The broken boy - healed by innocence

Who is in charge?

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*Cooper*

"Uncle Cooper, do you have a dog?" Dee asks, around the piece of bacon she's nibbling on.

Faith and her daughter had arrived in time for breakfast, and so far, it's been as quiet as the meal the night before, which means it's not quiet at all.

"I used to," I say.

Her delicate brow pleats. "What happened to it?"

He had grown old and I had to put him down, one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. But do I tell her all that? Does she know about death?

"He went to play in heaven," Faith says, sparing me the torment of possibly breaking this child's heart.

"You should get another one." Dee says.

The girl is as bossy as her mother. "Maybe someday I will when I'm a bit more settled."

"I like dogs." To prove her point, she gives the last bit of her bacon to the scruffy mutt. "Rufus sleeps with me."

"I bet that makes him happy." I tell her.

She nods. "Are you gonna play with me today?"

"I gotta work." I say.

"Speaking of that," Faith says, "maybe we should have a little private meeting before the men gather so we can discuss how we want to handle things."

"You're in charge. Just tell me what to do." I say.

As though suddenly lost, she looks at her father, then her mother, then swings her gaze back to me. "You were in charge of things before you left."

I shrug. "And now you are."

She seems surprised, but also pleased. I have little doubt she can handle all the responsibilities of managing the pack and all the men who work for us. She has spent a good bit of her youth out on the range with me and Chase, roping calves for branding, moving steers from one pasture to another, mending fences, hauling hay. She knows the workings of the ranch as well as I do.

"I guess we'd better get to it," she says.

While she gives her daughter a hug and a few final words, I meander outside where the cowboys have gathered. I shake the hands of the men I know, introduce myself to those I don’t, note the absence of a few familiar faces. A lot of changes have taken place since I left.

Then Faith wanders out. Denim pants look better on her than on any man I know, and I fight not to notice how her curves are a little more pronounced. The dress she had worn last night had hidden a good deal. The clothes she wears now reveal everything, and not a single aspect of her isn’t pleasing to the eye. Making her way into the center of the group, she comes to stand beside me.

"What assignments are you giving us, Cooper?" one of the ranch hands calls out.

"Faith will be doing that, Beau," I say loudly enough for all to hear.

He looks confused, "But you’re in charge."

"Nope. I’m taking orders from Faith like the rest of you fellas." I tell him.

"We all thought Faith was just filling in until you got back," Mike says.

I shake my head, "You thought wrong."

"If you have a problem with me giving orders," Faith says, "I can go ahead and give you what you’re owed, and you can move on."

Mike shuffles his feet like he thinks she might start shooting bullets at them and he needs to be prepared to sidestep them. "Just surprised is all."

"I’m not sure why," Faith says. "I have worked beside a lot of you since I was old enough to sit in a saddle."

I clap my hands together once. A couple of men jump. "I think that’s settled. If you will tell me where you want me, I will get right on it. I’m anxious to figure out what all has changed."

"Why don’t you run the perimeter, check the fencing? It will give you a chance to look things over." She says.

I wink at her. "Happy to, boss."

She gives me a ghost of a smile, which has my heart soaring, gives me hope we are on the precipice of reclaiming the friendship we once shared.

Wending my way through the gathered men, I amble over to the side to change into my wolf, hearing Faith's voice ring out as she issues orders. One of the things I have always admired about her is her determination to do what needed to be done.

*Faith*

By mid-afternoon, I have taken care of everything I needed to, feeling pleased with the work the men are doing, pleased with almost everything except the slight awkwardness that still hovers between Cooper and myself.

Several of the men have crossed paths with him during the day and reported his approximate whereabouts to me. Urging my horse into a gentle canter toward the north end of the ranch, I'm determined to ensure everything is right between us before this evening.

My family members aren't big on gossiping about each other, but they do notice things and worry when they sense something isn't quite right. My relationship with him means too much to me, and I don’t want it ruined because of unresolved issues from a long-ago night and feelings toward him that had begun to stir when I had been much younger.

Not that finally finding him does anything to calm my anxiety, because the sight of him is awakening a stirring of desire I haven’t felt in a good long while.

