The Maverick Returns. Roz Fox Denny

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       “Bart ignores the fact that Lily and I exist. His wife ran off, so he thinks the worst of all women. And Tate lied to him a lot.”

       “Bart’s a jerk. He can afford to help you.”

       “Yes, well, I applied for Aid for Families with Dependent Children, and for food stamps,” she said. “But because I had the ranch and still owned cattle, we didn’t qualify—not even for farm subsidy because I wasn’t growing crops to sell. But we got by,” she said, squaring her shoulders.

       “Right,” Coop said huffily. “Selling the tools necessary for a working ranch. And furniture out of your house, I hear,” he said, taking a brisk survey of the kitchen before stepping over to the doorway to check the living room. “And as if that wasn’t bad enough, I heard he hit you.”

       “Great! So the town busybodies shared every crappy detail of my life. Well, I didn’t ask you to ride in here on a white charger and save us, Cooper Drummond. We aren’t your problem,” she said coolly. “I put out two days’ wages for you. So now you can take off. If you give me an address when you land at your next job, I’ll send you repayment money for the groceries. I don’t want you concerning yourself with us any longer.”

       “Bull! That was a nice little speech, Willow. Do you by any chance remember what you said to me right before I went to rodeo?”

       She rolled her eyes. “Can it be repeated in front of a child?” She moved to place her hands over her daughter’s ears. “I probably said a lot of mean things, Cooper. I didn’t want you to go. I felt…cut adrift, and I couldn’t understand why you’d choose to go off and ride in rodeos.”

       “You never asked me to stay. What you said as I left, was that I was the most stubborn, pigheaded guy you’d ever had the misfortune to meet.”

       “I didn’t want to…hold you back,” she persisted. Then, noticing he’d pulled a large box of graham crackers out of a sack, she met his eyes. “Graham crackers? How did you know they’re Lily’s favorite snack? We’d run out of them,” she added, biting her lip.

       “I had no idea, Willow. I figured all kids like them.” For the first time since barging into her house, Coop felt self-conscious. “Hey, I bought Miss Lilybelle something else. I almost forgot.” He snapped his fingers. “If you think it’s okay for her to have these.” He pulled out a cloth bag tied closed with a drawstring. “Blocks,” he said. “They’re big, bright colorful ones. You can use them to teach her numbers and letters.” He tumbled several blocks onto the table.

       “Oh, Coop.” Willow choked up, unable to manage anything else for a moment. She drew her chair closer to the table and started to hand a block to Lilybelle, then saw that the child had beaten her to it, grabbing one in each hand. In the blink of an eye, Lily sorted and stacked all the blocks lying on the table by color.

       “Look at that, will you?” Coop grinned as he dumped out the rest of them.

       “I’m amazed.” Willow gaped at the girl. “I hadn’t tried blocks. I… Coop, thank you. I’ve been really rude to you and you’re nothing but nice to me.”

       “I want to stay here and finish some of the other things on your to-do list. Don’t make a big deal out of it, Willow. I saw the blocks while I was out and thought of the kid. I bought the groceries because I’d like to eat something besides the same old pasta disguised in a variety of thin sauces.”

       Willow stood Lily on her feet, then rose to glare at Coop. “Those meals weren’t that bad. And my sauces aren’t thin.”

       “But you are. So I rest my case.”

       Willow tossed her head. “Back when you took off for the rodeo, did I also tell you that you’re the bossiest person I’d ever met?”

       “Not that I recall. I think I’m very reasonable.”

       “Bossy! I’m not going to be your short-order cook, Coop. But since you were so kind as to fill my fridge and cupboards, pray tell me what your heart desires for your evening meal,” she said saucily.

       He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t buy this stuff to make your life more difficult, Willow. You choose something out of what I bought. But please, put a little meat in whatever you fix.” He headed for the door, then stopped. “Uh, you haven’t become a vegetarian, have you? The way I remember it, you used to make a tasty pot roast. Oh, and burgers. Nice, fat ones.” He gathered up the empty grocery sacks and carried them to the screen door. Calling back over his shoulder, he said, “And meat loaf. You made a damn fine meat loaf, Willow.”

       Willow wasn’t quick enough with a retort, though he probably wouldn’t have heard, anyway, as the screen door banged shut in his wake. She leaned a shoulder against the edge of the kitchen doorway. For several minutes she did nothing. It wasn’t until she shook herself alert that she realized she’d been smiling. Something she hadn’t done much of over the past several years. It felt unfamiliar. But good, too, she thought as she turned and saw that Lily had stacked the blocks in neat rows, not only by color, but with the letters all facing the refrigerator. Willow’s heart nearly burst with hope and pride and gratitude to Coop. Lord, he was a good man.

       So, why did she want him to leave? Why did she feel such guilt over his landing on her doorstep? She had plenty of answers, but she needed to keep them to herself. Anything else would be unfair to the man she’d pushed out of her life five years ago.

      Chapter Four

      The back of Cooper’s pickup still needed to be unloaded. Feeling he’d made some headway in dealing with Willow, Coop whistled a decent rendition of Jimmy Buffett’s “Margaritaville.” It was a catchy tune he liked to pick out on his guitar—which was stashed behind the Ram’s backseat. Maybe he’d take it up to the porch tonight and play a little after supper. Willow and Lilybelle might like that.

       While he was at the big-box store, he’d cruised through the book and magazine department, and spotted a health magazine containing a couple of articles on autism. He’d skimmed one to see if it’d give him any insight into Willow’s daughter. One article, written by a parent of an autistic boy, mentioned that he responded positively to piano tunes. The kid was quite a bit older than Lily; he owned a CD player and an iPod, on which his parents downloaded music for him. Coop bought the magazine, since he wanted to do more than just skim both articles. The other one was written by a neurologist, and it looked informative. He was trying to understand more about the illness. Or was it called a condition? A disorder? He wasn’t even sure what to call it. Not that Willow would welcome him sticking his nose into her family business. She used to be so open and talkative. Now she kept anything personal to herself. He’d had to drag the story on Tate out of her, even though it was common knowledge in town.

       Thinking about Tate ruined Coop’s mood. Physical labor was the best for flushing any thoughts of that jerk right out of his mind.

       He unloaded the hay bales, breaking a couple open and spreading them around the stalls in the barn where he’d stabled his horses. He filled a third one, where he’d bed down now that the old barn smelled better. Fresher.

       Too bad he didn’t have access to a tractor so he could haul the feed sacks out to the feed troughs. Hoisting one up onto his shoulder and jogging it over to where the majority of the steers milled about, it occurred to him that when he’d finished this chore he might be too tired to eat. The work took him until late afternoon. СКАЧАТЬ