Johanna and Emma convinced Cooper they needed to schedule the shindig before the weather turned cold. By the end of the week they had half his men doing odd jobs for them and running errands as though the cowhands were part of the social committee.
Cooper worked longer hours rounding up cattle for the season’s last drive to market and trying to stay out of his sisters’ way. After a day of branding, he returned just before sundown covered in mud. He brushed and fed his horse, then walked toward the house, musing that it would take more than one tub of bathwater to get him clean.
He’d almost reached the porch when he spotted Miles Woodburn’s delivery wagon pulled up by the front gate. The man sat there as if unsure whether he wanted to come onto Cooper’s land.
Removing his hat, Cooper waved the mercantile owner forward. Maybe Woodburn had had trouble on the road while making a delivery. Maybe he needed help. Not liking the man wouldn’t keep Cooper from being neighborly.
Woodburn pulled the rig forward, but stopped short of the front porch, and well out of sight of anyone inside the house.
Cooper walked up to the side of the wagon, wishing Mary were here with her brother. “Evenin’,” he said without smiling. “Having trouble, or is this a social call?” If Woodburn had stopped by to warn him to stay away from Mary one more time, Cooper might have to knock some sense into the man.
“It’s not a social call. In fact, I’d just as soon your sisters not know I’m here.” Woodburn appeared hesitant, uncertain.
“All right. What’s on your mind?” Cooper wasn’t sure why, but he had a feeling this wasn’t about Mary. He would bet his best cutting horse Mary hadn’t told her brother about the night he’d walked her home. Cooper wondered if she felt him against her the way he swore he still felt her body against his.
Woodburn climbed down from the rickety old wagon and faced Cooper. “I don’t know how to say this other than straight out.” He looked like he swallowed poison with each word. “I think your sister stole my luggage.”
“What?” Of all the things Cooper thought might be on the Yankee’s mind, this wasn’t even on the list. “That’s impossible.” None of his sisters ever stole anything in their lives.
Woodburn seemed embarrassed to say more, which was all that kept Cooper from swinging at him. “The stage line only has one unclaimed bag and it’s mostly filled with sewing notions. They keep saying it’s the bag that I shipped from Sherman. I traveled by horseback from there the same day your sisters arrived by stage. I remember them climbing into the coach at Sherman as the driver tossed my bag up top and said he’d see me in Minnow Springs. All I can figure out is that one of them took my luggage and left her own unclaimed.”
Cooper swore. “Impossible!”
“I thought so too, at first. My case was new, brown. The one at the station is black, but it looks brand new and made about the same as mine. Your sisters were the only ones who could have taken it unless it fell off the stage somewhere along the trail. That still wouldn’t explain the extra unclaimed piece. If one of them took mine, why wouldn’t she claim her own?”
“You’ve got some nerve, Woodburn, accusing one of them of such a thing,” Cooper shouted as he remembered the morning Winnie arrived. She hadn’t remembered the color of her bag, or how to get it open. She’d worn her traveling clothes until he’d taken her to town to shop. “My sisters are not thieves!” He yelled the words as if ordering them to be true.
Woodburn looked as miserable as Cooper felt. “Then why didn’t they return my luggage? Theft is the only reason I can come up with and that doesn’t make much sense since my bag only contained clothes and the journal I’ve kept since the war.”
Cooper wanted to flatten Woodburn. The man had been asking for it for years. The way he talked, reminding everyone he was not a Southerner. The way he looked down on folks in town. The way he wormed his way into every conversation Cooper had with Winnie lately. Anyone would think she’d known him for years, knew his every thought, the way she talked about him.
Grabbing the front of Woodburn’s jacket, Cooper pulled him forward as his right fist connected with Woodburn’s jaw in a powerful pop.
The Yankee made no move to defend himself.
Cooper seized the other side of his jacket and hauled Woodburn to within an inch of his nose. “No man insults my sisters.”
He shoved the Yankee hard against the wagon and delivered a blow to his midsection. Just as his fist connected, Winnie’s scream shattered the air.
“Stop!” She ran toward them. “Stop!”
Cooper backed away, letting Woodburn crumple to the ground like a broken toy. He held his arms open to Winnie, planning to assure her he was all right, the Yankee hadn’t landed a single blow.
But Winnie ran right past him and knelt beside Woodburn. “Miles! Miles! Are you all right?”
Hooking his hand under Winnie’s arm, Cooper tried to pull her to her feet. The shock of seeing her brother fighting must have pushed her over the edge. Woodburn was also trying to push the crazy woman away from him, but Winnie would have none of it. She felt Woodburn’s face and patted on him as though trying to fluff a pillow, while she searched for any breaks or blood.
“Winnie.” Cooper pulled harder, but lifting her was like trying to shovel quicksand. “You don’t know what this is about. Stay out of it.”
“No! You don’t know.” She leaned over the shop owner, wiping her tears off his lapel. “Miles won’t fight you. He swore he would never lift a hand against another man after the war. He’s never told anyone, not even his sister, but he’d let someone beat him to death before he fought again.”
She continued patting on the man. Cooper stepped back, trying to clear his mind. He’d caught his sister’s insanity. She worried over Woodburn and, in Cooper’s opinion, Woodburn wasn’t making near enough protest.
“Winnie? If he’s never told anyone, how do you know?”
The Yankee slowly stood and helped Winnie to her feet. She didn’t even come to his shoulder now so she had to content her smothering to dusting his jacket.
“She knows”-Woodburn stared at Cooper-“because she’s read my journal.” He let the words sink in before adding, “… that was in my bag.”
Cooper looked at Winnie. She didn’t have to say a word; he read the truth on her face. If she’d traveled with the James brothers, they would have never had a career long enough to fill a column, much less a dime novel.
Johanna’s voice snapped orders from somewhere behind them. “Come inside, all of you. What would the neighbors think if we lived close enough for them to hear you? We will sort this problem out over coffee. I’m sure it is just a misunderstanding.”
To his oldest sister, the War Between the States had been “just a misunderstanding.” Why should Cooper be surprised Johanna viewed Winnie’s theft and his beating an innocent man any differently?
They all sat down at the table while Winnie went to get the luggage she’d lifted the day she arrived. Cooper knew he was going to have to apologize to a man he didn’t like. That fact bothered him more than the sudden revelation that his sister had sticky fingers.
Emma poured everyone a cup of coffee, but no one drank. “I knew something was amiss,” she said to anyone at the table who would listen. “I just knew it. I have a feeling for these things, you know, always have.”
Cooper felt like counting “one,” for he knew Emma’s statement would be repeated at least a hundred times.
Johanna excused herself, saying someone must attend to dinner. On her way to the kitchen, she paused to invite Mr. Woodburn to join them as if he were here on a social call and hadn’t been being slugged by her brother only moments before.
When Woodburn declined, she smiled and said, “Maybe another time,” before disappearing into the kitchen.