The Maverick Returns. Roz Denny Fox

ranches along the route that you could use an all-around hand, this broken fence is plainly in need of muscle.” He managed a halfhearted smile and playfully flexed an arm. Pride kept him from admitting that he’d left the rodeo. After all, their whole blow-up had been centered around his need to prove he could win big riding broncs, and her displeasure with that. “I’m just passing through,” he said. “But I can spare some time to help you catch up on a few chores around this place.”

       “Just passing through on your way to the next rodeo?” she retorted.

       With his fingers curling into his thighs, Cooper debated continuing to withhold information about his personal life that was really none of her business.

       But what the hell, he decided in the next breath. A lot of years had rolled by since their split. “I guess you could say I got smart. I sure got tired of being dumped on my butt. The rodeo’s out of my system. For the past six months or so, I’ve hired on to work at various ranches. Chasing strays. Branding. Helping with roundup.” He raised one shoulder negligently.

       A small frown appeared on Willow’s face. “Pardon me for sounding nosy, but why are you signing on with various ranches? Why aren’t you home working at the Triple D?”

       Shifting away from her cool eyes, which pinned him down and made him flush guiltily, Coop grabbed his hat and settled it firmly on his head. Jiggling the post to see how solid it was, he blew out a sigh. “You probably don’t know, since you moved away from Hondo, but Sullivan and I had a falling-out. You could call it a major disagreement. Many of them.”

       “Hmm. I see. That explains why you got this far down south, I suppose. However, none of it changes the fact that I really can’t afford your services, Cooper.” Now Willow drew in a huge breath and let it out in a heavy sigh.

       “How do you fill your water barrels?” he asked. “You’ve got a passel of thirsty cows.”

       “I used to fill this one with a hose, but it split in a few spots, and most of the water leaks out between here and the well house. There’s a pond on the property. I try to drive the cattle there twice a day. The silly things prefer to bolt through the fence to get to the stream across the road and down the hill. I’m lucky it’s not a well-traveled highway.”

       “Maybe I can repair the hose temporarily with duct tape. I have a roll in my pickup. Unless you have couplings in the barn, the type to splice a hose.”

       She shook her head. “Don’t trouble yourself. I tried duct tape, but the hose split in other spots. The sun will set soon, Coop. I’m not sure where you’re heading next, but there are a number of fair-size cattle spreads up around Crystal City. You might find work that pays decent wages.”

       “Let’s not discuss money. I can afford to donate a few days to an old friend.”

       Rallying momentarily, Willow grimaced and said, “Careful who you’re calling old, Cooper Drummond. I’m a whole year younger than you, remember?” She expected him to laugh, but he studied her acutely and remained sober.

       “I must look a sight,” she mumbled, pausing to bury her blushing face in her silent daughter’s shoulder. “I… It’s getting late. I’ve been outside working all day.”

       “You look tired,” Coop said diplomatically, really thinking she seemed tense and frazzled.

       Willow flung out a hand. “Obviously you heard about Tate’s death on your travels. This ranch isn’t big by any stretch of the imagination. But I can’t seem to keep up with everything that needs doing. Six months ago I decided to sell and listed with a Realtor in town. There’s only been one lookie-loo and no takers. I haven’t actually done a detailed count of my herd, but I believe I own about two hundred Angus steers. If I can figure out how to get them to market, that’ll cut my workload a lot.”

       Coop surveyed the milling cattle. “You need to fatten them up if you hope to make any money off them at summer market. It’s time to start adding corn to the grass they’re still finding to graze on.” He purposely didn’t remark on her husband’s death. Still, Willow’s eyes seemed a bit vague to Cooper.

       Bending, he reset a couple of metal posts the steers had pushed down. He jammed the tips into the soil with nothing more than brute force, then manhandled the wire fencing back on to hooks that lined the posts. Breathing hard, he said, “That’ll only hold until the next adventurous cow bumps against it.” He waved toward his color-coordinated truck and trailer. “I’m hauling two of my cutting horses. Why don’t I saddle and bridle one, and drive these escape artists over to your pond? After that I can figure out what else is a priority around here.”

       She was quiet for so long, Coop spun back around to see Willow frown before she jerked her chin a couple of times in a reluctant nod.

       “The pond’s about a quarter of a mile straight back and up over a hill behind the barn,” she said warily, as if she distrusted his real reason for making the offer.

       Baffled by her hesitation, Coop eventually realized he could probably blame Tate’s dislike of him for her wariness. After all, Tate had five years to fill her head with lies about him. Cooper felt a stab of sadness for what might have been. A stab of sadness for what he’d let go. He fought against a deeper ache, because while everyone up in the valley knew there never was any love lost between him and Tate, they all knew how both of them had fallen head over heels for Willow Courtland. She had no reason to ever doubt the trueness of a heart Coop always wore on his sleeve. But she’d unwittingly played into his and Tate’s battle from junior high until after they’d gone to college at Texas A&M.

       Instead of saying anything more, Coop backed his surefooted quarter horse Legend out of the trailer, then retrieved the sorrel he called Rusty. He led Rusty to a shade tree surrounded by patchy grass and looped his lead rope over a branch. About to comment on how cool it was beneath the old oak, Coop was surprised to discover that Willow had left and returned to the house. The screen door still quivered behind her.

       He shook his head to clear it of memories reaching back to college days, when he and Willow had first made love, and then forward to the time he assumed he’d won the rivalry with Tate. It still galled him to think how easily Tate had stepped into his place when he’d taken off to rodeo. Tate had lost no time filling the void of Coop’s absence, and as a result, Tate had walked away with the top prize. She was the woman Cooper had fully expected to spend his life with—the woman he’d expected to have his children.

       That kind of reminiscing held only negative implications and no positives. Jaw locked, he tossed a well-worn saddle on Legend, slid on a bridle and climbed aboard the horse. Coop swept off his hat and with a satisfying cowboy yell of “Hiya hi hi!” he sent Willow’s renegade steers trotting off in the direction of the pond.

      * * *

      WILLOW STOOD BY the living-room window, careful to stay in the shadows where Coop couldn’t possibly see her, and admired the efficiency with which he rounded up and drove the cattle out of her front yard. She should’ve kept the horse that Tate’s dad had given him when they moved to this ranch. But in the year since Tate’s death, she’d had to let go of several items and animals, whose sale became necessary for their daily survival. Her daughter, Lillybelle, needed expensive care that wasn’t readily available here.

       Would it be so horrible if she accepted Cooper’s offer to help out with some of the harder chores around the ranch? So what if he learned how big a mess Tate had left her in? Darn, but she tried so hard to keep up, to hold her head high, and not let on how dire her straits were. It shocked her when Cooper said folks had gossiped about her. She couldn’t tell if he already knew Tate had died when she brought it up. Of course, the part-timers she’d hired probably had talked about her after they left. She’d backed a few of them off with an old unloaded shotgun, which she hated, although it served its purpose—deterring amorous cowboys on the prowl. Heaven only knew what hairy stories they told about her around the campfire. Some of the cowboys hadn’t wanted to take no for an answer.

       And therein lay the problem with letting Cooper Drummond stay a few days. The concern