Roz Denny Fox

by Precious Gifts

  Before she could panic or even take a levelheaded look at her situation, a familiar voice rang out. “Don’t go for your shotgun until you see what I’ve brought you.” A gunnysack dropped into Hayley’s lap, and the fright it gave her slammed her heart up into her throat. The bay gelding she’d only seen in twilight kicked sandy soil all over her fire ring as he danced in front of her. The dog, at least, seemed civilized. He ran up and licked her hand.

  “Well, open it. It won’t bite,” said the man who’d introduced himself yesterday as Jacob Cooper. Hayley finally caught her breath, although she continued to eye him warily as he dismounted.

  Her hands tugged at the string holding the sack closed even as she noted the changes between this man and the stranger from last night. Still dressed in the working clothes of a cowboy, yesterday’s saddle bum now wore a clean shirt and jeans. His hat, instead of the battered Stetson, was the summer straw variety, and it was as clean as his newly shaven face. The engaging smile he wore exposed a dimple in one cheek and a cleft in his chin.

  Jake dropped on his haunches next to her chair. With a quick flip of his wrist, he spilled the sack’s contents into Hayley’s hands. Four vine-ripened tomatoes, an ear of fresh corn and two thick slices of ham. “It’s home-cured,” he said of the ham. “My brother, Dillon, has a smokehouse. Smoking ham, bacon and turkey is kind of a hobby for him.”

  Hayley met the twinkle in the man’s gray eyes with a look she knew must reflect her incredulity.

  “I know there’s a thank-you on the tip of your tongue,” Jake said, rising and barely holding back a grin. “It’s not so hard once you get the hang of it.”

  “I do thank you,” she finally managed. “It’s just…it’s more like…you took me by surprise. You don’t even know me!” she blurted. “Why bring me food?”

  Jake removed his hat and slapped it a few times against his right knee. “No one ever asks why. Neighbors out here share, that’s all. Now you’re supposed to reciprocate.”

  This time Hayley clasped the sack to her belly protectively. She flattened herself tight to the back of the lawn chair.

  “Coffee,” Jake said softly. “In exchange, you offer me a cup of java. It’s a dusty ride over here. I could use something to wet my whistle before I go hunting for strays.”

  “Oh, coffee. I’ll make some. Goodness, where are my manners?” Hayley babbled. Nimbler than before, she untangled herself from the chair and swept up the pot. “I, uh, have coffee grounds in the trailer. I’ll go put the things you brought in my cooler and grab a clean mug for you, as well.”

  “Sure would appreciate it,” he drawled. Watching her hurry away, Jake thought she had to be one of the most naturally pretty females in all three of the surrounding counties. Thick corkscrew curls hung past her shoulders, indicating she probably wore braids. Her eyes were huge and expressive. They were more blue than lavender today. Her skin was bronzed a light gold—to Jake it appeared flawless.

  He didn’t think he’d ever seen a beauty quite like her—and it made him a mite nervous.

  To keep her from seeing how unsteady his hands were, Jake looped Mojave’s reins around a scrub bush and tucked his fingertips into the front pockets of his jeans. No, he decided quickly. That was a bad move.

  He snapped his fingers at his dog. When Charcoal dropped panting at his feet, Jake returned his hat to his head and knelt to pet him.

  That was the position Hayley found him in when she returned, not only with the coffee grounds and promised mug, but with the shotgun she’d brandished last night.

  “Whoa!” Jake tipped his hat to a rakish angle, then held up both hands.

  “This isn’t for you,” she said with a laugh. “But when you rode in, I realized it was pretty stupid of me to be out here alone and unprotected.” She leaned the big gun against a boulder and bent to measure coffee grounds.

  “So, you haven’t had enough of your own company yet?”

  Hayley poured his mug full, even though the coffee wasn’t much more than colored water at this point.

  Jake blew on the liquid to cool it as he waited for her answer.

  “I’m planning to stay until December,” Hayley said forthrightly.

  “December?” Jake scowled. “We’re sitting on high desert here.”

  “Yes.” Her tone held an unspoken So?

  “I don’t think you want to camp out when the snow flies.”

