But today, Cooper had the funniest feeling Winnie wasn’t running from work, but escaping on some grand adventure. She talked of how pretty the day seemed even though thunderclouds looked like a mountain range to the west. And she laughed at nothing as if she were in her teens and not a woman of almost forty.

He let Winnie out at the general store and picked up the wood he needed. Cooper took the opportunity to stop in for one drink, hoping to give Winnie plenty of time to visit. To his surprise, when he returned to the general store, Mrs. Debord and her husband said they had not seen her.

Frustrated, Cooper walked out of Debord’s General. He didn’t have time to waste looking for Winnie. His sisters always visited with the Debords like they were old friends when they came to Minnow Springs. And in truth he usually enjoyed listening to the town gossip on the ride home. Why would Winnie say she needed things, then not even bother going inside the store? If he didn’t know better, he would think she had a secret lover somewhere.

Cooper caught himself laughing out loud. Wouldn’t that be a kick to find out Winnie had a lover? If ever there was a woman born to be the maiden aunt, Winnie fit the bill. Everyone loved her for her sweet, confusing ways, but no man seemed likely to give her his name.

Cooper gazed along what little there was of the street everyone called Main. Two saloons, a hotel, a carpenter/undertaker shop, the stage and livery station, the telegraph office, and Woodburn’s dilapidated mercantile. Winnie would never go in one of the saloons. The hotel was not much better. She had no reason to see the undertaker; although sometimes Cooper felt his sisters’ schemes might be the death of him, they all three appeared to be in good health.

That left Woodburn’s Mercantile or the stage line. He headed toward the tiny store, guessing Winnie would have no business with the stage line. Johanna always booked all reservations and carried the tickets for all three sisters when they traveled.

Few locals went into Woodburn’s Mercantile. It was small and offered little choice compared to Debord’s General. The front door was so plain anyone might miss it stuffed in between the hotel and the undertaker. Cooper noticed the wind had blown off the last three letters of his sign, making the business look even less prosperous.

Miles Woodburn was a Yankee who’d settled here after the war. Most of his business came from the cattle drives and settlers passing through. He took trade for foodstuffs so folks down on their luck usually found his door.

Winnie must have forgotten about Woodburn being from the North. Like most folks in the South, Cooper tried to put the hatred behind him, but it wasn’t always easy. Woodburn’s limp reminded Cooper, even before his clip northern accent greeted him, that a half dozen years ago they might have faced one another across a battlefield. Cooper’s bullet could be the reason Woodburn limped or had a thin scar across his left cheek. Woodburn, and a thousand like him, were the reason Cooper walked the floor most nights, afraid to sleep. Afraid he would dream.

Cooper hurried across the street trying to forget memories that haunted him. He had been in Woodburn’s place a few times when Debord was out of something he needed. Most of the merchandise was dusty on the shelf. Poor Winnie would never find what she was looking for in a place like that.

As he stepped onto the planked porch, he thought he saw Woodburn unloading a wagon at the side entrance, but Cooper pretended not to notice the man. They would nod at one another, but they weren’t the “pass the time of day” kind of acquaintances.

When Cooper pushed the door open, he heard Winnie’s musical giggle. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the store’s shadowy light. Clothing hung from the rafters like floating ghosts and the smell of spices thickened the molasses air.

Winnie leaned over the counter helping a slender woman wrap purchases into one square of brown paper. She giggled again as items slipped from her grip.

“Maybe we should put it in two bundles.” Winnie laughed.

“Maybe.” The young woman answered without a hint of southern accent in her voice. “Or you can hold it closed and just bind everything else up with your hands.”

Winnie finally noticed Cooper moving toward her. “Oh, Cooper. I’m sorry I’m late. You see, Mary and I were just wrapping the few things I bought.”

Cooper met the young woman’s stare. She was as plain as her name with bluegray eyes. Stormy day eyes, he thought, deciding she must be Woodburn’s sister. He’d heard folks talk about her, said she was a real bookworm, reading, instead of dusting, when the store wasn’t busy.

“Morning, miss.” Cooper removed his hat. There was no reason not to be polite, no matter whose sister she was. To be honest, he must have seen her before. The town was too little to miss anyone for long. But he couldn’t remember her.

