by Joey Light
Water troughs offered relief for the horses that were tied here and there to the hitch rails. The saloon doors swung closed after the barkeep sloshed water while emptying out a pail and finished mopping the floor.
After only a few minutes in the presence of J. Weston Cooper she realized he might just be the flashy showman this town needed. He seemed to blend, to mix in so completely with the surroundings. She wondered how she could doubt that Buck had made a sound decision. She shrugged in irritation. He was undermining her, making her presence here uncomfortable. She took a good long walk around the town, making mental notes of changes she wanted to make, improvements she saw that needed attention, that she would see to even if no one else did.
Taking a deep breath, she wandered off the grounds of Glory Town. Half a mile out, she climbed a small hill and looked all about. The Wild West. Untamed. Oklahoma. She couldn’t prevent the smile from forming on her lips. It was beautiful out here. The tall grass, the prairie, the rolling high ground. The low, meandering countryside, unobstructed, unblemished by the passing of time. As she’d become accustomed to, she set her mind free, allowing her imagination to explore.
The red man. Kiowa. Apache. Arapaho. Shoshoni. Crow and Blackfeet. White man. Ranchers. Farmers. Schoolteachers. Preachers. Shopkeepers, healers, pioneers, and outlaws. All brave and dauntless. All together, mixed and mingled, joined in the ageless expansion of time. And the souls. Still hovering, wandering, and haunting. Traditions and legends handed down from generation to generation.
Glory. Victory. Defeat. Death and destruction. Growth. Life. Learning.
From her vantage point she could make out the groan of a tractor from a farm a couple of miles away, hear the song of tires on the highway, hidden by the tree line. A train announced its passage with a shrill whistle. The roofline of a small development appeared tiny and far, far away. Looking down on Glory Town, she could almost believe she was really in the year 1872. Over the years the sun had faded it. Rain and humidity had warped and darkened the boards. The blue northers churned in, the steam-rolling winds harvesting the dust and rain to reap mud, splattering the countryside, dropping temperatures fifty degrees in fifteen minutes, challenging Glory Town to remain unresponsive for the next fifty years.
Victoria could see it so clearly. Prairie schooners bumping across the terrain. Children running alongside. Horses under saddle being guided across the hill. Mustangs running wild and chasing that free will.
Pulling a piece of grass and twirling it between her fingers, Victoria began the walk back. Determination drew her taller. No one was going to spoil this for her. Glory Town was half hers. Five weeks ago she had gotten off the plane with one hand holding her suitcase and the other over her queasy stomach. A greenhorn. A tenderfoot. She’d come a long way and worked hard at it. She wanted desperately to fit in. To be one of the guys.
Later, more relaxed and resigned to the fact that Buck had won again, she squared her shoulders and turned back toward the hotel, certain they would be gone by now. She had some serious thinking to do.
Pushing her way through the hotel doors, Victoria snatched a freshly made English muffin smothered in butter and a carton of orange juice and a glass. She headed for her room upstairs, which served as both her office and sleeping quarters.
When she had first moved in, she had pulled the huge wooden rocking chair over by the window so she could watch the goings-on as she worked.
The room was large but quaint. It needed work. Lots of it. The faded wallpaper curled in places near the seams and the carpet showed more hardwood floor than not. After exchanging her period costume for jeans and a white cotton shirt, she made sure the dress was neatly hung in the closet.
Victoria sat near the window with her glass of orange juice and rocked hard, trying to direct her temper elsewhere and bury her resentment.
Buck was an old goat, she had to remember that. She had to keep in mind that Buck hadn’t accepted her as a partner yet, not seriously anyway. And he had just snatched her first chance to prove that she could do the job. She felt sabotaged. Damn him.
It had seemed very strange, at first, that Victoria didn’t even know she had an uncle living in Oklahoma until the day the letter came. It turned out he was sort of a black sheep in the family, and since her father had died twenty-six years before, no one seemed inclined to mention his older brother. Of course, Buck was going to resent her inheriting his crusty old partner’s half of Glory Town. It was rightfully his.
