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“And I understand why Trevor might feel a kinship with those two, after his mother’s choice,” Cooper said. “But that doesn’t mean I want him palling around with them. They’ve already shown that they want to make sport of him, and aside from that, they don’t give a damn. But unless Trevor figures that out for himself, anything I say to him will be blowing air. And forbidding him to see them will only feed the fire.”
“I agree. For now, all we can do is keep an eye on him and hope he comes to his senses—or better yet, makes new friends. I’ll do my best to watch the situation and to keep you informed. But until he learns to trust me, trying to get close will only push him away.”
“For now, I guess that’s about all we can do.” Cooper had turned onto the main road out of town and was watching for the spot where he’d noticed the sign.
“So where’s this property you want to check out?” she asked.
“It’s not far from town. I saw a sign that pricked my interest—a small ranch for sale. I wasn’t looking for anything like that, but it made me curious. If I like what I see from a distance, I’ll call the seller and get the asking price.”
She didn’t reply.
“What?” he asked. “Do you think I’ve lost my mind?”
“I had you pegged for a city boy, that’s all. You’re full of surprises.”
“I am a city boy. But one summer my college roommate got me a job on his family’s ranch. I learned to ride, fish, and even rope a little. It was great. I didn’t want the summer to end. Right now, I’m just looking. But for years, getting back to a life like that has been a fantasy of mine.”
“What about Trevor? Does he know what you’re thinking?”
“Not yet—and if nothing comes of this, I don’t plan to tell him. We’ve got a good situation, living next to Grace and Sam. But it’s occurred to me that Trevor doesn’t have anything to do except watch TV, play video games, and read. He hates playing sports, but he needs something to keep him active.”
“So you think you can turn him into a cowboy?”
“You never know. I’m desperate enough to try anything.” As he spoke, Cooper spotted the sign, attached to the corner post of a barbed wire fence. A dirt lane cut off from the road, leading west along the fence line. There was nothing in sight but a dozen Black Angus cows grazing in the pasture.
“I know where we are,” Jess said. “Abner Jenkins, the older man you met in Buckaroo’s, lives out this way.”
“Do you think he might be the one selling the property?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so. He would have said something about it, especially knowing that you were new in town. But we’ll see.”
After a few minutes of slow, bumpy driving, they saw a second sign with an arrow pointing left to where a rough driveway led toward a long windbreak of tall Lombardy poplars, standing like sentinels against the sky. Through the trees, Cooper could make out a low house, a windmill, a barn that wanted paint, and a scattering of corrals and outbuildings. A sign lower on the fence said, PRIVATE PROPERTY. NOTRESPASSING.
Cooper stopped the SUV, idling the engine. “I guess this is as far as we go.”
“This isn’t Abner’s place,” Jess said. “He lives in the other direction, to the right of this road.”
“So who lives here?”
“I have no idea. But look, somebody’s coming.”
A red tractor, looking like a relic from the 1950s, was coming down the lane toward them, driven by a man in overalls and a broad-brimmed straw hat. A black-and-white dog raced ahead of him.
“Well, I guess I won’t need that phone call.” Cooper switched off the engine and climbed out of the Jeep. “You might want to stay inside, in case he plans to drive us off with a shotgun.”
But Jess was already out of the vehicle.
Cooper waved to show that he was friendly. The man on the tractor waved back. But the dog, a border collie, was still protective. Stopping a few feet away, it raised its hackles and barked.
“Hello, boy.” Cooper spoke in a soothing voice and held out his fist for the dog to smell. “It’s okay, boy. I won’t hurt you.”
The border collie edged closer, sniffing cautiously.
“I think she’s a girl, not a boy.” Jess came up even with Cooper and held out her hand. “Hello, girl. My, aren’t you pretty!”
The farmer, past middle age, with the look of a man who’d spent his life working in the hot sun, stopped, shut off the noisy engine, and climbed down from the tractor seat.
“Her name’s Glory. She won’t bite. Just not used to strangers, that’s all. Come on, girl. Get back here.” The dog trotted back to her owner. He scratched her ears before he spoke again. “Now what can I do for you folks? Are you lost?”
