How to Lasso a Cowboy (8 page)

“Winnie? If he's never told anyone, how do you know?”

The Yankee slowly stood and helped Winnie to her feet. She didn't even come to his shoulder now so she had to content her smothering to dusting his jacket.

“She knows”—Woodburn stared at Cooper—“because she's read my journal.” He let the words sink in before adding, “. . . that was in my bag.”

Cooper looked at Winnie. She didn't have to say a word; he read the truth on her face. If she'd traveled with the James brothers, they would have never had a career long enough to fill a column, much less a dime novel.

Johanna's voice snapped orders from somewhere behind them. “Come inside, all of you. What would the neighbors think if we lived close enough for them to hear you? We will sort this problem out over coffee. I'm sure it is just a misunderstanding.”

To his oldest sister, the War Between the States had been “just a misunderstanding.” Why should Cooper be surprised Johanna viewed Winnie's theft and his beating an innocent man any differently?

They all sat down at the table while Winnie went to get the luggage she'd lifted the day she arrived. Cooper knew he was going to have to apologize to a man he didn't like. That fact bothered him more than the sudden revelation that his sister had sticky fingers.

Emma poured everyone a cup of coffee, but no one drank. “I knew something was amiss,” she said to anyone at the table who would listen. “I just knew it. I have a feeling for these things, you know, always have.”

Cooper felt like counting “one,” for he knew Emma's statement would be repeated at least a hundred times.

Johanna excused herself, saying someone must attend to dinner. On her way to the kitchen, she paused to invite Mr. Woodburn to join them as if he were here on a social call and hadn't been being slugged by her brother only moments before.

When Woodburn declined, she smiled and said, “Maybe another time,” before disappearing into the kitchen.

Johanna might be a ball of fire when fighting for the date of a party, but trouble was like dust to her way of thinking. It should be swept under the rug and never spoken about.

Winnie brought in the brown bag she'd carried home the day she arrived in Minnow Springs and handed it to Miles. “I mended all your clothes. Most were in need of a stitch or two.”

Miles lifted a shirt from the bag. Winnie's fine stitches could barely be seen. “I've been wearing this shirt with the collar torn loose for some time.” He nodded a silent thank-you to Winnie. “I should have replaced it, but the rip didn't show if I kept my jacket on. I try not to ask my sister to take care of me and my sewing skills are nonexistent.”

He pulled his dress coat from the bag and ran his hand along all the buttons. “I thank you for this. It was no small task.”

Winnie smiled. “I guessed that no one sewed for you. And the buttons were no problem; Cooper had ones on his dress coat he never uses.” She glanced at Cooper daring him to argue. “I replaced all of your efforts so the stitches should hold as long as the material does. It took a few nights more time than I imagined it would, I'm afraid. I meant to get your things back to you as soon as possible.”

She brushed her hand over the material as though it somehow partly belonged to her now. “I didn't mind the work, though. It was kind of like I had someone to do things for, if only for a while. I've never had that.” She blinked away a tear bubbling in her eye.

“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.

 
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 something 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.”