grandmother’s bisque china collection. Delicate but sturdy enough to withstand the trembling coursing through her. Dark blood had trickled down the side of her face to soak the once-white silk blouse. Silk? Out here on the outskirts of town? Her equally bright slacks were torn and muddy, and her filthy bare feet were covered with cuts and scrapes.
The dazed expression in her eyes triggered every protective instinct within Leo. He crouched, trying to make himself appear as small as possible as he continued his assessment. Beneath and around the grime on her face, he could see the distinct impression of a large hand—a welt that had bled, but not as profusely as the gash on her head. The way her shirt was ripped told him it hadn’t been the result of errant branches or trees but by angry, determined hands.
Had she been raped?
Leo swallowed his fury. Whatever had happened, she didn’t need anger or outrage. She needed calm understanding. She needed his help...and his protection. He forced himself to relax, to act as if they were doing nothing more than meeting over coffee at the diner in town. Ollie finally relaxed and sat down, then looked from Leo to the woman.
She shifted, only slightly, and the rusted garden shears in her hands glinted in the morning sunlight streaming through the upper opening of the barn. He remained still, his hand deep in Ollie’s fur.
“You’re hurt.” He kept his voice low. Soft. Gentle.
She flinched. And nodded once.
“Was there an accident? Were you in a car?” He resisted the urge to look behind him to scan outside, but he would have noticed a vehicle in the vicinity.
Her fingers went white around the shears.
“Were you alone?” He tried again. “Is someone else hurt? I should go call—” He shifted back, turned as if about to stand and felt her hand grip his arm. Leo tried to ignore the instant jolt that shot straight through him as if she’d dived at him, as if she’d jump-started his dormant heart.
Ollie growled, moved in, sniffed the woman’s hand and, after a moment, pushed his nose solidly against her arm as if demanding a pet. Given Ollie was a pretty good judge of character, Leo relaxed.
“Please.” Her voice was barely a whisper before she cleared it. “Please don’t call anyone. I just need—” She frowned as if uncertain of what she needed, but then she released his arm. However, instead of regripping the shears, she placed her trembling hand on Ollie’s determined head. Tears glimmered in her eyes. “Pretty dog.”
Ollie blinked over at Leo as if to verify his master had heard the compliment.
“Best dog around.” The only dog at the moment, Leo added silently. At least with Ollie his unexpected visitor seemed a bit more at ease. “Can you tell me what happened to you?” He reached a hand out to her face, determined to check how badly she’d been struck, but she flinched. “I won’t hurt you...” He waited for her to tell him her name.
Instead, all he got was a blank, brown, doe-eyed stare.
“All right...you can tell me later,” he murmured. “I’m Leo. Leo Slattery. You’re on my ranch.” He considered offering his hand, but didn’t want to pressure her. She wasn’t in any condition to be on her own, and one wrong move on his part would have her scurrying away. “Would you like to come inside? You can get cleaned up and something to eat. Something to drink. Coffee? Water?” Maybe once she was over the shock of whatever had happened to her, she’d be ready for him to call for help.
Leo glanced around for a bag, a cell phone, anything she might have that would help tell him who she was without him having to push for her to trust him. He didn’t see anything.
“W-water,” she choked out. “Water would be nice.”
Polite. Polished. Beautiful. Leo shook the last thought loose before it could grab hold. “Water I can do.” He inclined his head toward the door. “House is close by. Would you like me to show you?” Now he did reach out his hand. She stared at his hand for a long moment before slowly taking hold. He rose to his feet. She glanced down at the dog before rising. “Ollie can come, too. And you can bring those. If you want.”
She looked down at the shears still clutched in her other hand. An odd sound erupted from the back of her throat as she dropped them, covered her mouth and stared as if she didn’t understand why she had them.
It was all Leo could do not to sweep her into his arms, carry her inside and tend to her wounds. But he’d have to be blind not to see the physical signs of trauma were nothing compared to what was going on inside her head. What she needed most right now was to feel safe, to feel comfortable. To feel in control. Only then would he be able to help her.
He expected her to move away from him once they were outside, perhaps even race off and disappear into the sunrise. Instead, she curled her hand tighter around his and walked—or rather limped—beside him back to the house.
* * *
“I need to go get my horse back in his stall,” Leo told her as she sat at the kitchen table. In his grandmother’s chair. The thought brought a smile to his lips even as he wished Essie was here to help him. Help her. He poured the woman a glass of water and set it on the table. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes, all right? Ollie, stay.” He didn’t often command the dog, but Ollie moved in closer to the woman and bumped his nose against her leg.
The ghost of a smile played across her full lips as she returned to petting the dog.
“Okay. Just a few minutes.” Leo hurried back to the barn, found Duke exactly where he expected and led the now cranky horse back to his stall. “Gonna be a bit of a delay, I’m afraid.” Not to mention he’d have to head out later than he wanted to fix that downed fence on the eastern pasture. But he wasn’t about to leave the woman alone for long. At least not until he knew more about her. He certainly wasn’t going to just abandon her. His grandmother would have had a fit. “We’ll get you out and running later, Duke. Promise.”
The horse neighed.
Leo returned to the house and found his visitor sitting where he’d left her, her hand gently stroking Ollie’s back, her brown-eyed stare vacant and confused. But she’d drunk the water. That was good. “Okay, then.” He glanced at the phone on the wall. “I think maybe I should call the sheriff—”
“No!” She all but catapulted off the chair, stumbling forward to stop him from lifting the receiver. “No, please. No police. No hospital. I don’t want to see anyone. I’ll go. I’ll leave if you want. But I...” She pushed her hair away from her face and exposed the determination hovering behind the fear in her eyes. “Please. I don’t want anyone to know where I am.”
“All right.” Leo hadn’t been sure in the barn, but now he was. He recognized that barely restrained panic, that fright and flight response he’d grown up with. His father’s bouts of PTSD after returning home from Iraq had taught Leo early on that the mind was something that shouldn’t be played with. At least not before a modicum of trust had been established. “But I want you to tell me something. And I need you to tell me the truth. Can you do that?”
She nodded.
“Have you been raped?”
She blinked. “No.” She winced, inclined her head as if giving the question more thought. “No. Nothing hurts or feels odd there.”
“Okay,
