woman tugged at him. He was responsible for her life, too, responsible to help her if he could.
Resigned to fighting Corinthos another time, Cooper galloped after her. “Hey, lady.”
She didn’t answer. Gunfire popped behind him as he loped his mount along the road’s edge. His stomach fell at the sight of a woman tumbling down toward the edge of a cliff, a sheer drop of a hundred feet, maybe more. It was hard to tell from where he sat.
She was in trouble. There was no doubt about that. He reached for his rope, trying to judge how best to save her. Then he spotted a little pink bonnet crushed and torn, lying amid the splintered fragments from the stage. Was a child was in that stage? No wonder the woman was frantic.
Cooper drove his stallion off the road and down the mountainside. The great palomino struggled to stay afoot, crashing through the low brush and along unstable earth. Cooper stood in his stirrups, leaned back and loosened the noose with one hand. He couldn’t see the stagecoach, lost somewhere over the edge of the cliff. But he could see the woman sliding feet first to a stop. Thank God. He could catch her in time. He swung the rose, once, twice. But before he could throw, the ground broke apart beneath the woman and she fell straight down the cliff.
The earth could very well give out beneath him, too, but Cooper drove his mount harder. He tasted dust and the sharp scent of pine. He saw the danger ahead, heard the crash of the stage as it came to rest somewhere out of sight. Heard the woman’s voice shriek her child’s name with such agony, it tore at his heart.
Cooper drew his stallion to a halt. He could see the wrecked stage a good fifty feet below, hung up on an outcropping of pines, and the woman, holding tight to a root. The earth beneath them was sheer granite. So barren and hard not even weeds grew there. To fall would mean death.
“Hold on, lady.” He slung the lariat over his neck and knelt down. He caught her by the wrist, holding her tight. “Let’s get you safe.”
“But my daughter—”
He lifted the woman onto the cliff’s edge beside him. “Don’t worry. I’m going to go down and get her.”
“Her name is Mandy.” Blood streaked the woman’s torn dress, scrapes from her fall, no doubt. Panic rang in her voice. “She’s only three years old. She has to be hurt. I want to go down with you.”
He secured the rope to the closest tree, a sturdy pine. “This rope can’t hold both of our weights. I only have the one rope.”
“But she’s my little girl.”
Her blue gaze met his, and he saw her fear, felt the determination as strong as this mountain. He knew what love felt like, the all-encompassing affection for a child. He had to admire her for that.
Fine, he had a soft spot for caring mothers. “You just stay here, ma’am. I promise I’ll take real good care of your girl.”
“I think I can hear her crying. Surely that means she’s not hurt too badly, if she can cry.”
“I sure hope so.” He eased himself over the cliff, hand over hand. Sweat broke out on his forehead, on his back. He wasn’t afraid of outlaws and gun battles, but heights terrified him.
He stared hard at the craggy granite in front of him and didn’t look down. Hand over hand. Just a few more feet. He reached what was left of the stage, a smashed wooden cage missing more parts than he could count. He spotted a scrap of pink. He reached inside and brought up a small child, sputtering and bloody. She was the tiniest thing, all gold hair and pink ruffles.
Reed-thin arms wrapped about his neck. She held on with all her might. Her little body was rigid against his chest. “Don’t worry, little girl. I won’t let you fall.”
“Mama!” The little girl’s voice came weak. Her breath against his throat felt choppy and irregular. She wheezed, and he held her tighter. It was as he feared; the child was badly injured. Town and medical help was so far away.
He secured the girl to his chest, using the lariat he carried. Then he began the arduous work of climbing hand over hand up the rope. The wind gusted, knocking them against the granite wall. He turned to take the blow with his shoulder, to protect the fragile child he carried. The rope swung them out away from the rock, and he caught sight of a dizzying glimpse of brown-gray rock below. His stomach lurched. Yep, it was best not to look down.
He kept climbing hand over hand, listening to the rattle of little Mandy’s breathing. Another blast of wind knocked him against the cliff side, sent him swinging.
“Mama.” The little girl sniffled. So small, she was hardly any weight at all against his chest. Her blood stained his shirt and he felt her shiver, even in the bright sunshine. Not a good sign.
“I’m right here, Mandy.” The woman’s voice rang like bells, sweet and clear. She peered over the edge of the cliff.
It wasn’t much farther.
“Is that you, Coop?” His brother’s voice.
“Where the heck have you been?” The muscles in Cooper’s arms and back burned with fatigue. He kept climbing, but tipped his head back just enough to see the worry lining his younger brother’s face. “Don’t just stand there being useless. Help me up.”
“Useless. That’s me.” Tucker could grin even in a crisis. He curled both gloved hands around the rope and pulled.
Cooper handed the child up into her mother’s arms. Tucker helped him over the lip of the cliff.
“She’s hurt.” Sorrow rang in the woman’s voice.
The tiny girl looked blue and wasn’t breathing right. He couldn’t help but fear the worst. The woman, white-faced with fear, cradled her daughter tight in her arms. She kissed the girl’s forehead, the love for her child as unmistakable as the sun. It was a priceless emotion his wife had never managed to feel for their girls. He liked knowing some mothers did.
“Sheriff.” One of his deputies crested the bank. “Corinthos got away.”
Turning away from the mother and child, he began coiling the rope. “I shot him myself. He must have mounted and rode off.” Cooper mopped his brow with his forearm. “We’ve got wounded. We see to the girl first.”
The woman knelt beside her daughter on a bed of clover, checking her wounds. “Is there a doctor close?”
“No, ma’am.” Cooper untied his stallion. “We’re just lawmen. We feared there might be problems with the stage today. This pass is notorious for trouble.”
She took a breath. Worry crinkled the corners of eyes as deep as a summer sky. “But Mandy needs a doctor. I think she may have broken her arm, maybe her ribs. She isn’t breathing well.”
“I can see.” Cooper left the stallion standing and took a look. “Are you hurt, little lady?”
The child looked up with teary eyes and nodded. No sniffle, no whimper. Her lips were slightly bluish. Her breath came rapid and shallow.
“You’re a brave girl, too.” He knelt down on one knee, broad shoulders braced. He was all strength, but tenderness, too. “You must get that from your mama.”
Anna’s heart ached. So many cuts and bruises on the girl. She tore a strip of petticoat and covered a nasty gash on the child’s forearm. “How far away are we from a town?”
“Quite a ways.” The sheriffs low, rumbling voice sounded warm as sunshine. He pulled a clean and folded handkerchief from his shirt pocket and tore it into strips. Those big blunt-shaped hands deftly tied a neat bandage at Mandy’s wrist.
“You’re good at this, Sheriff.”
“I have little girls of my own who are always getting one scrape or another.”
Oh, that smile. As scared as she was for Mandy, Anna couldn’t help noticing the sheriffs handsome smile. And on a closer look, he had a handsome