Epilogue
Turnabout, Texas April 1897
Verity Leggett took firmer hold of her daughter’s hand as they approached the street crossing. There wasn’t much in the way of carriage or horse traffic this time of morning, but she always preferred to err on the side of caution, especially where Joy was concerned.
Suddenly Joy stopped in her tracks and pointed to her right. “Look, Mama, a dog.”
Verity stared suspiciously at the hound slinking out of an alley two blocks away. She was glad they weren’t headed in that direction. Joy loved animals with all the indiscriminate abandon her five-year-old heart could summon. She definitely hadn’t learned the value of caution yet.
“I see him.” Verity hitched the handle of the hatbox she carried a little closer to her elbow. “But Miss Hazel’s dress shop is this way. And don’t forget, you can play with Buttons when we get there.”
Distracted by thoughts of the cat who resided in the dress shop, Joy faced forward again, cradling her doll, Lulu, in the crook of her arm, and gave a little hop-skip. “I brought a piece of yarn for Buttons to play with.”
“I’m sure Buttons will be quite pleased.” Verity knew her droll tone was lost on her daughter, but that was okay. It was just so good to see how well Joy was thriving since they’d moved to Turnabout a year ago.
As Verity guided her daughter onto Second Street, her gaze slid past the closed doors of the apothecary and the saddle shop to focus on the last building on the block. Good—the dress shop was already open. She gave the hatbox a little swing and grinned in anticipation of Hazel’s reaction to her latest millinery creation. It was just the sort of flamboyant frippery her friend liked.
The new sign Hazel had recently hung over her shop door was an example of just how far her friend would take her love of the dramatic. It was elaborate in shape, brick red in color, and was emblazoned in fancy gold lettering that proclaimed the establishment to be Hazel’s Fashion Emporium. Her friend was quite put out that folks in town still referred to her business as simply “the dress shop.”
Then, almost as if drawn to it, her gaze moved to the closed door of the shop next to Hazel’s. The window bore the name Cooper’s Saddle, Tack & Supply in crisp white letters. Mr. Cooper, the owner, had moved to Turnabout just a couple of weeks ago and had opened his shop on Monday. She hadn’t officially met him yet—only seen him from a distance in church and around town. Not that she was in any hurry to get to know him better. After all, she was twenty-four years old and a widow. Hardly someone who would be looking to form attachments of that sort.
And even if she had been looking for such a thing, Mr. Cooper was not at all the type of man she’d be attracted to. There was a guarded air about him that, even from a distance, made her think he wasn’t all he seemed, that he held something tightly leashed inside himself. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but it was enough to put her guard up. Some women might be attracted to men who seemed just a little bit dangerous or adventurous, but she preferred someone who was dependable and reliable, someone like her late husband, Arthur.
Still, something about the man tugged at her imagination...
The door to the saddle shop opened as if on cue, and her pulse kicked up a notch. But to her surprise, instead of Mr. Cooper, a small brown dog padded out. The animal looked around, then sat on its haunches next to the doorway, for all the world as if it were guarding the place.
Surely that animal didn’t belong to Mr. Cooper? She would have pictured him with a large hunting dog—not this small, cuddly-looking pet that reminded her of a child’s stuffed bear.
Joy, who was chattering to her doll, Lulu, about Buttons, hadn’t noticed the animal yet. Verity braced herself for the gleeful clamor that would come whenever her daughter did notice.
A heartbeat later Mr. Cooper himself stepped out, broom in hand, and Verity paused the merest fraction between one step and the next. There was no denying that there was a presence about the man, much more impactful up close than from a distance. It wasn’t his size—he couldn’t be more than a couple of inches taller than she was, maybe five foot nine. Nor did he seem to be actively trying to command attention. In fact just the opposite. But there was a hardness about him, an air of stoicism and confidence—or was it a kind of self-containment?—that was hard to ignore.
Then he bent to scratch the dog behind the ears, and her impression of him shifted. His closed expression softened to something resembling exasperated affection, and the dog responded with tail-wagging exuberance. His brown hair, worn a bit longer than normally seen around here, was nearly as dark as his dog’s coat and it had the slightest of waves to it.
Mr. Cooper straightened, obviously ready to sweep the walk in front of his shop, and only then noticed the two of them approaching. His expression closed again and he paused to let them pass.
It seemed she was going to meet the newcomer now, whether she wanted to or not—at least enough to exchange greetings. His gaze might be impassive, but still Verity’s nerves jangled at being the focus of it. She tamped that feeling down, but before she could offer a greeting, Joy spotted the dog.
“Oh, look at the little doggie, Mama. Isn’t he cute?”
Verity nodded, studiously not looking Mr. Cooper’s way. “Yes, he is.”
Joy, however, seemed to have no qualms about meeting Mr. Cooper’s eyes. “Is he your doggie, Mister?” she asked brightly.
The man’s expression eased into a slight smile. “He is. His name is Beans.”
Verity blinked. What an odd name to give a dog. Even odder still that such a fanciful name had come from such a decidedly unfanciful-seeming man.
“Can I pet him?” Joy asked.
Verity, worried about allowing her daughter to approach a strange animal, stepped in before Mr. Cooper could respond. “Stop pestering Mr. Cooper—it’s not polite. We need—”
“It’s no bother.” His voice had a husky, gravelly quality to it. But it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact she rather liked the sound of it.
“Beans won’t hurt the child,” he said. Then he turned back to Joy and gave her another smile. “If your mother allows it, Beans and I don’t mind.”
Joy looked up at Verity. “Can I, Mama, please?”
“May I,” Verity corrected. She glanced at the dog. The animal appeared friendly enough, so she gave a reluctant nod. “Very well, but just a quick, gentle pat. We need to get along to Miss Hazel’s shop.”
Smiling brightly, Joy rushed over to the dog and knelt down to stroke its head and talk nonsense to it for a minute. The dog accepted the attention with a happy wag of its tail. A moment later it
