by Jodi Thomas
She twisted within his arms until her words whispered against his ear. “What happened between us, happened between us, not to me; and you didn’t hurt me until you said you were sorry.”
They were so close to the house he was afraid someone might hear him so he didn’t answer her.
As he lifted her down from the saddle she added, “But don’t worry, it will never happen between us again. So you can stop apologizing. In fact it might be better if we simply never spoke to one another again.” She shoved a tear off her cheek with an angry movement.
Mary vanished into the house before he had time to think of an answer. Women. He was right about them. Mary might not be as chatty as most, but she made up for it by being helpless and confusing. This time she had not even bothered to say thank you for his riding into town to get her. And he had no idea what she was talking about when she said “between” and not “to.”
He walked toward the barn thinking all the people enjoying the party had better eat up because there wasn’t going to be another bride-finding ball. He never planned to marry.
Chapter Twelve
THE ORANGE GLOW of twilight was the unofficial time for the dance to start, but Cooper’s sisters insisted on waiting until he returned to the ranch. As he tied his horse on the corral fence, the three musicians stopped warming up and played the opening strings to the Virginia Reel.
Johanna stood on the porch and yelled loud enough for anyone within five miles to hear that it was time to move inside the barn.
Emma organized a chain of ladies to pass all remaining desserts to the tables set up along the fringes of the dance floor. Quilts were hung from the loft, hiding the stalls and along the rafters to block wind. Color rainbowed the interior, adding a feeling of warmth to the old shelter, while the aroma of hot cider melted through the air.
Mary stayed in the kitchen cutting pies with a silver pie server Johanna insisted she use. She wanted no part of this dance, or of Cooper Adams. But Winnie pulled her out, insisting she had to watch Miles dance.
“He doesn’t,” Mary tried to tell her as they hurried toward the barn. “He can’t.”
Winnie didn’t bother to argue.
Ten minutes later, Mary stood just out of the circle of light glowing from lanterns above and watched as her brother took Winnie’s hand. They walked to the center. Music played. Miles bowed as if he were dressed in formal clothes and Winnie in a ball gown. Winnie placed her hand in his and they began to waltz.
Everyone watched as they danced alone in the center of the dirt floor. His step was awkward. Winnie’s short, round body and his lean frame didn’t match at all. But no one in the room noticed, for Winnie smiled up at the scarred face of Miles Woodburn as though he were the most handsome man in the state, and he looked down at her with eyes that told everyone that she was beautiful.
Slowly, others joined the waltz. They circled around the strange couple. Mary lost sight of her brother. For a while she stood in the shadows, fighting tears and trying to remember how long it had been since she’d seen Miles smile. Years ago she decided he had forgotten how.
As the music changed and folks sought other partners, Mary sank into the darkness between quilt curtains, wishing, as she often did, that she could become invisible. All these years she thought her brother had been the sad one, the lonely one, and she’d been the one who stayed with him. She was the rock and he was the one who suffered from all they’d lost. The possibility that she might have been the sibling who couldn’t have survived alone clouded her mind.
An hour into the dance, a group of cowhands from the Rocking R arrived, accompanied by several men she’d never seen. They must have started drinking while cleaning up for the party, for they entered loud and the atmosphere shifted subtly from that of a ball to a dance hall.
The rough newcomers reminded her of mustangs. Restless, untamed. She guessed they had been hired to help with the cattle drive leaving at dawn. She noticed the county marshal had quit dancing and watched the crowd.
Mary curled deeper into the shadows. She wished she were home reading and away from these men she’d never seen before. Their manners belonged on the trail, not in polite company.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice people moving about her. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what it had felt like to dance with Cooper in the Andrewses’ livery. She tried to pinpoint the moment she realized she loved him. Maybe it was when he kissed her, or when he handed her his treasured book, or maybe it was before they ever spoke. Something about him drew her, long before he knew her name. She liked the way he tipped his hat to the ladies when he walked down Main Street and the way he always patted his horse at the post office as if thanking the animal. She’d watched him for years, wishing she were brave enough to talk to him.
Not that it mattered, she told herself. They would never talk again, or even be friends now. Her pride would not allow it. Not after he said he was sorry for kissing her.
The murmur of a man’s raspy voice drifted into Mary’s thoughts.
“Another half hour, that should be about right.”
Mary didn’t breathe. Someone stood only a foot away from her, but hadn’t seen her in the darkness. She pushed against the thick pole that stretched to the roof, wishing she could disappear into the wood. A quilt above her head blew in the evening breeze, playing hide-and-seek with her in the shadows.
“We’ll give everyone a chance to enjoy the dance, drink a little too much, get tired,” the low voice whispered again. “Then, when the shouting starts, they’ll react without thinking.”
A youthful voice answered back. “I don’t know about this plan. If you ask me, we should do some more pondering before we act. After tomorrow, most of Adams’s men will be gone. I figure, then the three of us can take him if he catches us.”
Mary guessed the second man must still be in his teens for his voice hadn’t completely changed. He sounded frightened.
