Garrett jumped off his gelding and ran to Libby as a woman screamed and the banker and two cowpokes started to rush toward her. She lay there in a collapsed heap, looking so lifeless. He moved wisps of her shiny black hair out of her face. Placing his ear on her chest to make sure she was breathing, he felt a moment of shame that he was so aware of her breasts. They were not large, yet they weren’t overly small either. Very firm. He had the errant thought that they were just about right. He forced his mind to halt that line of thinking almost as soon as he had the notion. Then he quickly felt her arms, legs and ribs, trying his best not to notice how good she felt—for God sakes, any young woman would feel good if you were feeling her all over—to determine if she had any broken bones. Satisfied she was in one piece, he looked at the purple knot forming on her forehead as he gently gathered her up in his arms, arranging her cloak over the breeches as best as he could. Libby might appreciate that later. “Get the horses and tie them up at the mercantile, would you, Joe?” he said to one cowpoke as the crowd dispersed to let him through.
“Sure thing,” the man nodded.
Garrett carried the unconscious young woman toward Doc Watkins’ office on the other side of the feed store, his heart pounding. What the hell happened? That cayuse was one of Jackson’s most gentle horses.
At the doctor’s office, Garrett pounded on the door with one hand while supporting Libby with the other. When Lena Watkins, the physician’s kindly wife and nurse, opened it, she stepped immediately aside and Garrett rushed in with his burden. “Where’s the doc?” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as anxious as he felt.
The middle-aged woman tied on a faded white apron as she surveyed the limp figure. “What happened?”
“She got bucked off her horse and hit her head on the hitching post.”
Mrs. Watkins gently felt the large purple lump on Libby’s forehead for a moment. She looked closer. “Yes, I see some splinters here.” She studied the lump for a few more moments and then looked at Garrett. “Bring her back to the second room on the left. I’ll get the doc.”
Libby was so light, like a little pixie, and felt so right in his arms as he carried her to the examining room. That’s ridiculous. He didn’t want to like her. He didn’t even trust her. Then why did you invite her to come with you this morning? He ignored the aggravating thought in his head and gently placed her on the padded table. She was so pale and young looking. And innocent. How could he have treated her so poorly? A moment later, the paunchy, gray-haired Doc Watkins entered the room, making a beeline for his patient.
“Who is she?”
“Libby Wagoner. Jackson’s new housekeeper.”
The doctor nudged Garrett out of the way so he could examine Libby. As he lifted one eyelid and then the other, she began to stir. As the physician examined her body for broken bones, cuts and abrasions, she opened her blue eyes, reminding Garrett of the Montana sky on one of those perfect spring days. What the hell was the matter with him? That sounded like it was right out of one of those mushy novels that women read. He had to stop this. Libby slowly turned toward him, looking confused. “Wh…what happened?”
Garrett put a hand on your shoulder. “You got bucked off your horse and took a hard fall,” he said. “You hit your head pretty hard.”
She thought about that for a moment. “Oh…oh, that’s right. Something spooked the horse. I…I tried to hold on. Where am I?”
“You’re in my office,” said another deep voice she didn’t recognize. “I’m Doc Watkins.” He nudged Garrett out of the way again.
Libby looked into a pair of warm, twinkly hazel eyes.
She started to get up. “I’m okay. We should…” A dizzy spell sent her swaying, and the doctor gently pushed her back down onto the pillow.
“You’re not going anywhere for a while,” he said firmly.
Three and a half hours later, Libby sat in front of Garrett on his horse, her backside pressed against his front side. It had been a long, long ride from town to the ranch for the virile foreman, who gritted his teeth and concentrated on keeping the alluring, soft, curvy Libby safe. Her limbs were so loose, he had to keep one arm around her at all times lest she slide off the saddle and bounce on the ground. He had tied the reins of her horse to his saddle and had had no problem with it, although it slowed the trip as he worked to keep Libby from falling and both animals safe from gopher holes, snakes and nasty bushes. At last, the entourage climbed the final hill and headed into the valley toward the ranch.
“Are you still awake?” he nudged his passenger.
