The Cowboy's Homecoming (7 page)

Back Street Church had been spared. No way was he going to think that it had anything to do with Beth, the prayers of Dawson's well-meaning citizens, or anything God wanted from him.

 

Beth didn't move real fast to get out of the truck. Her dad was standing in front of the barn with Jason and
Alyson. Buck Bradshaw glanced in their direction, his mouth settling in a firm line. Jason said something and their father shook his head.

“I thought you said there wasn't anything to worry about?”

Next to her, Jeremy's tone teased as he asked the question. She smiled and opened the door. “There isn't.”

She was out of the truck and heading toward her dad when Jeremy caught up with her. She glanced sideways. He was tall and all lean muscle. He walked with the slightest limp that she only noticed when he moved faster than his normal casual swagger. He'd broken his leg a few years ago. She remembered hearing folks in the Mad Cow talking about it for weeks. A bad break that had nearly ended his career.

“Have you been to town?” Jason asked as they approached. His hand was on his wife's waist. Alyson was four months pregnant; the baby bump barely showed beneath her shirt.

Jeremy pushed his hat back. Beth watched him glance from her dad and back to Jason. She settled her focus on her dad.

“The road to the nursing home is blocked, but they said it didn't suffer any damage. I guess you know about the houses on the west side of town?” Jeremy reached to pet the collie that had strayed onto their place a few months ago.

“I heard that you're going to open the church up for a shelter.” Jason shifted his attention to Beth. “That's going to help a lot.”

“Yeah, I guess it will. If you all start calling this an answer to prayer, I'll…”

Beth smiled at him, “What, take it back?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Alyson cleared her throat. “I have piles of extra blankets and I'll box up snacks and cereal.”

That's when Beth's dad spoke up, his voice raspy and a little gruff. “I've got extra cots in the barn and a small generator that I can bring over.”

Beth shot Jason a surprised look, because their dad had steered clear of all things Back Street for a very long time.

Beth's heart squeezed a little as she watched her dad come to grips with something inside himself. Eighteen years was a long time to hold on to anger. It had aged him beyond his sixty years.

“The cots and blankets will help, I'm sure.” Jeremy pulled off his hat and ran a hand through short, brown hair. “I really don't have a clue what they're going to need. I'm letting them use the building, that's about all I know. And I guess I'd better head that way to see what I need to do.”

“I should go with you to get my truck. And I can help get things set up,” Beth added.

“I'll take you in a bit. We have a few things to do around here.” Her dad's words stopped Beth's departure.

She could go with Jeremy. Or she could let her dad protect her. She understood, so this time she smiled a goodbye to Jeremy who nodded and walked away.

J
eremy drove back to the church alone. But man, it still felt as if Beth was in his truck. Her perfume had taken up residence in the fabric, in his mind. He rolled down the windows and let fresh air blow through the cab of his truck, trying to rid himself of her presence.

The tornado didn't seem possible, not now with the blue sky and the sun streaming down. It looked like a perfect spring day. But blue skies or not, Dawson had been hit hard. The flattened outbuildings, the damaged homes, the flashing lights of emergency vehicles scouring the area, it was all part of the sickening reality.

The parking lot of Back Street Church was no longer empty. There were a couple of cars, a church van from the Community Church and a pickup truck with the Cooper Ranch logo on the doors.

And there was a big yellow bulldozer. He'd forgotten he'd arranged to have it delivered this week. Talk about bad timing. Jeremy pulled up next to the thirty-foot RV he'd been living in and parked.

His gaze settled back on the Coopers' truck parked a short distance away. He'd avoided the Coopers like the
plague since he'd gotten back to town and today they were crashing into his life from all sides.

He pocketed his keys and stepped out of his rig. There were people on the wide front porch of the church. Jeremy headed that way, not real thrilled that his space had been invaded. His plans had been changed. A quick glance up at the sky and he really had to wonder what God was thinking.

One of the men on the church porch turned toward him. The cowboy hat slanted low over the man's eyes didn't hide his identity. Jackson Cooper. He wore his ranch money like old jeans. He was comfortable with his life, with his family. Jackson was the Cooper most likely to speak his mind, most likely to fight for a friend and the most likely to get knocked in the head on any given day.

Travis stood behind him. Lean and a little cagey, Travis had been adopted from somewhere in Eastern Europe when he was about five. Jeremy remembered the little kid in church, jabbering in Russian. Everyone liked Travis, when he wasn't getting on their nerves.

“What are you two doing here?” Jeremy walked up the steps, a little slower than earlier. A sharp pain in his left leg reminded him of pins and metal that kept things together these days.

“Here to help, bro.” Travis grinned and tossed Jeremy a bottle of water. “We came bearing gifts.”

“I'm not your bro.” Jeremy set the water on the floor of the porch.

Jackson shot Travis a look and the younger brother sauntered off. Jackson stepped forward, acting as if he was going to play older brother to Jeremy, as well. That
would be the day. Jackson took off his hat, swiped a hand through shaggy hair then grinned.

