River's Bend

by JoAnn Ross

At the sudden interruption, Rachel froze. Then struggling against Cooper’s light hold, she tried to break away. But he refused to let her.

  “Your mother’s busy right now,” he said over the top of her head.

  “Yeah, I can see that,” Scott responded. “But this is an emergency.”

  Rachel pushed against his chest. “Cooper . . .”

  “Let me handle this,” he told her. “What kind of emergency?” he asked Scott. “And it had better be good.”

  Scott considered Cooper’s warning for a moment. “I guess it could wait,” he decided. Cooper nodded approvingly. “That’s more like it. Your mom will meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes, ready for a snow day of fun and frivolity.”

  “Okay.” Scott turned in the doorway. “When you’re finished with that mushy stuff, could you ask her if she knows where my boots are?

  Cooper grinned. “I’ll try to remember to bring it up,” he promised.

  39

  Swathed in snow, River’s Bend looked like an idyllic scene from a Currier and Ives print. The temperature had dropped dramatically during the night. Icicles hung like crystal ornaments from shaggy, snow-coated evergreens while lacy snowflakes danced on intermittent swirls of wind.

  “I’d forgotten how much I enjoy winter,” Rachel murmured as she and Cooper walked hand in hand toward the hill outside of town. Scott had run on ahead, dragging the sled behind him, accompanied by Hummer, who was happily plowing through drifts of snow. “It makes everything look so magical.”

  “If you overlook the brown slush that it’ll turn into,” Cooper said. “Not to mention road closures and chains, stranded tourists who have absolutely no idea how to drive in the stuff and have to be pulled out of drifts, and—”

  “Hey.” Rachel punched him lightly on his upper arm. “After dragging me out here, don’t you dare spoil my fantasy with reality.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Rachel smiled her approval. “That’s better.”

  Cooper looked down at her. Her cheeks were already rosy, her laughing eyes as bright as diamonds. “Speaking of fantasies.” Pulling her into a grove of pine trees, he framed her face in his gloved hands.

  “Cooper.” They were nearing the hill, and she could hear the gleeful shouts and laughter drifting on the crisp morning air. “Someone might see us.”

  Cooper doubted there was a person left in River’s Bend who didn’t know that the sheriff was keeping company with the widow Hathaway. “My sweet, lovely Rachel,” he said patiently. “Don’t you think everyone in the county has already figured out that I’m not spending all my spare time with you because you’re in need of police protection?”

  “We’re friends.”

  “While I can always use another friend, our relationship is a helluva lot more intimate than just friendship.”

  She tried to move away only to find her escape impeded by a silver-white trunked aspen. “Even so, there’s no reason to advertise that fact,” she insisted. “And I’m not sure it was a good idea for Scott to see us together this morning.”

  Tired of skirting his way the barricades she continually set up, Cooper decided to crash through this one.

  “If you’re talking about me kissing his mother,” he said, backing her against the trunk of the tree, “then he’s just going to have to get used to it. Because I have every intention of kissing you whenever the opportunity presents itself.”

  To prove his intentions, Cooper covered her mouth with his. The kiss was hard, long, and wet and had her wrapping her arms around him as she returned his kiss with equal hunger.

  The shouts and laughter of children echoed from the nearby hill, a blue jay scolded noisily from bare winter branches while dogs barked at fluffy-tailed squirrels who scampered to the tops of trees and chattered tauntingly back at them.

  The woods were alive with joyful winter sounds, but Cooper and Rachel remained oblivious to them as he dragged her from the icy wonderland into a world of dazzling flames and dense smoke.

  Much, much later he lifted his head. “Do you have any idea how much I want to drag you into the nearest snowdrift and have my wicked way with you?”

  “In a snowdrift?” Her fingers were still linked behind his neck; Cooper was in no hurry to have her remove them. “People keep telling me that you Murphys are crazy. Perhaps they’re right.”

  “Perhaps.” He smiled as he skimmed his lips up her cheek. “This Murphy is definitely crazy about you.”

  “Still, wouldn’t a snowdrift be awfully cold? And wet?”

