He looked at the other woman. “You saw the accident?”
“I’m afraid I was the cause of it, Wyatt. I’d been riding down by the creek and had gotten off to rest and water my horse. I didn’t see the snake until it struck at him. He jerked away from me and ran off in a mad gallop across the field, and right in front of Gabrielle’s car. When she swerved to miss it, the car went into a spin and crashed into a tree. By the time I finally made it up here, she’d gotten out of the car and was wandering down the road.”
The sheriff looked back at her, and Gabrielle felt the hair on the back of her neck rise as though a thunderstorm was mixing in the air.
“Your name is Gabrielle?”
His voice was low, rough and timbered with a Texas drawl. She resisted the urge to shiver. “Gabrielle Carter.”
“Where are you from, Gabrielle?”
She swallowed as another wave of helpless fear swamped her. “I don’t know.”
His eyes, which seemed unusually light for such dark skin, narrowed with suspicion. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Surely you know where you live?”
“I don’t know,” she repeated.
Maggie Fortune said, “Wyatt, I think Gabrielle has hurt her head.”
He stepped closer, and Gabrielle had to force herself to stand her ground and endure a closer scrutiny of his unnerving gaze.
“Yes, that’s quite a cut you’ve got there. Let me grab my first aid kit.” He sprinted back to his truck and came back with the kit. “I’m no doctor, but I do know a little something about cuts and scrapes. Here’s some gauze with some antiseptic. It’ll do for now, but I definitely think you’ll have to go to the hospital.”
Maggie was grateful for his help, more grateful for the distraction from his rapid-fire questions. How come he kept looking at her like he didn’t believe she truly couldn’t remember anything? Why would she lie?
“So, Gabrielle, do you have any identification on you?”
Identification! She glanced down at her somewhat faded jeans, then quickly jammed her hands in all the pockets, searching for any scrap of paper. There was nothing. No coins or tissues or lipstick. Nothing.
She lifted shocked eyes back to his face. “No. I suppose my purse was in the car. Oh, and now it’s burnt!”
The young woman appeared to be genuinely distraught, Wyatt thought. But anyone would be after the jolt she must have taken when her car slammed into the oak. She was not a Texan. At first glance her appearance had told him that much; her voice had proved it. There was no wedding band, no rings of any sort on her fingers. In fact, the only jewelry she was wearing were slender gold hoops in her ears.
“Maggie, were the Fortunes expecting any visitors from out of state?” he asked.
The other woman shook her head at his question. “Not that I’m aware of. But then, people are always dropping in unannounced. You know that, Wyatt.”
He looked back at Gabrielle Carter. He’d been friends with the Fortune family for years, and he’d never heard the name Carter mentioned. And if he’d ever seen Gabrielle, he would have remembered. She was not a woman any man would likely forget. He was struck by her beauty, even in this disheveled state.
Her long brown hair was naturally streaked with gold from the sun. The silky strands waved about her shoulders and framed an oval face that was dominated by huge hazel-green eyes fringed with thick dark lashes. Full pink lips quivered as she glanced from him to the smoldering car. Her skin—and he could see plenty of it with the skimpy top she was wearing—was smooth and tanned to a deep golden brown. He tried not to think about the luscious curves beneath the jeans and ribbed knit blouse.
“Well, I think right now, Miss Carter, you’d better let me drive you to the hospital. We’ll deal with your identity later.”
Gabrielle stared wildly at him, then turned a helpless look on the Fortune woman. “I’m not sure I want to go to the hospital with him! I don’t know where I am! I don’t have any money—”
Wyatt held up a hand to halt her protest, while beside her the woman said gently, “Please let him take you. In my panic, I didn’t even think to call an ambulance. And don’t worry about the hospital bill, Gabrielle. The ranch’s insurance will certainly cover it. Especially with me being the cause of the accident. I really feel just awful.”
“You don’t have any choice in the matter, Miss Carter,” Wyatt Grayhawk informed her none too gently. “As sheriff, I’m required to see you get medical attention. It’s the law.”
Her heart pounded as she searched his dark, stern face. Something told her there was very little, if any, compassion behind his roughly hewn features. This man didn’t care if she was lost or terrified. In fact, the skeptical expression on his face said he’d doubted her story from the start.
“I guess there’s little else I can do then, is there?” she said quietly.
“Nothing else,” he agreed, then reached for her arm.
Gabrielle wanted to jerk away from him. But she didn’t have the strength. And he was the sheriff, she reminded herself. It wouldn’t help her cause to have him riled at her.
“Everything will be all right, Gabrielle,” the woman assured her as the three of them walked to Wyatt’s pickup.
“Wyatt will take good care of you.”
Gabrielle didn’t want to think about being under the sheriff’s care. He was harder to deal with than the pain in her head.
“Do you need a lift back to the ranch?” Wyatt asked the woman.
“No. I’m going to walk back,” she told him. “Maybe I’ll find my horse on the way. You will let us know about Gabrielle?”
“I’ll call the ranch and let you know something as soon as I can. In the meantime, you might let your father-in-law, Ryan, know what’s happened.”
“I will.” The woman waved and headed down the road in the opposite direction from the charred car.
Gabrielle suddenly felt even more lost and alone without her rescuer. At least with the Fortune woman, she’d felt she had someone on her side. With Sheriff Grayhawk she felt anything but safe.
He opened the door of the vehicle and helped Gabrielle up on the bench seat, then skirted around the hood and slid behind the wheel.
“Buckle up,” he ordered as he started the engine.
She pulled the straps of the seat belt across her lap, but her fingers were shaking so badly that she couldn’t make the two ends catch.
Suddenly two dark-brown hands were pushing her fumbling fingers aside. “Here, let me do it, or we’ll never get where we’re going,” he said gruffly.
She bit down on her lip and turned her face toward the window, but his closeness couldn’t be ignored. She could smell the faint scent of his cologne and feel the brush of
