Cooper's Wife

by Jillian Hart

  “Mandy!” She held the child’s glove in her hand. Cold horror washed over her as the driverless stage rattled up the road. In a flash she saw the danger, all that could happen. She leaped to her feet, already running hard. “Mandy. Jump!”

  Gunfire, bullets and mounted riders swirled around her. She kept running. She had to get to Mandy before something happened. Before the stage crashed or tumbled over the narrow edge of the trail and down the mountain.

  Air wheezed out of her lungs. Pain slashed through her side. She was almost there. Almost gaining. Every step brought her closer to catching hold of the boot and climbing aboard. Every step brought her closer to saving her daughter. She reached out and just missed the heavy leather strap holding the luggage to the rear of the coach. She reached again.

  One back wheel hit a boulder. The vehicle careened to one side and skidded sideways. She watched in horror as the front right wheel struck another boulder. The stage rolled over and landed on its top, hesitating at the edge of the road. It tottered, then tumbled forward.

  “No!” Anna skidded down the embankment, flew down the edge of the mountain. Rocks cascaded beneath her feet. She slid, went down. Pain skidded up her leg when she crashed into a low scrubby pine.

  Breathing hard, she broke free and kept running. All she could see was the stage, rolling end over end, falling apart each time it struck the ground. An axle broke with a crash. Two wheels flew through the air and hit the ground rolling. A door came off. The vehicle hit the earth so hard, the sound of the impact cracked like thunder across the face of the mountainside.

  And Mandy was inside. Anna had to get to her. She tasted the grit of dust and dirt in her mouth, felt them in her eyes. Her feet gave out beneath her, and she skidded on loose rock and earth. Time stood still as she watched, her heartbeat frozen. The stage rolled over the edge of a cliff and out of sight.

  No sound of impact, just the eerie silence of falling. No. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t lose her daughter, her whole heart. Anna fought for balance, but the earth beneath her feet gave way. Rocks and gravel and bits of stubby grass tumbled ahead of her. She saw the bright sheen of the sun flash in her eyes.

  She scrambled, struggling for any purchase, any solid tree root or boulder that would stop her fall. She had to save Mandy. She would not let her daughter die.

  “Sheriff, Corinthos is getting away.”

  Cooper spun his palomino and headed toward the snowy ridge. His deputies could take care of the robbers, but he wanted Corinthos, the leader of the gang. He was sick of the killing and carnage in this part of the county. It was his job and his responsibility to end it.

  The outlaw swung his gelding around and fired.

  Cooper shot back. A direct hit. Corinthos’ gloved left hand covered his shoulder, blood seeping between his fingers. Shock lined his dirt-smudged face as he slipped from the saddle.

  Got him. Cooper felt grim satisfaction as he cocked the Colt, ready in case the outlaw drew on him again. He drove his mount closer to the fallen man. A woman’s cry of distress and then a crack of wood breaking spun him around. A woman?

  Before he could contemplate that, he caught sight of the six runaway horses, still harnessed, dragging the dangerously tipping stage around the bend in the road. Cooper kicked his stallion into a gallop just as the harness broke apart. The coach tumbled over the edge.

  The woman, blond hair flying, screaming as she ran, jumped feet first down the dangerous mountainside and out of sight. Crazy woman. Whatever she had in the stage wasn’t more valuable than her life. Flint Creek Mountain was a place of cliffs and sheer edges.

  Gunfire drew his attention, remmded him of why he was here in the first place—to bring in Corinthos and put an end to his gang’s violence. But the sight of the desperate woman tugged at him. He was responsible for her life, too, responsible to help her if he could.

  Resigned to fighting Corinthos another time, Cooper galloped after her. “Hey, lady.”

  She didn’t answer. Gunfire popped behind him as he loped his mount along the road’s edge. His stomach fell at the sight of a woman tumbling down toward the edge of a cliff, a sheer drop of a hundred feet, maybe more. It was hard to tell from where he sat.

  She was in trouble. There was no doubt about that. He reached for his rope, trying to judge how best to save her. Then he spotted a little pink bonnet crushed and torn, lying amid the splintered fragments from the stage. Was a child was in that stage? No wonder the woman was frantic.