  “Flurries, right? Nothing major. Tombstone and Sierra Vista get a bit of snow. Generally it melts by noon.”

  “We get more than flurries. If snow happens to fall on the heels of a monsoon, it gives new meaning to the great Southwet.”

  “Why are you trying to run me off this claim, Mr. Cooper?”

  “I thought we settled last night that you’d call me Jake.”

  “Either way, I’m not leaving.” She gestured with her own mug, clamped firmly in her left hand.

  That was when Jake noticed the white band of skin on her finger—the perfect width for a wedding ring, obviously recently removed. It drew him up short to think of her having been married to some faceless man. He let his face match his mood and he frowned again.

  Stubborn as she was, no wonder some poor fella took a powder.

  He’d scarcely had the uncharitable thought when he remembered his mother’s words, and they kicked in. His mom could be plenty stubborn herself. As could Eden. Both women lived in this valley spring, summer, fall and winter. They made daily trips from the ranch into Tubac, where they shared a shop in the arty community on what had once been the site of Arizona’s first mission. The roads in and out weren’t great, but their husbands didn’t expect them to stop working because of a little bad weather. Jake knew he had no business questioning any of Hayley’s decisions.

  “Bringing me a few supplies does not give you the right to stick your nose in my business,” she said.

  Jake was jolted back to the present in the middle of her tart little speech. “You’re absolutely correct.” He rose to his feet in one rolling motion. “Thanks for the coffee, although it’s a mite weak.” Moving aside the books spread across a small square table, he set down the nearly full mug. His eyes scanned the pages she’d propped open with a fair-size rock. The chapter was titled: “How to Know Your Minerals and Rocks.” Any doubts as to her true intentions were dispelled by her choice of reading material.

  “What exactly do you think you’re going to find, hacking around through the rocks and brush, Ms. Ryan?”

  “It’s Mrs. Ryan.”

  “Mrs.?” Jake hadn’t expected that comeback and it threw him. He recognized that his reaction was equal parts shock and disappointment.

  “Yes. Mrs. Joe Ryan.” Hayley bit her lip hard and felt guilty for lying. But technically her divorce wouldn’t be final for six months. By then, she’d better have uncovered whatever secrets this land held. Meanwhile, claiming to be married might discourage Jacob Cooper from making any more uninvited visits.

  But as she saw him climb back on the big gelding, a pang of regret gripped her chest. These past few minutes had been quite pleasant.

  Really, though, she’d be foolish to trust him. Since Joe’s subterfuge, Hayley had been reluctant to trust any man. She certainly ought to know better than to let one as overtly charming as Jake Cooper get under her skin. She’d landed in this fix because she’d tumbled head over bootstraps for one beguiling frog she’d mistaken for a prince. She didn’t plan to let that happen again.

  Shading her eyes, Hayley gazed solemnly at Jake Cooper.

  “I’ve got work to do,” he muttered. “Can’t stay here socializing all day.”

  “I didn’t invite you here in the first place,” she snapped. When guilt stabbed again, Hayley dropped her arm and leaned down to pat his dog. “Take care, old fella,” she crooned. “Tell your master I’ll enjoy my dinner of ham, tomatoes and fresh corn.”

  Jake glanced down at the straight-arrow part in her hair, and despite himself he smiled. She tried so hard to act tough. Som
ething told Jake she was a lot softer inside. But two could play her go-between game.

  “Charcoal, you tell the lady to bury her scraps deep. We’d hate to have her blood spilled by some marauding cougar or one of those Mexican jaguars sighted around here last fall. Honest,” he said. “Oh, and tell her to keep an eye out for rattlers. They come out to warm themselves on the rocks by the spring.”

  That last bit of information stiffened Hayley’s spine. “Ick. I hate snakes. I suppose you’re telling the truth?” Her hesitancy indicated she hoped he was lying.

  “Scout’s honor. Ben collected a whole box of fair-size rattles over the years. Promise me you’ll take care.”

  Hayley didn’t know why she should promise him anything. But the concern in his deep voice melted her resistance. “Same goes for you,” she offered in a whisper. “I mean, you take care around those steers. I noticed you have a scar running along the top of your cheek. Last man I saw with something similar said he’d tangled with a longhorn.”

