by Nancy Bush
But…
There were still a few other people in town who might help her. She just hadn’t wanted to ask them because she didn’t want to owe anybody anything.
For instance, she might get a loan from Tommy Weatherwood. Okay, sure, she didn’t believe he’d actually inherited that money, but he had managed to buy himself a place down at Shady Glen, hadn’t he? And though he never seemed to work, he sure managed to keep himself in beer and women and still have change left over. She and Tommy weren’t all that close anymore, but maybe he’d be interested in a little investment.
She wrinkled her nose. Having Tommy as a business partner was hardly an appealing thought. Well, what about Brent Rollins? He’d been sweet on her for a long time. He wasn’t exactly rolling in the green stuff, but he was honest and kind and willing to work hard. And he did own Rollins Real Estate, which seemed to be limping along all right. Brent wasn’t too interesting, but maybe he’d see the investment potential of the ranch.
“Oh, hell,” Sammy Jo grumbled, yanking the wheel toward Serenity Ranch’s driveway.
Better to start with her new neighbor, she determined, shooting a last glance at the lowering sun.
He wasn’t home. Jack and Lettie were there, seated at the table over heaping helpings of strawberry shortcake, but Cooper Ryan was nowhere to be seen.
“Sit down, Sammy Jo,” Lettie invited, scraping back her chair.
“No, thanks, I’m kind of in a hurry,” Sammy Jo demurred, but before she could say any more, Lettie had plunked a mound of strawberry shortcake on a plate in front of her.
“You lookin’ for Mr. Ryan, then?” Jack asked as she sat down.
“I was hoping to talk to him,” she admitted.
“He went into town a couple hours ago,” he mumbled around a mouthful of whipped cream. “He told me and Lettie about the cattle getting’ out last week. Heap o’ trouble.”
“You said it,” Sammy Jo agreed.
“Mind now, he’s getting’ rid of them hoppity beasts,” he said while Lettie hovered over her. Clearly, she was waiting for Sammy Jo to dig in.
With a sigh, Sammy Jo complied. She wasn’t very hungry. “What’s he planning on doing?”
“New livestock. And makin’ Serenity a real humdinger of a ranch,” Jack revealed.
“Are you two staying on to help?” Sammy Jo asked.
“Sure enough.” Jack nodded. “It’s a big place. You got a big place, too.”
“I know.” Sammy Jo heard the implied criticism even though she knew Jack wasn’t meaning it that way. “Carl Murdock stopped by to help. Glenda told me he was laid off and looking for work.”
“Good, good.” Jack nodded again.
“So, do you know when Mr. Ryan will be back?”
“No…” Lettie spoke up, giving Sammy Jo an assessing look. “The man’s got a lot on his mind.”
“Oh?” Sammy Jo swallowed some strawberry shortcake. The strawberries were sweet and fresh and the biscuit melted on her tongue. She groaned with appreciation and Lettie’s face brightened. “Wow, this is good.”
“The best in three counties,” Jack said, shooting his wife a proud look.
“Mr. Ryan’s been asking a lot about you,” Lettie reported, watching with satisfaction as Sammy Jo scooped up more strawberries and whipped cream.
“Has he?” Sammy Jo’s heart jumped.
“Now, Lettie,” Jack admonished. “Don’t start somethin’.”
“I’m not startin’. I just know when a man’s got a woman on his mind.”
“Oh, and how do you know that?”
“He’s just got a certain look.”
“Well, I think you’ve got the ‘look’ wrong,” Sammy Jo interrupted this exchange, her voice bubbling with laughter. “I don’t even know him very well.”
Lettie lifted her shoulders dismissively. “He’s sweet on you, Sammy Jo, my girl. That’s all I’m sayin’.”
“Oh, please.”
“Lettie’s just yakkin’, you know.” Jack threw his wife a quelling look, which she ignored completely.
“He’s been asking lots of questions. Wants to know all about Sammy Jo Whalen of Ridge Range Ranch, don’t you know. But I was careful. I didn’t say too much. A woman’s got to have some mystery.”
Sammy Jo shook her head in embarrassment. She didn’t believe a word of Lettie’s fantasy, but the idea made her feel good in a way she shouldn’t. Men didn’t look at her that way. They looked at Bev Hawkins that way, but then who wouldn’t? Bev oozed sensuality, and even though she was supposedly happily married, men’s gazes lingered on her hips and legs whenever she sashayed by. Sammy Jo had a tendency to clomp through a room and she’d heard the remarks that followed her passing.
