Cooper’s Redemption (Crimson Romance) (14 page)

“Why does Lassiter need so many cows?”

“Rumor has it he’s tied up with an East Coast conglomerate,” Mila explained, “who wants to own the biggest working ranch in the west. Complete with the biggest herd.”

“Would he buy rustled stock?”

“Doubtful.” She thought about it for a moment. “He wouldn’t need to.”

“But someone else might,” Cooper said thoughtfully.

“Only if they wanted to risk jail time,” Mila said. “Any legit rancher wouldn’t touch rustled stock with a ten-foot cattle prod. You know that.”

He didn’t answer. Would a normally law-abiding citizen be forced to buy rustled cattle to keep their ranch running? He kept his thoughts to himself. No sense burdening her with his suspicions. Taking a last swallow of his Coors, he said, “Thanks, Mila. You’ve been a great help. I better get moving before it gets any later.”

“You sure you want to leave so soon?” A hint of promise glimmered in her eyes.

“I have to.” She was a good-looking woman, but he wasn’t even tempted as Elizabeth flashed through his mind. Cooper smiled ruefully as he stood.

She also got to her feet. “Another time.”

“Sure.” He walked her to her truck and waited until she started it. As Mila drove away, Cooper realized he was already thinking about Elizabeth, wondering if she’d managed to steer clear of trouble. He should’ve insisted she come with him. A quick glance at his watch showed it was already three. He’d have to hurry to get home by a decent hour. He’d swing by and make sure Elizabeth had got her house re-keyed. If she hadn’t, he’d insist she come to his place. The idea didn’t repel him.

• • •

Lassiter had a lot of money.

As Cooper drove down the long, evergreen-lined lane, he took in the split log fences, hundreds of red Herefords and enormous mounds of hay visible through gaps in the pines. On his way home he’d decided to drop by and see if he could catch Lassiter at home. Maybe if the man got caught off guard, he’d spill something.

He drove into a curved driveway that circled a large, A-frame house. The entire front was windows. As the sun fell across them, the effect was of a giant mirror reflecting the peaks of the San Juans in gold. Miners had found lots of gold in those mountains, but Cooper doubted any had ever seen anything that matched the sight before him. Stepping out of his truck, he headed toward the front door.

Before he reached the wrought-iron gate at the yard, a young man, wearing a long, black duster met him. As Cooper drew near, the man said, “Hold up there.”

“Is Lassiter home?”

“That depends.” The young man jutted out his jaw. A kid, really, he looked like a half-grown pit bull. More bark than bite.

“On what?”

“Who’s asking?”

Cooper studied the other man. “Cooper.”

“What’s your business?” the young man demanded.

“That’s between him and me, I’d say.” Cooper took a step forward. He’d had about enough of the kid’s bravado. He had half a mind to slap him and send him howling for his mama.

“Now, you wait just a minute.” The kid shifted his hand so that the pistol he wore in a holster under his coat showed.

“I’d move if I were you, Kirby,” a heavyset, gray-haired man advised from the door. “Our visitor doesn’t look like one I’d want to mess with.” He motioned for Cooper to enter. “Please come in.”

Without glancing at Kirby, Cooper followed his host inside. Following him to a great room, one with the inside view of those windows, Cooper’s gaze roamed around the interior. Famous western art adorned the walls. Cooper recognized Charles Russell, Remington, and Tim Johnson. Authentic olive-green leather sofas fanned bay windows facing the mountains.

Cooper took off his Stetson and directed his attention toward the other man. He wore an expensive western shirt and pressed jeans. His jowls were heavy, his face heavily lined. Not the same man as at the cattle auction. That was probably a foreman. “Jim Lassiter?”

“I am,” he agreed. Without asking, he went to a carved oak bar and poured two glasses full of whiskey. Handing one to Cooper, he said, “What can I do for you?”

“The name’s Cooper. I live up near the Colorado-Utah border. Been having some trouble with rustlers up there.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Lassiter swallowed his drink in one gulp. “Surely you can’t think I’d have anything to do with thieves? I can afford anything I want. Including the best breeding stock in the country. What would I do with stolen cows?”

“Talk around here says you’ve bought up all available heifers. Maybe someone without your assets might be tempted to buy rustled cattle at a premium price.”

