Page 11 of Dark Side of the River

“Matilda.” Her mother had reproved her and given her that disapproving look she’d withered under while growing up. For some reason, Charlotte thought she could make Tilly into something she wasn’t—a replica of herself. From the time she was little, Tilly had more interest in being outdoors than in. She could be found out with the ranch hands learning to ride and shoot and rope, determined to be as good as the best of them. She hated being forced to stay inside and help with setting the table or, worse, being told to act like a lady.

Tilly had stayed long enough at the hospital to hear if Stuart had any leads. He didn’t, apparently. His concern had been about the problems between the families and what this might lead to.

“Mrs. Stafford, I hope you can keep this incident from throwing more fuel on the fire between you and the McKennas,” the sheriff had said, as if he thought her mother had any more control over Tilly than Stuart did himself. “Let me do my job without getting calls about your ranch hands or anyone in your family making this worse. Please just try to keep a lid on things so I can find the person who shot your daughter. That’s all I’m asking.”

Tilly had gotten the message, which had only made her angrier. She’d been glad when Stuart had left. When he’d said he would call her later, she’d only nodded, afraid what would come out of her mouth if she spoke. Did he really think he could tell her what to do after a half dozen dates? Or even as the county sheriff?

As she left the hospital, she kept thinking about Cooper and how he’d kept asking about Oakley’s horse. The cowboy was dense as a cedar stump when it came to women, but he wasn’t stupid. So why would he ask about the name of Oakley’s horse?

All the way back to the ranch, it nagged at her. Once home, she went straight to the stable. “Did the sheriff’s department return Oakley’s horse?” she asked the ranch hand brushing down one of the stable horses.

“I put her in her stall.”

“It’s the palomino mare, right? What’s her name?” She could feel his questioning gaze. He knew the horses and their names better than she did, especially her sister’s since Oakley changed horses the way some women changed shoes.

“Cheyenne. Are you all right?”

She turned to shoot him a scorching look. “My sister was shot and might die. No, I’m not all right.” He had the good sense to glance away, mumblingsorryunder his breath. But at her sharp words, she colored, realizing she was sounding like her mother.

At Cheyenne’s stall, she opened the door and started to step in.

“I’m not sure I would do that,” he said. “She keeps shying for no reason.”

“There is a reason. Oakley was shot off her horse. Of course the horse is acting scared.” Ignoring him, she stepped into the stall, talking quietly to the mare as she went. The horse shied, but she kept up murmuring to her in a soothing voice as she began to gently run both her gaze and her hands over the mare.

He was right—the mare hadn’t been hurt. As she left the stables, she kept thinking about Cooper, his peculiar interest in Oakley’s horse. She knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she found out why.

She took a chance and called the McKenna Ranch as she was walking to her pickup. Bailey answered the phone. “Is Cooper there?”

She heard a laugh and Bailey say, “Women are already calling for you?” before a few moments passed and Cooper came to the phone. Fortunately, she hadn’t recognized Tilly’s voice.

“Hello?” He sounded leery.

Tilly groaned inwardly just thinking that he’d gotten the wrong impression. “Why did you ask me the name of Oakley’s horse?”

It took him a moment since she’d apparently caught him flat-footed. He must have really thought it was some woman interested in him. What an ego.

“I can’t talk right now. Could we meet somewhere?”

Her first instinct was to say no. It had been a simple question. But something in his voice made her hesitate. If he knew anything about who might have shot her sister—“At the café?”

“How about the rodeo grounds?” He was keeping his voice down, not wanting anyone to hear. That alone made her think that maybe he did know something. Something he wasn’t even sure he wanted his family to know about.

“Thirty minutes?”

“See you there.” And he was gone.

Tilly had reached her pickup. She pocketed her phone and climbed behind the wheel, frowning. The rodeo grounds were a few miles outside of town. He’d chosen a place where there wouldn’t be anyone around for miles since the only time the place was used was when there was a rodeo or a fair.

She shook her head, reminding herself that Cooper McKenna had left Powder Crossing two years ago after being released on a murder charge because of a lack of evidence. Was she really going to meet him alone at the rodeo grounds—somewhere they would be completely alone—instead of at the café in town?

You bet she was, she thought, convinced he knew something about Oakley’s shooting, and she planned to get whatever it was out of him. Cooper McKenna didn’t scare her. Nor was she going to swoon when she saw him. She couldn’t believe the way some women behaved around him.

WHENSHEREACHEDthe rodeo grounds, she saw Cooper’s pickup already parked at the gate. The grounds consisted of several barns, a few low buildings and a set of wooden bleachers. There had been a roof over the viewing stand until that bad windstorm last year. The town was planning to replace the cover before the Fourth of July. She thought they’d better get busy.

Cooper was sitting at the top of the bleachers.

She’d almost talked herself out of meeting him here as she started up the steps. A dust devil sent a cloud of red dirt into the air in the middle of the arena. She could hear crickets in the tall grass nearby and the creak of the wooden stairs as she climbed. She concentrated on her next step, but out of the corner of her eye, she could feel him watching her with those blue eyes of his from under the brim of his Stetson.

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