From the kitchen came the sound of the back door crashing open. “Mom!” LeeAnn hollered. “Come quick!”
Covering her suddenly flushed face with her hands, Millie found herself actually welcoming whatever emergency her daughter had brought inside. At least it would distract her from Cooper’s mossy-green gaze.
The rooster’s crow coming from the kitchen was her first clue that she should abandon all hope of finding peace that morning.
“Mom, the heat lamp’s not on and the chickens were shivering. We’re bringing them inside.”
Millie pressed her lips tight while J.J. set his favorite golden wyandotte on the kitchen floor. She fussed a bit, fluffing her feathers and preening, then made a beeline for the cat food.
Cooper cut her off at the pass to set the food bowl on the counter. “Mill, before we get the house full of feathers and chicken shit, do you have a spare bulb for the lamp in case it’s an easy fix?”
J.J. gaped. “Uncle Cooper, you’re not allowed to say that word.”
“Sorry.” He had the good grace to actually redden.
“Apology accepted.” Millie was embarrassed to admit she didn’t have spare anything. The bulbs had been on her shopping list for ages, but with barely enough money to pay for food, let alone heat, what was the point of even having a list? “And no, I don’t have an extra.”
“Okay...” He covered his face with his hands, then sighed. “J.J., how about you help your mom build some kind of pen, and I’ll help your sister bring the chickens inside—”
LeeAnn shuffled through the back door, carrying a hen under each arm. “It’s freezing out there, and a branch knocked a hole in the roof.”
Millie groaned, looking heavenward to ask, “Really? Our plates aren’t already full enough?”
“Relax.” Behind her, Cooper lightly rubbed her shoulders. “We’ll keep the chickens inside until the storm passes, then, after our next supply run, I’ll rig a lamp for them in one of the empty horse stalls in the barn. Hopefully, the coop shouldn’t take but a day or two to fix.”
“Sure. Thanks.” She didn’t want to find comfort in his take-charge demeanor and especially not from his touch, but how could she not when it felt as if she’d been running uphill ever since Clint’s stroke? To now have a man around to do the stereotypically manly chores made her feel as if her uphill charge had, at least for the time being, transitioned to a stroll through a nice, flat meadow. Call her old-fashioned, but when it came to gender roles, she missed doing mostly so-called woman’s work. “J.J., hon, do me a favor and run out to get some firewood. Pretend it’s giant Lincoln Logs and build a little fence.”
“Cool! That sounds fun!” He dashed outside.
LeeAnn had placed the ladder-backed table chairs in front of the living room and hall pass-throughs. She was such a good girl. Always eager to help. It broke Millie’s heart to see her always so blue—even more so ever since Cooper had shown up. Would she eventually cut him some slack?
Millie glanced his way to find him bundled up, once again wearing Jim’s duster. He’d slapped his hat on, and the mere sight of him took her breath away. She wanted to stay mad at him for having left all those years ago, but she lacked the energy to fight.
“I’ll bring in the rest of the hens then check on the cattle.”
“Thank you,” she said to him, then again to her daughter, who’d cleaned poo with a damp paper towel.
Cold air lingered when Cooper left. It smelled crisp and clean. Of cautious hope.
“He’s awful,” LeeAnn said after Cooper had closed the door. “I wish he’d stayed away.”
“I’m sorry about what you saw between him and Grandpa. When your grandma died, things were...” Where did she start in explaining to her little girl just how terrible Clint’s grief had actually been? True, what’d happened to Kay had been an accident, but Clint had treated his elder son as if the tragedy had been no less than murder. The uglier details weren’t the sort of matter she cared to casually discuss with her daughter. “Well... Things were really hard. And Grandpa and your uncle... They didn’t get along. Your uncle didn’t leave because he wanted to, but because Grandpa made him.”
LeeAnn furrowed her brows. “Grandpa Clint wouldn’t do that. He’s nice.”
