How to Lasso a Cowboy (9 page)

“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.

 
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.

By midafternoon, every man, woman, and child in the county tromped around his ranch, except Mary and her
brother. Cooper told himself he didn't care, but every time he looked up, he saw Winnie watching the road. The Yankee and his sister might not want to come to the party, but they had no right to hurt Winnie.

The more Cooper thought about it, the madder he got. As shadows melted together and the three-piece band warmed up in the barn, rain blew in like an unwanted guest.

Cooper rushed with everyone else to move things inside. Every time he passed Winnie, he saw her worried expression and her gaze turned to the road. Finally, he grabbed a slicker, saddled a horse, and rode out toward town. If Woodburn wasn't bothering to show up, he would have some explaining to do.

Almost within sight of Minnow Springs, Cooper spotted the old borrowed buggy of Woodburn's leaning almost sideways, a back wheel propped against it. Miles stood alone in the muddy road, his jacket off, his sleeves rolled to the elbows.

Anger turned to worry inside Cooper. As he neared, he yelled, “Having trouble?”

Miles shoved his thinning hair off his face. “This time, I am.”

As Cooper swung down from the saddle, Woodburn added, “I finally got the wheel patched enough so it should hold, but I can't lift the frame and roll it into place. Would you mind giving me a hand?” He chewed on the words a minute before he added, “You see, there's a party I promised to attend.”

Cooper moved to the boot of the old buggy. Bracing his feet in four inches of mud, he lifted.

Miles maneuvered the wheel around the axis. “Thanks,” he shouted over the rain as he stood.

“Where's Mary?” Cooper tried to make his question sound casual while he watched Miles roll muddy sleeves down over even dirtier arms.

“She walked back to town. With everyone already gone to your place, she decided she could get a wagon and be
back faster than I could fix this wheel.” Frustration deepened the lines on his scarred face. “With this leg, it's hard for me to walk on flat ground, much less in the mud. I talked her into coming along and now it looks like we may miss the party.”

Cooper swung onto his saddle, realizing riding a horse must be impossible for Woodburn or he would have ridden bareback to the ranch and left the wagon by the road. “Go ahead. Winnie's worried about you. I'll head toward town until I find your sister, then I'll make sure she gets to the ranch safely.”

Woodburn grumbled at the suggestion, but climbed inside the buggy.

Cooper lowered his hat and rode straight into the wind. He hoped Mary had made it to town before rain drenched her.

A deserted Main Street, dressed in thick gray fog, greeted him. Rain hung in the air, soaking him despite the oiled slicker. Cooper tried the Woodburns' store first, then realized Mary was probably at the livery.