Marybeth and the
banker with, he said, "Marybeth, you can have your divorce." After
that, he stayed long enough to sign the papers and say goodbye to Jake. Never
having spent much time with his father, the three-year-old lifted a chubby hand
to wave goodbye and then went back to playing with his wooden horse in the
dirt. That was his last memory of his son. His boy was turning fifteen in a few
days and Cooper wasn't the reckless young man he had once been. But it was too
late for him and his boy.
Jake was the reason Cooper couldn't accept
payment for helping Hallie. In some strange way, helping Hallie and Tim was atonement
for the fiasco he had created with Marybeth and Jake. Maybe it didn't make
sense, but most of his life hadn't made sense.
Cooper returned his thoughts to the present. Nope,
Hallie, you can fight me tooth and nail, but I won't take a dime of your money.
Acquiring a buckboard and loading the trunks
took quite some time, what with everyone and his brother attempting to do the
same thing, but finally, Cooper located the livery, retrieved Sweet Pea and
tied her to the back of the buckboard, and then pulled to the front of the
Outfitters store where Tim and Emmett leaned against the siding and Lydia and
Sammy sat on a bench. He didn't see Hallie.
"Whoa!" he called to the horses, pulling
them in front of an adjoining business—a dining room with grimy windows and a
lopsided sign tacked near the door that advertised, Special of the Day—Meatloaf
and Tators, looking like it had been scrawled years earlier. He jumped off
the buckboard, looped the reins around the hitching post, and walked toward the
store. The Hankersons and Tim met him on the boardwalk.
Tim grinned, the gaping hole of his missing
tooth the first thing anyone saw when talking to the boy. "Howdy Mr. Jerome;
Ma's in the store checking on supplies."
Cooper almost groaned aloud. He sure hoped the
woman wasn't making any purchases. This would be the last place he'd buy
necessities—its worn down condition and location making the supplies
questionable and the prices exorbitant.
Cooper tipped his hat. "I best check on your
ma." He quickly stepped around the boy. Inside the store, he found her
engaged in conversation with a greasy geezer who looked to be older than God.
He heard her say, "So, Mr. Tucker, you're telling me that you've got the
best prices anywhere in the area?"
The old man jawed his tobacco and turned to spit
the black stuff in a rusty spittoon. "Yep, little lady, that's what I'm
sayin'."
Cooper interrupted. "Er, Hallie, the trunks
are loaded and we're ready to leave."
Hallie jumped at his voice and he almost
grinned. What was it about him that always startled her?
She acknowledged his presence with, "Thank
you, Cooper, I'll be right there." She turned back to the old sidewinder.
"I'll keep your words in mind, Mr. Tucker."
Not wanting to lose a sale, the questionable
shopkeeper pointedly directed his words at Hallie, not Cooper, "So, what
can I do fer ya in the way of supplies?"
Speaking crisply, Hallie responded, "Like I
said, sir, I will keep you in mind." She turned, whisked past Cooper, and
said under her breath, "Lying old dog."
Cooper coughed, covered his mouth to hide his
smile, and followed Hallie out the door.
* * *
After a half hour's wait, the rain let up enough
for them to climb onto the buckboard. Shaking water off the tarp covering their
trunks and making the best of a wet situation, the Hankersons and Timmy sat in
the bed of the wagon. Cooper assisted Hallie to the front of the buckboard and
easily spanned her waist with his large hands. Hallie sucked a breath when his
touch seemed to linger a might longer than necessary, but then she decided she
was just imagining it. In her mind, Cooper was the kind of man who went for
tall, buxom women, probably saloon gals, not timid, plain, skinny, country
women. Again, she chastised herself for letting her mind wander. Why her
thoughts kept drifting into forbidden areas,
banker with, he said, "Marybeth, you can have your divorce." After
that, he stayed long enough to sign the papers and say goodbye to Jake. Never
having spent much time with his father, the three-year-old lifted a chubby hand
to wave goodbye and then went back to playing with his wooden horse in the
dirt. That was his last memory of his son. His boy was turning fifteen in a few
days and Cooper wasn't the reckless young man he had once been. But it was too
late for him and his boy.
Jake was the reason Cooper couldn't accept
payment for helping Hallie. In some strange way, helping Hallie and Tim was atonement
for the fiasco he had created with Marybeth and Jake. Maybe it didn't make
sense, but most of his life hadn't made sense.
Cooper returned his thoughts to the present. Nope,
Hallie, you can fight me tooth and nail, but I won't take a dime of your money.
Acquiring a buckboard and loading the trunks
took quite some time, what with everyone and his brother attempting to do the
same thing, but finally, Cooper located the livery, retrieved Sweet Pea and
tied her to the back of the buckboard, and then pulled to the front of the
Outfitters store where Tim and Emmett leaned against the siding and Lydia and
Sammy sat on a bench. He didn't see Hallie.
"Whoa!" he called to the horses, pulling
them in front of an adjoining business—a dining room with grimy windows and a
lopsided sign tacked near the door that advertised, Special of the Day—Meatloaf
and Tators, looking like it had been scrawled years earlier. He jumped off
the buckboard, looped the reins around the hitching post, and walked toward the
store. The Hankersons and Tim met him on the boardwalk.
Tim grinned, the gaping hole of his missing
tooth the first thing anyone saw when talking to the boy. "Howdy Mr. Jerome;
Ma's in the store checking on supplies."
Cooper almost groaned aloud. He sure hoped the
woman wasn't making any purchases. This would be the last place he'd buy
necessities—its worn down condition and location making the supplies
questionable and the prices exorbitant.
Cooper tipped his hat. "I best check on your
ma." He quickly stepped around the boy. Inside the store, he found her
engaged in conversation with a greasy geezer who looked to be older than God.
He heard her say, "So, Mr. Tucker, you're telling me that you've got the
best prices anywhere in the area?"
The old man jawed his tobacco and turned to spit
the black stuff in a rusty spittoon. "Yep, little lady, that's what I'm
sayin'."
Cooper interrupted. "Er, Hallie, the trunks
are loaded and we're ready to leave."
Hallie jumped at his voice and he almost
grinned. What was it about him that always startled her?
She acknowledged his presence with, "Thank
you, Cooper, I'll be right there." She turned back to the old sidewinder.
"I'll keep your words in mind, Mr. Tucker."
Not wanting to lose a sale, the questionable
shopkeeper pointedly directed his words at Hallie, not Cooper, "So, what
can I do fer ya in the way of supplies?"
Speaking crisply, Hallie responded, "Like I
said, sir, I will keep you in mind." She turned, whisked past Cooper, and
said under her breath, "Lying old dog."
Cooper coughed, covered his mouth to hide his
smile, and followed Hallie out the door.
* * *
After a half hour's wait, the rain let up enough
for them to climb onto the buckboard. Shaking water off the tarp covering their
trunks and making the best of a wet situation, the Hankersons and Timmy sat in
the bed of the wagon. Cooper assisted Hallie to the front of the buckboard and
easily spanned her waist with his large hands. Hallie sucked a breath when his
touch seemed to linger a might longer than necessary, but then she decided she
was just imagining it. In her mind, Cooper was the kind of man who went for
tall, buxom women, probably saloon gals, not timid, plain, skinny, country
women. Again, she chastised herself for letting her mind wander. Why her
thoughts kept drifting into forbidden areas,
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