“Sure, he is. But, honey, remember that this all happened a long time ago. Way before you were even born. Your uncle has a right to be upset. So does Grandpa. The two of them have a lot of talking to do, but that’s kind of hard with Grandpa not being able to talk.” Millie would be lying if she didn’t admit to also harboring a deep well of resentment toward her husband’s brother. But acting on that now wouldn’t get the chickens in from the cold or make sure the cattle were okay or perform Clint’s morning bathing routine.
“Mom?” LeeAnn picked up a chicken, stroking her neck until the creature happily cooed. Millie thought it was Cluck—the kids had them all named, but she couldn’t keep them straight. “Do you still miss Daddy?”
The question caught Millie off guard and raised a lump in her throat. “Of course. I think about him every day.”
“Good.” She set down the chicken to hug Millie. “I didn’t like it when Uncle Cooper rubbed your shoulders the way Daddy used to. My friend Julie’s mom and dad got divorced, and now her mom married some new guy who Julie doesn’t like. I don’t want you to be with anyone else.”
“Honey, where is all of this coming from?” Millie tipped up LeeAnn’s chin, searching her dear features. “Your father meant the world to me. He always will.”
“Promise?”
Millie had just nodded when J.J. and Cooper laughed their way through the back door. Both carried squawking hens and were red-cheeked and coated in a dusting of snow. The vision of her smiley son warmed her more efficiently than a roaring fire. As for the fire in her belly Cooper’s whisker-stubbled jaw evoked, well, she just wasn’t going there.
“You should see it, Mom!” J.J.’s nose ran, so she handed him a paper towel to use to wipe it. “That tree smooshed the chicken coop like Godzilla! Bam! Rwaar!”
“It’s that bad?” she asked Cooper.
“’Fraid so.” His expression was grim. “It’s a wonder none of the occupants were hurt.”
A series of muffled growls erupted from Clint’s room.
Millie punctuated those with her own groan.
“Want me to check on him?” Cooper offered.
“Thanks, but the mom in me thinks you two should be grounded from each other.”
Judging by Cooper’s scowl, he disagreed with her judgment. “Whatever. J.J.? Wanna check the cattle with me?”
“Yeah!” His supersize grin faded. “But I need to build the chicken fence first. Can you wait?”
“I’ll do you one better—while you work on the fence, I’ll grab some plywood and straw from the barn. We’ll use it to protect your mom’s floor until we rig a heat lamp in the barn.”
“Okay!” J.J. dashed outside for more wood.
“Cooper...” Millie’s mind reeled. Too much was happening too fast. LeeAnn making her promise to never love another man besides Jim. Chickens in her kitchen. J.J.’s instant connection with his uncle. LeeAnn’s instant hatred of him. Toss Clint and way too much snow into the mix and Millie’s plate wasn’t just full, but spilling over onto her now filthy kitchen floor. “Do you think it’s wise to take J.J. out to check the cattle?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? He’s already bundled up. I assume he can ride?”
“Well, sure. Jim had him on horseback practically since he learned to walk.”
Cooper sighed. “Then what’s the problem?”
Where did she start? Her son was beyond precious to her. Along with his sister, the duo had been her reason for living ever since Jim died. As much as one part of her appreciated Cooper riding in on his white horse disguised as a ratty old pickup, another part of her resented his very presence. She and Clint had managed on their own for all these years and didn’t need Cooper showing up, thinking he had all the a
nswers. Only the joke was on her, because at the moment, as overwhelmed as she was—he did.
A fact that scared her to her core.
Because Cooper might be a dependable, stand-up guy in the Navy. But when it came to his track record on being around when his family needed him most? His stats were an abysmal 1-288-0. A single, early-morning chicken rescue hardly made him a trustworthy man.
Chapter Six
Cooper gritted his teeth against the icy assault that had him pulling his hat brim lower and his coat collar higher. Clouds may have cleared, making way for blinding sun, but the wind had only grown stronger, driving the dry twelve inches of snow into an otherworldly landscape of towering drifts and bare earth.
