with the ruggedly handsome gunfighter.
“The story is that you have come to Questa Springs to recuperate from an injured leg after your recent shootout with a band of outlaws,” she announced.
“How many cutthroats did it take to wing me?” he asked, mildly amused.
“Four, but you prevailed and won the day, of course.”
“Interesting tale, but I prefer straightforward and simple.”
“I don’t,” she insisted. “I have made arrangements for you to be the substitute bartender at Valmont Saloon during your recuperation.” She tossed a battered cane to him. Even in the gathering darkness, his lightning quick reflexes enabled him to catch it in midair.
He stared at her long and hard then glanced distastefully at the cane. “You are kidding.”
“I have no sense of humor, Mr. Cooper,” she said somberly.
“I’m beginning to realize that,” Coop muttered as he stared at the cane he was to use as a prop.
Alexa suppressed a smile. She had formed an instant liking to this brawny gunslinger. She attributed part of her attraction to his appealing physique and his deep voice. Another part of her fascination stemmed from the fact that this man didn’t treat her as if she were a socialite who was kin to a government dignitary and heir to a fortune. Of course, Coop had no idea that she was a female and he wasn’t trying to put on airs the way her wanna-be suitors usually did. This was a novel experience for Alexa and she was enjoying it thoroughly.
“As bartender and bouncer at Valmont Saloon you can monitor Webster’s activities,” she insisted. “I don’t know if the local law enforcement officer is in Webster’s pocket. That is for you to find out.”
Coop slid the cane into the leather sling that held his Winchester rifle. Absently he patted his horse. “You’ve made all the advance arrangements, I see.”
“Of course. That is my job.”
“You’re very thorough, Mr….” His voice trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the blank.
“Chester,” she replied without missing a beat. “My client requests that you rendezvous with me at the end of next week to report your information. Same time. Same place.”
“You want a written report, I suppose,” Coop remarked.
“Naturally. My employer and I expect it.”
“Fine, I’ll take a room at one of the hotels—”
“I made those arrangements, too,” she cut in. “You have a room facing Main Street, directly across from Webster Mercantile and Dry Goods. Room number four at Walker Hotel and Restaurant.”
“Your employer obviously hired you because of your organizational skills. Very impressive, Mr. Chester,” he praised.
“Thank you. I believe in being thorough.”
“Anything else before I go?” Coop asked.
“Yes, make sure you don’t drink your salary at Valmont Saloon. I want you to remain alert and observant at all times. I’m paying you according to your impressive reputation. Do not disappoint me.”
“Don’t worry, Chester,” he said and snorted. “This isn’t my first investigation. I’ll even tell you how many times a day Webster relieves himself and behind which tree, if you want to know.”
Alexa tried not to react to the comment. She decided there were some disadvantages to disguising herself as a middle-age, overweight man.
“Thank you, Coop, but my only interest is acquiring a list of Webster’s associates and his social activities,” she replied, careful to give nothing away. The less Coop knew the better.
Alexa’s attention remained on Coop while he swung effortlessly onto the muscular black gelding that sported four white stockings and white circles around both eyes. The horse was as striking and unique as his rider. Her gaze and thoughts remained fixed on the impressive masculine silhouette until it blended into the night.
She had a good feeling about Wyatt Cooper. With this legendary ex-lawman on the case, she could conduct her own discreet inquiries from a different angle. Of course, she would have to portray the role of a fluff-headed socialite to quell all suspicions about her real reason for being in Questa Springs. However, if it provided her with valuable information and helped her father, she’d do it.
“I do not like this, Lexi. Your father won’t, either.”
Alexa nearly leaped out of her padded disguise when Miguel Santos’s quiet voice drifted from the darkness. She clutched her palpitating chest and drew in a calming breath.
“How did you find me?” she demanded as her walking conscience approached.
“I have the nose of a bloodhound where you are concerned.” Miguel gestured in the direction Coop had disappeared. “This man, he is dangerous, querida. I can feel it. No matter how you try to sugarcoat it, he is a gun-for-hire and his kind walk a fine line between good and evil.”
“This man is superbly skilled and experienced and that’s all that matters,” she countered as she lumbered awkwardly toward the horse she had tethered in the trees. “And if you breathe one word about my taking an active part in this investigation to Papa I won’t speak to you for the rest of my life.”
“What will it matter?” Miguel scoffed as she shed her disguise then crammed it into the carpetbag tied behind the saddle. “If you persist in remaining in harm’s way, you’ll be dead.”
“Pfftt!” she erupted in contradiction. “You worry too much. You always have. I’ll be fine.”
“Si, you and Mr. Chester. He will be back here next week?” Miguel gave Alexa a boost onto her horse and she thanked him kindly.
“You will indeed see Mr. Chester on occasion. He can go places that I cannot.”
“Then you should be prepared for more off-color comments from your detective,” Miguel said as he mounted his horse. “Since Coop doesn’t know you’re a woman he will speak to you man-to-man.”
“I have no problem with that,” Alexa assured him as she reined toward Hampton Ranch where she was staying with her school chum, Kate, and her family. “At least he won’t be putting on airs. I’ve had plenty of that already.”
While Miguel categorically listed everything that might go wrong with her charade and her self-appointed investigation, Alexa turned her thoughts back to Wyatt Cooper. She knew she had chosen well. The gunfighter would help her ferret out information that she could take back to her father, who would undoubtedly be impressed with her abilities. Meanwhile, she had to make herself available to Elliot Webster’s courtship and pretend she enjoyed his company.
Alexa sincerely hoped her acting ability was up to snuff. Pretending to like Elliot would require considerable effort.
Scowling, Coop limped along on his cane, silently cursing that toady little Yank named Mr. Chester, who had dreamed up this stupid ruse. Coop never should have agreed to it. Yet, he
