. “If I ever get hurt, I might use it to signal, but there’s a good chance no one would hear me.”
Tatum sat up, crossed his legs, tented a blanket over his sandy hair and started asking questions. How do you know when a horse is dying? Is it a kindness to shoot an animal that’s dying? Are there many bears up here? How about wolves? Can animals flip the latch on the door? How far down to the road? Can you tame a wild horse? How does the vet doctor them if they are wild?
“Lie down and I’ll answer your questions,” Cooper grumbled.
Tatum followed orders.
By the time Coop finished, the boy didn’t need to add numbers. He was asleep.
But Cooper still couldn’t sleep. The howl of the wind kept him awake. He wasn’t worried about some wild animal coming to get them; he was far more worried about the horses. Now and then, on the storm’s breath, he thought he heard the wild cry of a horse.
The last thing he wanted to see in the morning was a trail of blood. A predator could attack one of the mustangs while the wind howled during the night. Or, if the herd was running, one or more of the horses might have tumbled off a cliff.
The need to get to them gnawed at his gut. In an odd way, he could relate more to them than he could most people.
CHAPTER NINE
December 16
Maverick Ranch
SNOW STARTED FALLING outside Dani’s kitchen window around midafternoon as she rolled out a dozen piecrusts. Some would be stacked in the cabinet for a few days before being filled, but six would be pies before she went to bed.
Lazy flakes splattered against the glass and melted into winter’s tears as she watched. Nature’s ever-changing days calmed her soul—they always had. Maybe that was why she rarely left her little farm. She liked watching things grow and the seasons marching by. Her boys were more into ranching with their horses and small herd of cattle. They didn’t see the beauty like she did. The seasons and the holidays always made her smile. Being here felt like home, as well. It might be a much bigger operation at the Maverick, but they lived as she did, by the seasons, and they planned by the weather.
It was almost Christmas, she realized, and no one at the Maverick had noticed. Elliot had mentioned that Sunlan would decorate when she got back, but they’d stayed over in Washington longer than anyone had expected.
Elliot said when he stopped by the kitchen to pick up lunch that Sunlan’s father was having some tests run at the hospital, and she and Griffin might stay a few days longer just to make sure all was well.
Dani understood why Christmas needed to wait a few days, but with no decorations where she worked and no time to go home to at least put up her little tree, Dani feared this snowfall might be the only hint of the holiday she’d have this year.
“Oh, well,” she said aloud. “Enjoy what you got.” Her boys were healthy and seemed happy. She was making good money and was surrounded by interesting people. Life was good. Maybe she’d at least have time to drive over to her place, get her little tree and bring it here. It would look grand in her room.
Speaking of interesting people, the cousins had kept her busy all morning, but she didn’t mind. She’d helped them alter their new lingerie, made snacks to go with different colors of wine and caught herself giggling at the funny things they talked about. In an odd way, it made her glad she had sons, as girls seemed to have a great deal more drama in their lives.
She’d also giggled over their choice of nightwear. The dainty gowns were beautiful, but she’d never sleep in such things. Her body was too round. A plain cotton gown would do fine.
As the day passed, Dani baked long loaves of bread and muffins while a huge roast with all the trimmings of carrots, potatoes and onions cooked. At sunset she’d load up the bunkhouse meal and take it over in the ATV Elliot had said was just for her. Four nights a week she cooked for the hands, mostly stews and chili. One night per week, a dozen pizzas were delivered from town, and on the weekends, the men were on their own. Unless company was in the house, the Holloway family meal was the same as the bunkhouse menu. And if Elliot and Cooper were the only two home, they usually joined the hands for the evening meal, saving her time.
As Dani worked, she thought about Tye, of the things she’d talk about with this man she barely knew. They’d have to talk. He could
n’t just drop by and eat pie.
Maybe she’d ask him where he’d lived, but then he might ask her the same and she’d have only two houses to describe.
She could tell him about her little farm, but he might think she was bragging. It might not be a big place, but it had been in her family for three generations.
All the subjects the cousins had discussed were off the table. So she kept busy and waited. Even if he didn’t show up, he’d given her a pleasant afternoon of daydreaming.