  Jake brushed his thumb over the old wound. He tended to forget about it until he went to shave. “This was a present from the last rodeo bull I climbed aboard. My dad said at least the animal knocked some sense into me. And my brother claimed I finally realized a pretty face meant more to me than a trunkful of gold buckles.”

  Hayley enjoyed the verbal peek at his family. She envied his close relationship with his dad and his brother. But she couldn’t allow herself to feel such things, to be anything but resolutely self-sufficient. Swiveling, she grabbed both mugs and hurried to the spring where she knelt to swish the cups.

  Jake willed her to look his way again. When it became clear she didn’t intend to and that their visit was at an end, he whistled Charcoal to heel and galloped off through the trees. Hard as it was, he resisted taking a last survey of Hayley Ryan.

  CHAPTER THREE

  HALEY WANTED TO CALL Jacob Cooper back. He, his horse and dog had brought some warmth to her day. She felt a sharp loss when they disappeared from sight. Though she’d never had a lot of close friends, in Tombstone she’d at least interacted with people. Every day she went to the post office, the market and the mine. She’d always thrived on the company of others, preferring it to the solitary life she knew too well. Maybe trying to work this site by herself wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  What choice did she have? Hayley trudged back to the trailer with the newly washed mugs, thinking it wasn’t like Joe had left her any alternative. Here it was mid-July. Christmas wasn’t all that far off. By then, she’d have the company she craved. A child. Her child. The thought of holding her baby made Hayley smile.

  As she returned to the fireside and picked up her book, she gave herself a good talking-to. She hadn’t come to her grandfather’s claim to socialize. She’d come to wrest out a living for herself and for her unborn child. She didn’t need the distraction of a good-looking, soft-voiced cowpuncher. In her limited experience, men who made nice were after more than a cup of coffee. Jacob Cooper wanted something. It was a cinch he wasn’t bowled over by her great beauty or stunning personality.

  The notion that he might find her attractive made her laugh. She looked positively scruffy and she’d acted downright surly. If someone had taken a shot at her, she wouldn’t be inclined to go back, let alone bring gifts. Not only that, Joe had made it abundantly clear in his note that she had nothing to offer a man—except her grandfather’s mine.

  So, yes. Jake Cooper had an agenda. He wanted free access to the spring. He’d said his family had plans to buy this chunk of land and all the acreage that adjoined it, if and when her grandfather relinquished his claim.

  Well…maybe Cooper had a water agreement with Gramps, and maybe he didn’t.

  Hayley shook off the uncharitable thoughts that kept crowding in. Jake Cooper had made an effort to be friendly. She needed the fresh produce he’d brought. She needed milk and eggs, too. Why hadn’t she asked him if he knew of anyone who might sell her a milk cow or a couple of laying hens? Instead of getting so touchy, she should have made inquiries of her own.

  JAKE RETREATED to the top of a rise that overlooked Hayley Ryan’s camp. Dismounting, he tied Mojave to a scrub oak and flung himself flat behind a slab of granite. Charcoal whined as Jake peeled off his gloves and trained a pair of binoculars on the Ryan woman.

  “It’s okay, boy,” Jake murmured. “We’ll hunt strays in a little while. For now, find a shady spot and rest your bones.”

  The dog flipped his ears to and fro, then stretched out under a tree. Eventually he settled his nose on his front paws, never taking his eyes off Jake.

  Jake wasn’t sure what he’d expected Hayley to do once he’d gone. He felt a vague disappointment when she returned to her chair and stuck her nose in one of the books she had piled beside her.

  “Crazy woman,” he growled. “Acts like she’s at a resort, instead of smack-dab in the middle of the wilderness.” He watched her read for the better part of an hour. Suddenly she glanced up and straight at his hiding place. Jake found himself yanking off his white hat, lest she spot him and get it into her head to take another shot. This time with her rifle.

  Common sense told him he was too well hidden to be seen by the naked eye. Her naked eye. And brother, what eyes they were. So dark a blue they were almost purple. Still staring through his powerful binoculars, Jake couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. He didn’t relax until she returned her interest to the book.