“Don’t chicken out on me now. You want that horse, don’t you? In an hour we’ll have every man in this county running after rustlers. All we have to do is walk away with that Steeldust colt of Adams’s. He’ll never know what happened. He’ll just come back from chasing a lie and the little horse will be gone, vanished into thin air.”
“But what about the women?” The boy’s voice cracked again. “Them old maid sisters of his don’t exactly look helpless. Hell, half the women here can probably handle a gun better than me.”
“Don’t worry about them,” the man with gravel in his tone answered. “Once the men leave, the women will head into the house. They’ll be so busy talking they won’t even hear us. And if one of them does wander out of the house, Len will take care of her with his knife.”
The second voice climbed higher. “Now, wait a minute, I ain’t for no killin’ of women. I thought we were just here for the colt, nothing more. I know you don’t like Adams ’cause he fired you, but that ain’t no reason to hurt the womenfolk.”
“Don’t worry. Women never wander out on their own. They only travel in herds.”
“Well, just in case, tell Len to say he’s supposed to move the colt if one of them comes out. That way it won’t cause no suspicion. I don’t mind killin’Adams if he gets in the way, but I don’t want to start leaving too many bodies or the next thing I know, the Rangers will be looking for me the way they’re looking for you.”
“You go tell Len. He’s out by the corral waiting.” With a mixture of anger and authority the older man left no doubt that he was the leader. “I want to watch the dancing.”
Mary heard them moving behind her. The tinkling of their spurs soured the music’s rhythm. She waited, hoping one of them would step into the light, but there were too many people. One, or both, could easily blend into the crowd.
She circled between the groups of people, eager to spot the face that would match the young southern voice. But most of the cowhands looked the same. Tall, lean, tanned by the sun. The lively music and laughter intermingled
voices. She hoped to catch a few words that sounded like one of the men she’d overheard.
She didn’t notice Cooper standing beside her until he spoke.
“Would you dance with me, Mary, if I promised not to talk to you?” His face was guarded, void of all expression. She couldn’t be sure if he looked worried, or angry, or if he was simply playing host.
Dancing was the last thing she wanted to do, but she had to tell him what she’d heard. Even if it was some kind of joke the boys were playing, Cooper had a right to be warned. Only they hadn’t sounded like they were joking.
Mary faced him and slowly raised her hand. “You promise not to say a word?”
“Cross my heart, darlin’,” he answered. The hint of a smile fought its way across his face as his hand reached for hers. The worry lines along his forehead relaxed.
“Good, because I’ve something I have to tell you.” Mary couldn’t read him. He gripped her fingers as if he had been looking for her for hours and didn’t plan to let her go anytime soon, but his eyes held an uncertainty. “It . . .”
“It can wait,” he whispered against her cheek as he pulled her onto the floor.
His arm felt solid around her waist, but he didn’t pull her as close as he had when they’d danced in the livery. His fingers caressed hers as he swung her in time to the music. For a man who claimed to hate dances and told his sisters he saw no need for a ball, Cooper managed to keep in step. At first, Mary thought of nothing but trying to stay up with him without making a fool of herself. She wasn’t about to tell him she had never truly danced, but she feared it was apparent, for she could not seem to follow him or the music.
When she tromped across his boots for the fourth time, he leaned close and whispered, “Why don’t you just stand on them, darlin’. At least then I’ll know where you are.”
Mary felt her face blush all the way to her hairline. She fought to pull away, but he held her as they continued to try to follow the music.
Anger boiled inside her. She was trying to help him but he guided her into the center of the room, a place she never wanted to be. Mary fired out the first thing that came to her mind. “Stop calling me darling!”
He pulled her far too close to be considered proper. “I’m not even talking to you.” He brushed her ear with his lips as he spoke. “Relax. Dance with me, Mary. Just like you did before when no one was watching.”
“I don’t want to dance,” she answered, aware that people stared at them. “I need to talk to you.”
“I thought we were never speaking again.”
“Shut up and listen.” Mary decided Cooper would drive a mute woman to scream. Her own meek ways were fading fast in frustration.
He laughed again, loud enough that several couples turned to face them. “You’re sure getting bossy, Mary, my dear.”
Releasing all but her hand, he walked to the side of the musicians’ stand. The tune was too loud for conversation. Mary didn’t want to shout. Without a word, she tugged at his arm and pulled him into the back of the barn.
He made no protest as they slipped between the patchwork blankets and melted into the blackness of one of the horse stalls. Mary slowed and gripped his arm tighter. The place had been swept clean, but the smell of hay and horses still lingered.
As she crossed the darkness, he moved closer, letting her know he was right beside her. The warmth of his body comforted and excited her at the same time. When she touched the smooth wood at the back of the stall, she turned to face him. “Cooper, I have to—”
“I know, I lied.” His hands moved up her arms and into her hair. “I’ll never be sorry for kissing you,” he said, a moment before his mouth found hers. His kiss was hard and hungry, as though he’d been starving.
