Cooper's Woman

by Carol Finch

  He’d ridden fifty yards into the canyon before he reminded himself to exercise caution and cunning. Unfortunately, speculating on all the awful pain Alexa might be suffering made him wild and reckless. It took sheer will to rein in Bandit and think rationally—because there was nothing sane or rational about the emotions that bombarded him.

  When Miguel skidded to a halt beside him, Coop noted the same panicky concern in his expression that was eating him alive.

  Think, damn it, Coop ordered himself. He dragged in a restorative breath and reminded himself that Alexa’s life was on the line. He had to respond sensibly, immediately.

  “I’ll circle the hillside,” Coop said decisively. “You continue straight ahead.”

  “You should know I’ll be shooting to kill, gringo,” Miguel ground out vengefully.

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way myself, so stay the hell out of my line of fire while you’re shooting uphill and I’m shooting down.”

  Another shot rang out, followed by another enraged bellow. Coop went one way and Miguel went the other. Forcing Bandit to lunge up the steep embankment, Coop scanned the moonlit terrain. From his vantage point, he spotted the smoke and sparks from a discharging pistol. He hoped Alexa had somehow managed to arm herself, but he doubted it. He remembered setting aside her firearm when he removed her shirt to check her injury. He certainly hadn’t done her any favors by leaving her unarmed.

  If she hadn’t managed to confiscate Denton’s weapon then he was the one shooting at her. Yet, Coop couldn’t risk going with that assumption by firing into the underbrush where a trickle of smoke drifted skyward.

  “Come here, you stupid bitch!” Denton bellowed in the distance.

  Coop glanced around, hoping to detect movement but he couldn’t locate Alexa and he didn’t want to expose his position to Denton. Coop snapped to attention when Denton shot from the underbrush like a cannonball. He heard a pained yelp that he knew belonged to Alexa. Coop was off his horse in a single bound, racing through the bushes, praying for all he was worth that he arrived before it was too damn late to save her.

  Alexa hissed in pain when she banged her tender ankle on an oversize rock then stumbled off balance. She tried to brace on her injured arm but it gave way and she fell flat on her face. Frantic, she scrambled back to her knees, knowing Oscar was nearly upon her.

  He came out of nowhere like a charging bull, knocking her backward so hard that air gushed from her lungs in a whoosh. Her neck whiplashed then she hit the ground with a thump.

  “I’ve been itching to have you,” he growled triumphantly as he stood over her.

  Head spinning, she tried to lever herself up, but he backhanded her. Stinging pain throbbed in her cheek and stars twinkled before her eyes. When she tried to rise again, he struck her, vowing to beat her into submission. Fury boiled through her veins, providing her with the strength needed to respond. When he dropped onto his knees atop of her and reared back his arm, she struck him before he could strike her again.

  Hissing in outrage, she stabbed the bullying bastard in the chest with her dagger. An instant later, a gunshot rang out. Oscar swayed unsteadily above her, as if suspended in a realm of pain and astonishment. His eyes widened in disbelief as he glanced down to see the handle of the knife protruding from his chest then he stared uncomprehendingly at the shiny stain that quickly spread across the shoulder of his shirt.

  When his bulky body swayed toward her, Alexa braced her good arm against his belly before he collapsed on top of her. To her stunned surprise, Denton launched backward through the air and landed with a thud.

  Coop towered over her, a smoking gun in his hand. Even in the moonlit darkness, she could read the concern in his expression as he took inventory of her condition. She wanted to bound to her feet, throw herself into his arms and bawl her head off. Yet, she didn’t want to appear weak and helpless to a man who exemplified strength, skill and perseverance.

  So she raised her good arm, silently requesting that he assist her to her feet, and said, “It certainly took you long enough to find me, partner. I thought I was going to have to save myself.”

  Coop glanced over his shoulder to note the dagger protruding from Oscar’s chest. Then he holstered his six-shooter. “Looks like we had him coming and going. A damn shame the son of a bitch is too dead to stand trial or testify against Webster.”

