Cooper's Wife

Anna’s heart twisted. “All right. But we have to be very, very quiet.”

“I’m very quiet.”

Anna followed Ben out into the driveway.

“Silly Betsy,” Mandy giggled as the mare grabbed the little girl’s hem with her wide long tongue.

“Betsy, are you going to let us by?” Anna patted the animal warmly. The sweet horse rubbed against her hand, then waited patiently as they passed by.

Ben helped her up into the wagon seat, and she thanked him. Anna cradled Mandy on her lap and drew Meg’s best fur around them. “Look up. Can you see the man in the moon?”

Mandy nodded. “He’s watchin’ over us.”

“And he chases all those night monsters away and keeps us all safe.” Anna pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, wishing on the moon. Ben released the brake and the wagon moved away in the darkness, leaving the warm, lit windows of Meg’s house behind until there was only black forest and night.

“So far, so good,” Ben whispered.

But then a horrible noise shattered the peace of the night, the stillness of the mountain valley. The sound of horses galloping down the road behind them, voices low and loud. Five, maybe six, riders.

“Meg.” Fear snaked down her spine. She twisted around, straining to see through the impossible dark. “We can’t leave her.”

“Don’t worry.” Ben pulled the wagon off the road and set the brake. “If there’s any trouble, you go on without me.”

Ben jumped down, took out his revolver, and ran. Anna sat in the wagon for what felt like hours, fearing the worst. Dalton wouldn’t hurt Meg, would he?

Finally Ben returned. Meg had feigned innocence and told Dalton and his men that Anna had headed south toward Wyoming. They had believed her, believed Anna had said nothing about Dalton’s dual identity. Meg’s lie would buy them enough time to reach Rubydale and the morning’s stage. If their luck held.

“Mrs. Bauer?”

His voice came low and gentle, but Anna bolted away from the window. A man towered in the threshold, nothing but shadows and powerful male steel and strength.

“I couldn’t find your daughter’s storybook.” The sheriff lifted one shoulder in an apologetic shrug.

“Thank you for looking.”

“It was no problem.” He strolled closer, his boots resounding on the floorboards. “But I didn’t want to come here empty-handed, so I brought my daughter’s book. It will have to be a loan, I’m afraid. But you keep it as long as your little one needs to hear stories.”

Anna’s throat tightened. “I can’t tell you how—” Tears stung her eyes. “This means a lot.”

“Is there anything I can get you?” He offered her the book gripped by big, blunt-tipped fingers. Very male. Very capable.

“You’ve done so much already.” Anna took the well-worn volume that looked lovingly opened and read across many years. “It’s late. You should be home with your family, and yet you’re here.”

“I’m on my way home. I just felt sorry for your little one. I’m partly responsible. If my men and I had arrived earlier, we might have prevented this.” He knuckled back his hat, and she could see the shine of sincerity, of strength. “Good night, Mrs. Bauer. I’ll check back with you tomorrow morning. If your daughter is improving, I’ll need to ask you some questions.”

“Questions? What kind of questions?”

“About the outlaws.” His voice was calm. “You saw the men up close. I would like to write up a report on what happened. I keep m contact with other lawmen in the county. We need to work together to catch those outlaws, and you can help.”

“I see.” She thought about that. This sheriff was in contact with other lawmen in the area. Dalton Jennings was also a lawman just a few counties away. “I didn’t get a very good look at the robbers. They wore bandannas.”

“Think on it. I’ll check back tomorrow.” His voice soothed. Or maybe it was his strength, his competence that radiated like heat from a summer sun.

“The book will make a difference, Sheriff,” she called him back, unable to let him go, still touched by his generosity. “I will return it as soon as I can.”

“Cooper, remember?” His smile was warm, and then he was gone.

She wasn’t used to calling men by their given names. But the warmth in her chest put there by his smile and thoughtfulness didn’t fade with his departure. He’d brought his own daughter’s book. She couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe a perfect stranger would be so kind.

Mandy still slept, her breathing shallow and uneven. Anna turned up the wick and smoothed open the book.

On the inside cover was a mark, a child’s handwritten scrawl. Anna peered close to look at it, to make out the careful, badly formed and somehow familiar letters. Katie Braddock, it said.

The sheriffs daughter. Cooper’s daughter.

The book fell from her fingers, clattered to the floor. The sound reverberated through the room, but it wasn’t as loud as the pounding of her heart.