“Do you need me to knock that chip off your shoulder?” Jackson was no longer smiling.

“I don't think you could.” Jeremy picked up the water bottle. “I need to see what's going on in there.”

“They're moving pews and setting up cots. Wyatt and Ryder brought supplies.”

“Good, we can have a revival later.”

Jackson laughed, “Yeah, I'm with you on that. We'll let them play church. But helping neighbors isn't just for the church crowd. Helping family isn't, either.”

“We're not family.” This was getting real old. Jeremy shot Jackson a look that he hoped conveyed that sentiment.

“Jeremy, let me tell you something.” Jackson stepped closer. “I might not agree with everything my family does. I don't join them on Sundays for church. But I can tell you this, the Cooper family sticks together.
All
of us.”

Time for a reminder. “Jackson, no one would even know I was a part of the Cooper family if my mom hadn't gotten drunk and showed up at church to announce to the world that Tim Cooper owed her.”

A grin split Jackson's too-handsome mug. “Yeah, that was about the best day in church I've ever had.”

“Yeah, I can imagine that it was exciting for everyone.”

“You and I both know that Dad should have come to you sooner. It was a big conversation between my folks, that Dad should have done something.”

“Your mom is a forgiving woman.”

“Yeah, she is that.” Jackson shoved his hat back on his head. “She's always asking about you.”

“Tell her I'm doing fine. You can tell Tim the same.”

“Right, you've made a lot of money and you can buy your revenge.” Jackson nodded in the direction of the dozer. “So, you plan on taking out the plaque up front that dedicates the church to the people in the community? You know, our great-grandfather donated this land. Funny that you own it now and you're going to tear down what he helped build.”

Jeremy hadn't known that, and he didn't really want to hear it right now. He let the anger roll off his back. He wasn't going to punch Jackson Cooper, not right here on the steps of the Back Street Church. He also wasn't going to let him get under his skin.

“Since you probably haven't darkened the door of any church for years, don't think you can give me a Sunday school lesson on forgiveness.”

“Right, I guess I can't. I guess we both have to get past this. But for right now, there are people needing help. Our help. That's what the Coopers do, we help our community.”

“Last time I checked, I'm a Hightree.”

Jackson leaned in close. “You're a Cooper. You look in a mirror, buddy, and you tell me you aren't a Cooper.”

“Do you guys think you can give it a rest and help us set up cots?” Wyatt Johnson stood in the door of the church. “Later we'll get out the boxing gloves and the two of you can fight it out.”

“I don't need gloves.” Jackson slapped Jeremy on the back.

“Right, me neither.” He shrugged it off. “What do we need to do?”

Wyatt motioned them into the church. Shop lights had been placed around the room, hooked from electric cords to an extension cord to the generator that hummed outside the building. The lights were bright inside a building that hadn't seen electricity in a few years.

For the first time Jeremy looked around at families he had grown up with. In the corner of the church a young mom sat with her little girl on her lap. A boy played at her feet. The mom glanced up at him, her eyes wide in a pale face.

They'd lost their home. He shoved off his anger with the Coopers and called himself a few choice names. Community mattered. He should know that. Man, he'd been on the receiving end of this town's charity more times than he could count. As a kid he'd had shoes and he and his sister had warm coats because of this church and the people in this town.

He'd been able to rodeo because Wyatt and Ryder Johnson hadn't minded loaning him a horse. Clint Cameron had taught him to ride bulls.

Tim Cooper had offered to pay him off when the news broke that Tim was his dad. By that time, Jeremy had been too angry to take a dime from the Coopers. He'd let Tim put money in the bank for Jane, because she deserved something. She'd blown through the money in no time flat.

The woman in the corner of the church looked away from him, because he'd been staring. He started to turn but the plaque Jackson had mentioned caught his attention. How he'd missed it before, he didn't know. It was wood and brass, but too far away for him to read.
The plaque was a reminder of more than the history of this church. It meant he had a whole set of ancestors he hadn't thought about, and more ties to this church than he'd ever dreamed of. Because he was a Cooper, no matter what his last name.

He pulled himself back to the moment at hand and turned to find Wyatt Johnson.

“What about food? Do you have everything you need?”

“Vera brought soup and sandwiches,” Wyatt replied. “We need clothes for these kids, though.”

“I can help you there.” Jeremy glanced around, at the kids, their parents. “If you get sizes I'll make a trip to Grove and get whatever you need. Or I can get gift cards that we can hand out so they can get what they need.”

Wyatt nodded, his smile tight. “That will be good.”

A car honked as they were setting up a few more cots. More people had arrived. Families milled in the yard, looking lost, looking empty. Kids sat quietly on the porch playing with a few scattered toys.

The empty, forgotten Back Street Church had suddenly been remembered. Ironic, Jeremy decided. They needed it again and suddenly it was an important part of the town.