“Not likely. Your cattle would be branded, of course. It’d be a lot of trouble to rework a brand. No one with half a brain would be caught with stock carrying someone else’s brand. Not unless they had the bill of sale to go with them, of course.” Lassiter refilled his drink.

“Unless they held a forged document.”

“Someone would have to know your signature well enough to copy it. Not to mention the chances of getting caught moving illegal livestock would almost outweigh the benefits. I can’t imagine who would be so desperate.”

“Maybe a rancher who had to somehow replenish his herd, or go broke,” Cooper suggested. “If enough mother cows died, and he had no way to replace them because you’ve run prices through the roof, a fellow might do something stupid like buying rustled heifers. Desperate people do desperate things.”

Lassiter shrugged. “That’s business. The strongest survive. Unfortunately, ranching has become an enterprise. One that must be run like any other.”

“No, hard times wouldn’t affect the big rancher,” Cooper agreed, ignoring Lassiter’s philosophy. “But I’m sure you can understand what losing replacement heifers can do to a small operation like mine. Even a big outfit like yours can’t afford to lose twenty percent of your herd.”

“Of course not. But I still don’t see how I can help you,” Lassiter said with a feral smile. He filled his drink for the third time. “There’s not a chance in hell I’d deal with anyone who’d sell cattle under the table. My operation is strictly above board. Thanks for stopping by.”

Seeing the interview was over and it wouldn’t do any good to press any more, Cooper placed his untouched drink on the table. “Thank you for your time.”

“Hope it all works out for you,” Lassiter offered as they walked toward the front entryway. Before he could grasp the handle, the door swung open and Kirby burst in.

“Boss, we got a problem. We have a turnover on the — ”

“Kirby!” Lassiter barked. “Wait in the den. I’ll be there as soon as I see Mr. Cooper out.”

“Sounds like you have your own troubles,” Cooper said as he slipped out the door. “I hope it all comes out all right.”

“Thank you.” Lassiter barely hid his impatience. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Cooper?”

Nodding, Cooper went to his truck. Deep in thought, he climbed in and started the engine. His visit to Delta had been a waste of time. Still, something kept nagging him. If only he could grab hold of whatever it was that bothered him.

• • •

Next to Cooper’s thigh, the pup stirred. Mischief licked the pup’s ear as she opened her bright eyes and yawned widely. He’d made a quick stop in Montrose and picked up a sack of puppy kibble and a toy. He smiled a little, thinking of his own foolishness. The pup lifted her chin and yipped. With gentle fingers, he tugged her soft ears. She wriggled closer to his jean-clad leg and went back to sleep. He thought about grabbing a hamburger somewhere, but he was anxious to see Elizabeth.

Hopefully, the dog would make up for some of the pain he knew he’d caused her this morning. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, just distance himself a hair. They would both be better off.

The wind howled unmercifully as he crossed Dallas Divide and Norwood Hill. His shoulders ached from holding the truck steady. Finally, about an hour past Norwood, he spotted the lights of Salt Lick. The wind hadn’t decreased as he’d climbed in elevation, then dipped down again. The bowl that housed the little town seemed to offer some shelter, but he knew it’d be nasty outside city limits. He drove by the few businesses, wondering how Elizabeth’s day had gone. Hopefully, no one had given her a hard time because of him.

As he turned into her driveway, his heart pounded in anticipation. Would she like the pup, or be resentful of the trouble? He hoped he’d done the right thing. Spotty would be good for Elizabeth, give her something to focus on.

All the downstairs lights were on, and as he stepped out of the truck, he smelled something good floating on the night air. His stomach grumbled. He dreaded facing a cold house and another lonely meal.

Elizabeth stood silhouetted in the doorway. “Who’s there?”

“Just me,” he called back.

“Cooper? Come in. It’s cold out here. Bring Mischief with you.”

He snuggled the pup under his coat and did as she asked. Mischief hurried ahead. The house smelled as good as he had known it would. Suddenly uncertain, he stood in her doorway, feeling out of place. He was a lone wolf, liked it that way. His place was in his own den.

“Cooper? Take your coat off, stay a bit?” She moved to take his coat and the border collie yelped. Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “What on earth?”

He reached inside his jacket, grabbed the pup and thrust it at her. “For you. Not big enough to guard anything yet, but she can keep you company.”