  He loved her rock solid practicality, which he suspected came from her Iowa farm roots, as much as he loved everything else about the woman. “A bed, then. A feather bed with thick, fluffy comforters and satin sheets.”

  “I’ve heard satin sheets are slippery.”

  “Maybe we should try them out. Like a scientific experiment.” His mouth returned to hers. “Or, I’ve got a better idea.”

  “Oh?” She tilted her head, her lips plucking at his.

  “On a fur rug, in front of a blazing fire, your ivory skin gleaming in the dancing glow of the flames.”

  “I don’t have a fireplace.”

  “No problem. I do, remember?”

  “Ah, but you don’t have a fur rug.”

  “It just so happens Mitzi gave me a fake cheetah stadium blanket for my last birthday. Though she said animal prints are in, I stuck it in the back of a closet. But I can bring it out if you’d like to give it a try.”

  Rachel tilted her head as she considered that idea. He could see the temptation warming in her eyes. “I suppose, if we both used our imaginations, it might suffice.”

  Cooper’s gaze held hers for several long, pulsating seconds. “Tonight.”

  Her exhaled breath formed a frosty ghost between them. “Tonight,” she agreed. He hoped her breathlessness was as much from anticipation as the fact that it was getting cold enough to freeze his nuts off.

  Tonight. Only twelve, maybe thirteen hours away. As he took her hand in his and began walking toward the hill again, Cooper wondered how he was going to wait.

  40

  She was having an affair. Which shouldn’t be that big of a deal. People did, after all, have affairs all the time, probably since the beginning of time. And Rachel was honestly loving every moment she and Cooper spent together. Not just the sex, but the snow day and working together at the New Chance, and something as simple as sharing a cup of cocoa in front of the fire after Scott had gone to bed.

  Life was good. Scott was happy and loving his new school, her restaurant was nearly ready to open, she was making friends, including Layla, Austin and Jenna, who’d arrived with a gift certificate for a relaxation massage and mani-pedi they’d booked at a day spa in Klamath Falls for the day before the opening.

  “Resistance is futile,” Jenna insisted when Rachel protested she couldn’t take the time. “It’s not a full spa day. You’ll only be away for a couple hours and think how much better things will go if you’re all relaxed and spiffed up when you’re greeting your first diners.”

  “And you really don’t want to force me to lasso you and drag you there,” Austin tacked on.

  “Austin won the breakaway roping competition at last Labor Day’s Paulina Rodeo,” Jenna said.

  “There’s nothing she can’t rope,” Layla said. “Including a runaway restaurant chef.”

  There was something to be said for looking her best, Rachel had considered. Especially if any of the press from all those releases Mitzi had sent out showed up.

  So, adding in all that with a lover (and didn’t she still warm at that word?) who had his own way of working out kinks from a long work day, why couldn’t she just relax and stop looking ahead?

  “Live in the now,” she told herself as she dressed with more care than usual for a morning meeting with Gideon Bond. Knowing about her appointment with the artist, rather than returning for breakfast, he’d been doing since their weekend together in Shelter Bay, as Cooper
left the bungalow before dawn, he told her he’d drop in around lunchtime to hear how things went.

  Unfortunately, other than waking up in Cooper’s arms, the day did not begin well.

  The toaster seemed to have only two shades: black and blacker. She’d forgotten to buy milk, forcing Scott to eat his Cheerios dry, and the moaning noises coming from the heater made it sound as if something or someone was dying in the ductwork.

  It was not, Rachel considered as she mopped up spilled orange juice, a propitious way to begin a new week.

  “Are you going to marry Cooper?”

  The question came from left field as Rachel scraped the worst of the char from the toast into the sink.

  “What?”

  Scott reached into the bright yellow box, pulling out a handful of the cereal that suddenly had Rachel thinking how she’d put Cheerios on the tray of his stroller on those rare Sundays she and Alan took him for walks in the woods behind the house.

  “Of course not.” The memory was bittersweet, but not painful as it once would have been. “Where on earth did you get that idea?”

  “Mitzi’s marrying Dan.”

