“I understand.” His half smile dazzled. If she were in another place in her life, another time without worries and secrets and promises to marry, she would have found him attractive. Yes, very attractive.
“Is there anything I can do?” He was a good man, just wanting to help.
“Did your men find a child’s book amid the wreckage? Mandy likes to be read to. She’s still—” In danger . Anna couldn’t say the words. It hurt even to think them. “I have to believe she’ll be all right.”
“I believe it.” The sheriff towered over her, radiating strength and kindness mixed with a hard male toughness. A dizzying combination. “You take care of your daughter. I’ll check on that book for you.”
“I know it’s getting late, Sheriff.”
“I don’t mind.” Twin dimples edged that calming grin. “And stop calling me sheriff. The name’s Cooper.”
“Cooper?” The word froze on her lips. Anna watched in amazement as he strolled from sight down the hallway, those shoulders wide, that gait confident.
The man she’d come to marry was named Cooper. Surely he couldn’t be—
No. A man like that didn’t need to write away for a bride. He just had to smile and every woman within a half-mile radius probably fell at his feet.
“Mrs. Bauer?” The doctor gestured her back into the room. “Your daughter is doing better, but her condition is still very serious. I can make no guarantees. The only thing we can do is keep a close watch on her and see what the night brings.”
Cold fear curled around her insides. Anna forced back tears, more afraid and angry than she’d been in her life, and she’d been plenty of both before this.
Damn those men who’d done this to her defenseless, tiny daughter.
Anna settled down in the wooden chair at Mandy’s bedside. The little one slept still, as if death already claimed her. Even her hand felt cold to the touch.
All her troubles faded. Why she’d come to Flint Creek and what she’d left behind no longer mattered. Not now. Only Mandy mattered.
Please, she prayed. Don’t take my daughter.
“Did you get a good look at that lovely widow?” Tucker asked as he poured a fresh cup of coffee.
“I saw.” Cooper hung his hat on a wall peg and gave the door a good slam against the cool night wind. “No ideas, brother. I’m not interested in the woman.”
“Well, that’s just not natural, big brother. Not natural at all.” Tucker shook his head, feigning deep concern. “After saving her daughter the way you did, she’s not going to look twice at the rest of us poor saps. Oh no, she’ll only have eyes for you.”
“So you say. Let’s face it, Tucker, every single woman who has come to town has been charmed by your dimples, not mine.”
“True.” He took a sip of coffee. “What are you doing? I thought you were going to head home.”
“I’m on my way. Did you find a child’s storybook in the wreckage?”
“Nope.” Grim lines frowned across Tucker’s face. “Most things fell to the bottom of the cliff. How’s that injured girl?”
“Not good.” Cooper rubbed his brow. “How many outlaws did we bring in?”
“Just one. I shot him myself. He broke his jaw when he fell off his horse. The doc said he’s pretty hurt, but I’m not letting him in the clinic with innocent women and children. I locked him up. Wanna see?”
“I’ll wait until morning.” Cooper regretted they hadn’t caught more of the gang, as he’d planned. But circumstances had intervened. Rescuing Mrs. Bauer and her child was more important than nabbing a few outlaws.
“It’s a damn lucky thing you’re good with a rope.” Tucker’s gaze fastened on his, serious as a hanging judge. “Or the child would be dead. There’s no way she could have survived that fall.”
“I know.” Cooper grabbed his hat.
“Where you goin’?”
“To find a storybook.” He gestured toward the messy desk in the corner, hiding a grin. “And you straighten up around here. Some innocent taxpayer is going to walk into this office and regret how much they pay slobs like you to protect their town.”
“Hey, watch who you’re calling a slob!”
Tucker’s laughing protest followed Cooper out the door and into the crisp spring night. Cold sliced through his coat. Mountain snow still clung to the ground in places, even though it was spring. He saw the light in the window and once again thought of the woman and her child. Took comfort that some mothers stayed. Some mothers loved their children more than themselves.
His house was dark except for the twin lamps lit in the parlor and the merry glow of the fire. Laura looked up from her embroidery. “I heard about the excitement.”
“Yeah, it’s been a tough day.” He felt tired. He felt drained. “How are my girls?”
“In bed asleep. I think.” Laura’s gnn was mischievous. “I’m only an aunt, not a miracle worker.”
Cooper didn’t bother to shrug off his coat. “Would you mind staying longer? I’ve got an errand to do.”
“Sure. I have nowhere to go.” Laura poked her threaded needle through the stretched-tight fabric. “But we need to discuss the situation with the housekeeper.”
“Again?” There was a conversation he wanted to avoid.
“Mrs. Potts found a salamander in the empty soup kettle.”
“Just a salamander this time?” If only his oldest girl could be as sweet and obedient as the youngest he wouldn’t have to worry about the housekeeper quitting every day of the week.
“We can be happy it wasn’t a skunk.”
“Don’t give the child any ideas.” As he climbed the stairs to the dark second story, Cooper thought of little Mandy Bauer and how he’d cradled her close on the long hard ride down the mountainside. She was frail and tiny like his own littlest girl.
He nudged open the door to the girls’ room. The moon played through the window, casting enough of a silvered glow to see their sweet faces, relaxed and content in sleep, each in her own twin bed.
Careful not to wake them, Cooper found a book by feel on the bookshelf, the nursery rhymes his Maisie treasured.
“Papa?”
So one of them wasn’t asleep. “What is it, Katie?”
“Laura said there was a lady come today on the wrecked stage.”
“There was.” He knelt down beside his oldest daughter’s bedside. “Tucker’s already told me how nice and pretty she is. I hope you aren’t going to try to match me up with this poor woman.”
“Oh Papa, Laura says cuz you’re a man, you don’t know what’s best for you.”
“She does?” He laughed at that. “No more talk. You lie back down and go to sleep. You’re going to need your rest if you want to have enough strength to try to marry me off tomorrow.”
“Go ahead and joke.” Katie shook her head, scattering dark curls against her thin shoulders. “I don’t think it’s one bit funny.”
“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Katie had been trying to marry him to every available woman she came across for years now. She didn’t understand. As a child she never could. How did he explain to her that