His sisters planned the country ball for the night before all the men had to leave so there would be enough dance partners for every single woman. The big day arrived on Saturday amid cloudy skies and high spirits. Ranchers and their families started pulling onto Cooper’s land by midmorning.

Though the Adams ranch was throwing the shindig, custom required no one come to call emptyhanded. Cakes, pies, and cobblers were added to the sisters’ desserts. Jellies, jams, and fresh breads were piled atop Cooper’s desk. The Williamses brought cider they had shipped from Tennessee. The undertaker proudly displayed three bottles of peach wine he had bought in the hill country when he’d gone after hardware. And of course, the Kileys lugged in apples for everyone.

Unmarried daughters were presented, first to Cooper’s sisters, then to him. Thanks to an abundance of cowhands, Cooper had no difficulty introducing each woman to eligible men more than happy to monopolize her time.

Cooper spent his time hanging around the pit built to roast half a beef. The heat and smoke kept the women away. He was in no mood to be sociable. The fact that he’d hurt Mary’s feelings bothered him and the more time that passed, the more awkward he felt about saying something to her.

Lunch consisted of sandwiches sliced from the first brisket to be declared cooked and desserts. As the afternoon wore on, several of the families spread blankets out in the loft and on the porches. Some were for visiting, some for sleeping children. The slight nip in the air made cuddling comfortable as couples paired off to get better acquainted. As far as Cooper could see, no unmarried girl wandered around looking for him with an expression that said she might just die unless she became Mrs. Cooper Adams. In fact, they all seemed pleased with their choices, smiling up at some stammering cowhand with true love in his eyes. It had never occurred to Cooper until today that the ladies might consider him too old, or too hardened for marrying. He’d been thinking he wanted the pick of the litter. Now the question seemed to be, Did the pick want him?

Several men stood around the cook fire, talking of weather and the threat of rustlers; women bordered a quilt frame. Cooper had no idea what they talked about. For a man with three sisters he should know more about women. Mary taught him different. He thought they were friends. But before he could get at ease with the agreement, she ran into his arms and asked him to kiss her.

He managed to figure one thing out in almost thirty years. Women were nothing but trouble. He liked the idea of being friends with her, but he had no right to be thinking about how good Mary felt next to him.

She had asked him a simple favor. “As a friend” she’d said, and without a word he had let her down. His peck of the cheek must have made her feel ugly and unwanted. No woman wanted to feel that way. He’d done what he thought a friend would want him to do and somehow it had all gone wrong.

“That’s women for you,” he swore under his breath. “Should’ve kept my distance.”

Cooper glanced up and noticed his sister Winnie standing on the porch. He smiled to himself. She’d never had a gentleman caller. Now she ran around singing and blushing like a young girl. He wasn’t sure if Woodburn asked to court her because he liked Winnie, or because the man simply didn’t like the way everyone treated her. When Cooper checked on them one Sunday, Winnie had been talking away and Miles sat all straight and stiff as if waiting on his turn to get out of purgatory.

If Woodburn was just being nice, allowing Winnie her fellow for a while, Cooper still couldn’t say he liked the man, but had to admit the Yankee irritated him less.

Cooper turned the slowly cooking beef and stared out at the boiling sky to the north. The color reminded him of Mary’s eyes. Stormy weather blue. For all he knew, he was the first man she’d ever asked to kiss her. Maybe she figured no man would try. She asked a friend to let her know what it was like.

Cooper knew that even if he explained she wasn’t homely, she wouldn’t believe him. How could he say the words and be honest with both her and himself? She might never be a great beauty, but she was easy to look at. He should have told her that. She had pretty eyes, the kind a man could get lost in. And her voice was soft, like her words were meant only for him to hear. He should have said something. Maybe that would have helped.

By midafternoon, every man, woman, and child in the county tromped around his ranch, except Mary and her brother. Cooper told himself he didn’t care, but every time he looked up, he saw Winnie watching the road. The Yankee and his sister might not want to come to the party, but they had no right to hurt Winnie.

The more Cooper thought about it, the madder he got. As shadows melted together and the threepiece band warmed up in the barn, rain blew in like an unwanted guest.

Cooper rushed with everyone else to move things inside. Every time he passed Winnie, he saw her worried expression and her gaze turned to the road. Finally, he grabbed a slicker, saddled a horse, and rode out toward town. If Woodburn wasn’t bothering to show up, he would have some explaining to do.

Almost within sight of Minnow Springs, Cooper spotted the old borrowed buggy of Woodburn’s leaning almost sideways, a back wheel propped against it. Miles stood alone in the muddy road, his jacket off, his sleeves rolled to the elbows.

Anger turned to worry inside Cooper. As he neared, he yelled, “Having trouble?”

Miles shoved his thinning hair off his face. “This time, I am.”

As Cooper swung down from the saddle, Woodburn added, “I finally got the wheel patched enough so it should hold, but I can’t lift the frame and roll it into place. Would you mind giving me a hand?” He chewed on the words a minute before he added, “You see, there’s a party I promised to attend.”

Cooper moved to the boot of the old buggy. Bracing his feet in four inches of mud, he lifted.

Miles maneuvered the wheel around the axis. “Thanks,” he shouted over the rain as he stood.

“Where’s Mary?” Cooper tried to make his question sound casual while he watched Miles roll muddy sleeves down over even dirtier arms.

