The Maverick Returns

by Roz Denny Fox

  Now she wasn’t sure it was such a good idea—for her sake. Lily was thriving. In the nights since that first coloring episode, she’d filled half the pages of the book with her earnest scribbles. She loved the pony best. She carried the page around, but remained mute whenever Coop told her the name of each color, repeating them over and over. Lily could actually pick out red, blue and yellow, her favorite crayons, as Cooper named them, which delighted Willow. And Lily showed a definite preference for the bright ones. She refused to use black or brown. Coop seemed to think that was significant. What each small step did was give Willow renewed hope and confirm the need to move someplace where she’d be able to find an appropriate school for her daughter.

  If Willow had been lulled into believing her relationship with Coop had improved, the branding discussion dashed her hopes. And Coop was in town all day. It was well past suppertime when he returned, and then he went straight to the barn after unloading whatever he’d bought. The plate of spaghetti and meatballs she’d kept warm for him in the oven dried out. It felt as if her heart shriveled a bit, too, like the overcooked spaghetti.

  That night she couldn’t help herself; she soaked her pillow with her tears. Crying was something she hadn’t done in months. Crying weakened her and solved nothing. Coop couldn’t know how many tears she’d shed over him in the years since he’d gone off to rodeo. Oh, how she regretted letting him go.

  The one bright spot in her marriage had been the birth of her baby. And that joy had only lasted until Lily’s diagnosis.

  Coop might hate the Walkers, but the Drummonds had their faults, as well. Sullivan wasn’t exactly a charmer. Willow blotted her tears, recalling an altercation she’d had with Sully Drummond shortly before she and Tate left Hondo. Cooper’s brother blamed her for Coop’s going off to rodeo. As if she had the power to stop him! Would Sully care that she’d paid again and again for marrying Tate?

  He probably hadn’t given her another thought after ranting at her that day. Coop’s brother and Tate’s dad were both rich, powerful, difficult men. Tate took delight in telling her that Sully ran the Triple D with an iron fist and that he hated her for not stopping his little brother from leaving Hondo. Then Tate would laugh. And Bart Walker clearly thought his son was stupid to marry, “a Drummond’s leavings.” Of course, Tate’s dad judged all women by his kids’ mother, who’d run off, abandoning him and his two sons.

  Climbing out of bed, Willow blew her nose and washed her tear-swollen eyes with cool water. She could imagine what Coop’s brother would have to say now if he suspected her of trying to worm her way back into Coop’s life. According to Tate, Sully had married a veterinarian. A smart, classy, professional woman. They were older by half a dozen years, and Willow hadn’t spent any time at the Triple D, because her mother hadn’t thought it was “proper” for a girl to visit a ranch run by three men. So she knew virtually nothing about Sully’s wife. Her world back then had been narrow. She’d attended school, worked part-time stocking grocery shelves at night and helped her mother take care of her dad.

  She crawled back into bed, but couldn’t stop reviewing the past. She doubted Sully or anyone would believe she’d married Tate because she loved Cooper too much. But it was true. She loved him too much to risk marriage, certain she couldn’t be the wife he’d need if he had an accident or was maimed for life on the circuit. She already experienced what being a rodeo invalid had done to her father—and her family. She was positive she didn’t have what it would take to see Cooper killed or maimed by being thrown off a bucking horse. That fear, especially the fear that he might die, had paralyzed her.

  Men as strong and tough as Sully Drummond wouldn’t understand the toll her father’s accident took on her and her mom. Yet people had seen them cope, so they’d probably find her intense fear for Coop hard to believe—and the fact that it had driven her to accept Tate’s marriage proposal even harder. During Sully’s rant, he’d told her everybody in Hondo knew Tate coveted everything Coop had.

  Not her. She hadn’t been so naive as to suppose Coop and Tate’s many run-ins had nothing to do with her. But once she’d made her choice to marry Tate, she thought all of them—Sully, Cooper and Tate himself—should have known she’d never be a disloyal wife.

  However, the ink on her marriage certificate was barely dry when Tate boasted about beating Coop in this one area that would hit Coop the hardest—like she was a trophy in a sporting match. Unfortunately, during unpacking, Tate had found and read an old diary of hers. In it, like the silly high school girl she’d been, she’d written that she’d always love Coop Drummond.

