“If you mean, Beau, he’s taken,” Cash said.
“Yes, I can see that. They make an attractive couple.”
“What about you, Tracy? Are you taken?”
Tracy sat back in her chair and decided to answer his previous, though subtle, question and this direct one. Meeting his gaze, she said, “Yes, I think you should be on the cover ofPeopletoo. And no, I’m not taken.”
A slight grin played on Cash’s lips. He’d darn well known she’d sidestepped his question earlier and said, “Thank you, Tracy.” Looking past her, he called, “Coop, come over here. I want you to meet someone.”
Tracy smiled at the spry gentleman with bright blue eyes sauntering toward them. Clad in a Western shirt and jeans, cowboy hat and boots, he also wore a big smile. Cash scooted back his chair and stood to greet him.
“Howdy,” the man named Coop said as Cash placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Hello,” Tracy replied.
“Crawford Cooper, my grandfather and winner of seven world titles for team roping, steer roping, and tie-down roping,” Cash began in introduction and paused to look at Tracy to add with obvious love and pride, “Coop’s in the ProRodeo Hall of Fame and the Museum of the American Cowboy in Colorado Springs.” Then turning back to his grandfather, he said, “I’d like you to meetRanchers and Rangesjournalist, Tracy Dalton.”
“A pleasure, Miss Dalton,” Coop said.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Cooper.” Tracy extended her hand. “Please call me Tracy.”
“Nobody calls me Mr. Cooper,” he replied in a humble tone. “I got tired of being called Crawdad and Crawfish so everybody calls me Coop.”
Cash pulled up a chair for him, and said, “Please sit.”
Tracy liked Coop immediately and said, “Yes, please join us, Coop.”
Taking a seat, as Cash also sat down, Coop asked, “Dalton, as in the infamous Dalton Gang of the late 1800s?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“One and the same,” Tracy admitted and splayed her hands. “According to my Grandpa Lewis Dalton. And verified by an old familyBibleand the Internet.”
“No kidding?” Coop replied as Kellie brought a plate of tacos to him. Cristen accompanied her with another margarita glass and poured a round for them. He thanked them as did Tracy and Cash. “To the Daltons,” Coop said as they clinked their margarita glasses.
“The Daltons.” Cash looked at Tracy and asked, “As in bank and train robbers?”
“Some of the Dalton boys, not all of them,” Tracy said. “The Daltons’ parents were James Lewis Dalton and Adeline Younger Dalton. Full disclosure, the Dalton brothers shared the same grandfather, Charles Lee Younger, with the Younger brothers who ran with Jesse and Frank James.”
“The Dalton, Younger, and James Gangs.” Cash leaned back in his chair, cocked a brow, and folded his arms over his chest. “That explains so much.”
“Does it, now?” Tracy arched a cinnamon brow. “I don’t know if this helps to repair my terrible first impressions or solidifies them, but according to my grandpa, only Bob, Gratton, Bill, and Emmett Dalton were bank and train robbers.”
“You’re right,” Coop said. “The majority of the Dalton children were law abiding.”
Tracy’s turquoise eyes sparkled as she said, “There were fifteen Dalton kids in the family and Grandpa Lew told me the same thing about most of them being law abiding, Coop.”
“I can’t remember all of the Dalton family members, but I know Cole Dalton was a teacher and Littleton Dalton was a sheepherder,” Coop said. “They lived in California. Franklin Dalton was a much-admired Deputy US Marshal, working under Judge Isaac Parker in the Oklahoma Territory.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Tracy smiled, nodding.
“I’m thinking you two might be kindred spirits,” Cash said.
Tracy smiled at Cash and then at Coop to say, “Grandpa Lew said Franklin Dalton was tracking down whiskey runners when he was shot and killed in the line of duty.”
“I read that somewhere. Sad. Franklin was a couple of years younger than you are, Cash,” Coop began, with a nod at him, “when he was murdered in 1887.”
“Franklin was twenty-eight,” Tracy confirmed. “My dad died at twenty-eight and my mom had just turned twenty-four, like I’ll be on—soon.”