“She walked back to town. With everyone already gone to your place, she decided she could get a wagon and be back faster than I could fix this wheel.” Frustration deepened the lines on his scarred face. “With this leg, it’s hard for me to walk on flat ground, much less in the mud. I talked her into coming along and now it looks like we may miss the party.”

Cooper swung onto his saddle, realizing riding a horse must be impossible for Woodburn or he would have ridden bareback to the ranch and left the wagon by the road. “Go ahead. Winnie’s worried about you. I’ll head toward town until I find your sister, then I’ll make sure she gets to the ranch safely.”

Woodburn grumbled at the suggestion, but climbed inside the buggy.

Cooper lowered his hat and rode straight into the wind. He hoped Mary had made it to town before rain drenched her.

A deserted Main Street, dressed in thick gray fog, greeted him. Rain hung in the air, soaking him despite the oiled slicker. Cooper tried the Woodburns’ store first, then realized Mary was probably at the livery.

There would be a slim selection of wagons left if the old buggy had been their best choice before. And she’d have to rig it herself, for the Andrews clan had been among the first to show up at the ball. By midafternoon Cooper had no doubt the children were instructed to eat their weight in food.

When he stepped into the livery, the sound of someone crying drifted around him seeming to come from no particular direction. For a moment, he thought it might be one of the Andrews kids who had been accidentally left behind.

He moved closer, hearing the jingle of his muddy spurs blend with the sobbing. Pausing, Cooper let his eyes adjust to the dim light.

Finally he spotted Mary, curled into a ball, arms hugging her knees, head down, hair wild around her shoulders. She was sitting in the back of a wagon that would have taken both a carpenter and a blacksmith a week to get in even fair shape to travel.

Cooper waited, knowing that if he took one step toward her the spurs would frighten her. “Evening, Miss Woodburn,” he said slowly. “Nice day for a ride.”

Mary’s head shot up. Bright bluegray eyes sparkled on a muddy face. When she spotted him in the doorway, she quickly shoved a tear, along with caked dirt, across her cheek.

Cooper couldn’t help but laugh. “You look like a mud doll.”

Mary grinned back. “You don’t look much better.”

He smoothed a layer of muck off his duster. “And I got all dressed up for the country ball.”

“Me too. Miles said I had to go for Winnie’s sake, but my efforts to dress were wasted. I fell twice running toward town, trying to beat the rain. I’d hoped to find a rig that might make it out of the barn, but I’ve failed. Miles is stuck out on the road, unable-”

“He’s on his way to my ranch,” Cooper interrupted. “I’m supposed to bring you along.”

“I’m not going.” She stared down at her clothes. “It’s impossible.”

“Then the party will come to you.” Cooper took a step forward. “I don’t care if I return or not. The whole thing is a hoax. After everyone stuffs themselves a few more times and dances a couple of rounds, they’ll probably raffle me off to the highest bidder.”

“Oh. You think you’ll go for a good price?”

“Of course. If you don’t count the undertaker, who owns his own business, I’m the most eligible bachelor in this part of the state.” He laughed at his own lie. “I’m sure I’ll go to the girl whose father can send the most acres along with his daughter’s hand.”

Helping Mary out of the wagon, he added, “You look mighty pretty, Miss Woodburn.” To his surprise, he meant it. “Would you like to dance before I’m hogtied and carted off to the altar?”

“I hate to turn a man down whose freedom is now counted in hours.”

He pulled her into his arms before she could say more, holding her far closer than he would have dared to in public. With her feet barely touching the ground, they twirled around the haycovered floor as though they were at a grand ball.

When he slowed the dance, he realized she was soaked and shivering. In one swing, he lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the door. “Do you trust me, Mary?”

“I think I finally do.”

“Then, let’s get you into some dry clothes and try dancing again on my barn floor with music playing. We’ll both catch pneumonia if we stay in this drafty place much longer.”

Before she questioned, he ran into the rain toward her store. By the time she unlocked the door they were both newly soaked.

Laughing for no reason other than it felt good, he followed her upstairs. Cooper hesitated only a moment when he reached the threshold.

She crossed into the darkness and returned a moment later to hand him a dry towel. “Come in by the fire. I’ll change.” She hurried across the room and disappeared behind a door.

Cooper stood in the center of the small apartment and scrubbed the water from his face. Then he stirred up the fire and looked around the room. Hundreds of books lined the walls and art, fine art, blanketed every inch of space left. He knew, without having to ask, that these were the few, final treasures of what once must have been a grand home. He’d always thought of Southerners coming home to only the crumbs left of their former lives. He never thought of Northerners losing everything in the war.

Slowly, he realized what a joke it must have been for him to loan her books. She probably grew up with a real library in her house.

He pulled off his duster and damp coat, hanging them over chairs to dry. Unlike the store, the apartment above was neat, orderly, with a once valuable rug adding a warmth that made the small place a home.

He saw what must be Miles’s room across from Mary’s closed door. Maps and charts covered the walls of his chamber. A cot was crammed into one corner, making room for a huge desk weighted with books and papers.

“Your brother studying something?” he yelled toward the closed door.

Mary’s muffled answer returned, “He wants to write a book about the battles in the war. He’s already written several articles that sold back east.”

“And spent all the money on more books,” Cooper guessed.

“I’m afraid so.” Mary could barely be heard. “But it will all be worth it once he’s published.”

Cooper couldn’t bring himself to invade Woodburn’s private space. He never would have guessed the cold man would have such a secret.

Mary’s door opened, shining more light into the room. Cooper turned and watched her move about.