That handsome, wonderful man who’d rescued her daughter, who’d taken care of them both. Was he truly Cooper Braddock? The man she’d come to marry?

Chapter Three

“Katie, don’t slurp your oatmeal.” Cooper reached for the sugar jar. “It’s not ladylike.”

“I’m in a hurry. Davy and me are ridin’ ponies.”

“Did I say you could do something so foolish?” He spooned sugar into his steaming cup of coffee and struggled to keep a straight face.

“Ridin’ ponies ain’t foolish, Papa. It’s fun.”

He clinked the lid down on the jar. “It’s not something a polite little girl does with her time.”

“Papa,” little Maisie chimed in, “Katie ain’t never polite.”

“True.” He laughed at his littlest, wishing he could spend more time with his daughters this morning. Thinking of the Bauer girl who may not survive, he knew he ought to carve out the time. But his work—and his sworn duty—called. “Katie, I want you to obey Mrs. Potts today.”

“You know I try real hard, Papa.” Katie wiped off her milk mustache with a practiced swipe of her sleeve.

“Try harder.” Making a little lady out of his firstborn could prove impossible. “I heard all about the trouble you caused yesterday from Laura. I’m none too pleased with you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Katie bowed her chin.

“But I didn’t cause no trouble, Papa.” Maisie was all golden curls and big blue eyes. “I was a good girl.”

“I already knew that.” He kissed both girls on the forehead and took the coffee cup with him. “Katie, I want you to do something for me.”

“I don’t gotta embroider, do I?”

Shouldn’t a little girl want to embroider? “Gather up a few of Maisie’s dresses and nighties she’s outgrown, bundle them up, and take them over to the doc’s. There’s a little girl who was hurt in the stage accident yesterday, and she lost nearly all of her belongings.”

Maisie gasped. “Even her bunny?”

He saw the stuffed animal on the floor beneath his littlest one’s chair. “Yes, even her bunny.”

“How does she sleep?”

“Only babies need a bunny.” Katie dropped her spoon with a clatter. “Papa, you want me to do it now?”

“Yes, before you go play with Davy. Promise me.”

Katie thought about it, obviously torn at the sad idea of a hurt little girl and tempted by a wild morning racing ponies. “I promise, Papa. I’ll do it right away.”

“That’s my girl.” Despite her spiritedness, she was a good child. “Take the clothes over to the clinic and ask for Mrs. Bauer.”

“Mrs. Bauer?” Katie froze stiff as an icicle.

“That’s what I said. She’s a real nice lady, so don’t scare her with any matchmaking schemes. She has enough worries on her mind.”

“Uh, what does she look like, Papa?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll find her.” His daughter wasn’t shy with strangers, especially pretty women. Cooper didn’t know how else to interpret Katie’s behavior. “If you have any problems, just ask the doc. He’ll help you.”

Leaving his daughter to nod in answer, Cooper stopped in the kitchen to praise Mrs. Potts for showing up this morning and for providing a good breakfast, despite yesterday’s salamander incident.

Too wise, the plump woman managed a sour comment and asked about a raise. He had no choice but to agree.

Not a good way to start the day. As long as the militant housekeeper didn’t quit. Troubled, he stepped out into the morning. Pine and fresh mountain rain scented the air. He headed down the street toward work, hoping for a quiet day. Just one quiet day. It wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

“You must eat,” the doc said as he stepped into the sick room. “You haven’t touched your tray.”

“I know. And after your wife went to the trouble of fixing me a meal.” Anna rubbed her brow. In truth, she wasn’t just exhausted. She felt sick and dizzy. Her arm hurt something terrible from a wound she’d sustained. She could barely move her hand this morning.

Yet every time she thought about showing the doctor the ragged tear through flesh and muscle, he was hovering over Mandy. With his stethoscope to the girl’s chest, he listened to her punctured lung. And as always, concern lined his face. There were other people also seriously wounded from the stage robbery. She could not take the doctor’s attention from any of them, not for something as small as her tiny little injury.

He frowned. “You’re terribly flushed. How you are feeling?”

“I’m fine.” She said it, hoping to make it true.

A cool hand touched her brow. “You’re burning up.”

“No. I’m just tired.”

Understanding warmed those eyes. “I know you’re concerned about your daughter. You have every right. But don’t forget Mandy needs a healthy mother to depend on.”

“She needs me now. Right here.” Anna patted the open book in her lap.