The doctor cautioned him that she needed to stay awake at least until nighttime to make sure she didn’t fall into a coma. And then someone needed to keep an eye on her for any changes in her condition throughout the first night.
“Yes, I’m awake,” she groaned.
“How do you feel?”
“Oh…not as good as I’d like. I suppose I’ve felt worse, though.”
“I guess we all have. Do you have a headache?”
“Pounding.”
“I imagine you’re going to be awfully sore everywhere come tomorrow. I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Garrett.”
“I was trying to get you off the horse, but I didn’t get there in time.”
“It was an accident. I’ll be all right. I think I just need a little nap.” And then she straightened a little. “Oh, but I need to work.”
“You cannot sleep yet. And don’t worry about work.”
“I cannot lose this job.” Her voice was shaky, like she might begin crying any moment.
He had no experience with women crying and did not want to start now. “Jackson is a fair man, Libby. He will not punish you for an accident or expect you to work when you’re not feeling well.”
As they approached the ranch house, Carmen and Jackson came outside.
“What took you so long? Carmen was worried.”
“Oh, señor, and you were not?”
Garrett dismounted and helped Libby down. “Libby’s horse bucked her off in town. She was knocked unconscious and needs to take it easy and stay awake until tonight.”
“I’m all right. Honestly. Just a little banged up.”
Carmen hustled forward and helped Libby into the house as the stable boy jogged up to take the horses. Garrett held onto the reins of Libby’s horse.
“What are you thinking?” Jackson eyed Garrett, knowing that look.
“She’s a good rider and this horse is as gentle as they come.”
“Let’s go check out every ounce of her,” Jackson said as he headed toward the barn. “I’d hate to have to put her out to pasture.”
Garrett followed him with the pinto. “You’re talking about the horse, right?”
Jackson chuckled as the two men entered the barn, where it took only a minute to discover the problem. Garrett removed the horse’s saddle and blanket. He set the saddle on a rail and checked the blanket carefully before he found it: a large burr. He noted a bloody spot on the horse’s back where the burr had dug in.
Garrett held the nasty burr between his thumb and forefinger for Jackson to examine.
“That didn’t get there by itself,” the rancher said. “Somebody has it in for our housekeeper.”
“I knew she was hiding something.”
* * *
Libby spent a couple of hours sitting up in bed, wearing only her chemise. She was propped against several fluffy pillows, as Carmen entertained her with stories of her childhood in Mexico and tales of the ranch in Carmen’s early days as the cook. They weathered Indian raids, blizzards, rustlers, flooding and other disasters. It was hard to picture her mother withstanding any of those challenges. To leave a fine man like Jackson, though. If they truly had been man and wife, she must have been awfully shallow. Libby almost chuckled at that. Elinora was shallow. It was all about pretty things and the image with her.
“Was Mr. Butterman married back then?”
“No, I worked here for three or four years before the señor married.”
“He must have had…lady friends before that. He’s so handsome,” Libby fished, but Carmen wasn’t biting.
Her head still throbbed, yet Carmen’s chatter seemed to dull the pain. At times, she didn’t even feel it.
“The ladies have always appreciated the señor,” the older woman said as she rose. “I must see to dinner. I will send someone up to sit with you.”
“Really, that is not necessary,” Libby smiled.
“Jes it is. You cannot sleep.”
Naturally that made her yearn to close her eyes and sink into oblivion. Libby sighed as Carmen picked up the tea tray from the bedside table and walked off. The young housekeeper was so tired. I’ll just close my eyes for a minute.
She must have dozed off, for suddenly someone was gently nudging her shoulder and she startled awake to find Jackson Butterman, of all people, leaning over her.
“No sleeping, remember? Doctor’s orders.”
“Oh, I was just resting my eyes.”
“Hmm…I noticed,” he said, not buying it.
She smiled guiltily. Libby wanted desperately to talk with this powerful man who could be her father but wanted almost equally as desperately for him to go away. She wasn’t at full strength; she wasn’t ready. She didn’t know what to say, especially in her current, oh-so-vulnerable condition. A part of her wanted to just blurt out her story, yet she wasn’t ready to fully trust him yet. So she said nothing.
