saddle blankets from the wall and propped his leg to keep down the swelling. If she just had some ice! Not for the first time did she wish there was electricity out here so she could keep a little fridge with a freezer compartment.
Throughout her ministrations, he groaned several times but still didn’t come to.
“That’s just as well,” she murmured to herself as she once more reached beneath the counter for her cell phone. Satisfied that both the baby and the stranger would stay asleep for some time, she tiptoed out the door of the museum, then called for an ambulance.
After a short discussion, it was agreed they would turn off their siren so as not to alarm the baby or Hannah’s patient.
Next, she phoned Jim Thornton at home. He ran one of the local garages in Laramie. When he heard what had happened, he promised he’d be out first thing in the morning to deal with the Jeep.
After she’d made her calls, Hannah walked Cinnamon to the barn. With the aid of a lantern, she removed the horse’s trappings and provided her with fresh water and feed. “You deserve a reward after all your hard work at the river,” she murmured, rubbing Cinnamon’s forehead affectionately. The horse whinnied in response.
With Cinnamon taken care of, she carried the lantern back to the museum. Little had Hannah guessed she would need it tonight. But since finding the stranger, darkness had crept over the sage-dotted land. Lack of electrical power made it necessary for her to supply enough light for the ambulance attendants to do their job.
When Dominic opened his eyes this time, he let out a moan to discover himself alone on a hard bunk bed inside a tiny log cabin, his head and ankle hurting like hell.
His bleary gaze surveyed the dim interior in an attempt to focus. By the time he could see one image instead of three, a poster hanging on the wall right above his feet, stared back at him.
Wanted For Pony Express
Young, Skinny, Wiry Fellows. Not Over Eighteen.
Must Be Expert Riders. Willing To Risk
Death Daily. Orphans Preferred.
Apply Before April 3, 1860, To
The Central Overland California Express Company.
At first the words had him truly confused, but he gradually became aware of his surroundings and remembered the museum. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall how he’d gotten from the river to here, but someone had brought him. How else could he account for his wrapped ankle which was now elevated! Had he dreamed up the exquisite-looking angel with golden curls and green eyes who’d spirited him away on her horse?
When he tried to sit up, the room spun again. On a groan of defeat, he lay back and closed his eyes. Unfortunately he couldn’t shut out the odd ringing in his ears.
“He’s right in here,” he heard a voice say sometime later. It was the same voice Dominic had heard earlier. A woman’s voice, slightly husky and breathless.
It belonged to the angel.
He opened his eyes to make sure she wasn’t a figment of his imagination. To his disappointment, a man about thirty-six, his own age, was on his haunches staring at Dominic. Another man had brought in a stretcher and placed it near the bunk.
“Hi, there. Glad to see you’re awake. What’s your name?”
“Dominic Giraud,” he muttered, expelling a deep sigh of frustration.
“I’m Chad. We heard you had an accident out by the river. Just rest easy while I take your vital signs, then we’ll drive you into the Laramie hospital where a doctor will examine you.”
“I’m all right,” Dominic groaned his protestation as the paramedic gave him an on-the-spot physical.
“That’s probably true, but you have a small lump on the back of your head, and you might have suffered a broken ankle, which needs to be X-rayed.”
It was one of the few times in Dominic’s life when he didn’t have the physical strength to walk away from a situation he wanted no part of.
“Where’s the angel?”
“You mean the one who rescued you and gave you expert first aid?”
“So I wasn’t dreaming…”
“I’m afraid I’m just a mere mortal, Mr. Giraud.”
He liked the sound of her voice, especially the way she tried to say his name in good French. Most Americans didn’t bother.
Intrigued by this telling bit of insight into her psyche he said, “Move around so I can see you to thank you for saving my life.”
“Later.” Chad grinned. “She’s a looker, and I might get the wrong blood pressure reading from you. Besides, I need her to stay where she is and keep holding the lantern for me.”
Dominic muttered another epithet. He would have tipped his head back to get a glimpse of her if it weren’t for the fact that every time he tried to turn or sit up, the room swam.
“I was in a pileup on the freeway a while ago and know exactly how you feel,” Chad commiserated. “Give yourself twenty-four hours and you’ll be a new man again.” The two paramedics helped ease Dominic onto the stretcher.
He still couldn’t see the woman who walked behind them to the door before she said good bye and wished him a speedy recovery. To irritate him further, the ringing sound in his ears grew worse the second they moved him outside. It took him a moment to realize the noise wasn’t coming from inside his head.
“Mon Dieu!— That’s a horn!”
“It’s your Jeep. The battery will die soon.” Chad spoke up as they placed him in the back of the ambulance. “I understand Thornton’s Garage will be out to get it in the morning. We’ll leave all the details at the hospital with you.”
For the moment Dominic had no choice but to give in to his fate. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be back tomorrow or the next day to thank his rescuer properly. She couldn’t possibly be as beautiful as he’d imagined.
Early the next morning, after Hannah had opened the museum for business, a tow truck from Jim’s garage drove up in front. With Elizabeth propped against her shoulder, she walked outside and gave the men directions to the accident site.
It reminded her to phone the hospital later in the day and find out the condition of the dark-haired stranger who’d dominated her thoughts since last night. She supposed he might be living in Laramie, but she doubted it very much.
He didn’t mention notifying a family member or a friend about his accident. Maybe he was married, but she hadn’t seen any rings on his fingers. Of course that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Some people couldn’t wear rings or didn’t choose to.
Though he spoke beautiful English, his name was French and she’d heard him mutter in French several times on the ride back to the museum from the river. Even in his dazed state, there was an undeniable sophistication about him that made him different from the other men she’d known in her life.
“He’s