Mary opened her mouth to protest and the kiss deepened. He leaned closer, pushing her against the back of the stall. Her mind told her this was insane, there was information he must know. He might even be in danger. But pleasure stampeded over reason.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she returned his kiss.
He took the advance with a low moan and welcomed her along the length of him. They moved, like old lovers, in perfect harmony to this dance.
Her hair tumbled free. His hand spread into the dark curls, lost in the softness as he drank deep of the taste of her. Quiet, shy, plain little Mary had somehow become the woman he knew he couldn’t live without. Even in the darkness, with the music playing and people laughing only a few feet away, Cooper couldn’t bring himself to stop. From the moment he’d helped her off the horse and she slipped from his arms, all he’d been able to think about was her. He’d gone half mad trying to look for her without being obvious. About the time he decided she must have left the party and walked back to town, she appeared.
She rushed to him, saying she needed to talk, pulling him into the shadows. He forgot all the words he’d planned to say to her. Now he couldn’t get close enough to her. It didn’t matter if they talked, as long as they held one another. He planned to take a lifetime to convince her how he felt; right now all he wanted to do was show her.
She thawed as he touched her.
Hesitantly, he brushed his fingers over her breast and caught her reaction against his lips. She moved so that his hand caressed her once more.
Pure pleasure bolted through his blood. He closed his fingers around her, feeling the soft mound through thin cotton. Her dress might be drab and ordinary, but there was nothing short of perfection in his hand.
Widening his fingers, he moved his hands slowly along her sides as he kissed her, loving the way she swayed against him when he cupped her round bottom.
He wanted to undress her. To make love to her. He didn’t care if the entire county saw them. But he would wait. For now, just holding her would have to be enough.
His arms closed around her and he straightened, lifting her off the ground. She was his as surely as if they’d said the words. He had finally found his mate. Whether he bedded her this night, or waited a year, didn’t matter. She was his other half, and he was hers.
He pulled an inch away and whispered, “Marry me, Mary.”
Before she could answer, shouts exploded from the other side of the quilts. The music stopped. Everyone spoke at once. Cooper circled his arm around her shoulder as they ran toward the light.
“Rustlers!” someone yelled beyond the dancers. “They’re driving the herd out of Echo Canyon. Hurry!”
The women cried out and scrambled for their children. The men moved in a mass toward the barn door and their horses.
“Let’s ride!” one man shouted. “We’ll catch them this time!”
“Get my rifle from the wagon. I’ll give them a fair trial before I shoot every last one of them.”
“Hurry, men! We don’t want any to get away.”
Cooper almost dragged Mary along, for she held with a death grip on his arm. They crossed with the others to the corral, where the horses seemed to catch the excitement.
“You can’t go!” She pulled at his arm, realizing for the first time how much stronger he was than her.
He barely heard her above the crowd. “I have to. A year’s work depends on those cattle.” He tried to be gentle. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
Her grip didn’t loosen. “You can’t go! I heard men talking. . . .”
Cooper pulled from her as Duly brought up his horse. The midnight mare pranced between them. “Stay with my sisters!” he yelled as he swung onto the saddle.
“Don’t go!” She had no time to explain. “Your future is in danger. Don’t go!” Mary wasn’t sure if he heard her last words. Everyone shouted as the men rode off toward Echo Canyon.
Once the men left, the women and children stood outside the barn and listened until they no longer heard the sound of hooves pounding. For a few minutes all was silent. Too silent.
Johanna’s voice rang like a lone bell. “Come along. Let’s go inside. We’ve nothing to do but make coffee and wait.”
>
Everyone seemed to agree. They gathered children and moved inside the house. Mary glanced around in panic, wishing she had a horse. Maybe she could catch up with the men. If she tried harder, she could make him understand.
But even the old nags had been untied from the wagons and ridden bareback by men in a hurry. Nothing remained in the corral except a dozen young colts shooed off into the corners.
Mary hurried to the fence. One of them had to be the Steeldust colt the strangers planned to take. But which one? She tried to remember what the colt had looked like the day Cooper showed him to her, but she’d been paying more attention to his hand touching hers than to the horse.
She couldn’t watch them all. It was so dark she wasn’t sure she could even see several of the animals. And even if she did keep her eye on the colt, how would she be able to stop men from taking it?
Glancing back at the house, she noticed Miles standing alone in the shadows beside the porch. She knew why he was there. He wouldn’t go in with the women. He couldn’t ride with the men.
Mary ran to her brother. As she pulled him toward the corral, she tried to remember all she’d heard. They had to somehow protect the colt. But the enemy had no face and she knew few details.
Miles listened to her ramblings, but she could see it in his face as clearly as if he’d said the words, What can I do? What help would I be?
When words finally came all he said was, “Go in with the women, Mary.”
“I’m staying,” she said as he took a step toward the house.
He shifted, waiting for her to come to her senses. “You’re going back to the house,” Miles ordered, as he always did.
“No,” she answered just as strongly. “Not this time. It is my fault Cooper wasn’t warned about the trick. I should have told him.”