How to Lasso a Cowboy (11 page)

Cooper pulled his horse close to the porch and waited. He didn't want to even guess what she thought of him right
now. She probably wondered what kind of friend offers a kiss and then starts undressing her.

“Can you help me up?” she asked in little more than a whisper.

Awkwardly, Cooper placed his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the saddle. He tried not to think about how she had felt earlier, but he wasn't sure he would ever forget the fullness of her breast in his hand with only a layer of cotton between them. She hadn't said a word since he apologized and from the way she stiffened when he touched her, Mary was doing her best to forget he still breathed on the same planet.

He thought of walking home and letting her ride alone, but that would only serve to make him a bigger fool. In this mud it would take him an hour or more and they would probably get rained on again.

Attempting not to touch her, he slipped his boot in the stirrup and swung up behind her. When his body wrapped around her, she stiffened once more.

“Are you all right?”

“I'm fine.” The lie frosted the night air. “I'd just like to get to the party. My brother will be worried about me.”

Cooper gripped the reins in front of her, trying not to notice that his arm rested just above her waist. Her nearness would probably drive him mad before they traveled a mile. He kicked his horse into action. For a moment, they bumped together, both making every effort not to touch the other.

Finally, he wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her against his chest.

She made no protest as he held her securely in his embrace. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd fought him. By now, everything about the woman he held was a surprise to him.

Their bodies moved in unison, but they were halfway to his ranch before she relaxed and rested her head against his shoulder. His hold on her remained constant, secure.

When they were within sight of the ranch, Cooper slowed.
He couldn't go back to the party without clearing the air between them. He didn't want her hating him. “Mary, there is something we've got to get straight. I didn't mean for what happened between us to happen. You've got to believe I never meant to hurt you.”

She twisted within his arms until her words whispered against his ear. “What happened between us, happened
between
us, not
to
me; and you didn't hurt me until you said you were sorry.”

They were so close to the house he was afraid someone might hear him so he didn't answer her.

As he lifted her down from the saddle she added, “But don't worry, it will never happen between us again. So you can stop apologizing. In fact it might be better if we simply never spoke to one another again.” She shoved a tear off her cheek with an angry movement.

Mary vanished into the house before he had time to think of an answer. Women. He was right about them. Mary might not be as chatty as most, but she made up for it by being helpless and confusing. This time she had not even bothered to say thank you for his riding into town to get her. And he had no idea what she was talking about when she said “between” and not “to.”

He walked toward the barn thinking all the people enjoying the party had better eat up because there wasn't going to be another bride-finding ball. He never planned to marry.

 
THE ORANGE GLOW
of twilight was the unofficial time for the dance to start, but Cooper's sisters insisted on waiting until he returned to the ranch. As he tied his horse on the corral fence, the three musicians stopped warming up and played the opening strings to the Virginia Reel.

Johanna stood on the porch and yelled loud enough for anyone within five miles to hear that it was time to move inside the barn.

Emma organized a chain of ladies to pass all remaining desserts to the tables set up along the fringes of the dance floor. Quilts were hung from the loft, hiding the stalls and along the rafters to block wind. Color rainbowed the interior, adding a feeling of warmth to the old shelter, while the aroma of hot cider melted through the air.

Mary stayed in the kitchen cutting pies with a silver pie server Johanna insisted she use. She wanted no part of this dance, or of Cooper Adams. But Winnie pulled her out, insisting she had to watch Miles dance.

“He doesn't,” Mary tried to tell her as they hurried toward the barn. “He can't.”

Winnie didn't bother to argue.

Ten minutes later, Mary stood just out of the circle of light glowing from lanterns above and watched as her brother took Winnie's hand. They walked to the center. Music played. Miles bowed as if he were dressed in formal clothes and Winnie in a ball gown. Winnie placed her hand in his and they began to waltz.

Everyone watched as they danced alone in the center of the dirt floor. His step was awkward. Winnie's short, round body and his lean frame didn't match at all. But no one in the room noticed, for Winnie smiled up at the scarred face of Miles Woodburn as though he were the most handsome man in the state, and he looked down at her with eyes that told everyone that she was beautiful.

Slowly, others joined the waltz. They circled around the strange couple. Mary lost sight of her brother. For a while she stood in the shadows, fighting tears and trying to remember how long it had been since she'd seen Miles smile. Years ago she decided he had forgotten how.

As the music changed and folks sought other partners, Mary sank into the darkness between quilt curtains, wishing, as she often did, that she could become invisible. All these years she thought her brother had been the sad one, the lonely one, and she'd been the one who stayed with him. She was the rock and he was the one who suffered from all they'd lost. The possibility that she might have been the sibling who couldn't have survived alone clouded her mind.

An hour into the dance, a group of cowhands from the Rocking R arrived, accompanied by several men she'd never seen. They must have started drinking while cleaning up for the party, for they entered loud and the atmosphere shifted subtly from that of a ball to a dance hall.

