Five minutes later Alexa crept down the back steps of the hotel to retrieve her waiting horse. She followed the alley to avoid notice. When she reached the four brothels in the red light district, she veered toward a nearby grove of bushes to hide. Elliot had entered the most respectable-looking brothel of the four. If you could call any house of ill repute respectable. The other three were hastily constructed clapboard buildings into which dusty cowboys, miners and railroad workers came and went.
She waited ten minutes before Elliot appeared. He weaved a bit unsteadily as he hiked off to the mercantile shop to fetch his horse. Impatiently she waited for Elliot to mount up, light his cigar then trot away from town. She perked up immediately when he veered off the path leading to his ranch house and headed due east. Five minutes later, he dismounted to relieve himself then entered a shack nestled against the hillside.
She assumed it was on his land. Perhaps a line shack or abandoned bunkhouse, she speculated.
Another horse was tied to a scrub bush near the shack. Alexa was anxious to know who was waiting for Elliot. This could be the mysterious informant or his agent. If she could crack this case wide-open in less than a week all by herself, her father would be impressed and she would be assured that she was capable of handling an investigation alone. Nothing would please her more.
Her thoughts skittered off when her horse whinnied at the two mounts near the shack. She cursed her horse silently then hurried to take cover in a nearby stand of cottonwood trees. If she wanted conclusive evidence then she had to slither on her belly to eavesdrop at the window.
Securing her horse, Alexa dropped onto hands and knees and moved forward until she ran out of the cover of bushes. Then she sprawled in the grass to slither toward the window.
Coop scowled as he stared at the unidentified rider who dismounted in the trees. He appeared to be keeping surveillance, same as Coop was, on the shack that Webster had entered a moment earlier.
“Damn that Mr. Chester,” he muttered under his breath.
Coop stationed himself at a point near a cedar tree so he’d have a clear view of the door of the shack and the caped crusader who slithered on his belly like a snake. It was glaringly apparent that the Yank, Mr. Chester, didn’t trust Coop to do the job he’d been paid to do. Chester had obviously hired a second detective to tail Webster. Either that or someone else had hired an investigator to monitor Webster’s activities for other reasons.
Earlier, he had seen Webster leave Lily’s Pleasure Resort and he had decided this would be the perfect time to hammer out the details of his employment and insist on advance payment. That was when he first spotted the unidentified rider, who dressed in black and wore a cape that flapped in the breeze like bat wings.
It was turning out to be an interesting evening, thought Coop. First he had watched Alexa spy on her wanna-be fiancé. Now someone else was hot on Webster’s heels. Hell, there might be so many people trailing Webster that it caused a traffic jam.
Coop jerked to attention when the door creaked on its rusty hinges and two shadowed silhouettes appeared on the rickety stoop.
“I’ll be in touch in a few days,” came a quiet voice Coop didn’t recognize.
He watched Webster fish into his pocket then place what Coop presumed to be several coins in the man’s hand. “You tell our mutual friend that the last tidbits of information aren’t enough to satisfy me. I’m paying for better tips than this.”
“I’ll relay the message,” the other man murmured so quietly that Coop barely made out his comment.
Webster lurched around and staggered clumsily toward his horse. He belched loudly then scooped up the reins. Coop smirked, wishing Alexa were here to see this jackass at another of his defining moments. She might as well know what she was getting if she decided to marry Webster.
When Webster clomped off on his horse, his associate closed the door to the shack then strode hurriedly toward his mount. Coop couldn’t trail the short, lean figure of a man who galloped north because Webster had halted near Coop’s hiding place to take a swig of whiskey from the bottle in his pocket. When Webster was finally out of earshot the cohort was long gone.
Coop turned his attention back to the caped rider. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Coop looked every which way but he saw no sign of the man in black. “Where’d he go?”
Exasperated, Coop reined back to town. Contacting the drunken Webster could wait until the following evening, he decided. Besides, he was anxious to return to his hotel room, remove the cumbersome splints and enjoy a warm, relaxing bath. Plus, he wanted to wash away the alluring scent of Alexa that clung to him and to his shirt after she had kissed him. He needed no reminders of that intriguing female if he hoped to put aside all thoughts of her and get a good night’s rest.
Alexa eased open the door to check on Miguel one last time before bedding down for the night. Obviously he was feeling better for he propped himself up on an elbow and glared at her.
“Come in and close the door,” he demanded sharply. “Where have you been? I dragged myself from my deathbed an hour ago to check your room.”
Alexa pursed her lips as she stared at her friend whose black hair was sticking out in all directions. “I thought you learned long ago that I don’t always do as you order.”
“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled. “I’ve spent half my life fretting over you and your daredevil streak.” His gaze narrowed. “Now where were you?”
She sank down beside him. “I had investigative work to do.”
Miguel sighed audibly. “Your father will have my head for this.”
“Not to worry. I’ll give him mine instead,” she volunteered.
“Not funny, querida. You keep up these death-defying stunts and you won’t be alive to give anybody anything. Now tell me specifically what you were up to.”
“I followed Elliot to a brothel where he drank heavily, etcetera, etcetera.” Although Miguel sputtered in annoyance, she hurried on. “Unfortunately Coop was also tailing Elliot at the time and I ran into him.”
She had to pause momentarily because Miguel spewed Spanish curses. Not that it mattered because Alexa spoke fluent Spanish.
“How did you explain spying on Elliot to Coop?” Miguel finally got around to asking after he depleted his supply of succinct oaths.
She shrugged nonchalantly. “I told him that I wanted to know the real Elliot Webster…in case I decided to marry him.”
Alexa didn’t confide Coop’s intimate remark about getting naked together or the kiss she initiated during a momentary lapse of sanity. Miguel would pitch a fit and she figured he’d had a rough night already. No sense aggravating his condition.
Furthermore, the encounter with Coop was much too private and personal. She wasn’t prepared to share it with anyone.
“What time did all this take place?” Miguel interrogated. “It was eleven o’clock when I visited your room.” He gestured toward the bottle on the nightstand. “I took my second dose as the doctor ordered and then I went to look for you.”
Alexa fidgeted uneasily. “Um…it was earlier this evening. I returned to my room to don a disguise about ten o’clock.”
Miguel erupted in another stream of Spanish curses. “And you did what?” he said through clenched teeth.
When he reared up in bed, Alexa pressed the heel of her hand to his rigid shoulder and pushed him down. She smiled reassuringly, but her friend continued to glare stonily at her. “Calm down, Miggy. Your sour expression will sour your stomach all over again.”
“Too late,” he growled.
“I wanted to know where Elliot went after