He sat and seemed to be at a loss for words as well.
She studied him, struck again at how attractive and solid he looked. A man’s man, looking so red-blooded in a light green shirt and the ubiquitous black vest. “Surely you have more important things to do than sit here with me,” Libby finally said.
“Do you need anything?” He had a way of following his own agenda, no matter what someone said or did, the mark of a good leader, she supposed.
“No. Thank you.”
“Are you feeling any better?”
“I…”
“You don’t need to lie.”
She hesitated, then started again. “I suspect I am going to feel a bit worse before I feel better, but I truly am not so bad. It’s just a headache and a few aches and pains. It could have been much worse.”
“Carmen is making her famous enchiladas for dinner. I think a good meal will perk you up. After dinner, we’ll talk about the incident.”
“The incident?”
“Your ‘accident.’”
The way he said “accident” sent a shiver down her spine.
“All right.” She pulled the quilt up nearly to her neck, just to be doing something. “Would you mind pouring me a glass of water, please?”
He did so and handed her the glass, noting her unsuccessful attempt to keep her hand from shaking as she grasped it.
“You have not gotten very much work out of your housekeeper yet,” she observed wryly. “I am very sorry. Tomorrow I should be able to get back to work. ”
“Don’t worry about that. There is no sense coming back to work until you’re one hundred percent.”
She handed him the glass. “Still, I apologize for inconveniencing you.”
“ This could not be predicted,” he said as he set the glass on the nightstand, and then added, “could it?”
“Uh…no, of course not.”
“Then your job is safe.”
That gave her a sinking feeling somehow. Jackson was definitely a man who would not countenance lying. But she wasn’t really lying, except about her name. She was simply holding her cards close to the vest. They chatted about the ranch and a little about her journey west and then heard Carmen ringing the dinner bell.
“I’ll assist you downstairs,” Jackson said. He was such a rancher gentleman.
She squirmed a little bit. “Um…I need to…”
He looked at her, not understanding.
“I’m not…”
Still no comprehension.
Time for some plain speaking. “I have to put my gown back on.”
“Oh.” He jumped up like he was sitting on heated coals. “I’ll wait in the hallway. Just come out when you’re ready. You’re sure you don’t need any help? Not by me!”
She smiled. It was somehow heartwarming to see the strong, capable man floundering. “No, I’m fine. I’ll be there shortly.”
After he closed the door, she got up and swayed dizzily, fighting a wave of nausea. She grabbed the bedpost for a moment and took a deep breath before finding her footing. Now there was only one of everything. Good. She slowly made her way across the room. As she donned one of her new gowns, the yellow one, she glanced out the window, wondering how hard it would be to escape through that venue rather than face the music. She could tell even Jackson was becoming suspicious of her now. She had to laugh, in spite of herself. Libby was many things, but she wasn’t a coward. She rebraided her hair, pinched her cheeks, took a deep breath, turned and headed for the door. Hesitating momentarily, she sucked in more air, opened the door and walked through to meet her fate.
The dinner was delicious, as the Butterman patriarch had predicted. Carmen had a way of making every meal taste wonderful, her culinary repertoire ranging from delectable Mexican dishes to more traditional American fare, including beef and pork roasts and sumptuous stews. In addition to Garrett, Jackson and Carmen, four ranch hands and the stable boy, Jody, who was Gem’s son, joined them for the meal, which included a dessert of melt-in-your-mouth chocolate cake.
When everyone finished eating and Carmen began clearing the plates, Libby saw Jackson nod toward the ranch hands and the boy, and they practically knocked over their chairs in their haste to exit.
Uh-oh. That can’t be good. Libby was in trouble.
“Dinner was wonderful. Thank you, ma’am,” said one cowboy.
The other three added their appreciation, the boy just grinned and they all quickly took their leave.
Libby could barely breathe. Her heart began pounding so hard she thought surely it would burst through her chest. Why didn’t they just shoot her? Or chuck her out the door? It might be less painful.