  Rachel had given up trying to get her son to refer to Cooper’s father as Mr. Murphy. Especially since Dan was no help by insisting formality had no place in River’s Bend. “I know,” she said. “And I’m very happy for them. But what does that have to do with Cooper and me?”

  “Cooper says his dad’s marrying Mitzi because they’re in love.” There was an obvious question in his tone.

  “I’m sure that’s the case.” Rachel shot a pointed look at her watch. “Now, you really need to get moving.” Most days he was able to walk, but adding to her challenging day, a storm had swept in off the mountain slopes and was blowing the snow sideways.

  “Cooper’s the same way with you.”

  The heater rattled ominously. With the forecast calling for more snow this afternoon, Rachel said a small, silent prayer that the ancient furnace wouldn’t choose today, of all days, to die on her.

  “What way?” she asked absently, wondering what appliance service calls cost in River’s Bend.

  “He kisses you like Dan kisses Mitzi,” Scott explained. “So, are you going to get married?”

  “No, we’re not,” Rachel said. “And if you don’t hurry you’re going to be late to school and I’ll be late for my meeting with Gideon Bond.” She was still amazed the artist was willing to let her hang his paintings, but when they’d spoken on the phone, he’d certainly sounded enthusiastic about the idea.

  Scott was not to be so easily deterred. “But if Cooper loves you—”

  “Cooper’s feelings aren’t up for discussion,” Rachel said. “If you’re finished with breakfast, gather up your boots and jacket.”

  Rachel shot her son her sternest, I’m-the-mom-and-I-said-so look and although he appeared inclined to argue further, he apparently thought better of it and left the kitchen. Minutes later, he’d returned, dressed for outdoors.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  Rachel sighed and went down on her knees and wrapped the red woolen scarf around his neck. “Me? Mad? Where did you get that idea?”

  “Whenever I talk about you and Cooper you yell at me.”

  “I don’t yell.”

  “Yes, you do. It’s just kinda quiet yelling,” Scott insisted.

  “Perhaps I do,” she admitted, feeling like the Grinch. “And I’m sorry.”

  A forgiving smile bloomed on his face. “That’s okay, Mom. Cooper says everybody can have an off day once in a while.”

  Cooper again. There was no avoiding the man. “I suppose he’s right.”

  “Sure he is. And he’s real nice, too, huh, Mom?”

  “Real nice,” she agreed softly.

  “Then you really do like him? At least a little bit?”

  Having never believed in lying to her son, Rachel wasn’t about to begin now. “I really do like him. A lot.”

  “If you like him a lot, and he likes you, then why don’t you get married?”

  “Scott . . .”

  “Geez, look at the time!” Breaking free of her light embrace, he grabbed his books from the kitchen table. “We’d better get going or I’ll get a tardy and have to stay after school.”

  He paused as he buckled up his seatbelt. “Would you at least think about marrying Cooper?”

  “I’ve already told you—”

  “Just think about it, okay, Mom?”

  She was going to be late for her meeting and Scott was nearly late for school. Deciding this was not the time to continue arguing the matter, Rachel caved. For now. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

  Scott’s answering grin could’ve lit up every Christmas tree in River’s Bend through New Year’s. “Sweet!”

  Fortunately, her day picked up when Gideon Bond arrived at the café, looking even sexier than she remembered. Rachel decided if the rest of the country discovered that the appeal of western males wasn’t some Hollywood movie exaggeration, they’d be flocking to River’s Bend in droves.

  “Cooper sang your praises,” he said, as she gave him the tour, “but I had no idea of what an amazing transformation you’ve accomplished. Somehow you’ve managed to bring the place into this century without losing the appeal of its past.”

  “Coming from a painter who does exactly that on canvas, I’m flattered.”

  He waved off her statement with a wave of his dark, long fingered artist’s hand that also bore scars she guessed were from his bull-riding days. “We’re all creative in different ways. I hear your cooking is like edible art.”

  Even as the compliment warmed, she laughed. “Cooper sets a very low bar. The man considers sticking a pop tart in a toaster making breakfast.”

