when he’d thought himself totally fulfilled by his work.
Impatient, he shrugged it off and headed toward a ridge he could see in the distance overlooking the river.
By the time he reached the top, his mind was once more immersed in thought over his future plans, and he reacted too slowly as his vehicle began the descent. Almost colliding with a medium-size boulder, he swerved to avoid it, then swore softly when the right rear tire caught the side of it. The next thing he knew the world was spinning and he saw lights.
Hannah Carr frowned when the sound of the departing tour bus faded and another sound took its place. Someone’s horn was honking and wouldn’t stop.
She finished changing her little niece’s diaper, then walked outside the museum to see if the car was anywhere in sight. That’s when she realized the noise was coming from the river area behind them.
Someone was out on her property, which had no road and could only be reached by walking, on horseback, or in an off-road vehicle. They could be in real trouble. Unfortunately there were no other people around for several miles.
If she called the emergency number, it would still take the paramedics a good ten to fifteen minutes to reach the museum. On her horse, Hannah could make it to the river in one fifth of the time.
Haunted by the sound of the horn, which continued its mournful blaring din, Hannah went back inside and put the baby in the playpen. By the time she’d given the six-month-old her favorite donut-shaped toy, Hannah had made a decision.
“Elizabeth? I’ve never left you unattended before, but I’m afraid there’s something terribly wrong outside. I have to go see what it is, but I’ll come right back. Please be my little sweetheart and don’t cry. All right?”
It was a wrench to leave her, but Hannah didn’t feel she had a choice. If someone were injured, there wasn’t a second to lose.
Saying a little prayer that Elizabeth would be safe, Hannah crept across the museum and left for the corral, locking the door behind her so no one could get in to hurt the baby.
Her horse, Cinnamon, walked over to the gate and waited for her to open it. Hannah grabbed the reins and hoisted herself in the saddle. “Come on, girl. Let’s find out why that horn is stuck.”
More at home on the back of the horse she’d raised and trained from a foal than in her own car, she took off at a gallop and raced toward the rise, which she reached in no time at all.
She cried out when she saw a Jeep lying against an outcrop of rock near the bottom of the hill. A few feet away a man’s body lay face-up in the grass, not moving.
Urging her horse forward, they made a careful descent. As soon as they got close enough, she jumped off and hurried over to the inert male who looked to be in his mid-thirties. The well-honed body dressed in faded jeans and a cream-colored polo shirt had to be several inches over six feet. His bronzed face and hard-muscled arms attested to a lot of time spent in the sun.
She sank to her knees and reached for his wrist to find a pulse. Her touch produced a moaning sound and eventually his eyelids opened. Though the pupils were enlarged, she could tell his eyes were as dark brown as his hair.
In terms of male beauty, Hannah thought him the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on in her life.
When he tried to sit up, she held him down. “Please lie still for a minute. You’ve had an accident and I’m afraid you might be suffering from a concussion.”
He muttered something indistinct and made a determined effort to get to his feet. After a struggle he succeeded, but the second he put his weight on his left foot, he almost collapsed. If she hadn’t been there to hold him up, he would have fallen. Either his foot or ankle, or possibly both, could be broken.
“Come on. I can’t leave you out here. Let’s get you on my horse. Lean on me.” Though this man might be tall and powerfully built, he needed her help if he planned to go anywhere.
Hannah stood five feet four inches, but she’d performed in rodeos and had done trick riding all her life.
More recently she’d been trained in fire fighting and rescue work through her association with Laramie’s Indian Paintbrush Brigade. The group of fifty female volunteers rode horses together for pleasure. They could also be called upon to assist in an emergency.
With a low whistle she summoned her horse. Cinnamon immediately walked up to her. After adjusting the right stirrup to hang as low as possible, she urged the stranger to hoist himself up using his sound leg for leverage.
Standing on tiptoe, she eased his injured limb over the back of the horse and up onto its neck. The man made no noise, but she saw his striking features form a grimace and knew he had to be in excruciating pain. Dazed as he was, she considered it a miracle he didn’t fall off her horse.
With the reins in one hand, she mounted Cinnamon from the left stirrup. Straddled behind the stranger, she used one arm to circle his waist while she guided the horse with the other.
This close to the injured man’s virile physique, she could feel his warmth and smell the pleasant scent of the soap he’d used in the shower. Surprised at the direction of her thoughts, she forced herself to concentrate on the crisis at hand. Cinnamon obeyed Hannah’s clicking sound and started up the hill for the corral.
Soon the man’s body slumped over the horn of the saddle, yet she felt him stiffen with every movement of the horse.
Anxious to encourage him, she whispered, “The museum isn’t far from here. Just a few more minutes.”
Again she heard something unintelligible escape his lips. Only semi-coherent right now, the foreign-sounding words coming through clenched teeth attested to his pain. He needed a doctor as soon as possible.
In a short time the buildings came into view. With the blare of the horn still rending the night air, she half expected to hear Elizabeth wailing from the annoying sound. To Hannah’s relief, all was quiet.
The second the horse stopped, she slid off its rump and hurriedly reached to help the stranger dismount. With him sagging heavily against her, she fumbled in her pocket for the key, then unlocked the front door.
Half dragging him, they reached the bunk at one end of the room. He fell into it with a muffled groan and didn’t open his eyes again, beads of perspiration dotted his upper lip and hairline.
To Hannah’s relief the baby had fallen asleep and all seemed well. She muttered another prayer, this time in gratitude because residue guilt still plagued her for having left Elizabeth at all. But Hannah had sensed a crisis and was glad she’d been able to help the stranger.
Worried about the man’s head, she examined his skull with her fingers. There was a small lump on the back beneath his dark, vibrant hair, but no open wound. It was possible he could have sustained internal bleeding.
Carefully she eased his long, powerful legs onto the thin mattress. With all the gentleness she could muster, she rolled up the hem of his jeans to examine his injured limb. The area around the outside of his ankle looked swollen, unfortunately, she couldn’t tell if it was sprained or broken.
Thankful he wasn’t awake to fight her, she took another peek at Elizabeth who slept on undisturbed, then reached for the first-aid kit beneath the counter. In a few minutes