“How are you feeling? You’re still awfully pale. Would you care for some brandy?” Jackson asked her as Carmen handed him his usual after-dinner drink.
“No, thank you. I’m not much for spirits.”
“Garrett?”
“Not tonight.”
Great. He wanted to be sober for the inquisition or attack or whatever it was to be. Libby shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she poked at her cake crumbs with her fork. Jackson eyed her thoughtfully while sipping his brandy. She felt like a bug under a microscope.
Garrett tipped his head as he watched her as well. Even when obviously nervous, she somehow got to him. There was just something about her. Run! his instincts told him, but he didn’t move. He would play this hand out.
“Is there something you want to tell us?” Jackson said, swirling the brandy in his glass.
Libby looked up. Yes, unfortunately, he was speaking to her.
“About what?” Now she was just embarrassed. It was obvious they all knew she was hiding something. Did he know about her connection to Elinora or that she had lied about her name?
“Your accident today was no accident. Someone put a burr under your saddle.”
“What? It couldn’t have gotten there by mistake?”
Garrett snorted.
“No,” Jackson said. “Is there someone who wants to cause you harm? That fall could have killed you, Libby.”
A part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms and tell him she was his long lost daughter and to take what comfort he could give her, but perhaps she was a coward after all.
She couldn’t do it. Not yet. Still, if her tormenters had caught up to her already, she had to tell the men about them in case it put them and others on the ranch in danger. No, it was worse than that. She had to leave before someone else got hurt.
Libby looked at her hands for a long time, tapping her fingers on the table. Then she sighed and looked up. Carmen was about to take her plate when Libby put up a hand to stop her.
“You should hear this too, Carmen.”
The cook looked at her questioningly, then at Jackson, who nodded. She sat.
Libby sighed and then looked up, resigned. “I grew up in St. Louis. My father was very cold and sometimes cruel. My mother was rather oblivious. She had her clubs and charities and didn’t pay much mind to me, but she came to the marriage with wealth. She set aside a huge dowry for me that could not be touched until I married or I turned 21, whichever came first.”
“How old are you?” Jackson inquired.
“I’ll be 21 in 12 days.” It was the first thing she thought of every morning when she awoke, not because of the money she would inherit but because she would be safe. She paused, thinking, wishing she could be somewhere else.
“Go on,” Garrett said, his eyes narrowing.
That bothered her. She felt as if she had been gaining his trust, and now it was gone. “Two weeks ago, while my mother lay dying, my father told me I had to marry a man named Edward Capo DeJulius in three days. I had no idea who he was.”
“I thought you said he was your stepfather.”
“He is, but I didn’t know it at that point.”
The men leaned in almost imperceptibly, obviously intrigued.
She didn’t notice the way Carmen’s eyes homed in on her at that admission.
“When I told my mother about the wedding, she was happy for me until she found out who the groom was. Then she became terribly upset. She said DeJulius is a monster and she gave me money to flee.”
“That’s how you ended up here,” Jackson said.
She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Yes. My mother said her husband was selling me to DeJulius to take care of his gambling debts. She also said both men would come after me. I thought I would be safe since I only had to hide out for a few weeks.”
“Apparently not,” Garrett said. It was almost an accusation.
“I’m sorry,” Libby replied. “I didn’t think I would be putting anyone else in danger.”
“You think your father…or stepfather would actually harm you?”
“I’m not sure, but…yes, I think he might. He never liked me or treated me well. If I’m gone before I turn 21, the dowry is his.”
Garrett put his hands on the table as if he were trying to hold it down. “What about this other fellow?”
“Edward DeJulius? If he finds me, he will try to force me into marriage.”
“And after that, he won’t need you alive either,” Jackson pointed out.
“I’m very sorry,” Libby said, and Garrett, in spite of himself, felt sympathy. She was the victim here, and she was apologizing. “I did not think they would find me so fast. I’ll pack up right away and move to town and then get the next stage out.”
She started to get up.
“Sit,” Jackson said with an authority that brooked no disobedience.
She sat, waiting for the inevitable lecture and berating. She didn’t feel like Lionhearted Libby now. She felt rather pathetic.
