The smell of stale hay teased her nose.
Poor baby, the stallion must have been so frightened. Inside, the cowboy’s muted cadence soothed the skittish horse. Soothed her, too. Gradually his words faded away. She pressed an ear to the trailer. Nothing.
Was he okay? Had Greeley’s men hurt him so bad he’d passed out?
“Damn you, Kyle,” she whispered. “Haven’t you done enough?”
“You still here?”
Maggie whirled around to find him standing behind her, so close the brim of his Stetson brushed against her hair. His height blocked the overhead glow from the parking-lot lights, casting his face into shadow. His presence overpowered her, but somehow made her feel safe, too.
Safe? Where in the world had that come from?
“The medical clinic is down the street,” she said. “You should have someone take a look at your injuries.”
He took a swig from a bottle, grimaced and spat bloody water on the ground. Then he splashed a palm full of water over his face and wiped it away with his shirt sleeve. “Why?”
Maggie planted her hands on her hips. “Look, you need to—”
“I don’t need to do any…”
The cowboy swayed again. She laid a hand against his chest to stop him from crashing into her. “I can’t leave until I know you’re okay.”
His gaze dropped to her hand, then returned to her face. “We’re fine.”
His whispered words belied the uneven beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. She jerked her hand away. “Your lip’s stopped bleeding, but one eye is swollen shut, and you’ve got a nasty bruise at your temple.”
“What? You wanna play doctor?”
His deep whisper sent a flush of heat fanning over Maggie’s cheeks. She swallowed hard against the lump lodged in her throat. “I’ll play operator and dial 9-1-1.”
“No thanks.” He moved past her, shuffling toward the truck cab.
She followed. “I don’t think you should drive. You could pass out and kill yourself and your horse. Never mind what you might do to someone else.”
He tugged on the door, cursing when it wouldn’t open. Finally he got it free and crawled into the cab. “Been in enough fights—not hurt bad—not going far, anyway.”
Maggie put her hand on the door before he could close it. She stepped up on the truck’s running board, and watched him aim for the ignition.
He missed twice before he paused to squint at the keys. “Was planning to look for…a place to sleep.”
The low tone of his voice, mixed with a hint of southern twang, grabbed at her in a place she thought long dead. “This is my fault. Please let me help.”
He shook his head then his eyes rolled closed, his hands fell to his lap and he slumped against the seat.
“Are you—hello?”
Silence.
Maggie hesitated then gently removed his hat to get a closer look at his face. She braced one hand on his thigh to keep from falling into his lap. Soft denim and powerful muscles lay beneath her fingertips. Her pale-blue handkerchief sat clutched in his hand, the lace trim out of place next to his large, tanned fingers and the coarse texture of his skin. A deep shudder rumbled through his chest, the warm rush of his breath falling against her cheek. His eyes remained closed.
“I’m going to get help.” She’d seen enough injuries on the ranch to know he needed medical attention. “I’ll be back.”
“Don’t.” She jumped when his fingers tangled with hers. He held tight for a moment then his grip loosened. “I’ll…be fine. Please don’t…”
The quiet desperation in his voice struck at the deepest part of her heart. Why was he so against letting someone help him?
“Girly, what in hell’s bells are you doing?”
Maggie gasped and pulled her hand free. She swung around and looked into a pair of startling blue eyes framed by a shock of white hair. “Willie! You scared me half to death. What are you doing here?”
“Your grandmother took my ride. I saw your truck in the parking lot, and figured on hitching back with you. Darned surprised to find you getting all frisky in a stranger’s pickup.”
Willie’s sharp gaze peered around Maggie. “And with a drunken cowboy. Hoo-wee!”
“He’s not drunk.” Maggie stepped from the cab. “There was a fight. I’ve been trying to convince him to let me get help, but he keeps refusing.”
“Yep, right up to when he passed out.” Willie shoved his hands in his pockets. “You sure he ain’t tanked tight?”
Maggie frowned. “I’m sure. Can you take a look at him?”
The old man, more a member of the family than an employee, stared at her for a long moment.
“Please?”
Willie sighed, then nodded and Maggie stepped out of his way. He gently poked and prodded the unconscious man with a sure touch. Finally, he turned, thumbing up the brim of his hat.
“Well, he ain’t dead.”
“I know that. Should we take him to the clinic?”
“He’s got a lot of bruises and took a good clock to his left eye. He’s gonna be hurtin’ in the morning.” Willie stepped away. “But nothing’s broken from what I can tell, and his ribs appear okay. His pupils look fine, too, but that don’t explain why he’s out cold.”
“Exhaustion?” Maggie offered. “He said he needed sleep. He’s not from around here and doesn’t have a place to stay.”
“Oh, boy, I know where this is going.”
“Willie—”
“Don’t ‘Willie’ me. I’ve known you all your life, and if it’s one thing you can’t resist, it’s a hard-luck case.” He pointed his finger at her. “Don’t matter if it’s a four-legged or two-legged creature, you’ve given away more hot meals and places to sleep than anyone I know.”
“Yeah, and then they take off for greener pastures. Look, I’m not out to rescue anyone, but we can’t leave him here.”
Willie crossed his arms, pulling his starched shirt across his bony shoulders. Age stooped his once-tall frame, but he could still look her in the eye. “There’s something more going on here.”
Maggie sighed. It took a few minutes to fill him in on losing Spence and Charlie, as well as Kyle’s sleazy behavior—until this stranger stepped in.
Willie’s features hardened as she spoke. He looked at the cowboy again. “So, they paid him back?”
