arena to her camper. “Oughta have their mouths filled with manure.”
Exhaustion slowed her steps, and it took every ounce of energy she had to lift her dust-covered boot onto the metal platform at the back of her pickup camper. She needed a shower, but she’d rather wait until morning than go back through the huddle of men she’d skirted around in the darkness.
Sticking the key in the lock and turning the knob, she pulled open the door and stepped inside. She groped in the dark to switch on a light while she yanked her hat from her head. The hat fell to the countertop, and her gaze dropped to the floor.
Her blood-curdling scream, at the sight of the snake curled on the floor, bounced off the thin camper walls.
Thoughts skittered through her mind, but none made sense. Without taking her attention from the coldblooded invader, Ellie acted on instinct and eased open the door of the small closet to her right. After carefully pulling out a newly purchased, flat-bottomed shovel, intended for her horse trailer, she jabbed the edge onto the snake as close to its head as possible. Praying the critter would stay put, she gripped the wooden handle with both hands and jumped atop the metal. The snake flipped and writhed beneath the blade, and Ellie realized what she’d just done. Frozen to the spot in shock and unable to move, except to brace herself with one hand against the cabinet for balance, a shudder shook her body.
Now what? she thought, when the snake slowed its wriggling. If she got off and it came after her, she’d die of fright. Mercy, she hated snakes! But staying propped on the shovel for eternity wasn’t an option, either.
Her heart regained its beat, pounding ninety to nothing, and her breath came in quick, short bursts. Her knees were so weak and shaky she thought she’d fall off the only thing between her and her unwelcome guest. Taking a deep but unsteady breath, she tried to focus on her alternatives. There didn’t seem to be any.
When the door banged open behind her, she let out another ear-splitting scream.
“What the hell’s goin’ on?” a deep baritone barked.
The shovel wobbled beneath her as she craned her neck to discover a pair of bright-blue eyes staring at her from beneath a black Stetson. She couldn’t be certain if the cowboy’s gaze was sliding over her or the shovel, but for the moment it didn’t matter.
Swallowing the lump of fear lodged in her throat, she managed one word. “S-snake.”
“Sure is,” he said with a quirk of his lips. His gaze traveled back to hers. “You okay?”
Finding that her voice had deserted her, she nodded.
He stepped up into the camper and knelt down next to her. “Hang on.”
Unable to watch, she squeezed her eyes shut. She could feel him grip the handle, then both she and the shovel tilted to the left and back again. He brushed against her leg, and another shudder shook her, this one warm instead of cold.
“It’s just a bull snake, hon,” he said, standing.
“Right. Just a snake.” She gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering, but her terror eased when his soft chuckle swept through her like a hot, summer wind.
“You can get down, now.”
Uncertain if it was completely safe to remove herself from the shovel, and afraid to look, she stayed put. “Are you sure? Is it…dead?”
“Naw. You aren’t big enough to do that. You just kinda choked him up a little.”
He stood so close to her his warm breath whispered across her temple. The shovel gained her nearly a foot in height, but when she opened her eyes, she still had to look up to see into his eyes.
She nearly fell off the shovel when she recognized her rescuer as Chace Brannigan, the nation’s leading saddle bronc rider.
Sliding his arm around her waist, he held her steady. “One step at a time, hon.”
She took another deep breath, forcing herself to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat, and eyed his other hand. The snake’s body hung limp in his grip. “Get rid of that, will you?”
He glanced at the reptile before giving her a lopsided grin. “Soon as you get down from there.”
The soft, rhythmic thumping of his heart against her shoulder sent her own heart pounding. His scent— fresh air and rugged country male—surrounded her, making her slightly dizzy. She knew she should be scrambling down, but she couldn’t seem to set herself in motion. She’d encountered plenty of cowboys in her twenty-six years, but none had ever caused her heart to trip like a moonstruck adolescent’s.
Determined to gain control of herself, Ellie stepped off the shovel. He didn’t let go. The cramped interior of the camper was filled with the cowboy, making breathing difficult. Without room to take a step in any direction, she forced air into her lungs and out again until her head cleared.
“The snake?” she reminded him in a voice that didn’t sound normal.
“Oh, yeah.” He released her and took a step back to the door, tossing out the body, which had begun to move.
Shrinking away, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming again. While his attention was occupied, she pivoted around the shovel and put the implement between them, breathing only a little easier.
“Thanks,” she said, when he’d pulled the door shut and faced her.
He shrugged, crossed his arms on his broad chest and leaned against the closet. “That’s a dangerous weapon. You always keep a shovel handy?”
She kept her gaze averted from a pair of shoulders as wide as Texas, but she could feel him watching her. “It’s safer in here.”
“Couldn’t be too safe, considering that snake.”
She jerked her head up to stare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Snakes can crawl through some pretty small spaces,” he said with a grin. “It coulda come up through a hole. Reckon you ought to double-check the place. Just in case.” He shoved away from the closet, shrinking the space between them.
Nodding, she propped the shovel against the wall. Bone weary from the loss of adrenaline no longer pumping through her body, she took a step back on wobbly legs and sank onto the cushioned seat around the small table. “I’ll do that.”
“And you might want to keep your door locked. If I can come in, anybody can.”
Ellie thought of the cowboy who had called out to her. “Dumb cowboys,” she muttered.
“’Scuse me?”
Her cheeks burned when she realized what she’d said. The cowboy in front of her had saved her from what she considered a fate worse than death, and here she was insulting him and his kind.
“Sorry,” she said, ducking her head. She managed to push herself to her feet. She didn’t like being beholden to anyone, but she’d been raised with manners. Keeping her gaze on the pearl snaps of his colorful Western shirt, she stuck out her hand. “Thanks for…rescuing me. I guess I owe you.”
One