  Coop folded his hand around hers and gently drew her to her feet. When her legs wobbled beneath her, Coop curled a supporting arm around her waist. She smelled musty, as if she had been stuffed in a cave. But he nuzzled his cheek against her neck nevertheless. Knowing she was the worse for wear but alive came as a gigantic relief.

  He noticed the welt on her cheek. “You okay, princess?” he murmured as he pulled her close, savoring the pleasure of holding her and of knowing he hadn’t arrived too late to lend a helping hand.

  “More or less,” she murmured. Then her breath hitched and he knew she was trying exceptionally hard not to allow the horrifying ordeal to get to her while he was on hand to witness it.

  “Which one? More or less?” he teased as he dropped a kiss to her forehead.

  “Less,” she finally admitted. “I was wondering if I might have the rest of the evening off this case. I’m feeling a little light-headed.”

  “Sure, but I wish you’d stay where I put you for once,” he replied as he picked her up in his arms and turned toward Bandit. “It isn’t easy tracking you after dark.”

  She managed a faint smile, though he couldn’t imagine how, considering her weakened condition and her harrowing emotional experience. But that was Alexa, he reminded himself. She was too determined and spirited to quit. As long as there was a breath of life left in her, she refused to give up. Coop admired her greatly for that. He knew men who didn’t hold up as well in a life-threatening crisis as this blue-eyed hellion.

  “We needed to solve this case quickly so Papa can tear up Elliot’s contract and toss him in jail,” she insisted.

  “¡Dios mio!”

  Coop glanced over his shoulder to see Miguel appear from the shadows. His wide-eyed gaze landed on Denton’s knife wound then swung to the gunshot wound on his shoulder.

  “That was too damn close!” Miguel muttered as he quickly appraised Alexa. “You look like hell.”

  “Thank you. That makes me feel so much better about myself,” she mocked as she rested her head on Coop’s shoulder.

  Not that he minded. He needed the reassurance that she was alive and reasonably well.

  “Have you found Kate yet?” she asked.

  Miguel bobbed his dark head. “Webster exchanged Kate for you. He left her tied to your bed at the hotel. She is fine, except that she’s fretting over you.”

  Coop felt Alexa sag heavily in relief. “Come on, princess. Let’s get you to town so you can recuperate.”

  He carefully deposited her on Bandit’s back. When she swayed slightly, Miguel reined his horse over to hold her upright while Coop climbed up behind her. When he settled her securely against his chest and wrapped a protective arm around so she wouldn’t topple off the horse—if she lost consciousness—Miguel led the way downhill.

  “One last thing,” Alexa murmured against Coop’s shoulder.

  He brushed his cheek against hers and thanked the powers that be that she possessed the ingenuity and intellect to elude Denton. “What’s the one last thing, princess?” he whispered.

  “I was afraid I wouldn’t have the chance to tell you. Almost didn’t.”

  She sounded so exhausted and felt like a rag doll propped up in his arms. “Tell me what?” he asked as he pressed a kiss to her neck.

  “I love you. I didn’t want to, tried not to, but I do…”

  Her head rolled against his arm and she slumped motionlessly against his chest.

  Coop agonized over her quiet confession. He knew a wild pendulum of emotion prompted her words. She had suffered fear, injury, shock and relief in the course of a few hours. She probably thought
that she should love him since they had become intimate. But that was just emotional turmoil speaking for her. Besides, she didn’t fit into his rough-and-tumble world. And certainly, he didn’t fit into her privileged lifestyle.

  As Miguel kept harping at him, a man needed to know his place in society without harboring unrealistic expectations. Nonetheless, a part of him thrilled to her muffled confession, even if she’d probably prefer to take it back after she recovered from her injuries and returned to an even keel.

  His conflicting thoughts trailed off when he saw the posse, carrying torches, moving up the canyon trail. To Coop’s dismay, Gil reported that Webster and his paramour were not in custody. That slippery bastard had double-crossed Denton and had escaped. Fortunately Webster didn’t know that his hostage was free. Coop planned to be the one to tell him—face-to-face.

