by Jodi Thomas
When they were in sight of the line shack, Cooper turned the reins loose. He walked near and let the boy ride alone. Tatum held the reins easy in his hands, like he’d seen Coop do.
To his surprise, Cooper found himself explaining things to Tatum that the kid would probably never need to know.
By the time they’d fed Hector and put him in a stall built into an overhang that blocked the wind, Cooper noticed the boy was almost sleepwalking.
“You go on in and start the fire, I’ll heat up some stew after I work on the corral awhile.” When the boy hesitated, Cooper added, “Make a pot of coffee. I’ll be needing a cup when I get in. Snow’s falling faster.”
Tatum headed into the shack, and by the time Coop finished working on the corral and had come inside, he found the boy curled up on his bed, already asleep.
He poured himself a cup of coffee and listened to the wind howling outside as light from the lantern flickered across the walls. If he hadn’t found the boy, or more accurately, if Tatum hadn’t found him, the kid wouldn’t have survived this night. The sun wasn’t all the way down, and he could already feel the temperature dropping below freezing.
The knowledge that Tatum might have frozen up here tore at his heart. He would have died alone, without one person who cared about him. He’d die thinking that he was the cause of everyone he loved dying.
Cooper liked women, but he’d never met one he wanted to live with. And he liked kids from a distance. So the chances of him ever having children were slim, but if he ever did, Cooper wouldn’t mind having one as tough as this one. Tatum hadn’t complained once, but he’d be sore in the morning from holding on when Hector crossed uneven terrain.
An hour after dark, he woke Tatum and the kid asked questions while he ate supper.
Then, with nothing else to do, they turned in for the night.
It was silent for a while, except for the wind rattling the walls and the fire popping. On nights like this, it seemed that the animals were talking to each other. The cry of an owl, the rush of feet, the howl of a coyote. This was usually Cooper’s favorite time. He was alone, away from everyone. He could almost believe he was living a hundred years in the past.
“Mister,” Tatum said in the darkness. “I mean, Coop. You awake?”
“Yes.” So much for being alone.
“You hearing all that racket outside?” His voice shook slightly.
“It’s just nature saying good-night. You want to howl back?”
Tatum sat up and howled. Cooper did the same. Then they both plopped back on their bunks and laughed.
The cabin grew quiet and Cooper relaxed, thinking he might start howling good-night every night.
“Mister? You asleep?”
“No.”
“I just wanted you to know that this was the best day of my life.”
“Go to sleep. We’ve got a long ride tomorrow.” Cooper stared into the darkness and realized he felt the same way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
December 15
Maverick Ranch
DANIELLE GARRETT HAD never been called by her proper name. She’d always been Dani. Just plain Dani, as if her full title was simply too much for such an ordinary woman. Forty and plump. A good cook. An overprotective mother. A failure at pretty much everything else in her life.
While it was still dark outside her kitchen window, she cracked two dozen eggs, added milk, salt and pepper, then set them aside. There was no telling what time the three ladies upstairs would come down for breakfast, but the men would have boots under the table by dawn. The round kitchen table on the Maverick Ranch was command central every morning. The Holloway boys, the foreman and sometimes others would eat breakfast and plan the work that needed to be done that day.
Dani figured that after three months as cook, she knew all that was happening on the ranch, but she never said a word. Never offered advice. That wasn’t her place. She cooked.
But she loved the excitement, the unpredictable happenings, the heartbeat that pounded through the place as if the headquarters was a living, breathing being of its own.
Dani had settled into the routine nicely. She’d grown up down the road on a farm, even babysat the Holloway boys when she was a teenager. Coming to work here was like coming home. Griffin’s wife had repainted the huge old place when they’d married two years ago. She’d added all kinds of art and rugs and plants, but the bones of the hundred-year-old ranch house were still there.
Dani’s favorite part of the house was her quarters behind the kitchen. No one but her was allowed there, so for once she had her very own space. A big bedroom with windows facing south and a bathroom all to herself. Between meals she could watch whatever she wanted on TV or read in silence or even nap. Before she’d arrived at her first hired job, Dani hadn’t had a nap in twenty years. On her farm, there were always ten chores waiting.
She even had a side garden here, where she might grow herbs next spring. Then, on warm nights, she’d sit out in a swing and just watch the night.
As the cinnamon rolls baked, she dusted the bacon with brown sugar before sliding it onto the bottom rack of the oven. She fried up two pounds of sausage while she reviewed her life as if rereading a novel she’d read a thousand times.
She’d married six months out of high school. A year later, she was pregnant with twins. Her husband had been a long-haul trucker whose runs seemed to last longer and longer. When she’d told him she wanted to go back to her parents’ little place in Texas, he’d said simply that if she left, not to bother coming back.
Apparently, marriage wasn’t what he’d thought it would be, and he took his frustration out on her with words first, then with blows. He’d declared that the last thing he needed was kids. He blamed her for the pregnancy and said the babies would be her problem because she’d known how he felt from the first.
At twenty, she’d moved back to her parents’ little farm with a son in each arm.