“I’m not going to argue with you. For now.” The doc stood. “Anna, if you feel worse, you must tell me.”

“Agreed.” Her eyes filled, and she looked away. The doctor left to check on the other patients. She rubbed her forehead. She really wasn’t feeling very well at all.

“Are you Anna? Anna Bauer?”

“Yes, I am.” Anna turned, surprised to see a spindly brown-haired girl, maybe nine, maybe ten years old, leaning against the threshold, hugging a bundle in her skinny arms. Mud spattered the hem of her dress, crooked above scabbed knees.

The girl dragged her feet forward nearly lost behind the ball of what looked like an old sheet. “Papa said to bring this. On account of your little girl gettin’ hurt.”

Anna’s heart twisted. She accepted the offered bundle. “Who is your papa?”

“The sheriff.”

“I met him just yesterday.” Anna began working the knot in the sheet. “He brought me your storybook so I could read to Mandy.”

Katie’s dark gaze slid to the bed then flicked back nervously. “Did you know it’s all my fault?”

“What is?” The knot came loose. “The book really helped. Thank you for loaning it to me.”

“It’s my fault she’s hurt.” Big tears began pooling, but they didn’t fall. That stubborn chin jutted upward. “I didn’t think anyone would get hurt.”

“The stage accident isn’t your fault.”

What a thoughtful, sensitive child. This was the sheriff’s daughter. Cooper’s daughter. The Katie mentioned in those wonderful letters. Letters that fed her hopes and dreams for Mandy’s future. How Anna wished she could reach out and comfort the girl with a touch, maybe a hug. Heaven knows she looked as if she could use a woman’s care. Maybe a mother’s love.

“Why, you brought Mandy some clothes.” Anna unfolded an adorable pink gingham frock with a little sunbonnet to match. Starched clean drawers, a pretty flowered nightgown and cap, a little sweater with embroidered strawberries to go with a strawberry print dress.

“We don’t want your little hurt girl to go naked when she wakes up.” That lower lip trembled. “Is she gonna die?”

“Don’t you worry. Mandy is going to be just fine.” Anna carefully folded the beautiful clothes, throat aching. It was hard not to reach out and comfort Katie, who looked as if she needed it so desperately. “Tell your papa thank you for the clothes.”

“I will.” The girl kicked the toe of her shoe against the floor. “My name’s Katie. Maybe you know me.”

“I sure do.” Anna set the clothes and sheet aside. “Your father wrote all about you and Maisie.”

“That’s why you’re here, right?” Katie tilted her head, scattering dark wisps that had escaped her twin braids. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

Anna took one look into those curious dark eyes just like Cooper’s, carefully hiding so many emotions. The idea of a new stepmother must be worrisome for a child. That she could understand. Anna rose, held out her hand. “I’ll answer any questions you want. Let’s go out into the hallway so we don’t wake Mandy.”

“I know you already met Papa.” The girl hurried out of the room. “Do you think he’s handsome?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Anna took one look at the girl and shook her head. And that made her a little dizzy, so she leaned against the wall to rest a bit.

“Maisie needs a new mother, you know, because she ain’t rugged like me.”

“Maisie is your little sister,” Anna remembered.

“Yep. Papa hasn’t married anyone since our mama left. So that’s why I did it. I used my own money I earned looking for gold dust with Davy Muldune for the advertisement—”

“Advertisement?” Her brain felt a little fuzzy. Really, she needed to sit down before the doctor caught her swaying in the corridor.

“You’re awful pretty,” Katie added in a rush. “And you got a little girl, too. I seen her in that bed. She sorta matches us.”

“Katie, I—”

“That’s why I had you come, and not just for Maisie. My poor lonely papa needs a wife.”

“Poor lonely papa?” a man’s voice boomed.

Head spinning, Anna looked up into a lean, handsome face. His gaze, dark as midnight, sparkled with what could only be humor. Her pulse thudded in her ears. She felt hot, then cold all over.

He must have known since last night who she was, that she was the woman he’d proposed to just last month. And yet he’d waited to talk to her about it. Maybe out of respect for Mandy’s condition.

Her head spun. Her knees wobbled. Cooper’s iron hard arms encircled her, held her tight against his chest. She tried to tell him she was fine.

But the world faded, and all went black.

She opened her eyes and saw him, Cooper, sitting at her bedside, a dark shank of hair falling over his forehead. His dark gaze brushed hers, bold as a touch.