Interviews for the new show at the saloon were scheduled for six tonight and she needed to decide what kind of a show she wanted to produce. Maybe Buck had gotten J. Weston Cooper in here to stage all the routines, but at least she could handle the saloon performances.
She would just search until she found some really good talent and hope that would help draw more people into the town. And keep them there longer.
A knock on the door jarred her from her thoughts.
Walking toward it, she half expected to see Buck with an apology on his lips. Then she grinned to herself as she swung the door wide, knowing full well she’d never see that day. It was Wes Cooper.
She felt it. The lazy fire that was inside him, banked.
The power that was there, leashed. The energy and zest for living, contained. She didn’t have to like him to appreciate that.
He didn’t remove his Stetson but he did tip it. That was polite. Polite was something this gang of ruffians had forgotten. Maybe he could teach them that along with all the technical things Buck was extolling earlier.
“I’ve heard Buck’s ideas and now I want to hear yours. I don’t like the feeling that I stepped on your toes by accepting Buck’s offer.” Not one to generally give a hoot, Wes recognized a slight twist to his personality already.
Begrudgingly, she shrugged. She had no firm reason to dislike him since she really didn’t know anything about him. It wasn’t his fault he had been dragged into the middle of this, but the why is what bothered her. If he was such a fine fellow, so sharp and talented, as Buck touted, why would he waste his time on an operation like this one? And why did she have to waste her time talking to him now? She didn’t.
“You don’t have to apologize,” she offered and moved to close the door.
He stopped it with his foot and the glare he gave her. “I wasn’t apologizing. No one could have missed the look of animosity that took over your pretty face. I thought we could have dinner together tonight. I think we need to talk. You are Buck’s partner.” Just a little bit, he resented her resentment. He wondered what happened to that cheerful, fast-moving little actress of a while back.
She felt a small shiver of electricity travel up her spine. Despite beautiful eyes and a very rough exterior, she felt that there was something to be wary of around this smooth man.
“I have interviews tonight, but thank you. Don’t concern yourself, Mr. Cooper. We all have a job to do and we’ll do it.”
He continued to stand, silently, smiling at her. But behind that smile lurked something else.
An arrogance maybe? A secret? She couldn’t be sure.
Victoria fidgeted. First, she had a hard time understanding exactly why Mr. Cooper thought it necessary to seek her company. Second, she couldn’t believe that out of all the rooms, Buck had given him the one right smack next to hers. She liked her privacy. She’d have to deal with him more than she wanted to. And having to share the adjoining bathroom wasn’t going to alleviate that. Reconditioning one of the other bathrooms on that floor would have to be one of her first priorities. Disjointed thoughts rambled through her head.
They were standing there, he calmly and coolly, she a little nervous and warm. Perhaps she was coming off too haughtily. After all, she was the outsider here. “I hope you like your room.” She didn’t know what else to say or why he kept standing there.
“I’m sure I will. I thought living here would give me accessibility and a good bird’s-eye view of everything. Buck said everything I need is in the hotel.”
&nb
sp; She didn’t miss the glint in his eye or the merely male suggestion in his voice. And women had a reputation for flirting. This man found everything amusing. Including himself.
Ignoring his teasing implication, she glared up at him. “Look, Mr. Cooper, I’m sure Buck is using good judgment hiring you to train the men. Let’s face it. I’m a little angry because I was supposed to choose the man. So if I seem irate, I am. I’m almost assured you’ll be just fine for the job. I’m eager to learn, too, but you’ll find some of the boys a little less interested…a little less willing. A lot less cooperative, I’m sure. But they’re good men, if a bit cocky. I think it must come along with being a cowboy.”
He grinned. A wide sweep of a smile that brought an actual glint to his dark eyes. Black diamonds. “Your first lesson is to wear your blue jeans on the outside of your boots,” he challenged.
She looked down. Her raggy, skintight jeans with the pegged legs were all the style in Virginia. And she always wore her riding boots outside. “My jeans don’t fit over my boots,” she informed him, irritated, but forcing herself to take it as a suggestion.