Jackson took another drink, then set his glass down and folded his linen napkin as he chose his words carefully. “I wish you had been honest with us when you arrived,” he began.
Garrett noticed she had paled even more. Was she afraid of Jackson? Did she think he would hurt her or punish her?
“But none of this situation, it seems to me, is your fault,” he continued, and her eyes widened in surprise. “Unless these men are going to bring an army with them, this ranch is about the safest place you could be.”
“But I can’t…”
“…You can and you will stay here, at least until you turn 21 and your money, and of course your life, are safe. We protect our women here, Libby. Nothing will happen to you. You have my word.”
And his word was his bond, unlike Elias Parminter’s. How could she be so lucky?
“But you need to be smart,” Garrett pointed out. “Don’t leave the ranch without an escort, me, Jackson or one of the hands. Be aware of your surroundings at all times.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to put anyone in danger. I would feel terrible if…”
Carmen patted her hand.
“You are one of us now, señorita. Think of us as your family.”
Libby’s eyes darted to each of the people at the table. “I…don’t know what to say, except I promise this will not affect my job. I’ll still do the best job I can.”
“All right then.” Jackson rose and started to leave as the others began to get up. He turned back to his housekeeper. “Libby?”
“Yes?”
“If anything out of the ordinary happens, you let one of us know right away, day or night.”
“Yes, sir. I will,” she promised.
Carmen and Jackson left the room, but Garrett held back until they were gone. “I…uh…I know you’ll probably go crazy if you’re stuck inside all day, every day,” said. “If you want, I will try to find time to ride with you, on the ranch. You should probably rest tomorrow and stay away from town for these two weeks.”
“Even church?”
“Even church. But a few prayers wouldn’t be amiss.”
“I would like to ride, Garrett. Thank you.”
She smiled, and he felt an inordinate amount of contentment. It’s a smile, not the second coming, he chided himself.
Three days later, Carmen packed Libby and Garrett a picnic lunch of fried chicken, sweetbreads, fritters and citrus fruit, along with her special lemonade in a sealed container. He saddled their horses, attached the small picnic basket behind his saddle and helped her mount the pinto.
“Did you check for burrs?” she joked.
“As a matter of fact, I did, and she’s all healed from the last incident,” he smiled as he effortlessly jumped into his saddle. She couldn’t help but notice his taut muscles that perfectly complemented his ruggedly handsome face. Garrett Winslow was all cowboy, for certain. Like Jackson, he looked like he was right out of a dime novel. She didn’t see how she would ever look at fancy Eastern gentlemen with their lace cuffs and pristine appearance the same way again. They would seem sickly or at least ineffectual in comparison. The two headed out of the barn and, after passing the ranch house and waving at Carmen, urged the horses into a comfortable lope.
What was Carmen up to? Libby had the feeling she was the smartest one of all of them, and she was practically beside herself with joy when Libby asked her if she could take a little snack with them on their ride. Carmen had shooed her away and prepared a four-course meal and had a spring in her step when she handed it to Libby. She obviously was trying to encourage a romance between the two. For a brief moment, Libby allowed herself to wonder what that might be like. Then she tossed it right out of her mind, reminding herself that no man, especially one as bossy as Garrett, would rule her again.
It was a gorgeous day, the sky as blue as blue could be, with a few puffy white clouds, the snow-capped mountains gleaming in the distance, the hills alive with waving grasses and yellow and blue wildflowers. Libby felt a serenity of spirit that had eluded her much of her life. It balanced the guilt she bore for not telling Jackson the whole truth. She promised herself she would do so as soon as the immediate danger passed. She wanted him to want her because she was his daughter, not because she was a damsel in distress. And she was almost positive she was his daughter, hoping that wasn’t wishful thinking.
They rode for what seemed to her to be several miles before coming to a truly stunning vista overlooking a beautiful picturesque creek bordered by shining boulders and majestic pine trees. A master painting could not have looked more breathtaking. Garrett reigned in his gelding, and Libby stopped beside him.