  Cooper drove his stallion off the road and down the mountainside. The great palomino struggled to stay afoot, crashing through the low brush and along unstable earth. Cooper stood in his stirrups, leaned back and loosened the noose with one hand. He couldn’t see the stagecoach, lost somewhere over the edge of the cliff. But he could see the woman sliding feet first to a stop. Thank God. He could catch her in time. He swung the rose, once, twice. But before he could throw, the ground broke apart beneath the woman and she fell straight down the cliff.

  The earth could very well give out beneath him, too, but Cooper drove his mount harder. He tasted dust and the sharp scent of pine. He saw the danger ahead, heard the crash of the stage as it came to rest somewhere out of sight. Heard the woman’s voice shriek her child’s name with such agony, it tore at his heart.

  Cooper drew his stallion to a halt. He could see the wrecked stage a good fifty feet below, hung up on an outcropping of pines, and the woman, holding tight to a root. The earth beneath them was sheer granite. So barren and hard not even weeds grew there. To fall would mean death.

  “Hold on, lady.” He slung the lariat over his neck and knelt down. He caught her by the wrist, holding her tight. “Let’s get you safe.”

  “But my daughter—”

  He lifted the woman onto the cliff’s edge beside him. “Don’t worry. I’m going to go down and get her.”

  “Her name is Mandy.” Blood streaked the woman’s torn dress, scrapes from her fall, no doubt. Panic rang in her voice. “She’s only three years old. She has to be hurt. I want to go down with you.”

  He secured the rope to the closest tree, a sturdy pine. “This rope can’t hold both of our weights. I only have the one rope.”

  “But she’s my little girl.”

  Her blue gaze met his, and he saw her fear, felt the determination as strong as this mountain. He knew what love felt like, the all-encompassing affection for a child. He had to admire her for that.

  Fine, he had a soft spot for caring mothers. “You just stay here, ma’am. I promise I’ll take real good care of your girl.”

  “I think I can hear her crying. Surely that means she’s not hurt too badly, if she can cry.”

  “I sure hope so.” He eased himself over the cliff, hand over hand. Sweat broke out on his forehead, on his back. He wasn’t afraid of outlaws and gun battles, but heights terrified him.

  He stared hard at the craggy granite in front of him and didn’t look down. Hand over hand. Just a few more feet. He reached what was left of the stage, a smashed wooden cage missing more parts than he could count. He spotted a scrap of pink. He reached inside and brought up a small child, sputtering and bloody. She was the tiniest thing, all gold hair and pink ruffles.

  Reed-thin arms wrapped about his neck. She held on with all her might. Her little body was rigid against his chest. “Don’t worry, little girl. I won’t let you fall.”

  “Mama!” The little girl’s voice came weak. Her breath against his throat felt choppy and irregular. She wheezed, and he held her tighter. It was as he feared; the child was badly injured. Town and medical help was so far away.

  He secured the girl to his chest, using the lariat he carried. Then he began the arduous work of climbing hand over hand up the rope. The wind gusted, knocking them against the granite wall. He turned to take the blow with his shoulder, to protect the fragile child he carried. The rope swung them out away from the rock, and he caught sight of a dizzying glimpse of brown-gray rock below. His stomach lurched. Yep, it
was best not to look down.

  He kept climbing hand over hand, listening to the rattle of little Mandy’s breathing. Another blast of wind knocked him against the cliff side, sent him swinging.

  “Mama.” The little girl sniffled. So small, she was hardly any weight at all against his chest. Her blood stained his shirt and he felt her shiver, even in the bright sunshine. Not a good sign.

  “I’m right here, Mandy.” The woman’s voice rang like bells, sweet and clear. She peered over the edge of the cliff.

  It wasn’t much farther.

  “Is that you, Coop?” His brother’s voice.

  “Where the heck have you been?” The muscles in Cooper’s arms and back burned with fatigue. He kept climbing, but tipped his head back just enough to see the worry lining his younger brother’s face. “Don’t just stand there being useless. Help me up.”

  “Useless. That’s me.” Tucker could grin even in a crisis. He curled both gloved hands around the rope and pulled.

  Cooper handed the child up into her mother’s arms. Tucker helped him over the lip of the cliff.

