Cooper's Woman

Later that evening Alexa sat across the table from Elliot, who was decked out in his finery, trying to impress her with his comments, his expensive attire and his elaborate residence. It wasn’t working. He must have had his house servants working overtime because the expensive, two-story stone and timber ranch house was free of dust. In addition, the woodwork, furniture and floors had been polished until they shined. The fact that Elliot had most likely acquired his costly furniture, imported rugs, tapestries and china at his customers’ expense didn’t escape her attention.

Elliot raised his wine goblet in toast. “To us, my dearest Alexa. You are such charming company and so lovely to look at that you take my breath away.”

“You are too kind,” she purred and batted her eyelashes for effect. “Your home is quite impressive, Elliot. A spectacular mansion in the mountains.”

“I’m glad you approve.” He took a drink of his wine and then smiled charismatically. “Perhaps one day you might be interested in living here with me.”

Not a chance in hell! “Why, Elliot, are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?” Alexa murmured coyly.

“I’m in need of a wife,” Elliot remarked before he gulped down more wine. “At thirty-five I’m ready to start my family.”

My, the man was a lush, Alexa noted as he filled his glass again. Another reason for her to dislike him. Her mother had the same problem.

“And my father thinks it’s high time that I took a husband,” she replied. “But I don’t wish to be too hasty. After all, it is a commitment meant to last a lifetime.”

Elliot reached across the table to clasp her hand in his. “Perhaps tonight can be a celebration of sorts. Would you consider me as a prospective—?”

“There he is. Never mind, Oscar. I found him.”

Alexa tried very hard not to react to the unexpected sound of Coop’s voice rolling into the room. To her surprise, he emerged from the shadows and limped into the middle of the dining room. Oscar Denton, the armed guard she’d met at the front door, looked quite annoyed as he lumbered along at Coop’s heels. She noticed that Elliot made a point to cling overly long to her hand so that Coop was aware of the possessive touch.

“What are you doing here?” Elliot demanded of Coop.

“Didn’t know you had company.” Coop glanced at Alexa and touched the brim of his hat in greeting. “Ma’am, pardon the interruption. I’ll come back later.”

“Sorry, boss,” Oscar Denton mumbled as he grabbed Coop’s arm. “He just sort of breezed in here like he had no manners.”

Alexa hid her frown of concern and curiosity behind the wine goblet as she took a sip. What the blazes was Coop doing here? He was supposed to monitor Elliot’s activities from a distance, not barge in as if he owned the place.

Her attention shifted to the burly cowboy who was one of Elliot’s hired gunmen. Oscar was two inches shorter than Coop and slightly heavier. He was armed with two six-shooters strapped to his hips, a dagger like Miguel’s on his thigh and a bandoleer filled with ammunition draped diagonally across his thick chest.

She watched Elliot surge to his feet then cast her an apologetic glance. “Please excuse me for a moment, my dear. I might as well speak to the man since he’s here.” He stared pointedly at Coop. “If for no other reason than to remind him of his manners.” He gestured for Coop to lead the way through the dining-room door.

When the three men exited, Alexa breathed a sigh of relief. Pretending to be enamored with Elliot was taxing. She was grateful for a moment of reprieve. She helped herself to another sip of wine and tried to puzzle out Coop’s unannounced appearance.

Disturbing though it was, it provided a much-needed break in her conversation with Elliot. Listening to him, ad nauseam, while he chided her for speaking to Coop on the street the previous day and then for thrusting herself into the melee with the Fredericks this morning had become tiresome. She had apologized for her rashness, only because it was what he expected of her. Alexa didn’t want to tip off Elliot that she wasn’t exactly what she seemed.

Elliot had forgiven her for her impulsiveness but pleaded with her to be careful, because he had become exceedingly fond of her. Ha! He was fond of her father’s political connections and her social status. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have rushed to the brothel to seek satisfaction with a harlot.

Alexa helped herself to more wine, wishing she could tiptoe to the door to eavesdrop on Elliot’s conversation with Coop. But she figured she’d be caught and have some explaining to do.

Wine and waiting, she mused impatiently. She was stuck here, drinking, until Elliot returned.

“What the devil is the matter with you?” Elliot snapped at Coop. “The next time you barge in my home unannounced I’ll have you shot—”

He shut his trap when Coop jerked his arm from Oscar Denton’s grasp and gave both men quelling stares. Coop let it be known—here and now—that, although he could be friendly and agreeable if the mood suited him, he was not a man intimidated by verbal threats.