“Oh, Garrett,” she whispered almost reverently. “This is exquisite…perfect.” Why people thought they needed a church to be close to God, she didn’t know. She could feel His presence here.
“It’s my favorite place on the ranch. I come here sometimes when I need to think.”
“It is incredible, and I’m honored. Thank you.”
Suddenly his collar seemed too tight. Somehow she had struck a nerve and it annoyed him. “Well, don’t read too much into it,” he almost spat out. “We had to go somewhere.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean…I just…I’m just happy to be here. That’s all.” Please, couldn’t the earth just swallow me up now?
“Let’s go down closer to the creek,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
It was the old, grouchy Garrett. Now she felt on level ground. No need to think about his muscular forearms or strong, calloused, beautiful hands. No, sir. Concentrate on his rotten attitude.
Actually, he couldn’t have met her eyes anyway, unless he was on the ground, as that’s where they were firmly fixed. Garrett, feeling proprietary about this parcel of land he hoped to build a home on, but a little bit guilty for snapping at Libby, urged his horse forward, down the incline, and she slowly followed. By the time he had unsaddled the horses, led them to the creek to drink their fill and ground-staked them, she had spread out the blanket and laid out the food Carmen had packed. They made a little small talk about the weather and the horses and smoothed over the awkwardness.
“Carmen sure knows how to cook,” Libby said, smiling, as he joined her on the blanket.
“That she does. It’s a wonder we’re not all too heavy for our horses.”
She tried to keep the conversation impersonal as she munched on a chicken leg. “Deer Lodge is an interesting name for a town.”
“Its name comes from the Warm Springs Mound, which is about 40 feet high,” he explained. “Hot water bubbles to the surface and sometimes steams. Indians, fur trappers and traders used it as a landmark, and from a distance it looked like an Indian lodge when steaming.”
“Where did the “Deer” come in?”
“Well, the warm waters kept the grass green, and mineral deposits in the waters created a salt lick, and both attracted many deer.”
“Who named it?”
“I think it was the Frenchies, but the Americans came up with their own unique translation.”
“I haven’t seen much of the town.”
“It’s grown just since I’ve been here.”
“How long is that again?” She was surprised he was talking so much without insulting her. It must be some sort of a record.
“Oh, ten or 12 years. The town has a post office now and a newspaper, The Weekly Independent. And the territorial prison opened in Deer Lodge last year.”
“Is there a bank? I need to figure out a way to get my inheritance.”
“Yes, I went there the other day, remember? There’s even a school now.”
For some reason, this made Libby blush, and she giggled to cover it up. Just this simple sequence of events and his body betrayed him, warming inside. He thought of cattle rustling, branding, mucking stalls, anything to keep from thinking about her. Then he watched, fascinated, as she licked the chicken grease off her fingers and felt his jeans tighten in a most embarrassing spot.
“Is there any more lemonade?” he asked quickly, his voice hoarse. It was either that or take a quick jump into the creek, which still held some of the snow runoff. That should do it, all right.
“Yes, here, let me pour you some.”
He watched as she did, picturing her delicate, ungloved fingers walking up and down his body. Unconsciously, he moaned.
“What’s wrong? Are you all right?” She had set down the jug and was studying him, concerned.
He looked at her for a moment and then surprised himself by saying, “I have to kiss you,” as he moved closer to her.
“What?” Could you think of anything dumber to say?
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move. He gently placed his rough hands on her alabaster cheeks and slowly drew her closer, placing a butterfly-soft kiss on her lips, which tasted like lemonade and something else sweet and flowery. And then, before she could run shrieking into the countryside, he put his hands around her waist and pulled her closer. His lips met hers again, and he deepened the kiss. With his tongue, he pressed on her lower lip and she opened to him. Not only that; she responded, molding her body to his and kissing him back for all she was worth. He was just about ready to throw her onto the blanket and rip her clothes off when one of the horses neighed and she stiffened.
He let go suddenly and stood up abruptly. What had he done? What was he supposed to say now…Sorry? He wasn’t sorry, exactly, although he imagined that was the right thing to say. But he didn’t say it. “We’d better start heading back,” he said curtly instead.” You put the food away, and I’ll saddle the horses.” He strode off as if his pants were on fire.