“I see that,” he answered quietly and took a long time to examine them. “But out here boots aren’t just for riding. They’re everyday life. They protect the feet. Buy some new jeans. You might want to visit the general store here in your own town. Last time I was in there, they were well stocked on the essentials for Western living. English won’t do around here.”
Chagrined, Victoria had the feeling that this was going to be a run of lessons not easily learned. But she wanted to know. She wanted to do it right. She loved the West. Loved the whole idea of the wild, untamed, get-right-to-it attitude. She was determined to change from the demure Virginian she had been molded into to a full-fledged Oklahoma cowgirl.
“I’ll consider it. Now, Mr. Cooper, if you’ll excuse me, I have some paperwork to do.” She moved to push the door against his foot, and after taking a good long look down at it, he moved and let her shove the door closed.
She’ll do, Wes thought as he let himself into his new living quarters. She’ll do just fine. He saw enough determination in her stance, in her eyes, that led him to believe she would keep at something until she mastered it. He liked her. Soft yet sturdy. There was a spark in her that warmed him. There was also a volcano of activity boiling around inside that woman, he suspected. He planned on enjoying watching it spew forth. Old Buck was used to having his way, but this woman may just be the one to hold out against him. It might be very interesting to stick around and see how this battle of the wills turns out.
Returning to his room, he kicked the door closed behind him. He walked across the worn floorboards to test the bed. Too soft, he moaned and dropped back on the quilt, tipping his hat over his face. He was tired. He could sleep for an hour or so before touring the town and making himself more familiar with the setup.
The interviews, later that night, hadn’t taken long. Victoria hired two women and one man; the others didn’t seem serious enough to qualify. Now, she was dirty and tired and wanted nothing but to sit in a nice hot bubble bath.
Victoria penned the word OCCUPIED on one side of a piece of cardboard and UNOCCUPIED on the other side and hung the sign from a string around the doorknob of the bathroom. Once inside, she began to rearrange things. Her towels on one side, his on the other. Her toiletries on one half of the ancient pink-marbled vanity and his on the other. After plugging the drain and pouring five capsful of bubble bath into the old chipped, claw-footed porcelain tub, she turned on the water and stripped.
She had managed to stay out of Wes and Buck’s way the rest of the day. Wes had thrown up his hand a couple of times in passing. Buck’s Cheshire cat smile hadn’t gone unnoticed. She’d also made an appointment with the Dallas banker for later that week. After seeing to a few other important items on her list, she had gone riding and was pleased she was becoming more and more comfortable sitting Western than she had ever been riding English. Even Tonka, her gelding that she couldn’t bring herself to leave behind in Virginia, seemed to enjoy the freedom. Funny, she thought, as she looked around the bathroom to make sure everything was in order, that it should feel so natural to ride Western.
Now was the time for her. A very long, languid, luxurious hot bath and bubbles. Lots of them. In this room, she couldn’t hear the sounds of the tourists milling through her town.
It enhanced the feeling that this really was the Wild West and she actually was a woman of the late eighteen hundreds. It was heaven. Climbing in the tub, she slid down till her chin touched the fluffy, fragrant bubbles. She moaned her delight.
When she closed her eyes, Victoria was a little surprised that Wes Cooper’s face appeared in her mind’s eye. But then, why should she be so surprised? Men in the West were different. And he was even more diverse than that. He was a classic. He seemed just like the brave and courageous cowboys she had watched on television and in the movies, only there was a real naturalness about him. Genuine. She had never been close to anyone quite like him.
There was one thing she noticed about all Western men. More flesh was exposed. In her world in the East, a man wore a three-piece business suit or a shirt and jeans or a jogging outfit. On occasion she would see athletic shorts in public, but in general she had never seen so much male body as she did here.
