Cooper’s Redemption (Crimson Romance) (4 page)

After making eggs and toast and downing two cups of hot, strong coffee he felt better. The wind howled, hurling gusts of snow against the windows. He’d fed the horses when he arrived home, and the cold cut him to the bone. He would’ve picked a nicer day to go and check the rest of his herd, but he hadn’t been left a choice. Chucking another piece of wood onto the fire, he allowed himself a few minutes to warm up before heading into the storm.

The clock read almost seven. If he was lucky, he might be able to catch the brand inspector in his office. Cooper picked up the receiver, but the line was dead. He didn’t own a cell phone; they didn’t work right here anyway. He’d have to run down to Salt Lick and see if he could find the man before he went on his rounds. As he tugged on his coat, Mischief began to growl. The hair on her neck stood up and she bared her teeth.

“What is it, girl?” Cooper laid a reassuring hand on her head. She wagged her stumpy tail at him before turning her attention back to the door. Pulling a curtain back from the door’s window, Cooper peered out in the snowstorm. The weather had intensified. Swirling gusts obliterated his view.

Through the raging blizzard he spotted headlights. A blue SUV pulled into the driveway and braked. As a person struggled in his direction, he realized it was Elizabeth Adams. Opening the door, he waited as she came toward him.

She sniffed and swiped at her nose with a gloved hand. “I apologize for dropping in without calling, but your phone seems to out of order.”

“Probably the wind. The lines go down on regular basis around here.” Beside his knee, Mischief wiggled. Her fury had turned to ecstasy now that their visitor was in sight.

The cold had turned her nose and cheeks cherry pink. “Boy, is it cold.”

“Come in before you freeze out there.” Cooper moved aside as she stepped inside his house. He followed her into his small front room, wondering what she thought of his sofa with an authentic Navajo blanket tossed across the back, the leather wingback near the fireplace, his novels stacked nearby. The strong scents of brewing coffee and burning cedar hung in the air. Neat, tidy, masculine. His refuge.

“Nice place.” She stretched her palms toward the fire. Pulling off her hood, she allowed her shining red-gold hair to tumble free. The light caught and shimmered on strands. He ached to see if the texture was as soft as it looked.

“It’s home.” Too late, he reminded himself he didn’t give a damn what she thought.

Silence fell like a blade between them.

Suddenly, she turned and appraised him with large amber eyes. Cooper studied her just as openly. Her nose had a fair splattering of light brown freckles across the bridge. He couldn’t see her figure under her long, bulky coat, but he remembered she’d filled out a green sweater very well. Thinking of her and the previous evening made him tighten his lips. “What can I do for you, Miss Adams?”

“I … uh … ”

“Wanted a closer look at a killer?”

“That’s not why I came.” Her rosy cheeks darkened to scarlet. “I wanted to see if you could help me. Obviously you’ve got a chip on your shoulder, so I’ll be going.” She began to pull on her gloves.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Of course not.” Her shaky voice gave her away. She was terrified.

“I didn’t kill Henry or Pritchett.” He wondered why he bothered talking. Somehow, though, it was important she know the truth.

“I didn’t think you did.” She twisted her gloves between her hands. “If I thought you were the killer, I never would have told Sheriff Marlowe I believe you’re innocent. I repeated myself several times, in fact.”

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Cooper surprised himself. He hadn’t expected to see this woman again. He couldn’t encourage any relationship with her.

“Decaf?”

“Regular.” He moved toward the kitchen.

“Love some,” she called after him.

“Make yourself at home while I get it.” He filled two generous mugs, and as an afterthought, opened a tin of canned milk and filled a small bowl with sugar. As he carried the items into the living room, he saw Elizabeth had removed her jacket. His memory hadn’t failed him. Her figure could turn a scarecrow’s head. She wore a tan-colored sweater that clung to her curves, tight jeans and a pair of English riding boots.

She sipped the steaming coffee and made a face.

He grinned. “Milk?”

“Please.” She held out her cup and the sweater rode up her arm. Her pale skin, dotted with freckles, contrasted with his own sun-darkened hand. Only one example of the differences between them. The diamond bracelet she wore illustrated yet another. Her jewelry probably cost what he made in a month. “Sugar, too. Lots.”