Maybe they were, she mused. She certainly felt the fire in her own nether region. She had been kissed twice before, but never remotely like that. Bucky Winter’s kiss was all wet and slobbery and made her want to retch. Douglas Denhart kissed like a piece of wood and then smiled as if he were God’s gift to manhood. The only other thing she remembered from those kisses was a kind of intense revulsion and a desire to flee. Garrett’s kiss was…downright inspiring. She had felt it all the way down to her toes. Lord, the man went hot and cold on her and half the time acted like he wanted to strangle her, and with one kiss she was ready to prostrate herself before him. Idiot!
He obviously regretted the kiss but couldn’t bring himself to apologize. She recalled how difficult it had been for him to say he was sorry previously for upsetting her at dinner. Well, Libby Anne Parminter…Butterman?…was not about to beg Garrett Winslow or anybody else to like her. He could have his loose women in town and she would wait out her birthday and maybe move on to California. Although she hoped to forge a nice bond with Jackson, she would never give up her determination to not be under any man’s control ever again.
They were standing by the horses. She got the feeling Garrett was waiting for her to get all uppity and outraged about the kiss, but she had no intention of mentioning it. She would remember it for a long, long time, however. He was starting to help her into the saddle when he saw a glint in the distance and suddenly yanked her back and threw her to the ground. As he did, a shot rang out. He grunted and landed on top of her with a thud.
“Are you all right?” he ground out as he pulled out his revolver and looked around.
“I…think so. Just out of breath.” She tried to shift her position. “And a little bit crushed.”
He grunted again as he slid off her. She started to get to her hands and knees, but he pulled her back down as another shot rang out.
“Stay down!”
“I was just trying to get away from the horses before I get kicked.”
“Better kicked than shot.”
“Better neither.”
“Hmph.”
He propelled them a few feet from the horses and behind a large boulder. That’s when she noticed his shoulder was bleeding rather profusely.
“Oh, my Lord. You’re hit.”
He gritted his teeth. “I know.”
She looked around frantically and then reached under her skirt and removed her petticoat.
“You don’t have to take off your clothes to cheer me up.”
She refrained to comment but rolled her eyes and began ripping the petticoat into strips as he leaned back against the boulder, panting heavily. “Do you think anyone will hear the shots?”
“Probably not this late in the day,” he gasped.
She folded up one of the strips and pressed it against his shoulder as he let loose with a colorful curse.
“We’ve got to stop the bleeding.”
His hand holding the revolver dropped to the ground.
“Do you…can you shoot?”
“If I have to.” She wound the bandage strips around his chest and shoulder to hold the pad in place.
“If I pass out, you may have to.”
She tried not to show the panic that was about to consume her. “All right, only if you faint. But we need to get some help or get back to the ranch before you bleed to death.”
“Men don’t faint,” he gasped. “Look…look over at that field to the right, by the tree line. Do you see anything? That’s where I saw the reflection on the rifle.”
“You saved my life,” she said as she tied off the bandage and he grunted in pain. “Sorry.”
“Assuming it was someone after you,” he ground out. “I’m not all that sure everyone loves me.”
“No,” she chuckled sarcastically, “A sweet fellow like you? I don’t see anything in the woods.”
“He might have left.”
“How do you know it’s a man? Maybe it’s Miss Cindy Lou Big Breasts trying to take out the competition.”
“Are you competition?”
“Only in her little brain.”
He laughed, then grimaced. “I think we should try to get out of here. We’re going to have to both ride on my horse. I don’t think I can make it alone.”
“Wait…Is it a cold day in hell? Did you just admit to a weakness?”
“Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
Time to be brave. She could do it. “I’ll bring your horse over here.”
“Stay close to the ground and don’t run in a straight path.”
“Should I bring mine too?”
“Let her loose and hit her on the rump. She knows the way back to the ranch. When she comes in alone, they should send someone out looking for us.”
“Oh, good. I’ll do that first.”