By nightfall, pies lined the counter, and Dani called herself a fool for worrying about something as simple as having coffee with a stranger.
Then the back door opened, letting in the cold wind and a tall, lean figure of a man. Her stranger had come for pie.
From the moment he walked into her kitchen, there seemed a quiet peace settling between them. Something she hadn’t expected.
The cowboy pulled out her chair, then grinned. “I’ve been looking forward to our visit.”
“Me, too.”
He had a gentlemanly way that drew her, and a low voice that pulled her closer. They talked about the weather and how he liked this part of Texas. As she served him slices of pie, she managed to think of a few things the cousins had said that were funny. She was happy Tye seemed as confused as she’d been over the way they thought.
He told her about how his grandfather must have died in prison sometime back and how the Texas Rangers took the time to deliver a notebook of drawings to him that his grandfather had left him.
“I have a feeling that my grandfather drew them from what he saw around here. When I look at the notebook and then at this land, I feel like I’m walking in his footprints.”
“What was in the drawings?”
Tye shrugged. “One had a Texas county-road sign that had been shot up.”
She laughed. “I can think of half a dozen of those within ten miles.”
“There are drawings of tumbleweeds and windmills.”
“A hopeless quest, Tye. But I’ll be happy to show you the signs. There are less of them than tumbleweeds and windmills.”
His gray eyes looked straight at her as he grinned. “Thanks for the offer. I might just take you up on that.”
She nodded once and changed the subject.
Tye finally pushed away his almost-empty plate. “The cherry was great, Dani, but I think I still like the apple better.”
She laughed. “Took you two pieces of each to figure it out.”
“I can’t help it if you’re a great cook, darlin’, and I’m a man who likes to take his time with the finer things of life. Pie is one of them.” He took the last bite between his fingers, then added, as if talking to himself, “Just as being able to talk with a lady who’s gentle on the eyes is mighty fine.” He downed the last bit of pie without taking his eyes off her face.
She wanted to hold his last words in before addressing the compliment, so she focused on the pie. “Maybe you’ve been eating at diners too long, cowboy. I hear restaurants don’t even make their own crusts anymore.”
“You may be right.” He did that thing again. He looked at her straight on, like there was no filter between them, only honesty. “For a while I’ve been into the bottle. Funny thing about whiskey. I hate the way it tastes, even hate how it smells, but I like the way it numbs everything inside.”
“Are you looking for a slow way to commit suicide?”
“No.” He laced his hands together as if praying his answer was true.
When she didn’t say anything, he turned toward the window and she guessed he didn’t want to talk about his drinking. “What’s your full name, Dani?”
“Danielle, but no one’s ever called me that, not even my mother.”
He turned back to her. “You mind if I call you Danielle once in a while?”
“No.” She smiled. “Where is your home?”
“Nowhere. My mom moved every time the rent was overdue. My father dropped by now and then. When I’m asked, I usually say Amarillo because it’s as good a place as any to be from. It’s small enough to have a small-town feel and big enough to get lost in. I’ve got an old friend there I visit now and then.”
She refilled his coffee. They’d been talking for over an hour. First about horses, then life’s changes, and finally, they discovered neither had any idea which way to go in this life and both felt like they were just drifting. He might be moving from town to town, but she was drifting in her mind, making up lives she could have lived.
“An old man I worked for told me once that we all need a mission in this life.” Tye seemed to be looking into the past. “He said if you don’t have one, you’re riding a horse, but you’re not holding the reins. I asked him what his mission was, and he told me after seventy it’s just staying alive.”
She smiled. “You know, I think I live on the other side of the coin. Seems I’m always trying not to do stuff. Not to let anyone hurt me. Not to lose my land. Not to mess up raising my boys. I never think about what I want to do.”
Funny, she thought, how for years she’d fretted over what might happen if she wasn’t careful. Only now, when she put those doubts into words, the fear seemed to fly out of some invisible worry box hidden away in the back of her brain.
