How to Lasso a Cowboy (6 page)

Closing his eyes, Cooper swore he would never tell anyone about the ghosts that haunted him. They'd think him crazy, and he had too much responsibility to let that happen. He'd seen the ones ghosts had claimed in towns across the South, men who never came home in their minds. Men who wandered, still seeing battles, still crying for their lost brothers, still hearing bugles long silent.

Cooper gripped the book with a determined hold, refusing to reach for the bottle he kept in his right drawer. Tonight, he would read. He'd force himself into a story until exhaustion lulled him to sleep.

Somehow, knowing Mary was also reading made it easier. Cooper concentrated on each word, thinking that, if their paths crossed again, he'd give her this book also. If he did, he might need to remember the story so he could talk to her about it. Maybe one day they could visit without fear shimmering in her eyes.

“Follow the bridge,” he mumbled to himself. The books were all he had that linked them. He was afraid to question why he needed this bond with a woman he hardly knew, for if he reflected too closely he might find the whole of him packed with loneliness.

Two hours melted away before he looked up. Laying the book down, he stretched, his muscles relaxing. Tonight he might be able to sleep.

As he stood, he noticed the thin slice of light beneath Winnie's door. On impulse, he crossed to her room and tapped, fearing she might have gone to sleep with the lamp still burning.

“Yes,” she answered too quickly to have been asleep.

Cooper opened the door. “You all right?”

Winnie put down her sewing. “I'm fine. I was just doing some mending and got carried away.” She lifted her watch pin from the nightstand. “I didn't realize it was so late. It's been such a delightful day, I guess I didn't want it to end.”

Cooper smiled. Only Winnie would lose track of time while mending or think getting caught in the rain was delightful. “Well, good night.” He started to close the door then paused. “Promise me the next time you need to go to town, you'll let Duly or me hitch up a wagon for you. One of us is usually around.”

“I promise.” She returned to her mending. “By the time I realized what a walk it was, I was already over halfway there. Thank goodness Miles could bring me home.”

“Miles?”

“Mr. Woodburn.” Winnie blushed.

“Yes, thank goodness for Miles.” He closed the door before she saw his frown. He didn't like his sister calling the Yankee “Miles.” He didn't like it one bit.

Three days passed with Winnie still talking about Mr. Woodburn, and every word stuck in Cooper's craw.

No one in town liked the man. Surely Winnie could see that. Oh, they might go in his store from time to time, mainly because he took trade for supplies. Most in the South were money poor, though rich in land and cattle. The cattle drives and settlers traveling through used him because he'd deliver out to their campsite. Debord gladly gave Woodburn that business. It wasn't practical to lose half a day's work delivering supplies then try to get back to town before some down-on-his-luck cowboy robbed him.

But with Winnie, it was Mr. Woodburn this and Mr. Woodburn that, like he only spouted universal truths. She must have repeated his every word at least ten times.
Cooper wondered how the man had had time to say so much in the course of one afternoon.

Johanna and Emma had long since grown bored with her chatter about the Woodburns and the chair she was redoing. They talked over her as if she were little more than a babbling child making noise in the corner.

Cooper couldn't bring himself to do that. After all, Winnie had been the one who taught him to read and write, and to imagine what might be in the world. She had played games with him when there were no children near his age and made dragons of the clouds in the lazy summer days before he became a man and gave up such things. So now he listened to her, again and again, without commenting.

At night he read, rediscovering how much he loved it, how much he missed it. As the days passed, he decided that the strange feeling he got when Mary touched him was nothing more than loneliness. No woman had been near him for quite a while. No respectable woman anyway. The girls at the saloon were always brushing up against him when he stopped by for a drink, but they were like cats purring and pawing. He'd long ago grown cold to their nearness. But Mary was different.

By the end of the week, the curiosity to see her climbed beyond his good sense of steering clear of her brother. He told himself it would be good for him to at least talk to a respectable girl. His sisters were making plans to invite every lady in the county to a party as soon as he gave in to a date. Maybe Mary would offer him a little practice at conversation.

After all, what harm could it do?

 
MARY LEANED OVER
the counter, watching the movements of the Minnow Springs population. Though she knew most of the people, it was more the curiosity of viewing an ant bed, than any particular interest in one person. Or at least it had been until Cooper Adams rode in.

She knew his routine. He'd stop at the post office, tying his horse to the hitching post near the alley. Then he always walked down Main Street to the saloon. On the way, he took care of business, dropping into a few stores before having a drink. She guessed he must not be much of a drinker, for he never stayed long. Most times she would see him leave the saloon and cross over to the hotel for dinner. He always ate alone at the window seat.

She wasn't keeping up with him specifically, she reminded herself. She was just observing the comings and goings of the town. Why would one rancher deserve any more notice than another?

Yet there was something about the way he stared out into
the night from the hotel's dining room window that made her watch. It was almost as if he were looking for something or someone to materialize out of the darkness. There was a sadness about him that seemed older than his years. She imagined him wondering, as he ate and watched the night, if there were not more to life than the hard lonely life he'd chosen.

