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Chapter 1
Branding Iron, Texas, October 1997
Cooper Chapman stood in the parlor of the eighty-year-old house, surrounded by a forest of stacked moving boxes. He’d tried to convince himself that this move, to a sleepy Texas town, would be good for his troubled teenage son. Now he wasn’t sure. They had barely started unpacking when Trevor had announced that he hated this place and stormed outside to sulk on the front porch.
At thirteen, Trevor already had a juvenile arrest record for several acts of vandalism he’d pulled with his friends. Moving from Seattle to Branding Iron, with the court’s permission, had been a last-ditch effort to give the boy a new start. But would it be enough?
Something told Cooper that even with the support of his married sister, Grace, who lived next door, he was going to need all the help he could get.
* * *
Trevor Chapman sat on the top step of the low-slung bungalow house that was his new home. His dark brown eyes scanned the quiet residential street. Even the trees in full autumn color, their reds and golds blindingly bright against the sunlit sky, made him feel like a prisoner, brought here against his will.
He missed the cool grays and greens of Seattle, the smell of the harbor, the sound of boat whistles. He missed his friends, who understood and accepted him. But a thirteen-year-old didn’t have anything to say about where he lived. His mom had made a new marriage to a man who didn’t want him, so he’d been dumped on his dad, who’d decided to move to the redneck hell of Branding Iron, Texas.
The place reminded Trevor of that corny old TV show,Mayberry R.F.D., and not in a good way. He could imagine Andy, Goober, Aunt Bee, and the rest of the gang strolling around the corner to give him a neighborly howdy and invite him to set a spell. The thought of it made him feel sick.
From inside the house came the sound of his dad sliding a heavy desk toward the spare bedroom that would be his office. Cooper, Trevor’s dad, was okay. But his decision to move to Texas to be near the married sister who was his only family just plain sucked. As a freelance magazine writer, he could live and work anywhere. So why did it have to be here, in the middle of nowhere?
The worst of it was Trevor would be starting school on Monday—as the new boy in eighth grade. The other kids would probably be cowboys, riding around in pickups with the radios blaring country crap instead of cool bands like Nirvana and Rage Against the Machine. He could count on being bullied, and if he fought back, he’d end up in the principal’s office, just like he had in Seattle.
Through the jagged bangs that screened his eyes, he could see someone coming out of the house next door. He watched with mild interest as a little girl in blue jeans, whom he guessed to be about seven or eight, came skipping down the sidewalk. She was trailed by a shaggy brown mutt that looked as big as a grizzly bear. With her bouncy auburn curls, she reminded him of Little Orphan Annie, dog and all, and she was headed straight for him.
Stopping at the foot of the steps, she smiled, showing a missing front tooth. “Hi, cousin,” she chirped.
“I’m not your cousin,” Trevor said. “I don’t even know you.”
“You are so my cousin,” she insisted. “My dad is married to your Aunt Grace, so that makes us cousins.” She thrust out her hand, which Trevor pretended not to notice. “You must be Trevor. I’m Maggie Delaney, and this is my dog, Banjo. Go ahead and pet him. He won’t bite you.”
The shaggy monster mounted the steps, sniffed Trevor’s sneakers, and yawned, showing fangs that looked as long as a Bengal tiger’s.
“Scratch him behind the ears,” Maggie said. “He likes that.”
Trevor hesitated. His mother was allergic to dogs and cats, so he’d never been allowed to have a pet. A couple of his Seattle friends had owned small dogs—little yappers. At least he hadn’t been afraid of them, but this behemoth looked big enough to eat him alive.
“Don’t be scared,” Maggie said. “Banjo’s just a puppy. He’s not even full-grown yet.”
Trevor steeled himself. He couldn’t let this pint-sized girl know how scared he was. Heart pounding, he reached out. Banjo’s bushy tail wagged in anticipation.
Just then the front door opened. Trevor’s dad stepped out onto the front porch. “You must be Maggie,” he said, giving the little girl a smile. “I’d know you anywhere. Grace has been going on and on about you in her phone calls. I’m your Uncle Cooper.”
“Pleased to meet you, Uncle Cooper.” She gave Trevor a glance that clearly said,See, I told you we were cousins.
“And who’s this?” Cooper held out his hand to Banjo. “Come here, boy.”
The bear-sized dog ambled across the porch and leaned against Cooper’s legs. When Cooper scratched the furry head, Banjo went into ecstasies of wagging and wiggling, even rolling onto his back for a belly rub.
“My mom—your sister—sent me over here to invite you to dinner tonight,” Maggie said. “One of her old housemates will be coming, too. She works for the schools. You’ll like her. We’ll be eating about six, Mom said, but you can come sooner and visit if you want. I’ve gotta go now. Mom’s letting me make a chocolate cake for dessert.” She whistled to the dog. “Come on, Banjo. See you around, Trevor.”
* * *
Cooper watched the little girl skip back down the sidewalk with the dog trotting behind her. Grace had hit the jackpot with her new, ready-made family. Sam was the former sheriff, now running for mayor of Branding Iron. And his daughter, little Maggie, would win anyone’s heart.
He was grateful that Grace had forgiven him for missing her wedding last summer. He’d planned to walk her down the aisle. But that was the week when Trevor had been in a wreck with a friend who was joyriding in his mother’s Corvette. Trevor had been hospitalized. His injuries hadn’t been serious, thank heaven. However, he’d ended up in juvenile detention for being in a stolen car with an underage driver. This after he was already on probation for spray-painting the front door of the middle school he attended. Cooper had had little choice except to stay in Seattle and deal with the situation.
Not long after that, Cooper had decided it was time to give his son a new start, in a new place. When Grace had let him know that her neighbors’ house was for rent and emailed him some photos, Cooper had contracted to rent it sight unseen. Selling his Seattle condo had taken longer than he’d counted on, but at last, here they were. He could only hope the change would be good for Trevor.
They’d arrived with the movers this morning, which was a Friday. Grace, who taught first grade, hadn’t been here to welcome them. Neither had Sam, who worked for the county planning commission and was busy with his mayoral campaign. But Grace had mailed Cooper the key and made sure the utilities were on, so they could start moving in.