Shirts were sometimes worn buttoned only at the jeans line. Sleeves were rolled up or nonexistent, only frayed around the shoulders where they had been ripped off for convenience. Men thought nothing of leaving their chests and backs bare or exposing that area between a T-shirt and jeans when they bent over. Victoria had grown used to seeing more than usual of the male body, but now Wes Cooper was here. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see more of that man’s body. He had had his long striped sleeves rolled up to expose thick, muscled forearms. And hands. Big, sure, competent hands with blunt, squared fingers. She had wondered what they would feel like entwined with her own. Nonsense. She cleared her mind of him. Raising her leg in the air, she studied her toe and watched bubbles slide slowly down her ankle.
The door opened. She jerked her leg under the water, and even though she was well below the level of bubbles, she crossed her arms over her breasts.
His robe was tossed over his shoulder and he was bare chested, his jeans slung low on his hips.
“Can’t you read?” Victoria sputtered, pulling her eyes away from his wide shoulders and solid chest with hair that whirled to a V and dove near the snap of his jeans.
“Both sides of the sign read OCCUPIED. I figured I’d take my chances.” She was flushed and up to her neck in flowery fragranced bubbles. Her hair was damp and curled in ringlets around her face. She looked sixteen years old and mad as a hornet.
“Ohhh,” she groaned and looked away. Her heart was banging away at her rib cage and she felt like a silly teenager. “I don’t believe this. You could have called through the door.”
“Could have,” he agreed as he leaned against the doorjamb and eyed her squarely.
“Did you leave the upstairs roped off?” Victoria wanted to be sure that her new device to ward off tourists, when she wanted to be alone, was still intact.
“Yep.”
Gritting her teeth, she ordered, “Good. Now get out of here, Cooper. I’m going to be a while.”
He closed the door. Then she saw him move to the chair by the vanity and sit down. Before she could let go with a stream of profanity, he grinned and held up a hand to silence her.
“Buck warned me that you could be a little bit sassy. I can’t see a thing, so what’s the big deal? I wanted to talk to you and this is as good a time as any. Besides, you can’t toss your head and walk out on me.”
“I could,” she parried.
He laughed. “But you won’t.” He briefly wondered what had come over him. He didn’t usually act on impulse.
She felt vulnerable and shy. Never in her life had a man shared her bathroom. It was a very warm, uncomfortable feeling. But not totally dis
tasteful. Her thoughts were unsettling.
His thick eyebrows, barely breaking over his nose, gave him the look of a desperado. His skin was weathered and tan between that set of long sideburns. Just the size of him, wide shoulders and long legs, dwarfed her even more.
“There’s a lot to be done here. Why don’t you tell me what you want me to work on first?” He settled back in the chair.
She tilted her chin. “I’m certainly not going to entertain you in my bathroom. Where I come from, a man wouldn’t think of…besides, ask Buck.”
“I’m asking you,” he persisted, gently.
“Why?” Because she really wanted to know the answer, she turned her direct glare on him.
“So you’ll be a part of it. You and Buck are partners. He just doesn’t know how to handle it, so I figured I’d show him.”
He seems awfully sure of himself, she thought. Almost smug. “You’ll make him mad,” she told him. No doubt in her mind.
“No, I won’t. We go back a long way, remember?”
He dropped his robe on the floor.
She looked from the pile back to him. So maybe he slept nude also. She had brought her robe in, too, just to cover her till she got back to her room. Pushing the enthralling thought out of her mind, she ordered him, coldly, “I’d much rather discuss this someplace else and some other time. Now, please leave.”
“You’ve already made that perfectly clear. I can wait. It’s you who’s going to get all pruned up. Not me.” He crossed one booted foot over his knee. He was enjoying this.
She’d give him the information he wanted so he would leave. “The stagecoach robbery. The saloon brawl. The jailbreak. I missed the rodeo last month but I’m anxious to see the men pit their skill and stamina…and raw courage against the power of the animals. I don’t want it to look like a circus and I strongly suspect that’s precisely how it is.”
“What exactly is wrong with the jailbreak?”
Growing impatient with his nonchalance, she snapped, “Why don’t you just watch the shows for a couple of days? If you’re half the man Buck says you are, you’ll see for yourself.”