He poured an ample amount of both in her coffee. His mouth curved upward for a moment. “Better?”

“Yes, thanks.” Elizabeth tasted the hot liquid again. “Ah, that’s good.”

“What can I do for you?”

“My mother came here to take care of things, and she’s gone missing.”

“I heard something about that,” he said.

“What? Do you know anything at all?” She stared at him, trying hard to see if he seemed guilty of anything.

Cooper flinched. “I don’t know much.”

“I need every detail. Mom came here a month ago, and except for one brief call, I haven’t heard from her since.” Elizabeth’s voice broke. “I’ve got to find her. No one will tell me. Please, you’ve got to share what you know.”

“I heard mention a lady was packing up Henry’s place, getting it ready to sell. Then she left a note on my door asking to meet with me. But I didn’t see her or talk to her.” His gaze was steady, calm.

“When? What day? What did the note say? Do you still have it?” The hope in her face twisted his heart.

He moved to the fireplace and rummaged through a stack of papers. Finding a single white sheet, he handed it to her. “It was last Saturday. I know because I was in town buying feed. I never saw or spoke to your mother.”

“Oh my God. This proves she was here. If this doesn’t convince Salt Lick’s police, then I’m going to find her myself. Even if it takes me forever.” She wiped tears with the back of her hand.

“What about your life back in L. A.?”

“None of that matters. Finding Mom is all that counts. My mom and I own a flower shop, but someone is taking care of it. I don’t know your name. Cooper, right?”

He nodded. “Just Cooper.”

“First or last?”

“Last.”

“How did you know my uncle?”

“Henry’s wife Bea used to talk of his sister some.” Cooper shifted, ill at ease with the questions. “She tried to locate Lillian several times. I didn’t know she succeeded.”

“She didn’t.” Elizabeth blinked back another onslaught of tears. “I didn’t know about any of this until about two months ago. My mother found she was the owner of his property when Henry’s lawyer got hold of her. I guess Henry and Bea had no children of their own, so they left everything to Mom.”

Cooper studied her without comment.

Elizabeth fiddled with her cup. “There’s one thing I don’t understand. Why didn’t my uncle leave the inheritance to my cousin, Tom?”

“I’m sorry about Henry,” Cooper offered. “But he didn’t get on well with people. Carl, Tom’s dad, and Henry had a falling out a few years back. Carl died many years ago without their feud ever being patched up. Maybe Henry wanted a second chance with his sister.”

“I wish I could have known my uncles. The few details I know my mother parted with very reluctantly. All I know is that Mom fled to California, where she met my dad. She refused to acknowledge her brothers. She didn’t even mention Carl, and only said she and Henry lost touch years ago. She wouldn’t go into specifics. Maybe he hoped to somehow make things right. But it was too late.”

“That’s about what I know of the story, too,” Cooper agreed. “Although I didn’t know about you. Henry only mentioned your mother to me once.”

“He did?” Elizabeth straightened. “What did he say?”

“Just that he had a sister in California. Bea was the one who opened up and talked about Henry wanting to find her.”

“I wish I could have known Uncle Henry.” Her tone was wistful. “Maybe we could’ve been close.”

“No one was close to Henry,” Cooper said. “He was a cantankerous old man who was suspicious of everyone and everything. Don’t mourn for a fantasy relationship you wouldn’t have had.” He stood and made toward the kitchen.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“I have to see the brand inspector, and I’ve got to move the rest of my heifers close to the house where I can keep an eye on them.”

“I’m keeping you then.”

“I should get going,” he said mildly, wanting to end this interview.

“Do you really believe your cows were rustled?”

“I know they were stolen.” He paused. “I followed their tracks to your place last night, but we both know they weren’t there.”

“Is there any hope of recovering them?”

He hesitated. “I doubt it.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll have to figure it out on my own.” He came back and took her still-full cup. “The law’s got more important matters to deal with, I guess. Like figuring out how to pin a murder on me.”

She tugged on her gloves. “Do you have any idea who’s behind it?”

“I thought your place might be a likely spot for rustlers to run cattle,” he said. “I was right. The tracks led straight there. The place has been empty since … ”

“My uncle Henry died last fall,” she finished.

“Yes.”

He made another move toward his kitchen, and Elizabeth surprised him by saying, “Maybe I could tag along today?”

