The Rancher's Blessed Event. Stella Bagwell
to his feet and grabbed her by the upper arm. “That’s all you can say, you’re sorry?” His face bore down on hers. “What the hell were you thinking, Emily? Why did you let him get on a horse in such a condition? What were you doing?”
Her features cold and stiff, she ripped her arm from his grasp. “What were you doing, Cooper?”
Her pointed question stunned him. His hand fell away from her arm, but his gray eyes mercilessly held onto hers.
The sick look on his face didn’t give Emily any pleasure and she decided they had both said enough for one night. None of it mattered anyway. Kenneth was gone. And so would Cooper, too. Probably by the end of the day.
Turning away from him, she started out of the room. Before she reached the door, she said, “I made up the bed in your old room. If you want any breakfast, I’ll have it ready by seven.”
Cooper wanted to call her back, but he didn’t. It was late and he could see she was exhausted. Now wasn’t the time to press her about his brother. But he would before he left here. And he’d make damn sure he got some answers.
The next morning Emily was frying bacon when Rose, her stepmother, called. Holding the portable phone with one hand, she forked the frying bacon with the other.
“I’m just checking on you,” Rose said. “Did you sleep last night?”
Emily closed her eyes and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. For twenty-three years Rose had been her mother in every sense of the word and throughout that time her love and gentle kindness had never wavered. Nor had it ever failed to touch Emily’s heart.
“A little,” she told her.
Picking up the weariness in her voice, Rose said, “You need more than a little sleep. Your dad is going to the horse sale with a friend so I’ve got the day to myself. Why don’t you go back to bed after you eat and I’ll come over and see to the chores for you.”
“You did that yesterday,” Emily reminded her.
“And it didn’t hurt me one little bit Now tell me if you need me to bring you anything and I’ll be over in an hour or so.”
Emily dropped a piece of bacon onto a plate lined with paper towels. “No,” she said quickly. “Don’t do that. I’ll be fine.”
“But honey, I want to help you.”
“I know,” she said, then decided she should explain. “Cooper came home last night.”
The line went quiet as Rose digested her daughter’s abrupt news. “Is he there now?”
Emily glanced over her shoulder to make sure the man hadn’t slipped into the kitchen without her knowing. “Yes.”
“How long does he plan to stay?”
“He hasn’t said and I haven’t asked.”
Rose went silent for another long spell. “How does he seem to be taking Kenneth’s death?”
“I think he’s still in a bit of shock about it.” And Emily was still in a shock over seeing Cooper again.
“Well, I know the two of them were close at one time. But frankly, I’m surprised the news brought Cooper home. He’s never bothered before. And what can he do now?”
“I’ve been thinking the very things you just said.”
“So you don’t really know his intentions?” Rose asked.
“Not yet.”
Rose groaned. “Oh Lord, Emily, I wished the man had stayed gone. Harlan isn’t going to like this one little bit. He hasn’t forgotten how Cooper hurt you. And if he’s come back with plans to take over his half of the ranch—well, all I can say is I see trouble.”
His half of the ranch. Like a cold north wind, the words rushed through Emily. It was true that Cooper and Kenneth had shared ownership of the ranch since their father had died fifteen years ago. But Cooper had never seen fit to take any interest in the place. Neither with money nor his presence. She couldn’t see that changing just because Kenneth was no longer here.
“You’re borrowing trouble, Mom. Cooper doesn’t have any intentions toward the Diamond D. Why would he? He’s a big rodeo star now. He has all the money he needs. And anybody with one good eye can see this place is falling down around my ears. No. You can rest assured Cooper couldn’t be bothered.”
“I hope you’re right, darling. You have enough on your mind without something like that. You haven’t told him anything, have you?”
Emily switched off the burner beneath the skillet and took a peep in the oven at the baking biscuits. “What do you mean? About the accident?”
“No. About you.”
Emily quickly glanced over her shoulder again. A few minutes before her mother had called, she’d heard Cooper head down the hall to the bathroom. Any second now she expected him to walk into the kitchen.
“I have no intentions of telling him anything about my condition. It’s none of his business. And I’d appreciate it if you’d tell Daddy and the rest of the family not to say anything if they happen to run into Cooper.”
“Is there a reason you don’t want him to know?”
She bit down on her lip as several reasons came to mind. “He...doesn’t need to know, that’s all. Now I’ve got to finish breakfast. I’ll call you later, Mom.”
“All right, honey, if that’s the way you feel. You know your daddy and I are here if you need us.”
Knowing she had her parents’ support was one of the things that had kept her going. “And I love you for it. We’ll talk later.”
She placed the phone out of the way then gathered a couple of pot holders and pulled the pan of hot bread from the oven.
“Something smells good. Is it biscuits?”
Emily glanced around just as Cooper walked into the room. Even though she knew he’d slept across the hall from her last night, it was still a shock to the senses to see him this morning.
He hadn’t shaved but she could see he must have taken a quick shower because his dark hair was wet and slicked back from his face. A red plaid shirt hung half buttoned on the outside of his jeans. His feet were bare except for a pair of white socks.
“Yes, it’s biscuits. And you shouldn’t be walking around without your boots. The floor is gritty. You’ll ruin your socks.”
He gave her a twisted smile. “I’ve been known to get grit in my boots before.”
No doubt, she thought. He’d made his living in thousands of dusty rodeo arenas. It shouldn’t matter to her if he ruined ten pair of socks on her dirty floors. And it shouldn’t feel so good to look at him, either. But it did.
Carrying the pan of biscuits over to the table, she motioned for him to take a seat at one of the empty plates. “How do you want your eggs? Scrambled or fried?”
“Fried, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
She went to the stove, broke four eggs into a skillet of warm grease, then carried a coffeepot back to the table and filled his cup.
“Are you always up and going this early?” he asked.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Normally I’m up and about much earlier. But I’ve tried to get a little more rest these past few days.” Not that laying in bed an hour and a half more did any good, she thought. She still felt drained and groggy, but she was determined to get better, to be able to smile and laugh again.
“You look tired.”
As she tended the cooking eggs, her free hand unconsciously fluttered to her bare cheek. With no makeup and her hair