  That had infuriated Tate. From then on, he’d isolated her here on the ranch as much as possible, and he’d punished her by making sure she saw every rodeo magazine that showed Coop with a bevy of women.

  Pride stopped her from leaving Tate that first year before Lilybelle was born. She’d mistakenly assumed her pregnancy would effect a change in her husband’s conduct toward her. It hadn’t.

  Flopping over, Willow kicked off the sheet. Yes, she’d been foolish back then, but now her focus had to be on Lily—on securing better medical assessments and schooling. As much as she’d love to explain her situation so Coop could understand it, she couldn’t, no matter how desperately she long to have him back in her life.

  *

  THE NEXT MORNING, after suffering a restless, sleepless night, Willow resolved to do what she had to about Coop. Determined to end his stay on her ranch, she drove the old pickup, with Lily in her booster seat, out onto the range.

  Early though it was, the sun was already beating down and Coop worked without his shirt. Stopping by the new fence he’d installed, Willow watched him rope, throw and quickly vaccinate a bawling steer. The play of Cooper’s tanned muscles as he performed his task was like a kick to her stomach. She remembered how smooth yet hard his body had once felt under her exploring hands. Looking at him now reminded her how long it’d been since she’d had enjoyable sex.

  Mouth dry, she clambered out of the aging Chevy and hauled Lily into her arms.

  Coop had cut out another huge Angus steer when he noticed Willow climbing onto the fence. “What’s up?” he asked, trotting over to meet her. “You and the kiddo shouldn’t be inside the enclosure. The shots can make the cattle cantankerous.”

  Willow backed away, but against her will, her eyes were drawn to the wings of dark hair that dusted his pecs, trailing down in a narrow ribbon to his navel, then disappearing under one of his flashy championship belt buckles. “I was going to tell you last night, Coop, but you didn’t come to the house for supper. I just can’t accept your charity anymore. This time it’s not open for negotiation. You have to leave. Tomorrow at the latest.”

  Frowning, Coop walked to a tree and picked up a thermos, pouring water over his head before taking a swallow. His back ached. He was sunburned to a crisp, and parched. Yesterday he’d had to drive all the way to Eagle Pass, a border town, to find a vet clinic that could supply him with enough syringes to vaccinate Willow’s herd. Vaccination that should’ve been done by Willow’s lazy, good-for-nothing husband. How was he supposed to react to the news that she was kicking him off her ranch?

  Having delivered her message, Willow set Lily outside the fence and then began to climb over. She’d hardly had a leg up when Coop reached across the fence and circled her upper arm. “Wait a darned minute. I thought we had a plan. I’m only half-done vaccinating. I had a blacksmith make up an iron yesterday so that once I’m finished with this I can begin branding. Am I happy about using the Bar W? Hell, no. But they’re your cows, and I’m just the hired hand. I figured we went back far enough that I could tell you how I felt about Bart Walker without you getting into a snit.” He paused. “I’m assuming our discussion about brands yesterday is the catalyst for your little speech today.”

  She shook loose from his grasp, but even then felt the imprint of his fingers on her arm. “The real crux of the matter is that you’re not just my hired hand. The mor
e you take on, the more you do around here, the more I owe you. I don’t like being indebted to anyone. And you made quite clear yesterday how little you really think of me—of my choices at least.”

  “Bullshit,” he lashed out. He would’ve said more, but Willow reared back and her eyes grew stormy.

  “Ears,” she hissed, cupping her palms over Lily’s small ears.

  “Sorry,” Coop shot back with a modicum of guilt. “Oh, what the hell. Why should I fight to stay someplace I’m not wanted?”

  Willow clenched her hands at her sides, but it rocked her to hear Coop state that so bluntly. Still faced off, their attention was drawn down hill to the main highway, where a dark-colored SUV with smoked windows passed slowly. When the vehicle reached the end of Willow’s property, instead of speeding up to go on, the driver swung out, made a U-turn and went back the way he’d come, moving even more slowly.

  “Anyone you recognize?” Coop asked Willow.