“Sorry, girl.” He leaned forward, stroking Sassy’s mane.
It was a good thing he hadn’t dragged his nephew out here—though if the kid planned on making his living off the land he would soon enough have to learn how much fun it was working in less than ideal conditions.
Cooper would’ve given his left nut for his SEAL cold-weather gear right about now. He was a damn fool for thinking Jim’s duster and his straw hat could handle what had to be a wind chill well into negative digits.
A thirty-minute ride landed him in the heart of the herd. They’d strayed a good mile from the feed station, so after driving them all in that direction, he broke the stock tank’s ice, then headed back to the barn.
With the wind at his back, the trek wasn’t quite as miserable, but damn near close.
He got Sassy settled in her stall then loaded his truck bed with hay bales and range cubes before heading back out to the herd. He considered himself a die-hard traditionalist, much preferring to check cattle on horseback, but years and missions had battered his body, and the cold combined with being back in a saddle made him ache in places he’d forgotten he had.
With the heater blasting and staticky Hank Williams playing on the radio, Cooper’s mind was no longer preoccupied with the cold, but considering he now had the luxury of allowing his mind to wander while zigzagging between drifts, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
When he refused to think about his cantankerous old man, or the laser beams of hate his niece blasted him with, his thoughts drifted to the forbidden—Millie in her robe. The way it’d hung open at her throat, showing far too much collarbone than he’d been comfortable seeing.
He’d always had a thing for that particular spot on a woman. But Millie wasn’t just any woman. Their shared history made his most complex missions look like a cakewalk. She’d been his brother’s wife, for God’s sake. Some things were sacred between brothers and that was one. Thou shall not covet thy brother’s wife.
Didn’t matter that Jim was long gone.
It was a matter of principle.
Cooper had thankfully reached the herd, squelching the whole issue by busting up hay bales then spreading range cubes. Bellows and snorts accompanied his surprisingly satisfying work.
Though Cooper was usually outside, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been around animals. He’d missed it. The work’s simple grace. No one shot at him. No one’s life was at stake if he forgot any of a mission’s minutiae. Don’t get him wrong—he loved his job, but this...
He breathed deeply of the lung-searing cold air, but instead of it bothering him, he found it invigorating. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this place. How much this land was still a part of him.
Like Millie?
Yeah... He wasn’t going there.
He finished counting cattle, only to come up one short of the seventy-six Peg had told him they had.
Shit.
Considering that this stretch of the family land was pancake flat for as far as the eye could see, and the Black Angus contrasted sharply against the winter grass and snow, this meant the stray was hidden behind a drift, either lost or hurt.
It took an hour of meandering through the drifts, but he finally found her, only to have his stomach knot with concern. Why hadn’t Millie or Peg told him they had a momma due to deliver a winter calf? Never failed, they always somehow managed to come in a storm.
The cow had found a slight dip in the land, and in the few minutes he’d been watching, she’d already gotten up and down only to get back up again. Judging by the half-frozen fluid on her hind legs, her water sack had recently broken, only her teats were slick and shiny—usually an indication that she’d already had her calf and it had fed. Most cows safely delivered their calves without incident, and they usually didn’t appreciate a crowd. Judging by the momma’s level of agitation, it looked like this was the case here.
Despite this fact, with the temps so low, he’d feel a lot better at least seeing the calf to make sure it seemed healthy.
He approached the cow nice and slow, only to get a surprise. “I’ll be damned...” Tucked in between drifts was one cleaned, contented-looking calf and another looking forlorn and shivering. “Looks like someone had twins.”
Didn’t happen often, but when it did, one of the calves ran the risk of being rejected.