Life was hard at first. She’d stayed up most nights with the babies. Every morning her mother would watch the boys and she’d be her dad’s unpaid ranch hand. Dani could cowboy as good as most men, and she’d never backed down from hard work.
About then she began to think in “someday” terms. Someday she’d have time. Someday she’d find another man who’d love her. Someday life would be easy.
Only someday never came. Life just kept moving on as her dreams slowly died. No man was interested in a woman with two sons. She took on more and more of the ranch load as her dad grew older. There was never any time for the things other girls her age did. No parties or dates or even time to paint her nails.
Once the boys started school, she’d thought it might slow, but then when her mom had gotten sick, she took on the housework and cooking, as well. The years were now counted in seasons. The boys grew up. She’d taught them to work the land. But life never got easier. She felt like she’d skipped the fun part and now was too far into middle age to even hope for anything new.
Dani flipped the sausage and set her mind back on track. She had a dozen things to do this morning, but still life did seem calmer here. She had a pretty room with sky blue curtains on the windows and a sunshine-yellow bedspread and fancy pillows on her bed. It had made her smile when she’d found out that Sunlan, the only lady of the house, had ordered all new things for Dani’s quarters. Dani kept the bedspread folded over a cedar chest most days.
Elliot walked into the kitchen, reading a paper as he went. His glasses were atop his head in hair that hadn’t been combed and his clothes looked like the ones he’d had on last night. “Morning,” he said without looking up.
“Morning,” she answered as she poured his coffee.
He nodded his thanks, picked up his cup and turned. “Ah...” He looked at the round kitchen table set for six and the dining table set for four.
Dani smiled. She swore Elliot sometimes looked like a
young version of an absentminded professor. They said Elliot was the smartest of the Holloway men, but this morning he couldn’t seem to find his chair in two tables of empty places.
“I thought your houseguests would probably want to eat in the dining room. I set four places in case you wanted to join them. Then I set you a place at the kitchen table in case you needed to talk to Creed or Cooper or even my boys over breakfast.”
Elliot downed half his cup of coffee, then handed it back to her for a refill. “Cooper went up to Winter Valley about the time the guests arrived. Not sure when he’ll be back but leave the extra plate. A new ranch hand will be joining us along with your boys.”
She grinned, wanting to thank him again for hiring her sons. Once they rode for the Maverick brand, they’d be able to get jobs on any ranch around. With luck, they’d find jobs far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to bring their laundry home.
They were good boys, really, in a gnawing-puppy kind of way.
Before she could say a word, the back door opened with a bang. Her sons marched right toward her. Both gave her a kiss on the cheek and she handed them coffee cups. Pete took his black. Patrick preferred a few splashes of cream.
Without a word she turned back to her cooking. She didn’t need to talk to her boys. Seeing them was enough. They must have felt the same way.
Pouring the eggs into an already-warm cast-iron skillet, she sprinkled cheese on top. From the sound of the wind shaking the window over her sink, she guessed everything from coffee to food needed to be hot this morning.
When she noticed her boys were still standing in front of the bar, she shooed them on with a wave. “Take your seats here at the kitchen table. I’ll have breakfast ready shortly.”
Both Pete and Patrick nodded politely at Elliot and took their places as far away from the boss as possible.
Creed and the man who’d introduced himself as Tye Franklin last night stepped inside next. Both thanked her for the coffee and took their places at the table.
Dani set hot apple-cinnamon rolls on the table, and the men treated them like appetizers while she put out the rest of the meal. All talking stopped as the eating began. All five men had been up working for at least two hours and were hungry.
When she passed behind Tye Franklin, Dani asked, “You don’t like plum jelly on them hot biscuits? It’s made from the plums that grow on the ranch, but I could set out strawberry jam if you like.”
The cowboy slowly raised his eyes as if noticing everything about her. “I like honey on my biscuits, ma’am, but I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“No trouble.” She had a feeling they were communicating on another level for a moment, like they were almost flirting. Then the absurdity of such a thing happening made her feel like a fool. “I’ll make sure it’s on the table from now on.”
She moved away, listening to the men talking. Elliot and Tye discussed repairs that needed to be done to the horse barn before the snow hit. Dani noted that big ranch or small farm, there was always a to-do list waiting.
It was obvious Elliot must have hired Tye this morning and had already showed him the fancy horse barn, which everyone called Sunny Barn after Sunlan.
Creed, as always, didn’t say much. If Cooper had been present, they would have talked about what had to be done on the ranch, but Elliot seemed happy to let Creed set the schedule for the men while Cooper was at Winter Valley. Cooper and Creed were the same age. They’d been friends through school, even rodeoed together for a few seasons. But Dani had never seen them just talking or heard Cooper call Creed by his first name. She thought it might be John, but she wasn’t sure.
Her sons were quiet for a change. When Elliot told them to follow Creed’s orders until they learned the way the ranch ran, both boys seemed happy with that. She loved her sons, but she’d failed them. Somehow, she’d forgotten to tell them to grow up, stand on their own, live their own lives and leave home so she could invite them back now and then for dinner.