  She shook her head. “Maybe it’s one of your rodeo groupies trying to track you down.”

  “Why don’t you cut me some slack,” he snapped. “It’s more likely a prospective buyer sent here by your Realtor to have a look.”

  “You think so?” she asked excitedly. Then her tension returned. “I should be down there painting the front of the house instead of arguing with you.”

  “Take it easy. They would’ve seen the paint cans and the ladder, and they would’ve noticed that one side is already a different color.”

  “I hope so. Having the siding washed and the porch and fence repaired makes it look a lot better. I should get back down there and start on the front.”

  “I’ll finish up here today, then come and help you,” Coop said, as if she hadn’t just fired him.

  She scooped up Lily, who was a foot or so away, absorbed in picking dandelions. Boosting the girl onto her hip, Willow was shocked when her daughter twisted in her arms and extended the flowers she held toward Cooper. She said a word that sounded a lot like music.

  Coop leaned over the fence and took the flowers. “Did you hear that, Willow? Now do you think you can admit that maybe I was right about the smile, right about her getting something out of my playing?”

  Tears filled Willow’s eyes as she hugged her daughter. “Yes, yes,” she said shakily.

  “Why are you crying? It’s a solid breakthrough. We need to build on her interest in my guitar. I’ll go into town and buy her an electronic keyboard. We can set it up in her room and show her how to pound on it and make music for herself.” His gestures demonstrated his excitement. “There’s no reason for me not to stay on, Willow.”

  “But there is,” she said, remaining firm. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, Cooper. I am. But I can’t afford to let Lily get too attached to you. You can’t stay.” Willow hurried to her pickup, sheltering the child in her arms as if any exposure to Coop now would be harmful.

  He scowled after her, thinking none of her recent actions made any sense. Just this morning he’d texted Sully, asking his brother to transfer some funds into his nearly depleted bank account. Coop had stuck his neck out, telling Sully where he was. He’d explained how he’d stumbled across Willow, said Tate was dead and that Willow needed his help.

  Sullivan had texted back, giving Coop hell, asking what kind of idiot he was. He’d let Willow humiliate him once by marrying their jerk of a neighbor, and now Coop wanted Triple D profits to do—what? Prove he was a better man than that useless Tate Walker? Sully had said Coop was off his rocker. And in typical big-brother fashion, he’d ordered Coop home to do his share of work on the ranch and maybe earn some part of what he’d cavalierly considered his due.

  Coop was still steamed. He owned one half the damned ranch! Coming out here to work out his anger roping and throwing these bad-boy steers suited his mood. Mad at Sully, and feeling no benevolence toward Willow at the moment, Coop threw his back into finishing the chore he’d started.

  The way he’d left things with Sully, Coop figured he had no alternative other than to waste a whole day driving to the Triple D to duke it out face-to-face. Sully could fork over some money as a loan against future work, or he could buy out Coop’s interest in the ranch. If Sully had to mortgage his ass to do that, it’d serve him right.

  Coop roped five more uncooperative steers and gave them shots. Sweat poured off him and was breathing hard. His exertion diminished his fury. Finally able to examine the situation more objectively, he considered what wasting a couple of days to make the round trip drive home might mean. If that was a prospective buyer in the SUV, Willow could sign a deal and just take off. Then he might never find her again if, say, she went to one of the bigger cities she’d mentioned that offered better care for Lilybelle. Especially if she wanted to disappear, if she didn’t want him to locate her.

  Coop couldn’t say why that very notion cut him so deeply, but it did.

  The problem with doing a mindless task like this, no matter how physical, was that it let his thoughts run rampant.

  Pushing himself to finish the last thirty head or so, Coop began to realize how much he liked having Willow in his life again. And Lily, named for his mother. That sweet child was a bonus.

  He spent another hour mulling over this revelation. Draining his thermos of water, Coop stopped short of calling his still-conflicted feelings for Willow love. But…

  His hastily thrown rope missed a steer zigzagging through stickery mesquite. A branch slapped back, ripping a welt along his side, which sprouted a few drops of blood. That made him knuckle down again.

  He packed up what was left of the supplies, but noticed the sun sinking over the hills to the west right about the time he finally decided to march up to Willow’s door this evening and lay every thing on the line.