Mary had read the book he loaned her and hoped to have time for another reading before she returned it. But liking the book didn't parallel with liking him. She'd learned her lesson. Men were not always what they seemed.

Miles limped in with a box of apples. He set them down on the counter and asked, “That Adams I saw riding past?”

They both knew it was, so she didn't bother to answer.

“If he comes in here, I want you to go to the storage room, Mary, and let me wait on him.”

“But—”

“I think I know best,” Miles snapped in an angry tone that had long ago molded itself around his normal voice. “If Adams walks through that door, you'll go to the back and stay there until he leaves. I don't need any trouble.”

Mary wanted to argue that Cooper might be different, but fear paralyzed her mind. She had stood up to her brother once and insisted a man had only wanted to talk and she'd been wrong. Now, even the slight jingling of spurs reminded her of how terrified she had been and of how nearly her brother had come to losing his life.

“Cooper Adams is heading this way.” Miles broke into her thoughts. “I'll call you when he's gone.”

Mary slipped into the shadows of the storage room as the mercantile door opened.

“Good evening.” Miles's greeting was cold, formal as always. “How may I help you?”

Mary peered between the slits at the back of the shelving. She noticed Cooper glance around. She knew he looked for her. She wondered if he could feel her near, for she swore even with her eyes closed she would have known he was close by. Something about the man drew her, but she no longer trusted her instinct.

“Winnie sent a list of different size needles she needs. She said you had the best selection in town.” Cooper handed Miles a scrap of paper. “She also asked that I pay her respects to your sister.”

Miles took the sliver of paper and carefully examined it. “Mary is not available, but I'll pass the message along. It'll only take me a minute to wrap these for you. I'll circle them up with a strip of the new ribbon we just got in. Miss Winnie might like that.”

Cooper stood in the middle of the store. He wore his hat low, shading his eyes from view, but Mary had the feeling he searched for something.

She touched the book tucked away in her pocket. Maybe he'd only come in for the novel and the reason he wanted to see her was to get it back. After all, he'd told her it was his good luck charm. The least she could do was walk out into the store and hand it to him. Nothing would happen. Not in broad daylight, in the middle of the store, with her brother right there.

Cooper shifted. She heard the jingle of his spurs and stilled.

“Will there be anything else?” Miles shoved the packet of needles across the counter.

“No, thank you.” Cooper hesitated. “Don't forget to pass my sister's regards along.”

“I'll remember.” Miles folded his arms over his chest. “Good day.”

Mary watched as Cooper walked out of the store.

“Good riddance.” Miles's comment blended with the door's closing.

Mary moved from the shadows. “We don't have any reason to hate the man, Miles. He doesn't have any grudge against you.”

“You can't trust these people, Mary. Any of them. They don't care about us, even if a few of them act like they do. I've told you that a thousand times. It will take a generation, maybe more, for the bitterness between North and South to die. Our moving here doesn't change that.”

Mary nodded. They'd left Virginia with nothing six years ago. Miles's leg kept him from working most places and the few desk jobs he'd been qualified for had a hundred other veterans apply. Running the mercantile for their uncle seemed the only option. But by the time they got to Texas, their uncle Luther had died, leaving them the dilapidated remains of a once thriving business and no extra money to repair or restock. Slowly, Miles had built the business, hating every minute, trapped and resenting fate's twist. No one had offered to help him at first and he had not bothered to ask.

Miles's smile was sad when he added, “How about we close early tonight? I could take the empty apple crates and a load of supplies out to the Kiley place. You could read.” He sounded like he truly wanted to make her feel better. “You know Mrs. Kiley will insist I bring home one of her pies. We could eat it with a late supper when I get back.”

Mary smiled, silently agreeing to the truce. “Sounds like a good plan. I found an old reader in a chest you traded for the other day. I'll send it out to their youngest boy. Remind them he should be starting his lessons this year. Unless you want me to go along and talk to them?”

Miles shook his head. “With all the empty boxes I'll be carrying and the bad road, the wagon will rattle all the way. No use in both of us having to listen to that. But I'll be sure to pass along the advice and the book.”

Mary put away items left on the counter as she talked. “I did promise I'd work with the Andrews children on math for a few hours tonight. Not one of them can add.”

Mr. Andrews owned the livery and had a child every fall like clockwork. He couldn't pay Mary anything for her lessons, but loaned them a wagon or buggy anytime they were in need. “If I don't work fast, there will be more kids in that family than any of the Andrews can count.”

Miles pulled down the paper blind over the door's glass. “I'd rather listen to the rattling of the boxes than those brats. You're not bringing them all in here, are you?”

“No. I've learned my lesson. Half a pound of candy
disappeared last time. We'll work in the loft over the livery tonight.”

Two hours later Mary wished she'd gone with Miles. The Andrews kids might not be able to add, but they could all talk. In fact, none of them seemed to know how to stop. Her head pounded as she crossed the road and headed back to the apartment above the store.

It didn't matter which side of the street she walked, she had to pass a saloon either way. Mary kept her head down and hurried as fast as she dared along the poorly lit walkway.

She made it past the door of the saloon before she noticed two men sitting in the wicker chairs between the saloon's windows. Light shone on either side, but they were in shadow.