of over the last week.
He moved to the back of the trailer and led G.W. outside, taking the boot off and crushing ice around the injury. Standing in the light from an overhead parking lamp, he opened the soda and took a long draw on it, then yanked the piece of paper out of his jeans pocket and looked at it again.
“Okay, Crescent Moon, you’re my last chance.”
A soft shuffle invaded his consciousness, then sudden pain exploded between his shoulder blades. Seconds later, he smashed headfirst into his trailer.
Maggie waved goodbye to Racy from across the dance floor. She ignored her friend’s answering frown and made her way through the crowd. Unable to find Willie, she gave up and decided to head home alone.
Gave up looking for her cowboy rescuer, too.
“No, not my cowboy,” Maggie muttered, digging her keys from her purse.
Guilt settled in the pit of her stomach. She’d heard Kyle warn the stranger not to show up for work. She hated the idea he was now jobless because of her.
Offering him a job at the Moon had occurred to her while she stood on the sidelines of the dance floor. She needed a man—heck, she needed men, and as many as she could afford.
Kyle’s words came floating back to her.
“Buy yourself a place in town, spend more time with your daughter, get yourself a man.”
Nope. Not that kind of man. She didn’t have the time, strength or the emotional energy to deal with that.
Not anymore.
Heading across the full parking lot, she checked her watch. Almost ten o’clock. With her daughter gone and her grandmother probably tucked in bed with a book, she’d have plenty of time to attack the mess on her desk.
Exactly what she wanted to do on a hot summer’s night.
The promised relief of an overnight thunderstorm hadn’t materialized, leaving the air sultry and thick. No, what she’d love to do was head home to enjoy a long dip in the cool waters of the pond behind the house.
Minus a bathing suit. And wouldn’t it be nice if she wasn’t alone.
The image of a certain cowboy drifted into her mind. This time Maggie let the fantasy play out, smiling at their sensual image. “Okay, girl, admit it, maybe Racy’s right. Maybe it’s been too long—”
A high, shrill neigh filled the air, startling her. Maggie froze, heart racing.
The second time the horse cried out she knew it was scared to death. The commotion was coming from the end of the row of cars. She raced toward it and saw a honey-colored stallion tethered to a trailer, its eyes wide with panic. The animal was frantically trying to free itself. She reached out to calm it, but stopped when she saw three men fighting not ten feet away.
Actually, it was more like two bullies beating up the third, but he fought back, twisting and kicking, despite being held by both arms. A fist crashed into his face and the man sagged.
Maggie gasped. “Stop! Leave him alone!”
The two creeps looked at her, breathing hard. Stetsons shadowed their faces. They released the beaten man and took off into the dark. The man crumpled.
She rushed to where he lay face down in the dirt. “Are you all right?”
He groaned and pressed large hands against the ground. The muscles across the wide expanse of his shoulders tightened beneath his shirt as he attempted to get up.
“That was a dumb question. Of course you’re not all right.” Maggie’s fingers hovered between his shoulder blades, inches from long strands of hair covering his collar. “Don’t move. I’ll get help.”
“No,” he said, low and determined.
Maggie dropped to her knees. She wrapped a hand around his upper arm to steady him, her fingers small in comparison to his muscular bicep. Heat radiated from his body into the humid summer evening.
“You’re hurt. Please, let me—”
“No.” His refusal left no room for argument. “That’s the last thing I need.”
A zing of awareness raced through her.
The cowboy twisted and rolled onto his back. A cloud of dust rose as his head lolled to the side, away from her. A string of curses followed another moan. Dark hair fell across his forehead and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
She grabbed her purse and pulled out a handkerchief. “Look, I don’t know why you and your buddies got into a fight—”
“They’re not my buddies,” he muttered.
“Then we need to call the sheriff.” Forced to lean over him to press her hankie to his mouth, her fingers scraped the whiskers on his jaw. It reminded her of the dry stacks of summer grass in her barn. “Did they steal something from you?”
“No. I did a good deed and got my ass kicked for it,” he growled through clenched teeth as he pushed himself up on one elbow. “Typical, always doing the right kind of…”
His voice faded as he turned toward her to shove her hand away. Two black eyes, one swollen shut, collided with hers. Steely fingers clamped around her wrist.
“You.”
Chapter Two
“You!” Maggie echoed, her heart pounding in her throat.
His fingers seared her skin and she tugged free. He grabbed at her handkerchief, held it against his mouth. His denim shirt, ripped open to his waist, was covered in dirt and spatters of blood. A black Stetson sat on the ground nearby.
“Ohmigod, this wasn’t—” She hadn’t recognized the other men as they scuffled in the dirt, but now…Greeley’s foremen. “They jumped you because of me.”
“No.” Looking away, he wiped at the blood on his mouth.
“I don’t believe you.”
He rolled onto his hip, one leg bent at the knee, and gave his head a quick shake as if trying to clear it. “I don’t care what you believe,” he rasped, pushing unsteadily to his feet. “Where’s my hat?”
Maggie rose, ready to catch him if he fell. She grabbed the dusty Stetson, and held it out to him. “The fight was because you helped me.”
“Let it go, lady.”
He grabbed the hat, slapped it on the back of his head, and grimaced. The horse whinnied. The man swayed, but managed to steady himself before staggering to the animal. “Easy, boy…it’s all right.”
Maggie grabbed her purse and followed. “Did they hurt your horse?”
“G.W. is fine. Go away.”
His harsh words stung, but she didn’t