  Coop eased Alexa’s unconscious body onto Miguel’s lap. “Take good care of her, my friend.”

  Miguel blinked, startled. “Where are you going?”

  “To Santa Fe. This investigation isn’t over yet and we’re running out of time.” He glanced down at Alexa’s lovely but battered face and smiled. “Ask her to fetch the ledger she hid, when she feels up to it. I’ll see that she receives full credit for ferreting out the information needed for evidence.” He reined sideways then halted. “Have my belongings sent to my office in Albuquerque.”

  “As you wish, gringo. I’m sure you’ll see that justice is served.”

  Coop headed north, following the Indian trail that topped the mountain ridge. Leaving Alexa behind was the single most difficult task he’d ever undertaken.

  Their partnership was officially dissolved, he told himself. He never would have met her at all if she hadn’t wanted to prove her potential to her father. He should be grateful for the precious time he had spent with her.

  Harold would take her seriously now, Coop assured himself. Especially if he sang her praises to high heaven. And he would, too. It was the least he could do for Alexa. Harold wouldn’t hold her back, not after he’d nearly lost her. No one would hold that free-spirited female back now, Coop predicted.

  Alexa was vibrant, full of life and eager to spread her independent wings. She’d be fine.

  He couldn’t say the same for himself because there was a big empty hole in his chest where his heart used to be.

  “He left? What do you mean he left?” Alexa howled at Miguel. “You couldn’t have told me that before you crammed more sedatives down my throat sometime in the past twenty-four hours? Damn it, Miggy!”

  “I told you she wouldn’t take it well,” Kate reminded Miguel, who had drawn the short straw and had been required to deliver the news.

  “Coop went to Santa Fe,” Miguel continued. “He told me to tell you that he would wrap up the case and assure Harold that you played the dominant role in acquiring the facts.”

  “I damn well intend to be on hand when Elliot tries to grab the ransom and head for the hills.”

  Her voice fizzled out when she tried to stand up abruptly. The room spun crazily, forcing Alexa to sit or fall.

  “See there?” Kate chastised her. “You are not healthy enough to endure a lengthy stagecoach and train ride. Coop can handle the situation in Santa Fe. You said yourself that he’s the best there is in the detective business.”

  Alexa wilted back to her pillow. Despite what her dearest friends thought, she knew the real reason Coop had left in a flaming rush. She had made the crucial mistake of telling him that she was in love with him and it had scared him off.

  Nothing much scared Wyatt Cooper, but that had done it. He’d decided to get out while the getting was good. Alexa knew that he could have sent a telegram to the Santa Fe police department and had them swoop in on Elliot or Norville Thomas—or both—when someone came to pick up the ransom money. This was Coop’s subtle way of telling her that he didn’t return her deep feelings. He had told her from the beginning that he didn’t want a permanent business partner. So that was that.

  “Besides, you can’t leave Questa Springs yet. You promised the citizens a town-wide celebration,” Kate said with a wry grin. “Selma Mae forged ahead with your previous arrangements and turned it into a thank-you party for your part in ridding the community of Webster and his hired guns.”

  “Exactly right,” Miguel chimed in. “At Coop’s suggestion, Gil offered the abandoned mercantile store to Kate’s father and his partners to compensate for Webster burning them out. You and Coop are heroes in these parts. One of you needs to be the guest of honor for the celebration.”

  Alexa didn’t want to be hailed as a hero. She wanted Coop back. If she had kept her trap shut, he might still be here. Given time to wear him down, he might have agreed to let her assist in one more investigation. Followed by another. And then another. Before he knew it, they might have become permanent partners.

  But now he was gone and soon he’d be off to who-knew-where to investigate who-knew-what. She wouldn’t have the opportunity to see him for months. By then, any concern and sympathy he might have felt for her would fizzle out and it would be difficult to talk him into any future arrangements.

  Damnation, it had taken her a while to convince him to let her become his temporary partner. Permanent would be out of the question if she didn’t act quickly.

