The broken boy - healed by innocence

Her birthday bash

*Faith*

I watch as Cooper urges his horse into a gallop, swiftly putting distance between us. I don't know anyone who sits on a horse as well as he does or who is handier with a gun.

I'm aware that many men wear their guns as a mere decoration, much like a she-wolf might wear a necklace, but not Cooper. Having worked the range for so long, he never takes anything for granted, always aware that danger might lurk around the corner.

I wear a gun too, and I'm almost as good a shot as Cooper, but Cole has never mocked me for it. Instead, it's just another reason for the two men to find fault with each other.

"I think your brother was showing off with that little gunplay," Cole comments.

I turn to face him. "He saved your hide, and he is not my brother."

"I thought your family took him in." He say.

"They did. But I just don't see him that way." It is hard to explain.

His eyes, the color of the sky at dawn, narrow. "How do you see him?"

"As a friend." Someone I trust with all my heart. Lately, I have started noticing him in ways I hadn't before.

When I saw him on his horse today, it was as if my whole body woke up. My skin tingles more, my arms ache to reach out for him, and my legs want to wrap around his narrow hips.

But it's more than just physical attraction that's trying to push its way to the forefront. Everything about our relationship is deepening. Lying beneath the stars and talking into the night with him brings more awe, riding over the range with him brings more pride. His smiles warm me more than before. His laughter lifts my heart higher.

"I would like to be more than that," Cole says quietly, his hand discreetly reaching out and squeezing my fingers.

He is handsome, in a polished way, not rugged like Cooper. But he is strong, too, and ambitious. He sees where the future is heading and doesn't plan to be left behind. He fills me with excitement over the possibilities.

"It would take a brave man, Cole Berringer, to admit that to my father and face his scrutiny." I tell him.

"Courage is not something I lack, Faith." He simply says.

I had told Cooper the truth. I do like Cole. I'm not sure if what I feel for him will lead to love, but I have never been scared to see where a trail might lead.

*Cooper*

She is wearing the damn red gown.

I lean against the papered wall of the spacious parlor, now serving as a ballroom, sipping my whiskey and fighting not to notice how creamy and smooth her bared shoulders look, or how the low cut of her bodice reveals the upper swells of her breasts.

With her midnight hair pinned up, leaving curling tendrils to whisper across her neck, red is the perfect shade for her… and she damn well knows it. She first wore the flowing gown at Christmas, and it had been difficult enough then not to acknowledge how she had evolved from a girl into a full grown she-wolf. Little wonder the men are circling her, vying for her attention, one after another leading her onto the dance floor.

The band, made up of mostly fiddle players led by Blaise Moonshadow, whom no one can match when it comes to pulling a bow over a violin, alternates a lively tune with a slower one. It's obvious most of the gents are timing their arrival at Faith's side so they're available for a waltz.

In a way, it's amusing to watch, but at the same time, it irritates the devil out of me. None is good enough for her, but she flirts with them and gives them hope anyway.

Faith has taken after her mother in that regard. She finds time for everyone: ranch hand, businessman, poor, wealthy… which is one of the reasons most of her dances are claimed. She has a way about her of making a man feel humbled by her attention.

I don't know why I'm still here, tormenting myself, watching Faith dance with one fellow after another, Cole Berringer greedily making his way into the line every third or fourth dance. It's an unwritten rule among cowboys that a man limits himself to one twirl about the floor with a gal until everyone has had a turn with her.

In spite of all Chase's efforts to get she-wolves out to this western part of Texas, men still vastly outnumber females. But Berringer doesn't pay attention to the rules, which in the end probably will take him far and ensure he keeps the she-wolf at his side happy. I'm pretty sure he intends for that she-wolf to be Faith.

"Cooper. Just the man I was looking for," Maggie says as she waves a red bandana in front of me.

"Hello, Brat," I mutter with affection. "You're not heifer branding me." The term refers to the long-standing tradition of cowboys taking on the role of a female dance partner when she-wolves are scarce.

"But we have a lot more gents here than she-wolves. I need a few fellas to show their willingness to pretend to be the gal so more men have a chance to dance." She pleeds.

Having a handkerchief tied around an upper arm provides the signal that a fellow is willing to partner up with another man for a dance or two. Cowboys enjoy dancing. "Nope. Look elsewhere."

She releases a breath in irritation, then smiles at me. "You're no fun. I didn't even see you sneak in here."

"I didn't sneak." But I have to admit, I hadn't drawn any attention, either. I have never much liked being the center of anyone's focus, preferring to hover off to the side. Being noticed when I was a boy had earned me nothing but pain and humiliation. Walking the edge, staying in the shadows brings me a measure of peace.

"Are you going to dance with her?" She asks.

We both know to whom she is referring. Maggie is my best friend, but sometimes she is downright irritating, especially when she manages to work things out about me that I want to keep secret. "I think she has enough partners."

"But you're her brother." She says.

I grimace as a tightness that would put any noose to shame seizes my chest. "No, I'm not. I was raised by her parents, in their house, but that doesn't make me her brother."

"Exactly. So where's the harm in dancing with her?" She grins.

The harm is that I'm not good enough for her, and have done things that make me sick to my stomach if I recall them with any measure of accuracy.

Chase Moonshadow knows the ugly details of my youth. I will never forget the revulsion that took root on Chase's face the moment he learned the truth about what I had done. The man's expression had indicated he was on the verge of bringing up every meal he had ever eaten. If Chase ever learned I had any tender regard for his daughter, the man who had given me a safe haven would send me packing… after he shot me dead. I take a slow sip of my whiskey. "You are the most aggravating she-wolf I know."

"But you love me anyway." She chimes.

"I tolerate you, even if you're as pesky as a gnat but not quite as big." I huff.

She chuckles lightly. "I love you, Cooper."

"Maggie!" I groan.

"Your problem is you don't believe you're deserving of love, not even the kind one friend showers on another. I don't know what happened to you before you became part of this family, but I do recognize that you're one of the finest men I know." She says stubbornly.

Sadly, I look at her. "You don't know many men then."

Her small fist makes hard contact with my shoulder.

"Ouch!" I step back, cradling my whiskey. "You nearly made me spill the good stuff."

"I went to the university. I know plenty of men. I can also say with certainty that none are as stubborn as you." She huffs.

"All your praise is going to my head, Maggie." Finishing off the whiskey, I set the glass aside on a nearby table. "Come on, I will dance with you."

Before she can protest, I take her arm and lead her onto the polished dance floor where people are whooping it up.

With her, it's the quickest and easiest way to change the subject because once she gets a notion in her head, she chases it with dogged determination. Besides, she is wrong. I don't believe I'm undeserving of love. I know it as fact.