The rough newcomers reminded her of mustangs. Restless, untamed. She guessed they had been hired to help with the cattle drive leaving at dawn. She noticed the county marshal had quit dancing and watched the crowd.

Mary curled deeper into the shadows. She wished she were home reading and away from these men she'd never seen before. Their manners belonged on the trail, not in polite company.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice people moving about her. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what it had felt like to dance with Cooper in the Andrewses' livery. She tried to pinpoint the moment she realized she loved him. Maybe it was when he kissed her, or when he handed her his treasured book, or maybe it was before they ever spoke. Something about him drew her, long before he knew her name. She liked the way he tipped his hat to the ladies when he walked down Main Street and the way he always patted his horse at the post office as if thanking the animal. She'd watched him for years, wishing she were brave enough to talk to him.

Not that it mattered, she told herself. They would never talk again, or even be friends now. Her pride would not allow it. Not after he said he was sorry for kissing her.

The murmur of a man's raspy voice drifted into Mary's thoughts.

“Another half hour, that should be about right.”

Mary didn't breathe. Someone stood only a foot away from her, but hadn't seen her in the darkness. She pushed against the thick pole that stretched to the roof, wishing she could disappear into the wood. A quilt above her head blew in the evening breeze, playing hide-and-seek with her in the shadows.

“We'll give everyone a chance to enjoy the dance, drink a little too much, get tired,” the low voice whispered again. “Then, when the shouting starts, they'll react without thinking.”

A youthful voice answered back. “I don't know about this plan. If you ask me, we should do some more pondering before we act. After tomorrow, most of Adams's men will be gone. I figure, then the three of us can take him if he catches us.”

Mary guessed the second man must still be in his teens
for his voice hadn't completely changed. He sounded frightened.

“Don't chicken out on me now. You want that horse, don't you? In an hour we'll have every man in this county running after rustlers. All we have to do is walk away with that Steeldust colt of Adams's. He'll never know what happened. He'll just come back from chasing a lie and the little horse will be gone, vanished into thin air.”

“But what about the women?” The boy's voice cracked again. “Them old maid sisters of his don't exactly look helpless. Hell, half the women here can probably handle a gun better than me.”

“Don't worry about them,” the man with gravel in his tone answered. “Once the men leave, the women will head into the house. They'll be so busy talking they won't even hear us. And if one of them does wander out of the house, Len will take care of her with his knife.”

The second voice climbed higher. “Now, wait a minute, I ain't for no killin' of women. I thought we were just here for the colt, nothing more. I know you don't like Adams 'cause he fired you, but that ain't no reason to hurt the womenfolk.”

“Don't worry. Women never wander out on their own. They only travel in herds.”

“Well, just in case, tell Len to say he's supposed to move the colt if one of them comes out. That way it won't cause no suspicion. I don't mind killin'Adams if he gets in the way, but I don't want to start leaving too many bodies or the next thing I know, the Rangers will be looking for me the way they're looking for you.”

“You go tell Len. He's out by the corral waiting.” With a mixture of anger and authority the older man left no doubt that he was the leader. “I want to watch the dancing.”

Mary heard them moving behind her. The tinkling of their spurs soured the music's rhythm. She waited, hoping one of them would step into the light, but there were too many people. One, or both, could easily blend into the crowd.

She circled between the groups of people, eager to spot the face that would match the young southern voice. But
most of the cowhands looked the same. Tall, lean, tanned by the sun. The lively music and laughter intermingled voices. She hoped to catch a few words that sounded like one of the men she'd overheard.

She didn't notice Cooper standing beside her until he spoke.

“Would you dance with me, Mary, if I promised not to talk to you?” His face was guarded, void of all expression. She couldn't be sure if he looked worried, or angry, or if he was simply playing host.

Dancing was the last thing she wanted to do, but she had to tell him what she'd heard. Even if it was some kind of joke the boys were playing, Cooper had a right to be warned. Only they hadn't sounded like they were joking.

Mary faced him and slowly raised her hand. “You promise not to say a word?”

“Cross my heart, darlin',” he answered. The hint of a smile fought its way across his face as his hand reached for hers. The worry lines along his forehead relaxed.

“Good, because I've something I have to tell you.” Mary couldn't read him. He gripped her fingers as if he had been looking for her for hours and didn't plan to let her go anytime soon, but his eyes held an uncertainty. “It . . .”

“It can wait,” he whispered against her cheek as he pulled her onto the floor.

His arm felt solid around her waist, but he didn't pull her as close as he had when they'd danced in the livery. His fingers caressed hers as he swung her in time to the music. For a man who claimed to hate dances and told his sisters he saw no need for a ball, Cooper managed to keep in step. At first, Mary thought of nothing but trying to stay up with him without making a fool of herself. She wasn't about to tell him she had never truly danced, but she feared it was apparent, for she could not seem to follow him or the music.

When she tromped across his boots for the fourth time, he leaned close and whispered, “Why don't you just stand on them, darlin'. At least then I'll know where you are.”

Mary felt her face blush all the way to her hairline. She
fought to pull away, but he held her as they continued to try to follow the music.