“Send your lackey on his way or I’ll do it for you,” Coop demanded harshly. “My business is with you, Webster. By the way, don’t push me. Next time I might not be in a forgiving mood.”

When Webster dismissed Oscar Denton with a flick of his wrist, the henchman scowled at Coop. They traded disrespectful glares before the guard lumbered outside to stand watch on the front steps.

Webster motioned for Coop to follow him to the far side of the elaborately furnished parlor. Out of Alexa’s hearing range, no doubt. Coop was exceptionally pleased with his timing. From the looks of the intimate dinner, Webster planned to ask for Alexa’s hand. Coop couldn’t think of one reason why he should feel jealous and possessive, but he was, damn it. He didn’t want that intriguing woman to marry this scoundrel.

Furthermore, where was Miguel Santos, the bodyguard? Had Alexa poisoned him a second night in a row so she could come alone to Webster’s ranch?

“What do you want?” Elliot demanded irritably. “As you can plainly see, I’m entertaining an important guest this evening.”

Coop stuck out his hand, palm up. “Advance pay is my policy,” he announced. “One week’s advance to be specific.”

Elliot grumbled under his breath but he reached into the pocket of his trousers to retrieve several large bank notes. “Next time I’ll meet you at the line shack on the south edge of my property. At midnight. I don’t want you coming and going from my house. It looks suspicious.”

Coop shook his head. No way in hell was he going to arrive at the line shack and find himself bushwhacked by Elliot’s henchman or the unidentified colleague. “We’ll meet here or your store or not at all. If you’re going to be contrary I’ll notify the marshal that you’re paying me to find fault with your neighbors’ ranching practices.”

Elliot puffed up like an offended toad. “I will deny it!”

Coop shrugged lackadaisically then stretched the truth. “Doesn’t make a damn to me because some of your neighbors want to hire me to check on your ranching practices. I’m a gun for hire and a job’s a job, Webster. I go to the highest bidder.”

Elliot snapped to attention and his gaze narrowed sharply. “Who wants to hire you away from me? Hampton? Barrett?”

“Client confidentiality,” said Coop, his hand still outstretched. “So which is it? You or them?”

Muttering, Elliot slapped the money into Coop’s waiting hand. “You work for me. Now get out of here and do what I’m paying you to do. Find out if my neighbors are guilty of rustling my cattle.”

In other words, unjustly accuse them of wrongdoing, Coop translated. “Sure, you’re the boss.”

“You’re damn right I am,” Elliot contended aloofly. “And don’t you forget it.”

Coop watched Elliot stride quickly across the room to rejoin Alexa. He’d give anything to have the chance to tell her about Webster’s intimate connection to Lily Brantley. Alexa needed to take that into consideration before she accepted or rejected the forthcoming marriage proposal. Although Coop knew he wasn’t the right man for Alexa Quinn, he knew for damn certain that Webster wasn’t, either.

When Coop hobbled outside, leaning heavily on his cane, Oscar Denton was there to confront him with a sneer and a loaded Colt .45. Coop twirled his cane, knocking the pistol from Denton’s hand. It clattered down the steps and Denton cursed foully.

“Watch where you point that thing,” Coop ordered. “You might shoot someone accidentally.”

“When it comes to you, there won’t be anything accidental about it,” Denton sneered as he doubled over to scoop up his weapon. “Next time you go barging in on the boss I’ll drag your dead carcass out by your boot heels—”

Denton’s voice dried up when he realized Coop had drawn a six-shooter and had buried it in his soft underbelly. Coop had used the art of intimidation against outlaws dozens of times. He didn’t like the looks of this whisker-faced, tobacco-chewing hooligan whose sketch could likely be found on a Wanted poster.

“One quick shot and I’ll have your job,” Coop threatened. “Doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to me, as long as I get paid.”

Coop retrieved both of Denton’s pistols and his dagger. He tossed them into the bushes as he limped toward his horse. “I don’t think we’re going to be best friends,” he said before he reined away from the burly henchman.

He heard Denton cursing a blue streak while he groped in the shrubs to locate his weapons. Coop had the distinctive feeling that he had made an enemy of Oscar Denton. But then, Coop had many enemies among the outlaw population of the world.