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
She crawled toward the horses, dragging herself through the grass and dirt in a zigzag path. So much for trying to look good today. When she got to her pinto, she untied it and had to steel herself to hit its rump hard enough to send it off. She probably could whack her stepfather or Edward DeJulius if she had to, but she hated to hit an innocent animal. Still, she didn’t think she could really hurt the horse if she tried, so she turned it around to face the way home and smacked it on the rear. The horse barely moved.
“You can do better than that!” he called out weakly. “Just pretend the horse is me.”
She smacked the horse a good one and the pinto took off at a gallop.
Garrett chuckled and then coughed as he painfully adjusted his position slightly. That was when he felt his vision narrowing and then, despite his best efforts, everything went black. Crouching to make herself the smallest target, Libby untied Garrett’s gelding and quickly led it over to the boulder, just as a bullet hit the side of the boulder and sent a piece of rock into the side of her head. She screeched and threw herself down next to Garrett, who was now slumped over on the ground, unconscious.
“No!” she cried, shaking him gently. “Garrett, don’t do this. Come on. Wake up. Please. Wake up.”
He was out cold. She felt liquid dripping down her face and put her hand up to find another painful lump had formed. Her hand came away with blood. “Oh, great.” She ripped another piece of her petticoat and pressed it against the wound, wincing. Holding that bandage with one hand, she picked up Garrett’s revolver and put it in her lap, then checked his bandages. He was still bleeding, but not as much. She had to get him help as soon as possible, which meant somehow getting him and herself onto the horse without getting either of them killed. If she waited much longer, he could bleed to death or whoever was shooting at them could come in close for the kill.
First, she tried to rouse him again, gently slapping his cheeks and calling out to him. That didn’t work. Then she tried kissing him. That didn’t work but it felt good. Next, she dropped the bandage she’d been holding on her head, stuck the revolver in her dress pocket and brought the horse as close to the boulder as possible. Then she grabbed her cowboy under the arms, struggling to lift him to a semi-standing position. Her cowboy?
“C’mon, Garrett, help me here,” she begged as she walked/dragged him next to the horse. Somehow she got his left foot into the stirrup and had him leaning against the gelding, which showed the patience of Job. It also left her body molded against the back of his, which was a frighteningly pleasant experience in this rather terrifying situation. She just didn’t have enough time to dwell on the sensation as she noticed how pale the hard-bodied cowboy had become.
“You can do this, Lionhearted Libby,” she said empathically, placing her hands on his butt and painstakingly hoisting him into the saddle. He nearly fell off the other side before she grabbed the back of his shirt and balanced him as best she could. Then she led the gelding even closer to the boulder. Holding one hand on his thigh, she stepped on an indentation in the boulder and tried to hoist herself into the saddle behind Garrett while still ducking behind the giant rock. It took three tries, but she finally made it, expecting a rifle shot to pierce her back at any moment.
Holding the reins with one hand and Garrett with the other, still shielded by the boulder, she carefully turned the horse around before taking a deep breath and kicking it into a canter and then a gallop. Several shots rang out, one so close she heard it whiz by her head, until they were out of rifle range. Not that whoever had shot Garrett couldn’t be galloping behind them. But she thought a continuous gallop might cause him to bleed too much, so she slowed the pace back to a cantor, while looking behind frequently to make sure they weren’t followed.
After the first mile, it became harder to hold Garrett, who was dead weight and leaning so hard against her right arm she didn’t know if she could hold him much longer. Her head was throbbing and she was starting to feel light-headed. Looking around once again, she slowed the horse to a walk. She saw a stand of trees in the distance and headed for it, swaying in the saddle as they neared it. Once there, she stopped the horse and did her best to adjust Garrett and herself.
That’s when she heard a horse or horses approaching, almost in a fog. What was wrong with her vision? She shook her head, trying to clear it, and only felt an agony of pain. Horses! They had to get away. She tried to kick Garrett’s horse, but her legs wouldn’t obey. The horses were getting closer, and now she couldn’t hold the reins. She tried to get a tighter grip on Garrett but felt him slipping away. Then, almost in slow motion, she fell from the horse, taking Garrett with her. Now they were both unconscious.