Cooper's Woman. Carol Finch

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ “I don’t doubt it. By the way, I’m Wyatt Cooper.”

      “I know who you are.” Miguel’s expression sobered. “And you know you are overstepping your bounds. Men like you and I are not allowed to mix and mingle with the Alexa Quinns of the world. It is true that we are off the beaten path here. But if we were in Santa Fe you would have no association whatsoever with Lexi.”

      “Only in the capacity to serve her and people like her? Yes, I know,” Coop replied. “Are you one of her many besotted admirers?”

      Miguel laughed, unoffended by the direct question. His midnight-black eyes sparkled in the sunlight as he shook his dark head. “No, señor. I know her too well.”

      Coop stared speculatively after Miguel as he walked briskly toward Alexa, who was being propelled toward Webster’s mercantile shop. With each passing hour, Coop discovered there was indeed more to Alexa Quinn than superficial beauty. Even her bodyguard acknowledged that she was difficult to handle. Maybe even temperamental when she didn’t get her way. Coop couldn’t say for sure. But thus far, he had caught glimpses of her courage, curiosity, quick intelligence and daring. Those weren’t the characteristics he usually attributed to the idle rich who asked him to resolve their problems for a price.

      Tossing aside his fruitless thoughts, Coop limped toward Valmont Saloon. He was already a few minutes late because of the Fredericks altercation. As he hobbled along, Mrs. Fredericks buzzed past him in pursuit of Alexa. Coop predicted that Alexa had made a devoted friend of Mrs. Fredericks, by boldly standing up to Harlan the way she had.

      Coop frowned curiously, wondering how much pressure Alexa was under to select a suitable match from her elevated social class. Even if she saw Elliot Webster for what he really was, would she accept his marriage proposal and agree to a loveless match, in order to assume her expected role among the muckamucks?

      “Mind your own damn business,” Coop grumbled at himself. “You’re here to do the job you’re paid to do.”

      He wasn’t being paid to understand why Alexa permitted Webster’s courtship. Coop was on a fact-finding mission and he had to answer to Mr. Chester at the end of the week. Thus far, all he had was that Webster saw Lily Brantley exclusively when he visited the brothel and that Webster drank heavily on occasion. That and Webster held secretive meetings at a line shack late at night, Coop tacked on.

      He doubted those tidbits would be enough to satisfy Mr. Chester, who had obviously hired a second detective to ensure quick results. The thought soured Coop’s mood. He was going to confront the Yank about the issue of professional competency and trust the first chance he got.

      

      “I cannot thank you enough,” Selma Mae Fredericks gushed in her thick Swedish accent. “You are a lifesaver, Miz Quinn. Truly you are.”

      Alexa patted the older woman’s hand. Selma Mae alternately bowed and curtsied until Alexa clamped a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “You’re entirely welcome. I was glad to be of assistance.”

      Although Alexa had offered to employ the woman, she had no idea what to do with her. At least the woman wouldn’t constantly be subjected to Harlan’s misguided tantrums. “Are you a seamstress?” she asked while Miguel stood in the corner of the hotel room, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

      “Yah, I am a fine seamstress,” Selma Mae declared. “After my first husband died, I worked for the gentry in the old country to pay my way to America. I cooked, cleaned and mended.” She pulled a face. “Then I married that dimwit Harlan Fredericks. His first wife ran off with an actor in a theater troop. He expects me to do the same. I keep telling him that I’ve had two husbands and that is plenty. But he refuses to believe me.”

      Alexa wondered if Harlan, like Elliot Webster, frequented brothels but expected his wife to remain faithful. She knew Elliot would never be faithful. She wondered if the same might be true of Coop. Perhaps infidelity was indigenous of the male species in general.

      Coop’s views on fidelity are completely irrelevant, she admonished herself. Her association with Coop shouldn’t exist at all. If it did, it had to be strictly business. She hadn’t come to Questa Springs in search of romance. Indeed, she wasn’t even sure she believed in it. The constant squabbling between her parents during her childhood convinced her that romance didn’t exist. Besides, she had come here to prove her skills and intelligence to her father by exposing Elliot for the shyster he was. She wanted to remain focused on her mission.

      “I can wash and press your garments, too,” Selma Mae insisted, breaking into Alexa’s wandering thoughts. “And your bodyguard’s as well.”

      “That would be nice,” Alexa said. “I have an evening engagement with Elliot Webster at his ranch and I want to look my best.”

      Selma Mae’s weathered face puckered. Clearly she disliked Elliot.

      “Have you had unpleasant dealings with Mr. Webster?” Alexa questioned.

      “Yah. When we first arrived in town, Harlan was a prospector. Elliot Webster refused to grubstake Harlan and me without demanding outrageous interest. Things got better when Harlan signed on with the railroad crew and began to receive a steady income. It took a few months to get our feet under us, and Mr. Webster took advantage of our situation the entire time.”

      Selma Mae shook her head. “The man is not good enough for you, missy. If not for Webster seeing to it that his competitors can’t acquire all the necessary items to sell to miners, ranchers and prospectors, most of us wouldn’t have traded with him at all the past few years.”

      Alexa frowned, wondering if the mysterious man Elliot had met at the line shack might be connected to this facet of corruption. Time would tell, she decided. If Elliot was cheating the townspeople for his personal gain, she vowed to stop him. Her strong sense of fair play refused to let him get away with murder. Figuratively or literally. Maybe both.

      Time would tell about that, too.

      

      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. СКАЧАТЬ