The car horn honked again. He walked outside to see what was going on. Jason Bradshaw's truck pulled into a parking space. Jason jumped out, leaving the engine idling and the lights on. Through the windshield Jeremy could see Beth in the passenger seat. Jason hurried across the lawn. Jeremy walked down the steps to meet him. Jason was frowning, which wasn't a good sign.

“What's up?” Wyatt must have seen Jason, too. He walked across the yard, bypassing Jeremy.

“The McCormicks can't find Darla.”

“Who's Darla?” Jeremy figured he was probably the only one who didn't know. Jackson had left the church and joined them in the yard. Travis was coming down the stairs.

Boy, when something happened in Dawson, it really was a situation of calling in the cavalry. The good ole Western kind of cavalry. The kind that brought cowboys in worn boots and familiar smiles, and concern in eyes that usually teased.

“What's up?” Jackson quickly shed his normal “who cares” attitude.

“Darla McCormick was walking home from a friend's house this afternoon when the storm hit. Her parents can't find her.”

“Where do we start looking?” Jeremy looked to Wyatt, because it seemed to be his call.

“We can each take a section of land,” Wyatt said. “On foot, not horseback. We need to check every inch of pasture and even the roadside.”

For miles, Jeremy thought. He'd picked up mail from areas that were miles away. That's what a tornado did. Man, if he had a kid, he'd be going crazy by now. He'd be racing through the countryside like a madman. Where were Darla's parents?

“Where's her family?” He'd gone to school with Mark McCormick.

“They're with their pastor. She's just ten,” Jason answered.

“We need to pray now and then join the search.” Wyatt took off his hat. Jeremy looked at Jackson. The two of them took off their hats and Jeremy held his against his heart. He'd prayed for friends when they'd
taken a hard hit on a bull. It wasn't like he didn't believe. He'd just had a real dry spell when it came to faith.

But he knew that prayers got answered.

A kid was lost somewhere and she could definitely use some of those answered prayers. He closed his eyes and it wasn't about anger, the past, the Coopers. It was about a little girl named Darla McCormick. And it was about finding her safe. Amen to that.

 

Beth hitched her backpack on her shoulder. She had a first aid kit, water, snacks and a flare. She listened as the men planned. But she didn't want to stand around planning. She wanted to get on the road. She wanted to find Darla.

“Let's go, Bethlehem.”

She looked up, met Jeremy's eyes. He smiled a real smile, not the teasing smile. “What?”

“We're a team. Didn't you hear Wyatt?”

“I was thinking.” And obviously Wyatt wasn't thinking or he wouldn't have done that to her. He would have paired her with Jason. Or even Travis Cooper.

“Let's go. We're taking Wyatt's far twenty.”

“Okay. Let me get my dog.” She headed for Jason's truck and Jeremy was behind her.

“You're taking your dog?” Jeremy caught up with her.

“She's great at tracking. We couldn't find a calf last week and she led us right to him.”

“Right, that isn't really tracking, it's just a dog that follows trails. And she's riding in my truck?” Jeremy pulled keys out of his pocket and held them up.

“You don't have to drive, I can.” She had her own
truck, it was still there from earlier. They didn't even have to ride together.

“We can take the dog in my truck.” Jeremy looked down at the collie and Beth smiled because the dog was already licking his hand and he reached to scratch it behind the ears. No one could resist… Well, the dog didn't even have a name yet. Everyone just called her “the dog.”

Beth whistled and the dog followed her to Jeremy's truck. She opened the door and the dog hopped in, situating herself on the seat between them. Her pretty collie face broke into a smile. Jeremy opened his door, shook his head and climbed behind the wheel.

The collie whined and lay down, head on Beth's lap. Beth ran her hand over the fawn-colored head, sinking her fingers into thick, soft fur. She'd bathed the dog the previous evening and she still looked shiny and clean. Her limpid eyes stared up at Beth, seeking affection.

“What's the dog's name?” Jeremy pulled onto the road.

“She doesn't have a name.”

“That's pretty sad, Beth. A dog should have a name.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

“Yeah, Lucky.”

“That's a horrible name. And it isn't a girl dog name. Why would you pick Lucky?”

He grinned. “It isn't as if you've come up with something better.”

“Every stray shouldn't be named Lucky. I think she's a Petunia.”

He laughed, white teeth flashing in his suntanned face. He glanced her way and then back to the road. The sun was going down and he took off his sunglasses. Beth
hated that they were going to be searching in the dark. It would have been so much easier if they'd gotten started in daylight.

“You wouldn't do that to the dog.” He shot her another look and then focused on the road. “Name it Petunia, I mean.”

“Petunias are lovely flowers and they smell good.”

“Fine, name the poor thing Petunia. But seriously, it sounds like a name for a pet skunk.”

Silence washed over the cab of the truck for the next few minutes as they drove through town and into the country, past the Johnson ranch and down a dirt road to the back field that would put them in a direct path from where Darla had been walking in the direction the storm had traveled. Beth didn't want to think about that little girl getting picked up in that screaming vortex.