He is restringing a section of the barbed-wire fence. Based on the glistening of his bronzed back, he had long ago tossed aside his shirt. His broad-brimmed hat provides the only shade for miles.

Drawing my horse to a halt a short distance away, I simply watch in mesmerized fascination at the way his corded muscles bunch and stretch with his efforts, the manner in which his Levi’s pull taut against his backside, outlining his thighs. He is all sinewy strength in motion, and I have the insane thought that if anyone ever made a moving picture of him at his labors, I would gladly watch it for hours and never grow bored.

A thousand times I must have seen him without a shirt washing up at the watering trough after a day in the saddle before coming inside to wash up properly, taking a dip in the nearby river where he had taught me to swim when I was seven, and moments like this when it was simply too hot not to let nature’s occasional breeze waft directly over one’s skin.

But never before has my mouth gone so dry, never have I thought how pleasing it might be to take a lick of that salty flesh. I feel as though the champagne from that long-ago night is once again having its way with me, making me dizzy with a want for things I have set aside, putting thoughts in my head that have no business visiting.

If I had married Cole Berringer or any man, for that matter, I would have been settling, settling because I would never have been able to attract this man, to make him view me as anything other than a kid sister. It certainly hadn’t helped my case that I had been a silly girl with flights of fancy who had never known hardship until it came calling without warning.

My horse snorts. Cooper stills his actions, glances over his shoulder, and straightens.

“What are you doing out here? Checking up on me?” he asks as he releases his hold on the wire, drops his hammer, and wanders over to the post where his shirt stirs in the slight wind.

He grabs his shirt and shrugs into it with a smooth motion that rivals poetry in its simple beauty. It takes everything within me not to shout at him to leave his clothing where it was, to let me feast a little longer on something that never should have been served up for my enjoyment.

At least he doesn’t bother fastening the buttons before snatching his canteen dangling from the post and taking several swallows of water, his throat muscles working, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down with his efforts, causing an unusual fluttering in my stomach that travels clear down to the seat of my saddle. What the hell is the matter with me? I have seen plenty of men drink. It’s necessary if one wants to survive out here.

Feeling a mix of frustration and an unsettling awareness bubbling up, I abruptly dismount and amble over to him. "I want to thank you for how you handled the situation with the men this morning, supporting me instead of trying to take over."

"You earned it, stepping in when Chase needed to let everything go." He says.

"If you had been here, he would have handed everything off to you. Or you would have just naturally filled his boots. He always saw you as eventually running things." I admit.

"But I wasn't here. And one day the ranch will be yours. The men might as well get used to you being in charge. Besides, I didn't want to have to explain another black eye." His voice carries a hint of teasing that eases a good bit of the tension out of me.

I shake my head, "I didn't blacken your eye. Just bruised your cheek a little. Does it hurt?"

"Only when I smile." I admits.

Which he does at that moment, bestowing on me the type of inviting grin that has no doubt stolen a thousand hearts. "Cooper, with the family gathering tonight, I want to make sure everything is right between us."

He watches me a full minute before reaching into the pocket of his shirt, pulling out a sarsaparilla stick, breaking it in half, and holding a piece toward me. For a man of few words, his actions speak volumes. With a smile, I take his offering and slip it between my lips, aware of his gaze riveted on my actions. Drawing some comfort from that, I nod toward the spool of wire. "Poachers?"

"Maybe," he says around his sarsaparilla stick. "Hard to tell. You might want to have the men do a head count on the herd. It could just be someone opposed to fencing. They cut close to a half mile of it."

"Why didn't you find some men to help fix it? As much as I appreciate what you did this morning, you don't need my permission to order the men about if you see something that needs to be addressed. Truth is, you have as much right to issue orders as I do." I tell him.

He gives me a familiar grin that usually has me smiling back, but now it makes me realize how masculine and confident he is. He knows himself, knows what he wants. "I like the hard work of pitting myself against the wire."

Which I suppose is his acknowledgment he would issue orders if he needed to. "You won't be finished before company arrives. Why don't you stretch it and I will hammer it into the posts?"