“I feel like I’m halfway through living and I’ve run out of goals.” He stared at his coffee as if it was a crystal ball gone dark. “Or maybe I just gave up on trying to reach the ones I’d always had. Maybe an old bronc rider is like a tarnished penny. At first it was shiny, but now no one can see it atop the dirt.” He met her stare. “But I’m still here. There’s worth in this tired body.”
Dani felt a tear threatening to fall. Yeah, this guy was going to make her cry, she thought, but dang it if he wasn’t the most interesting man she’d ever met. He was a stranger, but she couldn’t remember talking so honestly with anyone.
He told her that when he was twenty, there were a dozen paths he’d wanted to turn down and explore, but now, drifting seemed easier than picking a direction. When he was one of the top riders in the world, he was always afraid of falling, and now he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to start climbing again.
She talked about her boys and he was kind enough to compliment each of their skills. Evidently they’d worked with Tye a few hours before Creed pulled them away. Tye told her Patrick was so tired after a twelve-hour workday, he’d collapsed on one of the couches in the bunkhouse. Pete made it to his room after eating supper. Tye claimed they were snoring while everyone else watched football. It seemed there was a rule in the bunkhouse that if you fall asleep or pass out before you find your bed, you sleep where you fall.
“That’s how they are pretty much every night.” She shrugged. “It’s been over ten years since they were small enough for me to carry to bed. When I took this job, I went home after a month to check on the place. The barn was fine, but the house... Pizza boxes were knee-deep, but the sheets on their beds still looked clean.”
“They’ll grow.”
She shook her head. “I hope not. They’re both over two hundred pounds. But I know what you mean. I think my running away from home was the best thing I could have done for them.”
A comfortable silence settled between them as if they were old friends. She wished she’d taken the time to put on a little makeup or tie back her hair. A plain, plump woman like her would never be noticed by a good-looking man like him if they’d met in a bar. He’d probably go for the tall thin type with boots up to her knees and hair down to her butt. He’d go for the women who wore the nightgowns made of nothing but lace, not cotton.
Dani’s hair was long, but it was just brown. Not curly or rich chocolate or auburn. Just straight brown. Her hands had never had a manicure and her clothes were always ordered from a catalog.
Only, tonight she felt pretty when she saw the way he looked at her. He stared at her as if she was
unique. One of a kind.
He’d said she was gentle on the eyes. Imagine that.
“This house sure is quiet tonight,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “Big old place like this probably has ghosts.”
“No, I don’t think so. And it’s quiet now because Elliot took his company into Lubbock for dinner. He tries, but I don’t think he speaks their language. I have a feeling all three are very proper women in their everyday lives, but here, they just want to let their hair down. Sunlan was supposed to fly in today, but her father’s having some health issues. For the Holloway men, I don’t think it will be Christmas until Sunlan is home.
“She and Griffin have a daughter named Jaci, who looks just like Sunlan. I swear when Jaci is here, her feet barely touch the ground. She’s usually riding on her daddy’s arm or one of her uncles’ shoulders.”
Dani realized she was rambling, but Tye didn’t look like he minded. “The cousins should be home soon. I’m guessing Elliot will bore them to death talking about the stock market or how impossible his taxes are to do. That man should have a bookkeeper. This ranch has doubled in worth in the past few years, and he’s still doing the books alone.”
Tye nodded. “One of the hands said he doesn’t ride much, but he cares about those horses Sunlan breeds.”
“I heard Elliot tell Creed that he hoped you’d stay around.” She patted Tye’s hand on the table. “Elliot claimed you might just know more about horses than Sunlan, and that’s saying something.”
“I plan to at least stay the winter, if the work holds up. Ranch work and the rodeo is all I’ve ever done or wanted to do. I liked working with those fine champions today, and tonight’s been the best evening I’ve had in a long time.” Tye stood. “I guess I need to go, though. We’ll be starting work before dawn. This was the first day of real work that I’ve done in a while.”
She walked him to the door. “Your eyes are clear tonight.”
He didn’t act like he didn’t know what she meant. “Yeah, I told Creed I wouldn’t drink while I’m on the ranch. Plan to dry out for a while.”