“You gave us a scare for a minute there.”

Anna tried to sit up, but the blood rushed from her head. She landed back on the pillow.

“Don’t worry. The doc’s with your girl. I made him promise to stay with her until you were awake.” Cooper unfolded his hard-muscled body from the chair and crossed the room. Anna heard the scrape of porcelain and the tinkle and splash of pouring water. “I also made Katie stay and read aloud to your daughter, since at first I thought she was the cause of all this.”

“The cause?”

He handed her a tin mug with a half grin, lopsided and attractive. “I thought she’d shocked you with her outrageous propositions and that’s why you fainted.”

“Propositions?” She nearly spilled the water.

Cooper’s bigger fingers wrapped around hers. His skin’s heat scorched her and sent sparkling little frissons dancing up her arm.

“She does this to every woman she comes across. Tries to charm them first into going out to dinner with me. And then into marrying me, that little scamp.”

The rim of the cup brushed her bottom lip. His hand still guided hers. The cool water washed into her mouth, but she hardly noticed it. Cooper—he seemed to fill her senses—the whiskered days’ growth along his jaw, the scent of leather and pine, the rumbling richness of his voice. He was all she saw, all she felt rushing through her heated body.

“Katie?” The cool water hadn’t washed away the confused fog in her mind.

“Then the doc discovered the gunshot wound in your upper arm. You should have told someone before this. You’re going to be all right, but the doc had to give you a few stitches.”

She closed her eyes. “I didn’t mean to faint.”

“You were thinking of your daughter, not yourself.” When she looked up at him, she saw approval lining his face, and he nodded once.

“Mandy—”

“Lie back. She’s fine.” Cooper stepped away, but his warmth, his presence remained. She thought of all the trouble she was in and knew it was wrong to lean on him.

“Katie just wants a mother, but she shouldn’t have bothered you with your daughter hurt.” Cooper’s dark eyes shone with sadness. “I just hope you can find a way to forgive her.”

Confusion rang in Anna’s mind. What did she need to forgive? Katie only wanted to meet the woman her father planned to manry.

Or did he? Cooper Braddock was not acting as if he’d proposed to her. Polite, helpful, concerned. But not personal. It was as if he didn’t know who she was. He hadn’t even mentioned their future. And now he was walking away, as if they were perfect strangers.

“Maybe we could talk about the letters now.” Anna struggled to sit up. She’d been wrong to postpone discussing it.

Cooper turned, framed in the threshold, a powerful and handsome larger-than-life man any woman would want. “My deputies didn’t find letters in the wreckage, ma’am. I hope it wasn’t anything important.”

He quirked one dark brow, a silent question offering help. But nothing else. No recognition. No comment. And no evasion.

Anna didn’t understand. Surely, Cooper Braddock knew her full name. Surely, by mentioning the letters he would say something about their correspondence. Then Anna remembered Katie’s look of horror and jumbled words when her father walked in.

Realization hit her like a falling brick. Her too-many hopes fell. She’d made this perilous journey for nothing. She still had to worry if Dalton Jennings would somehow figure out where she was and follow her. Now there was no husband waiting, no man to marry, no one to help raise her daughter.

It was Katie who sent the letters. Katie who’d written of the need for a mother able to ride ponies and bake cookies for little Maisie. Katie who wrote with the unpracticed scrawl Anna had mistaken for an uneducated man’s handwriting. So many men in the area just didn’t have much schooling.

Tears burned in her eyes. She’d never felt at such a loss. She’d never felt so foolish.

“Lie still for a few hours more.” Cooper’s voice rumbled like thunder, but was gentle like spring sunshine. “Give yourself a chance to heal first. Then go to your daughter. She’s doing better.”

Better. Anna clung to those words.

Cooper sat down at the kitchen table and listened to the stillness of the house, of the night. He’d had a hell of a long day. Too damn long. And he was no closer to bringing down Corinthos.

He reached for the sugar jar to sweeten the cup of coffee he’d just poured when he heard the pad of little bare feet. “Katie, is that you?”

“Yes, Papa.” So sad.

“Wanna come keep me company?” He pulled out the chair next to him.

“I guess.” She dragged her feet.

“I’m a pretty good listener if you want to tell me what’s wrong.”

She plopped down on the chair, her hair disheveled, her nightgown wrinkled, her feet bare. A heavy sigh. “What about Mrs. Bauer?”