With eager hands, she took the little dog, lost in her button-bright eyes and damp, pink tongue. “Oh, what a darling. Where did you come from?” Cuddling the wiggling body, she moved into the kitchen, forgetting him.

He followed her.

Elizabeth held up the puppy, facing her. “Oh, you are precious. Sweet, too sweet. Do you have a name?”

“Spotty. Figured you’d want to change it.”

Elizabeth looked at him with shining eyes. “Oh, yes. Spotty is much too plain for this little girl. She’s more like a Honey or Bunny or maybe Lovey.”

Cooper hid a grin. “I brought her some chow. I’ll go get it.”

When he came back, Elizabeth had settled into a chair and cuddled the tiny border collie like a prize she’d won at the county fair. It seemed she couldn’t let go. Pleased by her reaction, he said, “I even got her a little bone. One of those rawhide things.”

Suddenly, he found himself wrapped in Elizabeth’s embrace. The scent of her perfume or shampoo — something soft and fruity — assailed his nostrils. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. How did you know I always wanted a dog?”

“I just thought she’d help keep you company.” He gently untangled her arms from round his neck.

“I always wanted a little puppy, but Mom didn’t think Fancy would get along with one.” A spasm of pain crossed her face. She smiled. “What a perfect little girl.”

“I’m glad you like her.” Something in the vicinity of his heart turned over.

“I love her. Thank you so much.”

He nodded, hoping she wouldn’t read more into his gift than he meant. “I better get home.”

Suddenly serious, Elizabeth said, “Stay for dinner? Please? There’s plenty. And I have things to tell you.”

After Cooper washed up in the small bathroom by the kitchen, he came back and found Elizabeth humming to a country tune as she placed dishes on the dining room table. The pup played at her feet, Mischief watching and Fancy sat on a stool, refusing to acknowledge either dog.

“Did you ever get a fire going?” Something unidentifiable tugged at him. A longing for something he didn’t recognize.

“I can’t seem to master it.” She carried a plate of garlic bread fresh from the oven, its scent heavy in the air. “I had one, but the darn thing goes out in just a few minutes.”

“I’ll do it.”

In a flash he had the room lit up by flickering light from the fireplace.

“Dinner’s on,” Elizabeth called. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Do you have coffee?”

After she filled a cup for him, Cooper settled himself across from her. Waiting until Elizabeth filled her plate, he studied her bent head. Her red-gold hair flickered in the light. Although he usually went for women with long, dark hair, he couldn’t take his eyes off her peculiar shade. The color of her hair fascinated him, her figure teased him, but it was something else that made him want to be near her. He could get used to this — if only he were a different man. One who could open up and trust.

She glanced up and caught him staring. Her gaze held his for a long moment, then she smiled as if she was satisfied with herself. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” He heaped his plate with pasta and warm garlic bread. “I skipped lunch.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Not much,” he admitted. “I didn’t see any sign of my cattle. But I found out some interesting news. Some fellow named Lassiter is buying all the available stock in the country. I talked to him, but it didn’t do much good. But I’m thinking if all the legit stock is gone, then someone might be desperate enough to buy stolen heifers.”

Elizabeth sipped from a glass of wine. Suddenly she set down her drink. “Did you say Lassiter?”

“Yeah, why?” He took a bite and almost groaned. Damn. She could cook, too.

“Do you know who he is?”

“Not offhand. Should I?”

“Yes, well, I mean maybe. If this is the same Lassiter, he’s the heir to the oil company fortune. I’m sure it’s the same man. He used to live in Los Angeles, he left to come out here and go into cattle ranching.”

“He sure seemed well-to-do,” Cooper agreed. “So, it’s the same guy who’s running the oil business.”

“If I remember correctly, there was some big takeover scandal. I’m not sure.”

“Well, none of that has any bearing on stolen cattle,” Cooper said.

Elizabeth held her fork paused mid-air. “Do you remember if Tom went to the back door anytime the night he had you cuffed to the chair?”

“I don’t recall,” Cooper said, furrowing his brow. “Why?”

She told him of the strange remark her cousin had made in the sheriff’s office earlier that day. Then she asked, “Do you think it means anything?”

He shrugged. “Maybe it was a veiled threat. It’s hard to say.”

“Do you remember if Tom left you any time the other night?” She finally took a bite.