  They shared a laugh, then set about choosing the paintings from the portfolio he’d brought along. Two hours after he’d left, Rachel was having to pinch herself to believe that she could be so fortunate.

  Pleased with how a day that had started so negatively could have turned around so well, she greeted Cooper with a huge smile as he walked into the restaurant. A smile that faded as she recognized the vertical lines between his brows. The brackets on either side of his lips were another sign that something had gone wrong.

  “I’ve got to go back to Salem.”

  “Jake again?”

  “Yeah. He left a message on Mel Skinner’s voice mail, threatening to shoot him if he set a foot on his property. Not surprisingly, Mel’s pressing charges of telephonic harassment.”

  “Do you think Jake would really do such a thing?”

  “No. He’s got a hot head, especially when he’s drinking, but I’ve watched him get teary-eyed putting down a horse with a broken leg. He talks a tough game, but inside, he’s a marshmallow.

  “Plus, I confiscated all his guns when the situation began to get out of hand in September. The only weapons he currently owns are the ones he uses for the outlaw train ride. Still, he’s got to learn that he can’t go around threatening people. I’ve been telling him that the days of the Wild, Wild, West are long gone and River’s Bend isn’t Dodge City, but it’s not sinking in.”

  “Is leaving a threatening voice mail actually a crime?”

  “It depends on the threat and the context. But threatening harm over a phone is definitely a Class B misdemeanor in Oregon.”

  “What’s going to happen to him?”

  “Under normal circumstances, he’d probably be hit with a stiff warning. Maybe community service. But given his recent behavior, and the fact that Skinner’s a federal government employee, if you were the presiding judge, would you let him get away with a slap on the wrist?”

  “No,” Rachel answered, shaking her head sadly. “I suppose I wouldn’t want to take the chance he might actually follow through on his threat.”

  “Exactly. There is one positive thing about this,” Cooper said.

  “What’s that?”

  “If he does get jail time, which I suspect he will, he’
ll still be locked up December twenty-third.”

  “The day the government auctions off his land.”

  “Unless something happens to stop them,” Cooper confirmed.

  “Do you think that’s a possibility?”

  “That’s why I’m going back for one last try.”

  As Cooper kissed her goodbye and left for Salem, Rachel considered how Jake’s very serious problems made her own remodeling frustrations seem trivial by comparison.

  41

  It had been three days and even longer nights since Cooper had left town in a last-ditch effort to extricate Jake Buchanan from his troubles with the government. Rachel missed him more and more with each passing day.

  The good news was that the renovation on the New Chance was finally complete.

  To Rachel’s delight, River’s Bend proved to be a treasure trove of artisans. People kept streaming in with pre-grand opening gifts—richly textured rugs woven on handmade looms, earthenware dishes thrown on potters’ wheels in home studios and an intricately carved bear, an elk, and an antelope from Cooper’s grandfather Mike.

  Helen Masterson, from Masterson’s Mercantile, brought a selection of woven baskets that were perfect for the lush green plants Cal Potter’s wife, Lillian, had grown in her backyard greenhouse.

  Along with the paintings Gideon Bond had loaned her, he’d created one especially for her, portraying the New Chance Café looking quaint and inviting with snow-capped Modoc Mountain looming in the background. Thankfully, he’d left off the cow. Steer.

  Not wanting to be left out, artists from Klamath Falls, Lakeview, even Pendleton, up in the northeast corner of the state, offered paintings on consignment, which Rachel gladly accepted. By the time Rachel and Mitzi had hung them all, the formerly bare walls complemented Rachel’s menu celebrating Oregon’s western heritage.

  Using her wide-ranging contacts, Mitzi had gotten the news of the café’s re-opening published in the lifestyle and business sections of papers within the café’s market area: the River’s Bend Register, Klamath Falls Herald and News, Ashland’s Daily Tidings, the Lake County Examiner, and the Cascades Chronicle. Even the popular statewide Travel Oregon magazine had highlighted the New Chance on its cover with an article chronicling both the café’s colorful past and its revival.