If she hadn’t left her farm three months ago and stopped cooking their meals, they would have been happy to work around the place most days, then come in and drink beer while they watched football until she told them to go to bed. At twenty, neither of them had had a date that she knew about.
Elliot probably hired them out of self-defense. After the freezer emptied at home, they started dropping over to see their mother every day and stayed until she fed them.
As the men stood and walked out, Tye Franklin stayed behind long enough to thank her for the fine meal.
She saw the red in his eyes. The slight limp in his walk. The low rumble in his voice. He wasn’t old. Probably in his early forties. But the last few years must have been hard on him.
Tye Franklin was a drifter. Maybe he’d stayed too long on the rodeo circuit. His dark blond hair was lightly salted with gray. He had well-worn clothes and scarred hands. If she was guessing, she’d say the once-handsome cowboy had been down for a long while.
A man not worth knowing, her mother might have called him. A tumbleweed loner who blows with the wind.
Yet Dani couldn’t stop staring at him. She felt a pull toward this man, even though she knew if they became friends, he’d probably leave her crying. At forty, she didn’t need to welcome any sadness; she was already living knee-deep in regret.
Dani didn’t know if she felt sorry for him or simply longed for someone near her age to talk to, but she said, “I’m making pies tomorrow. If you drop by after supper you can join me for a tasting.”
“You got apple?” A smile touched one side of his mouth.
“I will have.”
“Then I’ll be over after dark tomorrow.”
“Don’t bother to knock. The door’s always open and no one will be in the kitchen but me.”
He stared right into her eyes, his gaze unwavering. She felt like this stranger was really seeing her. No one had done that for a long time. Maybe ever.
As he walked away, she almost laughed aloud. A worthless man and an invisible woman might just become friends.
CHAPTER EIGHT
December 15
Winter Valley
AN HOUR AFTER DAWN, snow was still falling outside the shack overlooking Winter Valley. It might be late fall down near the headquarters, but on the northern most point of the ranch, winter had arrived.
Cooper finished up breakfast, kept the stove burning and waited for the kid to wake up. One question kept worrying him. How on earth could a boy not ten years old be so far away from anyone? He was not only miles from a town, but he was also miles from the headquarters. Tatum said he’d walked, but most of it would have been on rough roads and uneven ground without even a trail to follow. Cooper didn’t come up to the shack often enough to leave much of a path, so it had been pure luck the kid had seen him on the hilltop.
The next thought that kept circling in his mind was what would have happened to Tatum if he hadn’t seen him on the ridge.
Hell, even now the boy was still in danger. Living in the line shack wasn’t an easy existence. There were half a dozen cliffs within fifty feet of the cabin that he could fall from and break his neck. Come spring, one bite from half a dozen species of snakes might kill him. Add the cold nights, bobcats, mountain lions, an occasional pack of dogs—and the list got longer.
All at once, blankets flew back and the boy ran for the door. “I got to pee!”
“Put your boots on first.” Hell, Cooper sounded like a dad.
He couldn’t hold back the grin as the kid hopped around, pulling on his boots, then shot out the door in his briefs.
“Snow!” Cooper shouted, a little too late for the news.
The kid hopped like a rabbit over the piles of snow until he made it to the outhouse. Cooper had already made the trip, so he’d cleared the path. The door would open easy.
A minute later the boy was boundin
g his way back. When he passed under Coop’s arm at the open door, Tatum announced, “I got snow in my boots. Why’d you build the bathroom so far away? I was so cold I could barely pee.”
“Pull your jeans over your boot tops next time.”
“What jeans?” Tatum almost hugged the old potbellied stove.
Cooper closed the door. “Outhouses stink in summer, so better they stay away from the house. Stop stomping snow on the floor. Put your boots by the fire. They’ll dry while you eat breakfast.”
Tatum did as told, then sat down on the stool by the little table, but he was shivering.
Coop tossed him a blanket and two dry socks that came up to his knees.
“These don’t match, Coop.”
“So?”
The kid nodded once. “Right. So? Mountain men don’t need socks that match.”
“I’m not a mountain man and neither are you. I’m a rancher and you’re a trespasser.”
Cooper slid three fried eggs and half a dozen slices of burnt bacon onto the boy’s tin plate. “I cooked breakfast. You get to do the dishes.”
“My grandma’s place was little, but she had inside water and a heater. You must be a very poor rancher, mister.” He chewed on a piece of bacon, then asked, “Shouldn’t we skip washing the dishes and head down?”
“We’re not going down until the snow stops.”
Tatum smiled. “It would be too dangerous, right?”
“Looks that way. We’d probably be fine, but I know enough not to try to ride horseback down. From the look of those clouds, we’re in for another storm. If it snows three inches down on flat land, it’ll snow a foot up here. The horses can handle the snow. It’s the ice on downward slopes I’m worried about. So we wait until it’s above freezing.”
“How do you know what the temperature is?”
“There’s a thermometer on the porch.”
Tatum wiped his plate clean with the last of his bread. “That seems a dumb place to leave it. You have to get cold to go out and look at it. Then you don’t need to see it because you already know you’re cold.”