“…stubborn as sin…not quite pretty enough to make up for that fast mouth…shoulda been born a boy…”
“You’d better not let Mr. Ryan know what you think,” Sammy Jo advised, fighting back the little spurt of pain those memories caused. “He might figure you lost your mind.”
Jack laughed aloud and signaled Lettie to serve him up some more dessert. His wife merely glared at him.
“I know what I know,” Lettie insisted stubbornly.
“You’re an old woman with a big imagination,” her husband told her.
“You can just get your own shortcake, mister!”
Jack laughed.
Sammy Jo scraped back her chair, deciding she’d better get out of here before World War III erupted. “Thanks. It was delicious.”
“You want to find the man?” Lettie’s hands were on her hips. “Go on in to town. You can’t miss that shiny black truck of his. You’ll catch up to him.”
“I can talk to him later.”
She shooed Sammy Jo outside. “You go on and check out what I’m sayin’. He’s a man who’s lookin’ for a woman like you.”
“A woman like me,” Sammy Jo repeated, not sure she liked the sound of that.
“Someone who knows her own mind,” Lettie told her. “None of that namby-pamby stuff. Go on after him. It’d be good for both of you.”
Ten minutes later, Sammy Jo found herself parked in front of the Triple R, a frown darkening her pretty face. She didn’t believe Lettie for a minute, but that didn’t mean she’d changed her mind about finding Cooper. But was she being too anxious? She knew enough about human nature to know that nobody wants to help someone who’s so desperate. She had to play cool, be aloof.
But sitting at home wasn’t going to solve her problems.
With new resolve, Sammy Jo ground the gears and tore away from the Triple R toward the streets of Coldwater Flats. Correction. The street of Coldwater Flats. The town was really just one long main street with a few little arterials that meandered aimlessly out from the center like crooked spokes. Spying her cowboy hat resting on the seat beside her, she jammed it on her head.
“Be natural,” she told herself again, practicing a smile of pleasure and surprise when she “accidentally” ran into Cooper Ryan.
Cooper leaned across the scarred bar of the High Noon Saloon and said quietly to the bartender, “Know anything about a woman named Sammy Jo Whalen?”
“Sammy Jo?” The bartender grinned, showing spaces where there should have been teeth. “You mean the Princess.”
“The Princess?” Cooper repeated blankly.
“Who’s askin’?” a deep voice growled from the end of the bar.
Cooper peered through the dark bar to the hulk of a man seated on the last stool. A thick red beard covered a weathered face. At first glance, he appeared to be in his forties, but as Cooper walked down the expanse of the bar, he realized the man was probably around thirty.
“Cooper Ryan,” he said, thrusting out his hand. The man shook it, nearly crushing the life from Cooper’s hand as he did so. Cooper raised his eyebrows, wondering if he’d offended the man by asking about Sammy Jo and if he and red-beard were about to end up in a fight.
But apparently red-beard just liked to crush
bones because he said amiably enough, “Sammy Jo Whalen’s a rodeo princess.”
“Ex-rodeo princess,” a feminine voice corrected somewhere to Cooper’s right.
Glancing around, Cooper saw a woman in skintight jeans hunched over her pool shot. Her top scooped a little too low and her breasts looked as if they threatened to spill out. Wriggling a bit against the table she lined up the shot and smoothly pocketed the number twelve ball with enough English on the cue ball to set herself up for three more straight shots.
Red-beard watched without much interest. “Sammy Jo Whalen’s a regular tigress. Took down my little brother in a wrestling match when they was at Harding elementary. Humiliated the hell out of him. He won’t talk to her ‘til this day.”
“She’s a pain in the butt,” the woman added with a sniff.
“Ginny, there, don’t like her much. But then she’s just jealous.” Red-beard grinned.
“I ain’t jealous of nobody.”
“Except Sammy Jo. Ginny can’t never forgive her for stealin’ Brent Rollins’s heart,” Red-beard added for Cooper’s benefit. “Josh Johnson,” he said by way of introduction. “So, what’cha askin’ about Sammy Jo for?”
