the car lost the fight.
Heart pounding, Jackson slowed as he reached Hailey and lifted her to her feet, pressing her against him. That car had come so close to hitting her. “You okay, sweetie? Are you hurt?”
Hailey’s mumbled response warmed his blue denim shirt, but he couldn’t make out the words. His daughter pushed against his belly, and he reluctantly released her.
“I couldn’t breathe, Daddy.” She gulped in several gasps of air, then glanced at the rope burns on her palms. “I tried to hold on so Sabrina wouldn’t get away. I wasn’t scared, but I couldn’t hang on.”
He scanned his daughter’s face and body to make sure she wasn’t injured then released the breath he’d been holding. Her denim jacket was dust-covered but had probably saved her from scraping or bruising her arms. With his sleeve, he wiped dirt off her chin, relieved that she hadn’t cut it. A few minor rope burns reddened her palms, but otherwise she looked fine.
With his hands shaking and heart ricocheting around his chest like a racquetball on a court, he was in worse shape than his daughter. Not quite believing she was unharmed, he asked again, “You’re really not hurt anywhere besides your hands?”
“I’m fine, but that car’s not. And Sabrina’s gettin’ away.”
He glanced in the direction Hailey pointed. Still galloping and flipping chunks of dirt behind her, Sabrina had almost reached the ranch’s entrance. The blue lead rope flapped in the air like a pennant. Baron had given up the chase and trotted toward them, tongue hanging out.
With the danger past, Jackson looked skyward. Thank You, Lord, for protecting my little girl.
Ruffling his daughter’s hair, he said, “Don’t worry about Sabrina, pun’kin. We’ll catch her or one of our neighbors will.”
Draping his arm around Hailey’s shoulders, he turned toward the wrecked vehicle. Hissing steam seeped from the metallic blue Mustang now hugging his silver-maple tree.
He clenched his jaw, fighting his anger. Even his years of professional football training hadn’t prepared him for the rage coursing through him at the person who’d put his daughter’s life in danger with such reckless driving. If not for his Christian faith, he’d march forward and punch the driver’s nose. What kind of idiot raced up the drive of a horse ranch?
Jackson took a deep breath and unclenched his fist. He ought to be concerned about the driver, but at the moment, thoughts of his daughter’s near miss overpowered any compassion he might have.
“Cool car,” Hailey said. “Well, it was cool.”
With an eerie groan, the door creaked opened. Two small feet clad in navy pumps appeared below the door. A feminine, well-manicured hand grasped the top of the window frame, and a woman’s brunette head popped up above the dark tinted glass of the driver’s window. Wariness churned deep in Jackson’s belly. What was a woman doing here?
After a moment she stepped out from behind the car door and glared down the road. “That horse ran right in front of me. Look what it did to my car.”
“If you hadn’t been driving so fast, you wouldn’t have spooked her and caused her to bolt.” Jackson yanked his black Stetson off and smacked it against his leg, wishing he could follow Sabrina and be rid of this unwanted visitor.
“Uh-oh, there goes another hat,” Hailey mumbled. “That lady’s in trouble now.”
He cringed at her comment. He’d lost count of the number of Western hats he’d gone through as a result of trying to control his temper. He liked this particular one and aimed to keep it awhile. Slapping it back on his head, he marched forward.
“Listen, lady, your driving nearly got my daughter killed.” Hands clamped to his waist, he glared down into the woman’s startled black eyes.
She took only a second to recover from her surprised reaction. “Me? What are you talking about?” She swiped her hand toward the crumpled hood. “Look at my car!” Sobering suddenly, she turned toward the road again. “Did you see that truck?”
Jackson glanced down the road, wondering about her random change of topics. “What truck?”
The moment of vulnerability disappeared as the woman tossed her dark mane over her shoulders, then tilted up her face and glared back at him, ebony eyes flashing. “I never even saw your daughter, and that horse did run right at me.” She reached one hand to the car door and white-knuckled the window frame. Her expression softened. “Is your daughter okay?”
Jackson nodded, his heart still beating faster than normal at the close call.
Hailey skidded to a stop beside him. “Daddy, did the lady get hurt?”
He smiled at his daughter and brushed his hand across her head, and then Jackson studied the woman for a moment. At six foot two, he normally towered over most females, but this one appeared to be less than a half foot shorter than him. Her olive complexion and black eyes verified her Hispanic heritage. Wisps of dark brown hair curled around her oval face, giving her a softer appearance than Jackson expected from such a fireball.
“Look. I’m sorry. I really didn’t see your daughter—or the horse—until it ran in front of me. It’s just that...” She glanced toward the ranch’s entrance again then pursed her lips. “Never mind.”
The woman lifted a finger to her nose and a tiny sneeze squeaked past her pink lips.
Jackson blinked. He’d never heard such a feminine sound before.
“My, there’s a lot of dust out here.” She waved her hand in front of her face.
“Yeah.” Jackson straightened. “Especially when someone drives too fast and fishtails on the gravel.” Or when it didn’t rain for weeks, but he let that thought slide.
The woman hiked her chin; the fire in her eyes brightened. “Sorry if I was going too fast. You don’t exactly have a speed-limit sign posted. I’ve been driving up and down these country roads for hours, trying to find this place. Not to mention—” She jerked a tissue out of the pocket of her navy business suit and stuffed it under her pert nose just as another sneeze squeaked out.
“Why didn’t you stop and ask somebody? Everyone around these parts knows where Angelfire Ranch is.” Why did men always get blamed for not asking directions when women were just as bad?
Her chin lifted again. “I had a map. But obviously whoever faxed it to me didn’t know how to draw intelligent directions.” She ducked into her car, grabbed a piece of paper, then waved it in his face. “See?”
Jackson instantly recognized the map to his ranch printed on Angelfire letterhead. An ominous feeling, like overthrowing the final pass that would have won his team the play-off game, settled in his gut.
“Why don’t y’all quit fussin’?” Hailey held out her hand to the woman and smiled. “I’m Hailey Durant. This is my daddy. Did you know he was a famous football player?”
The woman blinked at him, and then the color left her cheeks, leaving it to resemble the milky coffee Hailey occasionally drank. “You’re J. D. Durant—ex–Texas Tornados quarterback?”
“Folks around here