  “I’m not going to make your travel arrangements for sooner than the day after the celebration,” Miguel announced.

  “I’m not in a festive mood,” Alexa said grouchily.

  “You will be by Saturday,” Kate assured her cheerfully.

  Alexa glared at her smiling friends. “I want it known that I’m only attending under protest.”

  “Point noted,” said Kate, swallowing an amused snicker. “Nonetheless you will be our guest of honor. Instead of marrying that weasel, Webster, you are instrumental in having him jailed. That makes you one of the most popular personalities in town.”

  Alexa set aside her disappointment over Coop’s absence for the moment and glanced speculatively between Miguel and Kate. “And what, I would like to know, are you two going to do about your situation?”

  Both of her friends looked everywhere except at her. Miguel appeared tormented by the direct question and Kate looked miserable.

  “I’m going to accompany you back to Santa Fe,” Miguel said belatedly. “That is my job as your chaperone and bodyguard.”

  “That is easy to solve,” Alexa said with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “You’re fired. I can take care of myself.”

  Miguel smirked mockingly. “Of course, you can. That’s why you’re lying in bed, nursing a gunshot wound, a tender ankle, a bruised cheek. Compliments of a couple of near brushes with catastrophe. You call that taking care of yourself?”

  Alexa flashed him a challenging stare. “But I solved the case…partially…didn’t I?”

  “Yes, and you’re still alive, thanks to Coop’s educated guess as to where to find you. And you’ll notice that he’s the last man standing, not you.” Miguel doubled over to brush a brotherly kiss over her brow. “Rest now, querida. You need to be the perfect party hostess, come Saturday.”

  When her friends exited so she could catch a nap, Alexa expelled a heavy sigh. Coop had only been gone for a day and she missed him terribly. If she gave up on these intense feelings of affection, how long would it take to get over him? Two months? Two years? Two decades? Never?

  Never was probably closer to the mark, she decided as she closed her eyes and prayed that she would awake feeling revived and rejuvenated. She was not going to lie flat on her back with her arm in a sling for too long a time. She needed activity to thrive and survive. But most of all she needed Coop to make her happy.

  That was her last thought before weariness claimed her and she fell asleep, wishing for the impossible.

  Chapter Eighteen

  From his hiding place inside Harold Quinn’s stable, Coop watched a now-familiar silhouette scurry toward the well where the ransom pouch had been deposited a quarter
of an hour earlier. Coop had ridden hell-for-leather to reach Santa Fe, with just enough time to spare to pose a few questions at the territorial commissary and to brief his client. The arrangements for the ransom pickup had been made and carried out according to Coop’s specifications. Except for one exasperating detail.

  Coop glanced over his shoulder at Harold who, like his daughter, thought he needed to be in on the action. Must run in the family, Coop decided. After meeting Harold, and realizing he was sincere and determined to resolve the situation, Coop knew this wasn’t a publicity stunt. The man simply wanted revenge for being scared half to death when he learned the culprits had captured Alexa and demanded ransom money, along with the absurd demand to renew the government contract. Plus, there was no question in Coop’s mind that Harold was exceptionally fond of his daughter.

  “That two-faced, devious son of a bitch,” Harold said with a hiss. “If I had known then what you found out at the commissary about Norville Thomas being Elliot Webster’s stepbrother, I might have figured out that he was involved in embezzling military and reservation supplies and selling them for profit.”

  “That’s why they tried to keep it quiet,” Coop murmured.

  Alexa had mentioned to him that she hadn’t made the connection that initially led to the partnership between Thomas and Webster, though she was the one who tied the two swindlers together through notations in the ledgers. Coop had asked around the military supply post until he uncovered the truth.

  Now Coop would make it his mission to see that the cunning stepbrothers could spend more time together—by occupying adjacent cells at the penitentiary.

  When Harold saw Thomas squatting to draw the bucket from the well, he tried to bolt forward. Coop rammed an elbow into his chest to hold him in place.

  “You stay here,” he demanded. “Having one Quinn injured during this case is one too many. Let me do my job.”