“Good morning,” she answered. A hint of fear darkened her eyes as she studied him. “We could use some help, Mr. Adams,” she finally said, “if you don’t mind.”

He wasn’t surprised she knew his name, but the alarm he’d seen cross her gaze startled him. The woman had no reason to be afraid of him. He meant her no harm. Unfriendly to her brother, maybe, but no danger to her.

Cooper set his hat down and offered his support to holding the packages together. His large hands made easy work of the chore. Mary wrapped the string around tightly. When she leaned closer to him to tie the knot, a strange fragrance rattled through his senses. She smelled of freshbaked bread and spices, and spring water and blankets warmed in front of an open fire.

The scent of her was nothing like he would’ve expected.

She was plain, washed away even more in her faded brown dress. Yet there was nothing false or bottled about the aroma in the air when she stood so close.

“I’m finished,” she said a few inches from his ear. “You can let go now.”

Cooper stood back, embarrassed that he’d leaned so close. He crammed his hat low on his head and picked up the purchase. “I’d say you forgot quite a few things.” He teased Winnie as he nodded politely to Mary.

“You won’t tell the sisters, will you? I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I promise,” he said without glancing back toward the girl. Winnie had always called Johanna and Emma “the sisters” as if they were a matching set of bookends.

When he turned to leave, Winnie stopped him, taking the bundle from his hands. “I did buy one more thing. Mary will show you while I say goodbye to Mr. Woodburn.”

Cooper had no choice but to follow Mary to the back of the store as Winnie headed out the front.

“I hope my sister wasn’t any trouble to you.” He was searching for something to say. “Sometimes she can get to talking and…”

“She was no trouble,” Mary told him. “She’s a treasure.”

Cooper tried to see the woman’s face as she wound around counters and shelves. Surely she was kidding. He loved his sister dearly, but few others saw her charm.

As they passed into the crowded storage room, Cooper had to duck to keep from hitting rusting clutter hanging from the rafters. The place was a wreck, boxes, empty trunks, old furniture stacked, piled, and hanging everywhere, skeletons from a better day.

Mary stopped so suddenly, Cooper bumped into her. He gripped her shoulders in an effort to steady both himself and her.

“I’m sorry,” he said against the back of her hair.

The smell of her surrounded him once more. That clean, fresh fragrance almost made him believe there was still a kindness in the world he once saw as a child. He’d take that aroma over any he’d ever smelled from a bottle, but he couldn’t name exactly what it was.

Twisting suddenly from his grip, Mary backed away. Even in the shadows, he saw the fear in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to slam into you.” Cooper felt as clumsy as a drunk staggering on the street. “I was looking up trying not to bump my head when you stopped.”

She watched him for a moment as if considering screaming for help. Then, slowly, she took a deep breath and seemed to force herself to relax. “It’s understandable. This room can be traitorous at times.”

No smile softened her words.

He found himself studying her closely, wishing he understood her. There were secrets behind her cautious eyes. Secrets he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to investigate. She’d been hurt by a man, sometime, someplace, and as the brother of three sisters, Cooper hated to think of any woman being harmed.

“Your sister’s purchase.” Mary pointed to a huge wooden rocker hanging from nails on the back wall. “I wasn’t strong enough to lift it down.”

Cooper evaluated the ugly chair. Too large, too old, too scarred to be of much use. “Are you sure Winnie bought this?” He felt like a fool for asking even before the words were out of his mouth.

Mary nodded. “She asked if we had a rocker and insisted on this one the minute she saw it. She said something about every woman should have a rocker sitting next to her hope chest.”

Groaning, he reached for the chair. When he’d been a kid, he remembered his sisters having hope chests filled with what they called “someday items.” Surely Winnie had given up on the idea of someday having her own home and family.

As he lifted the heavy oak from the wall, his hat tumbled. Cooper twisted trying to find a place on the floor to set the chair while he retrieved his hat. There was no room.

“I’ll get it,” Mary finally offered, squeezing past him and the chair.

When she leaned up and placed the hat back on his head, her body brushed against his arm. Cooper flinched like he’d been hit by a cannonball in the gut. Her nearness in the shadows was the most intimate feeling he had ever known. He wasn’t some schoolboy who had never been close to a woman, but every part of his being reacted to her.