Cooper removed his coat, wrapped it around the shivering calf, then settled it in the truck bed. His hope was that the cow would see her calf and follow with the other, but no such luck. Just as he’d feared, she’d rejected her second born, which meant it would be up to Cooper to bottle feed it milk and colostrum.
Back when he’d helped out on a daily basis, Cooper remembered Clint having kept some frozen—just in case. If not, Cooper would put in a call to the vet.
He looked back to find the cow’s firstborn on her feet and nursing—a great sign that all was well where they were concerned. But the little one he moved to the truck’s front seat wasn’t yet out of the woods.
“Let’s get you warmed up.”
The poor little thing still shivered.
Cooper revved the engine, then turned the heater knob to high.
Since he knew the way through the snowdrift maze, the trip to the barn took under ten minutes—only now that the calf had stopped shivering, Cooper was reluctant to put the little darlin’ back outside without a heat lamp.
What would Millie say about having chickens and a calf in her kitchen? The thought of her pretty face all scrunched into a frown made him smile. But what really warmed him through and through was the certainty that even though she might temporarily be caught off guard by their houseguest, she’d care for it as well as she did every other creature in the house.
He admired the hell out of her. She understandably didn’t think much of him. Would that ever change? Would she ever again think of herself not just as his sister-in-law, but as his friend?
*
“SORRY, PEG, BUT I’ve gotta go.” Millie pressed the off button on the phone then stared at Cooper and what he’d brought through the back door. “Really? Helga couldn’t have held on a little longer?” For a split second, Millie indulged in feeling sorry for herself at having a calf added to her kitchen menagerie, but then she surged into action. The only guarantee her life had ever come with was that what could go wrong, would. This was just another one of those occasions.
“Helga?” Cooper shifted his weight from one leg to the other. The calf was woefully small, but Millie guessed him to still weigh between sixty and seventy pounds. “You couldn’t have come up with a better name?”
“Cool!” J.J. bounded into the kitchen. “Does this mean we have a pet cow?”
“Only until we get a heating lamp rigged in the barn.” Millie tugged Cooper by his coat sleeve to follow her onto the heated back porch. She fit the drain plug in the oversize utility sink, then ran warm water. “Let’s get him clean and warmed up.”
Cooper gingerly nestled the calf into the big sink. It was a tight squeeze—probably the bathtub would’ve been a better fit—but for now, this would do.
What wouldn’t do? The awkward awareness stemming from working alongside Cooper—especially when every so often his elbow accidentally grazed her breasts. In an effort to keep her mind on
the calf’s welfare, as opposed to her jittery hands and inability to even hold the mild pet shampoo, she asked, “I’m assuming the little guy’s momma rejected him. Got any clue why?”
“Helga had twins. Her firstborn’s fat and happy. My guess is she was as surprised by this one as we are.”
“Twins... Never saw that coming.” With her hands sudsy, Millie nudged hair from her cheek with her shoulder, but that only landed the escaped curl on her mouth.
“Let me help...” Cooper swept the lock over her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. His finger was warm and wet and blazed a trail she could feel, but didn’t want to.
“Thanks—not just for that, but you know...bringing in this guy.”
He nodded, but then graced her with a slow grin that did funny things to her stomach. “No problem. I’m not a total deadbeat, you know.”
“Yeah...” I do.
Time slowed as she drank him in, remembering the many good times she and Jim and Cooper had shared. But she couldn’t just flip a switch and make all those years she’d hated and resented him for not being there go away. Even before they’d been in-laws, they’d been friends. Good, lifelong friends. She’d never known her dad, and her mom had virtually abandoned her to be raised by her maternal grandparents. The Hansens had been like a second family to her. It’d been inconceivable how Cooper had lived with himself for not having come home.
But he’s home now. Shouldn’t that count for something?
“Dad still keep colostrum in the deep freeze?”
“There should be some in there.”
“Good. When we finish, I’ll make a bottle.”
“Thanks. I’ll find you the powdered formula.”
The Cowboy SEAL Page 5