  “She’s hurt.” Sorrow rang in the woman’s voice.

  The tiny girl looked blue and wasn’t breathing right. He couldn’t help but fear the worst. The woman, white-faced with fear, cradled her daughter tight in her arms. She kissed the girl’s forehead, the love for her child as unmistakable as the sun. It was a priceless emotion his wife had never managed to feel for their girls. He liked knowing some mothers did.

  “Sheriff.” One of his deputies crested the bank. “Corinthos got away.”

  Turning away from the mother and child, he began coiling the rope. “I shot him myself. He must have mounted and rode off.” Cooper mopped his brow with his forearm. “We’ve got wounded. We see to the girl first.”

  The woman knelt beside her daughter on a bed of clover, checking her wounds. “Is there a doctor close?”

  “No, ma’am.” Cooper untied his stallion. “We’re just lawmen. We feared there might be problems with the stage today. This pass is notorious for trouble.”

  She took a breath. Worry crinkled the corners of eyes as deep as a summer sky. “But Mandy needs a doctor. I think she may have broken her arm, maybe her ribs. She isn’t breathing well.”

  “I can see.” Cooper left the stallion standing and took a look. “Are you hurt, little lady?”

  The child looked up with teary eyes and nodded. No sniffle, no whimper. Her lips were slightly bluish. Her breath came rapid and shallow.

  “You’re a brave girl, too.” He knelt down on one knee, broad shoulders braced. He was all strength, but tenderness, too. “You must get that from your mama.”

  Anna’s heart ached. So many cuts and bruises on the girl. She tore a strip of petticoat and covered a nasty gash on the child’s forearm. “How far away are we from a town?”

  “Quite a ways.” The sheriffs low, rumbling voice sounded warm as sunshine. He pulled a clean and folded handkerchief from his shirt pocket and tore it into strips. Those big blunt-shaped hands deftly tied a neat bandage at Mandy’s wrist.

  “You’re good at this, Sheriff.”

  “I have little girls of my own who are always getting one scrape or another.”

  Oh, that smile. As scared as she was for Mandy, Anna couldn’t help noticing the sheriffs handsome smile. And on a closer look, he had a handsome everything. From the strong straight blade of his nose—not too sharp, not too big—to the chiseled cut of his high cheekbones, to the square jaw sporting a day’s dark growth, he was quite a man.

  “Owie.” Mandy bit her lip, trying to hold back her tears like a big girl.

  “Let me see, pumpkin.” Anna gently pulled Mandy’s bandaged arm away from her chest. When she loosened a few buttons on the now ragged dress, she saw a horrible bruise marking her skin. But it was the sight of the left side of her little chest rising when her right side did not that terrified Anna. Something was dreadfully wrong.

  “Tucker.” Calling to one of the deputies, the mighty sheriff strode away.

  Would Mandy die? Fear condensed into a tight, hard ball in her stomach. Her hands trembled as she used a thin stick from the ground as a splint. She wrapped the last strips from her petticoat around Mandy’s broken arm, trying to keep hold of hope.

  “I’m going to ride her into town.” Cooper squinted against the midday sun. “With the trouble she has breathing, I don’t figure we have a lot of time. My mount is the fastest.”

  “I’ll go with you. Just give me a minute—”

  “You’ll only slow me down.” Apology rang low in his voice.

  “No, I’m not leaving her.” Anna held her daughter tight.

  “You have to, ma’am. I can get her to a doctor faster than anyone can.”

  “But Mandy needs me.”

  “She needs medical care.”

  It was as if she were on that cliff again, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop the coach from breaking apart. She could not let a stranger care for her daughter. Yet Mandy needed a doctor. Immediately. And this man could provide it.

  He said he was a father. And it was true that he’d braved the chff to rescue Mandy. Judging by the breadth of those strong shoulders and the honor shining like a promise in his eyes, Anna decided she had to trust him. Mandy would die without help.

  Her decision was already made, even though it was hard to let go. “This little girl is my entire life.”

  “I know.” He produced a warm blanket to wrap around Mandy. “Flint Creek is the first town on the other side of this pass. The doc’s clinic is the third building on your left past the hotel. Tucker will take you there.”

