the stage line had left one of his bags in Sherman, Woodburn didn’t say a word.
Cooper found himself wondering how Winnie and the Woodburns had made it through the ride out. Knowing his sister, their shyness would make her nervous and whenever Winnie was nervous she chattered on and on. He could almost see Woodburn pushing the horses faster and faster as they moved away from town.
Winnie’s explanation about how she had to go to town to get a can of varnish for her rocker didn’t make much sense. If she’d mentioned it to Cooper or Duly, the bunkhouse cook, he would have told her there was a gallon of varnish along with paint in the work shed.
Johanna, as always, was the perfect hostess, inquiring about the Woodburns’ health and offering to pray that this ride in the damp air brought them no harm. Emma, for once, lost her tongue, but Cooper held no faith that it might be a permanent condition.
To Cooper’s surprise, Winnie asked Woodburn to take a look at her chair and offer his advice on restoring it. He dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin and stood as if suddenly on an important mission.
Emma and Johanna followed, frowning as Winnie directed Woodburn to her bedroom and the rocker. Just before they reached the door Cooper heard Emma whisper, “Right into her bedroom. Can you believe it? I’ll have to talk to her about this.”
Cooper looked back at Mary, wondering what she thought of his two older sisters. She’d said Winnie was a treasure; who knows, maybe she liked the other two as well. He wanted to tell her they really were not so bad once you got to know them, but he wasn’t sure he believed that himself.
He had to say something. He couldn’t just stare at the poor creature pushing the crust of her pie around on her plate until the others returned. “Would you like more?” he ?nally managed to get out, thinking that of course she wouldn’t like more, she had not ?nished half of what she’d been served.
“No, thank you.”
“More coffee?”
“No.”
That was it. There was nothing else to offer and he had no idea of what to say. He thought of volunteering one of his sisters-after all, he had an abundance-but he didn’t know if she would get the joke. He knew nothing about this woman and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. She looked to be in her midtwenties and he had heard she liked to read.
Her hand shook slightly as she raised her cup then clanked it against the saucer when she lowered the china back in place.
“Mary.” He waited for her to look at him.
Slowly, her stormy blue eyes met his. They appeared more blue than gray tonight, but no less frightened than before.
He said the ?rst thing that came to mind. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. I swear I mean you no harm.”
She didn’t have to say a word. He knew she didn’t believe him. He racked his brain trying to think of why she would be so scared. He couldn’t remember speaking directly to her before yesterday. The few times he had been in the store it had always been her brother, not her, who waited on him.
“Is it because I fought for the South?” Maybe something had happened in the war that still haunted her.
Mary shook her head.
“Is it because I’m a man? Are you afraid of men in general?”
Again her head moved with the same answer.
Folding his arms across his chest, Cooper leaned back in the chair trying to understand her. Silence thickened between them. Voices drifted from Winnie’s bedroom, but Cooper couldn’t make out what any of them were saying. So, he guessed they probably couldn’t hear Mary and his conversation either. Assuming they were having one, of course.
Her silence wouldn’t have bothered him if he’d just thought her shy. He’d often found shy folks good company. The air didn’t always have to be charged with words. But Mary wasn’t just timid. There was something else. She was truly frightened.
With a thud, he rocked the chair into place and stood. “I want to show you something,” he said, then wished he had moved slower. “Don’t be alarmed. I’m just going to my desk.”
Moving briskly, he pulled open the bottom drawer and grabbed a book, then forced himself to walk back to her slowly. “During the war I tried to always carry a book in my pack. Sometimes I’d read it ten times before another came in the mail. More than once I traded with someone else doing the same.”
He laid a tattered copy of
Mary’s ?nger traced over the pit mark in the upper corner of the book.
“I never told my sisters about the shot. Didn’t want to worry them.” His hand rested a few inches away from hers, but he made no effort to touch her. Somehow by sharing his secret, he had offered his friendship. Now it was up to her.
“Have you read Dickens’s book?”
“No,” she answered. “But I’d like to.”
He’d found the key, he thought. A bridge over the fear.
“I could loan you this book, but you have to promise to bring it back. It’s kind of my good luck piece. No matter how hard things get around here, I can always pull this book out and remember how close I came to not making it back home.”
She raised her head. A smile touched the corners of her mouth. “Thanks. I’d like to read it. I promise I’ll be careful.”
She didn’t look so plain when she smiled, he thought. She might never be his friend, but at least she wouldn’t cringe the next time she saw him.
Cooper heard his sisters returning. He sat back down in his chair and noticed Mary slip the book into her pocket. The book was obviously something neither of them planned to share with anyone else.
Chapter Six
WINNIE THANKED WOODBURN one last time from the porch. Her round head, topped with an equally round bun, bobbed up and down as she rattled on about the day. The Yankee, on the other hand, stood straight and tall as if at attention. Neither of them seemed to notice the wind whipping around them, but Mary huddled into her shawl and hurried toward the far side of the buggy.
Cooper hesitated a few seconds before offering to help Mary into the carriage. When she placed her hand in his this time, without his gloves, he felt the gentle warmth of her touch.
“Thanks again for your help.” He wished he had the guts to ask her if she sensed the bond that shot between them when she was so close. He felt as though he walked through his life along a gallery of paintings and suddenly he’d discovered one had a heartbeat.
“Thank you.” She brushed her free hand over the book. Her whisper carried on the wind. “For the loan.”
“Maybe when I come to town again, we can talk about it. I’m not usually around folks who spend time reading.” He didn’t want it to sound like he was asking her to step out so he added, “If you have time between customers at the store, of course.”
“All right.” She smiled again, a little broader this time, then disappeared behind the leather of the buggy.
Cooper realized he held her hand too long, but he didn’t want to let go. The warmth in her ?ngers made him wish he’d tried before now to be her friend. He couldn’t think of anything to add, so he backed away, letting the breeze rob him of even the fragrance of her.
As he walked around Woodburn’s old rig, he noticed his sisters had already stepped inside. Woodburn meticulously checked the lines of the reins. When Cooper passed by, the Yankee whispered, “Stay away from my sister, Adams. You’re not welcome company.”
The insult stung like a slap. “I could say the same thing to you,” Cooper countered.