“Probably got an itch for the Princess, too,” Ginny declared, slamming a ball into the pocket.
“I bought the Riggs place. Sammy Jo is my new neighbor.”
“Serenity Ranch?” Ginny looked up, impressed. “They was askin’ a lot for that place.” For the second time since arriving in Coldwater Flats, Cooper got the once-over from a woman, but unlike Sammy Jo, Ginny’s gaze lingered on a few spots that both amused Cooper and made him slightly uncomfortable.
“So, you’re that corporate rancher, huh?” Josh regarded Cooper with a frown.
“Word travels pretty fast around here,” Cooper said dryly.
“There’s more going on in Coldwater Flats than anything you can catch on them TV shows,” the bartender chimed in, sliding Cooper a beer across the bar’s nicked finish.
Cooper took a long drink. It had been a week since his meeting with Sammy Jo, a week in which he’d round up his cattle and sold them off, bringing in the new herd he’d acquired over the past few months. Everything had gone like clockwork. His plan was moving right along.
Except Sammy Jo Whalen hadn’t been far from his thoughts, and he wasn’t certain which way to jump when it came to her. He wanted the ranch the easiest way possible, but that meant booting out Sammy Jo. Tonight he’d wandered into the High Noon Saloon intending to get more information. It was the only tavern in town that looked as if the windows had ever been cleaned. He hadn’t wasted time; he’d asked about Sammy Jo Whalen straightaway, and once again, the people spoke right up about her.
That was something he’d learned. The good folks of Coldwater Flats were more than willing to talk about Sammy Jo. Everyone had an opinion. Whatever else you could say about Sammy Jo Whalen, she was unforgettable.
Ginny laid down her pool cue and walked up next to Cooper. Her sharp eyes sized him up. “So, you bought the land next to the Princess and now you’re asking about her.”
“Well…yeah.”
“Was I right?” she demanded.
“Right?”
“About that itch…”
Cooper smiled. “I was just curious.”
“Ahh…” Ginny lifted a knowing eyebrow.
He could practically smell the interest growing. If he wasn’t careful, Sammy Jo would hear of his questions, and he had a feeling she was smart enough to put two and two together and get at least four. It seemed safer to let them believe what they wanted to believe. “She’s a very pretty woman.”
“Ain’t that the truth!” Josh snorted.
“Stubborn as sin,” Ginny stated flatly.
“A lot of guys have looked at her,” the bartender offered, putting in his two cents’ worth. “But then she starts in bein’ all bossy and stubborn and they hightail it fast.”
“Gonna take a real man to tame that wildcat.” Josh grinned at Cooper.
Cooper didn’t respond to that. “I saw her at the bank the other day,” he said instead.
“Oh, yeah.” Josh nodded sagely. “Money troubles, and lots of ‘em.”
“Old Gil liked the smell of a bad investment,” the bartender said.
“Bees to the honey,” Ginny agreed.
“What happened?” Cooper asked, settling himself on a barstool.
“The old man always wanted a boy.” Josh leaned back as if preparing for a good, long yarn. Ginny hopped onto the stool on Cooper’s left, and the bartender, who introduced himself as Sam, leaned forward, showing annoyance when a couple strolled in and looked at him expectantly. Muttering beneath his breath, he went to serve them, as Josh continued, “Gil treated Sammy Jo like a boy, and she acted like one, too. Learned to rope and ride from the ranch hands. Free as the wind and rawhide–tough. When all the other girls were gettin’ into lipstick and hairspray and boys, Sammy Jo was herdin’ cattle and gettin’ sick on rotgut liquor down at Shady Glen with Tommy Weatherwood and a few of his friends.”
“Tommy ended up buyin’ hisself a place at Shady Glen,” Ginny put in.
Josh glared at her for interrupting. “‘Course, Sammy Jo never took to liquor, not like Tommy, anyhow.” Josh glanced at Ginny, who snorted and muttered something into her beer glass. Cooper decided Ginny must have liked Tommy Weatherwood at one time as well as Brent Rollins. Whether Sammy Jo meant to or not, she’d made an enemy of Ginny just by being more attractive.
“You wanna know about Sammy Jo, you should talk to Tess Dunsworth,” Ginny told him.