  Anna’s knees wobbled with the worst kind of fear. But the badge pinned to the sheriff’s vest glinted in the sunlight. When he mounted his powerful horse, he looked heroic enough to topple any foe, right any wrong.

  Anna wiped the wet hair from her eyes. She prayed he would make it to town in time.

  Chapter Two

  “How’s the little girl?” Tucker strode through the jailhouse door, trail dust thick on his hat brim and boots, and everything else in between.

  “She’s still alive. I hope the doc can keep her that way.” Cooper closed his eyes, unable to block out the remembered image of tiny Mandy so blue and struggling hard to breathe. “How’s the mother?”

  Tucker swept off his hat. “She’s a widow. Imagine that. She told me so herself on the ride down here. Yep, Mrs. Bauer sure is pretty, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t need anyone to play matchmaker, especially not you.” Cooper thumped his brother on the shoulder. “I take it the rest of my deputies are on their way?”

  “Yep.” Tucker followed him out onto the late-day street. “It took a while to find the gold shipment. We thought it had gone over the cliff, too. The men will be bringing it to town soon and they’ll need help. I was just going to head back. Are you coming?”

  “Yes. I hope we’ve seen enough trouble from the Corinthos gang for one day.” Evening scented the air. The sun was fast sinking toward the horizon. Cooper’s gaze focused on the doc’s clinic down the street. He thought of the woman and child inside. He thought about how lucky they were, how lucky all of them were.

  Anna brushed back gossamer curls from her sleeping daughter’s forehead. The dim light of the room in the back of the doctor’s clinic cast just enough glow to see by. But not enough to ward off the many fears that increased as each hour passed.

  “My wife made you a supper tray.” The door whispered open on its leather hinges. The faint rattling of dishes filled the quiet room, then footsteps as the doctor strode across the floor. He set the meal on a low table. “I hope you like beef stew.”

  “I’m sure it’s very good.” Anna straightened in her chair, careful of her hurting arm. Her stomach grumbled, but she wasn’t in the mood to eat. Not until she knew Mandy would be all right. “Thank your wife for me.”

  “You need to keep up your energy if you’re going to care for your g
irl. So you eat, and let me check on my littlest patient.”

  His kindness touched her, made her ache deep inside. When she had explained she couldn’t pay the bill because her savings had been stolen, the doctor told her not to worry. Now he was treating Mandy with care and skill.

  She watched him listen to Mandy’s breathing, saw for herself the uneven rise and fall of her chest. He’d said a punctured lung could be fatal, but there was some hope.

  Hope. It was what had brought her here in the first place. A new start for Mandy, a home of her own. She worried about what kind of man Mr. Cooper Braddock would be—kind or strict, stern or forgiving. But now her big plans felt false and foolish with her daughter so injured.

  Anna stood and somehow made it to the table. Her own body ached, especially her arm, but she hadn’t said anything. Would not detract the doctor’s attention from Mandy, even for herself.

  Steam rose from the fragrant stew. Her stomach turned, but she knew she had to eat. At least had to try. She sat on the rickety chair, one leg shorter than the other three. It bumped against the floor when she shifted her weight. The warm scent of gravy, the hearty scent of beef tickled her nose. She lifted the spoon and filled it. But how was she going to get any food to stay in her twisted-up-with-worry stomach?

  “Mrs. Bauer?” A low rumbling voice called to her. She turned around to see the sheriff, his broad-shouldered form filling the threshold, his dark hat shading his eyes. “How’s your little girl?”

  Just looking at him made her feel better, the same way she’d felt when he climbed hand over hand down that rope to rescue Mandy. “She’s doing better. Thanks to you. You got her to the doctor in good time.”

  “I was Just doing my job. Serve and protect.” He swept off his gray hat, looking uncomfortable with her praise. “Daughters are priceless.”

  “Yes, they are.” She couldn’t picture this enormous and powerful man as a father to little girls. Yet his presence comforted her, Just as she imagined it would a small child. Goodness shone in his eyes, the strength that came from tenderness. He was not the kind of man who harmed others. Not like the cowards who’d caused this injury to her daughter and the passenger on the stage. “How is the wounded man?”