  *

  AFTER CHANGING INTO her painting clothes, Willow finished a good share of the exterior front wall by noon. She half expected Coop to quit the job he was doing, drive down and get ready to leave. But he didn’t. If she stepped over to the edge of the house he was visible much of the time. He looked fine. Too fine for her peace of mind.

  Upset by that, she cleaned up her paint mess by about five and began to fix supper. It was late enough that she assumed Coop would want to eat before he took off. Exhausted, Willow didn’t think she had the energy to face Coop again. Closing her eyes, she felt her resolve to send him away weaken.

  For that reason, she went to the front window every few minutes as supper cooked, watching for him. She knew he’d clean up before walking to the house. She decided she’d just set out a plate for him.

  It grew later and later. Clouds had rolled in to darken the sky, and twilight bathed everything in a shadowy pinkish gray. If not for the fact that Coop’s pickup and horse trailer hadn’t moved, Willow might wonder if he’d taken her at her word and simply left.

  At the thought of that, an ache settled in her heart. What did you expect? She’d issued that edict for the…what—fifth time? Sixth? And yet she felt so ambivalent. Was she that pathetic?

  She fed Lily early. Willow’s stomach was too jumpy; she couldn’t eat any of the meat loaf she’d made for Cooper. She’d chosen his favorite meal she realized, as she prepared his plate and covered it with foil. Between dashing to the window to peer out, she washed pots and pans to steady her nerves. The sporadic rumbling of thunder added to her anxiety as she waited. And waited. Waited for any sign that Coop was coming to eat his last meal at the ranch. Or…he’d been eating inside this past week. What if he expected to do that tonight? It would be difficult. But his going away was inevitable. It had to be.

  Despite the heaviness of her heart, Willow argued with an internal voice that continued to ask why she was sending him away. “Because it’s right,” she answered out loud. “This is a no-win situation.”

  Lily glanced up from her plate, her hazel eyes curious, or so it seemed to Willow. She was fascinated by Coop, reveled in his attention. And so did Willow. But therein lay the whole sad truth of i
t. At the moment they were like a new project to Coop. Eventually he’d tire of them. Coop Drummond was like a rolling stone. He’d abandoned her for the rodeo. Now he’d left the rodeo, but he wouldn’t commit to working on the Triple D. Whatever was next on his agenda, Willow couldn’t allow her daughter’s fragile heart to be caught in the wreckage Cooper Drummond was sure to leave behind.

  Chapter Nine

  In another hour the sky had gone black to the south. The air was heavy and smelled like impending rain. Willow went out to store her paint supplies in the shed, where they’d be safe from high winds. If a bad storm blew in, the trim would have to wait. Summer storms generally passed through quickly.

  Shading her eyes, she scanned the hills for some glimpse of Cooper. She heard the bawling of steers, so she assumed he was rushing to finish. Assuming he’d be late, she turned down the oven heat to keep the plates warm. She hoped he’d show up to eat soon and then leave—just to end her anxiety.

  She bathed Lily and dressed her for bed. The little girl trekked back and forth to the screen door a dozen or more times in her pajamas. It was plain to Willow that her daughter was missing Coop. She’d gotten used to coloring with him and listening to him play his guitar every evening. Both of these things spelled progress for a child who had been so withdrawn. Coop had called it a breakthrough, and maybe it truly was. Anything that brought Lily out of her world, even for a brief period, was a good sign. Coop had helped Lily overcome previous deficiencies in fine motor skills and coordination. She did less toe walking now; not walking with the whole of her foot was another symptom of autism. Some kids flapped their hands or banged their heads. Lily had done all of them. Before these evenings with Cooper, though, nothing except a loud noise could stop Lily from rocking with her rabbit. Lately, she’d been scooting close to hear Cooper’s music as if she derived pleasure from it, and that was noteworthy.

  All the same, Willow couldn’t help worrying. Her main fear was that when Coop left—and it’d always been a matter of when, not if—Lily would backslide. The visiting nurse and the book on autism both stressed the value of consistency in an autistic child’s environment. It stood to reason that it would be better for her if he left now, before she grew too dependent on him.