He spun around. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking you could show me the layout of the land. Maybe I could find a clue to my mom’s whereabouts.”

“No way.”

“Why not? I won’t be in the way.”

“You’re not cut out for the kind of work I’m facing.” His tone was final. “Cowboying is a tough job. One for a man. I don’t have time to babysit a city girl.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed. “I thought women here pitched in beside men. Like equals. Haven’t you ever seen any Barbara Stanwyck movies? I’ve ridden quite a bit. You wouldn’t need to babysit me.”

“Miss Adams,” Cooper interrupted, “don’t waste any of your woman’s lib lines on me. I’m aware that a woman can work every bit as hard as a man. But a city girl like yourself isn’t up to this job. Ranch life isn’t like you see in the movies. Not a day spent galloping through wildflowers. I’m talking about a long, hard day in a cold saddle.”

“I’ll be fine if you give me the chance. As I said, I’m a horsewoman, not unaccustomed to riding long hours. My mother might be out there somewhere. Please?” Her big eyes beseeched him.

“The only spare horse I have isn’t bombproof,” he said. “I need to ride the sorrel in case I have to rope one of the cows.”

“Then let’s go get my uncle Henry’s,” Elizabeth urged. “We could cut off some riding time by starting at my place, right? Besides, you wanted to look around last night. Did you get to see everything you wanted to?”

He didn’t want to give in. He clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Can you be ready in fifteen minutes? It’ll take me that long to ride over to your place. I’ll come across the back way.”

• • •

Cooper wished he’d stood his ground. Now on top of moving a herd of young cows into the face of a storm, he had to ride herd on a city slicker, too. If all that wasn’t bad enough, the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off her twisted his nerves in a knot. What did Elizabeth want from him? She had money written all over her. They had nothing in common. He knew almost nothing about her mother, and what he knew about Henry he didn’t want to share. So why was he so unsettled by the curvy redhead?

He filled his thermos, made four bologna and cheese sandwiches, and on impulse added a bag of chips and a half-dozen cookies to the pile. He grinned a little thinking of Elizabeth’s reaction to his coffee. She’d probably faint if she counted all the calories in this meal.

• • •

Cooper saddled his sorrel and rode over to the old Harper place. Elizabeth wasn’t in the barn, so he tied his gelding to the hitching post outside and studied the building. In daylight it looked worse than the night before. The roof sagged, and one side of the building leaned so far in he was surprised the strong wind didn’t knock it over.

He stepped inside. The interior was dim, poorly lit. Sagging yellow tape surrounded the spot where Lyle’s body had lain. He scouted the area for a weapon, but there wasn’t a shovel, hoe, or anything else that looked like it could’ve been used to bash Lyle’s skull. A plastic rake stood near a stall, but it was too light to do any damage. The earth in the aisle had been churned up by the horse’s hooves. The gelding had run from one end to the other several times like he’d been in a blind panic.

Cooper knelt and examined the dirt, but he couldn’t distinguish anything special about any of the prints. In all the hubbub last night there’d been up to ten people walking through there, all leaving footprints. The sheriff, the deputy, the ambulance crew, and the coroner had all tread through numerous times.

Standing, Cooper went and checked each stall. In the third one, he found prints in the soft earth. Bending down he noted that someone had been in here wearing high-heeled, average size cowboy boots. Hell, what a clue. Half of Salt Lick’s population wore a medium-sized boot. These weren’t his prints; he had a size eleven foot. Frowning, he tried to recall what size Lyle wore, but nothing came to mind.

“Are you ready?” Elizabeth called from the doorway.

“I’m here.” He momentarily forgot about the mystery when he saw how Elizabeth had dressed herself. Cooper wasn’t sure which looked more ridiculous, her knee-high boots, a helmet buckled under her chin or the thin, skin-tight pants she wore. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

Her chin lifted a notch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He nodded at her legs, trying not to stare. “Those pants might get snagged. Plus, they’re probably not too warm. You’d better get some jeans. And long-johns underneath. You’ll need a heavy coat, too.”

“I’ll see what I can find.”

“Hurry. I’ll saddle your horse.”

She dashed back toward the house calling over her shoulder, “My saddle’s in the trunk. If you would get him out and lunge him a few minutes, I’d appreciate it.”