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go for a walk? You could have caught your death and no one would have even known where you’d gone off to. We were worried sick about you.”
    Johanna shifted in front of Emma, ending any planned lecture. She lifted her head and stared level into the stranger’s eyes. “Please, Mr. Woodburn, won’t you come inside?” Her words were far colder than the wet wind. “No matter what the weather, we are grateful you brought our sister home.”
    Woodburn hesitated. “It’s late. I’ll just set her box inside and be on my way.” He tried to pass.
    â€œNonsense,” Johanna stated with a glance behind her at a still angry Emma. “You’ll stay for a cup of coffee, at the very least.” She swept one arm as though opening an invisible door. “Winnie, please get your guest a cup before we send him back out in this damp air.”
    Winnie hurried inside. Woodburn had no choice but to trail behind. Southern hospitality would prevail even if it had to be forced on the guest.
    Straightening their shoulders, Emma and Johanna followed like silent sergeants-at-arms.
    Cooper realized no one noticed him standing in theshadows, and Johanna must not have seen the third figure curled into the corner of the buggy. It would not have been like his proper sister to leave someone out of an invitation.
    He let his spurs jingle as he neared the buggy. He didn’t want to frighten Mary.
    â€œMiss Woodburn?” he asked from several feet away. “Would you like to join the others?”
    When he didn’t go away, or say anything else, Mary finally leaned her head out from behind the tattered leather. “No, Mr. Adams.”
    Cooper smiled. At least she answered him. He took another step. “I’m sure the coffee is hot and, knowing my sisters, there are at least two desserts in the pie safe.”
    She didn’t answer, so he guessed she must be at least thinking about the offer.
    â€œPlease”—he lifted his gloved hand to assist her—“we’d be honored to have you stay for a few minutes. After all, you may have saved Winnie’s life.”
    Mary let her hand rest in his as she gathered her skirts and climbed from the folds of the buggy. “Nothing so heroic, Mr. Adams. She looked exhausted after walking to town. I talked her into staying for a late lunch and resting a while. Otherwise she would have been home before the rain started.”
    He watched Mary carefully, not knowing if she accepted his invitation because she wanted to be with the others, or because she was afraid of remaining in the dark with him. He could feel her hand tremble even through the leather of his glove.
    Cooper paused at the first step. “Do you think you could call me Cooper? Mr. Adams seems too formal.” He wished she’d raise her eyes to meet his. He felt like he was talking to the part in her hair.
    â€œAll right.” She didn’t offer to let him call her Mary.
    He held the door for her and a moment later the kitchen chair. It seemed to him that she was being very careful not to accidentally touch him. She didn’t look at him as she drank her coffee and ate a slice of Emma’s buttermilk pie. He triednot to stare at her, or to act as if he cared one way or the other about her, but even when he talked to the others, he was aware of her every move.
    There was something about Mary Woodburn. Not attraction, he told himself, but something. She was as plain as ever in a black dress with no hint of lace or frills. Her hair was pulled so tightly against her head it could have been painted on. If he shouted, she’d probably jump and run like a deer.
    Her brother wasn’t much more of a talker. Except for mentioning, when Emma related their trials by stage, that the stage line had left one of his bags in Sherman, Woodburn didn’t say a word.
    Cooper found himself wondering how Winnie and the Woodburns had made it through the ride out.