“She hurt her arm.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Probably.” He remembered the look on Katie’s face when Anna Bauer had fainted. “See what you get for trying to marry me off? It scares some women so bad they lose consciousness.”

“Oh, Papa.” Almost a smile. “It’s all my fault.”

“What is?” He tugged his chair around to face her. Something weighed mighty heavily on her conscience. “What did you do, Katie?”

“It’s my fault they’re hurt.” Another sniffle.

“Mrs. Bauer and her daughter? Why Katie, you didn’t rob the stage, did you?”

“No.”

“And you didn’t scare the horses that ran off with the coach, did you?”

“Papa, that’s not what I mean.” Exasperation blended with that sadness. “They’re all hurt because of me, and I can’t sleep.”

“Mrs. Potts said you didn’t eat anything for supper.

“I w-wasn’t hungry.” Sobs broke apart her words. “Oh, Papa, this is the baddest thing I’ve ever done.”

She flew into his arms before he could react, and he held her good and tight, relishing the rare moment. Katie never cried like this, always declaring herself too tough. Yet she felt frail, all bird-thin bones and heartbreak.

“You’re always in trouble, Katie,” he said lightly, his chest tight. He didn’t like his daughter hurting. “I bet it’s not so awful.”

“It is.” Her arms tightened around his neck. “You have to make it right, Papa.”

More soul-deep sobs rocked her body. “You gotta tell me what to do so it don’t hurt no more.”

His chest tightened. So many childhood troubles. He dug a handkerchief from his shirt pocket. “All this crying isn’t going to solve a thing.”

“Oh, Papa.” Katie blew, wiped, then refolded the hanky. “There’s only one thing to do.”

“Just one thing to fix the baddest thing you’ve ever done?” He tried to coax a smile from that serious mouth. And failed.

“You have to marry her.”

“Not that again.”

“But it’s the right thing!”

Cooper couldn’t imagine why she’d gotten all worked up over being without a stepmother. Katherine had been gone a long time, nearly half Katie’s life. They’d adjusted, moved on, tried to make a family with just the three of them. Katie knew he was never going to remarry. As a boy, he’d managed to endure being a stepchild, but his daughters would not be exposed to such a situation.

He swiped at two of Katie’s tears with his thumb. “How many times have we talked about this?”

“Probaby a million.” Another sob. “B-but Papa. It’s different now.”

“Why?” He brushed tear-wet curls from her brow.

“Because I wrote a letter and asked Mrs. Bauer to come here.”

“You what?”

“Maisie needs a mama. She needs one real bad.”

Cooper deposited Katie on the floor and bolted up from the chair. He hit the ground pacing. Anger flared. “Let me get this straight. You wrote a letter to a perfect stranger and asked her to come here?”

“To marry us.”

White-hot anger speared through him. “Katie, you’re right. This is the baddest thing you have ever done.”

Cooper spun at the back door and crossed the length of the room, fists jammed at his sides, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. Nice little girls didn’t do the things Katie did. They didn’t climb trees and play in mud and race ponies. Or propose to innocent strangers.

Maybe it was because those other little girls had mothers.

Katie burst into tears again. “They got hurt and Maisie still doesn’t have a m-mama!”

Frustration, rage, defeat. It all melded together in his midsection and churned.. He wanted to punish her. He wanted to comfort her. He wished to hell and back Katie would learn to embroider or something ladylike and stop with the wild harebrained schemes.

“It is your fault that Mrs. Bauer and her daughter were on that stage.” He managed to keep his voice calm.

Harder tears.

“But you couldn’t have known they would come to harm.”

“I d-didn’t.” True sorrow shone in those eyes, the same color as his.

Cooper stared at his reflection in the dark window. “How did you find Mrs. Bauer in the first place?”

“I bought a newspaper advertisement.”

“You did what?” Renewed fury roared through him. He would never understand his daughter. She was too flighty, too headstrong, too—He didn’t know what, but it wasn’t a good thing. Little girls were supposed to be demure and polite, cute and neat—not muddy and outrageous. “You placed a request for a mother in a newspaper?”

Katie’s eyes still brimmed with tears. “No. I pretended to be you.”

“Anna Bauer thinks that I—” His knees buckled. Speechless, he simply stared at his daughter. The pony rides, the trousers, the mud, the disobedience and now this. Katie didn’t need a mother, she needed a warden and steel bars on the window.