“Tess works at the bank,” Josh supplied. “Name’s Tess Miller now. She and Sammy Jo are friends. Tess’s got a daughter the same age as Ginny’s,” he added for reasons Cooper didn’t quite understand until Ginny blasted Josh with a hard, cold glare. Apparently, Ginny didn’t want Cooper to know all the facets of her personal life.
“Sammy Jo took to animals,” Josh said picking up his story. “Half the time she was tryin’ to give away barn kittens when old man Riggs tried to drown ‘em.”
“Riggs drowned kittens?” Cooper repeated, appalled. He was no cat-lover, but good Lord.
“Riggs didn’t have no heart,” Ginny explained. “Had a lot of cats and just did away with ‘em. Probably did the same to puppies, but no one knows for sure. Named that damn place Serenity Ranch, too. Now, ain’t that funny?”
“I’m changing the name,” Cooper told them as Sam returned from serving his other customers.
“To what?” The bartender asked.
The Triple R. “I don’t know yet,” was the only answer Cooper could give. When he bought out Sammy Jo Whalen, he’d adopt the name for the whole spread, but until then he had to be mum.
“When Riggs up and died, we thought Gil Whalen would buy Serenity,” Josh said. Cooper hesitated, his beer halfway to his lips. “Combinin’ those two ranches would make it the best darn place around. Prime ranchin’ land. A bunch of developers looked at Serenity, even made offers to Gil for the Triple R, too. Gil practically ran them off with a shotgun. Then he let the whole damn thing slip away. Don’t that beat all?”
“Sammy Jo seems to want to make a go of it,” Cooper said.
“Well, she ain’t but one bitty girl. She can’t do it.”
Cooper didn’t think Sammy Jo would like being called a girl, let alone a bitty one. She was ranch-tough and a woman through and through.
“Her uncle came down to buy the place after Gil’s death,” Sam revealed. “Don’t know what happened, but he left with smoke comin’ outta his ears, he was so mad at Sammy Jo.”
Cooper observed, “She certainly knows how to win friends.”
“She’s trouble,” Ginny returned flatly.
“You know, you oughta make an offer on the Triple R, if you’re interested,” Sam suggested. “Sammy Jo has got a lot of financial problems. You might just be the answer to her prayers.”
“She’s probably waitin’ for some Pr
ince Charming to save her.” Ginny smiled meanly. “Go on, mister, make her an offer. I bet she snaps it up without even a thank- you.”
A vision of Sammy Jo Whalen crowded inside Cooper’s mind: slim, volatile, headstrong, willful and sure of herself. But she had the softest-looking lips, and a mouth, though stubbornly set, that seemed to want to smile. Her hair was that natural yellow blonde, just shy of golden, and her irises were the brightest, most luminous emerald he thought he’d ever seen.
And she possessed two of the most charming, irresistible dimples he knew he’d ever laid eyes on.
Some strange, deeply buried, chivalrous part of himself wanted to help her, but he shoved those thoughts aside and concentrated on his own self-interests. And the patrons of the High Noon Saloon had just given him a reason to make an offer.
“I don’t know,” Cooper said, playing along. “Buying the Triple R might be more than I want to bite off right now.”
“Oh, go on!” Ginny waved at him. “You can afford it.”
“It’s not a matter of money,” Cooper said.
“What, then?” Sam asked.
Three pairs of eyes regarded him with frank curiosity. “I got the impression she really loves that ranch,” Cooper said, treading carefully.
“She’s gonna love it right into the ground,” Josh snorted.
“You’d be doin’ her a favor by makin’ an offer,” Sam added.
“You really think so?” Cooper asked innocently.
“I know so!” Ginny jumped down from her stool and headed back to the pool table. “Not that I give a damn what happens to the Princess.”
“I do,” Josh disagreed. “I like Sammy Jo.”
“Me, too,” Sam declared. He pulled two more beers without being asked and slid them to Josh and Cooper.
Cooper rubbed his jaw reflectively. “Well, she sure doesn’t need that ranch. It’s an albatross around her neck.”
“Huh?” Josh looked across the top of his beer and licked foam from his beard.
Ginny came back, snapped her fingers at Sam who pulled her a beer, too. She took a long swallow.
Deciding it was time to lay his cards on the table, Cooper took a stand. “She’d be better off selling the place, paying off her debts, and buying herself a whole new life,” he proclaimed decisively.