chest was seeing her so thin, with an ever-growing wariness in dull blue eyes that used to sparkle all the time.
Something else tugged at his conscience. The skittish child hiding behind Willow. Tate Walker’s kid. Coop’s stomach tumbled and spun. He found it harder to swallow. He gritted his teeth to hold on to the old memories that told how long he’d nursed a broken heart thanks to this woman. The longer he stood silently clenching and unclenching his hands, the more Coop realized that his feelings for Willow weren’t as dead as he’d like them to be. His earlier assessment of her home, her barn, her ranch and her appearance left him with a sharp concern for her well-being—a nagging worry about her immediate predicament. She was a widow.
Finding his voice, he said in a rush, “Look, I heard via the grapevine that you’re in a bind here and could use some help. I didn’t know it was you, Willow. But for old times’ sake, I can lend a hand for a few days.”
Choking on her embarrassment—because in the back of her mind Willow thought Coop had come in search of her—she managed to shake her head. The love she’d once had for Cooper Drummond fled, to be replaced by panic. He shouldn’t be here. She didn’t want him witnessing the depths to which she’d sunk. Scraping back her hair, she finally stammered, “I’m fine. I don’t know why anyone would say I need help. I’m fine. Fine,” she reiterated more loudly, but dropped her hand to hide its shaking. “What are you doing here, anyway, Cooper? Why aren’t you off at some rodeo?”
Her questions battered his unsteady senses. Willow was nowhere near as receptive to his offer as she ought to be, given the state of her ranch.
Avoiding eye contact with him, she scooped up her daughter and backed away.
The move gave Coop a clearer look at the child, age three or so, he’d guess. A small-boned, delicate, brown-haired girl with huge hazel eyes. In spite of her darker coloring, Cooper saw more of a young Willow in her daughter than he saw of his old nemesis, Tate Walker. But Tate was represented, too, in those hazel eyes.
Wilting under his scrutiny, Willow backed up farther.
Coop noticed right away how nervous she seemed, as if she was afraid of him. That made him reel. Surely Willow couldn’t think he’d ever hurt her or any kid! Or that he’d held a grudge because of the callous way she dumped him. Still, Coop had to glance off into the distance to relax the tension cramping his jaw.
Once he felt at ease, he returned to her questions. “Willow, I’ve got eyes. Even if I hadn’t heard at 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.