  That didn’t last. She soon tossed it aside, stood and shaded her eyes, staring hard in his direction. She turned slowly as if searching the hills for something in particular. Or someone.

  Jake realized the sun had shifted and was probably reflecting off the lenses of his binoculars. He dropped the glasses and scooted back on his belly until he was safely into the trees. “Why don’t I just send up a flare and announce I’m snooping?” he muttered disgustedly.

  Lifting his head, Charcoal barked.

  “Shh.” Jake raised a hand. “Sound carries down these ravines, boy. And we don’t want the lady to know the Triple C plans to keep her under surveillance for a while.”

  The dog cocked his head, gazing at Jake intelligently before slithering to his side.

  Grinning, Jake rubbed a hand between the dog’s ears. “I know. You think I’ve taken leave of my senses. Which is precisely what Dillon will say if I don’t hightail it out of here.”

  Dillon was expecting him to report the total number of strays between the ranch and Hell’s Gate, where they were to meet. He’d been at the number-five line shack all week, moving half the herd into summer pastures. Jake was due to connect with him at three o’clock to exchange head counts and… Jake winced. The produce he’d left with Hayley had been meant to replenish his brother’s dwindling supplies. Dillon would have a fit when he learned Jacob had given away the food Eden had fixed for him.

  Of course, Dillon would be grumpy, anyway, having spent four nights without his wife. They’d be apart a week all told. Well, that wasn’t Jake’s fault. He’d offered to move the herd. It was a chore he used to do with his dad while Dillon oversaw the ranch. Last winter, though, Wade Cooper had tangled with a rogue cow and his bum hip hadn’t fully healed. His doctor recommended Wade let the boys handle summer roundup alone. Dillon didn’t have a good eye for spotting strays in the canyons. Not like Jake did. As a result, Dillon got stuck driving the steers to pasture.

  Taking a last look through his binoculars, just to verify that Hayley Ryan had gone about her business, Jake climbed into the saddle again and set off to complete the job he’d started.

  HAYLEY COULDN’T SHAKE the notion she was being watched. She’d closed her book once and let her gaze roam the nearby hills. Nothing moved and nothing appeared to be amiss. Refilling her teacup, she’d returned to her reading. The feeling persisted. Finally she felt so uneasy that she rose and walked to the edge of the clearing. Shading her eyes against the morning sun, she concentrated on a rocky promontory where she thought she’d seen a
flash—like the sun reflecting off a mirror.

  Hayley stared at the spot so long she became dizzy. Or had she gotten dizzy from self-imposed fright? Her heart was certainly beating fast.

  When she could see no sign of any human presence, Hayley gave herself a stern mental shake. She decided that sitting around doing nothing but reading was making her paranoid. Why would anyone skulk around spying on her? No one other than that cowboy even knew she was here. He’d said his piece last night and had made amends today. She’d been perfectly honest about her reasons for being here.

  As for the possibility of someone else keeping an eye on her, well, this wasn’t exactly a people watcher’s paradise. And it was too early for hunters to be combing the hills.

  “There, see?” she exclaimed, marching back to her trailer, “You have an overactive imagination, Ms. Ryan. Get over it.”

  The best way she knew to allay her fears was through physical labor. Rather than digging willy-nilly when she had no information about what to look for or where to search, Hayley elected to conduct a survey of the site. Gramps must have left, if not an open shaft, then at least test holes that might give her an idea of what he was after.

  She loaded a day pack with a rock hammer and a cigar box divided into small compartments to serve as a collection box for specimens. She slapped together a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and added sunglasses and a baseball cap to her stash, before she filled a canteen at the spring. Despite the growing heat, the water was cool and sweet.

  “This water could be lifeblood to a rancher,” she said to no one. No one except two squirrels who frolicked on a nearby branch. Their presence, and the melodious trill of songbirds flitting about, dispelled the last of Hayley’s anxiety.

  Who needed human companionship when there was all this wonderful wildlife to serve as company and an early-warning system? Hayley took a measure of assurance from the fact that birds squawked and squirrels fled at the mere sound of her footsteps.