Stalking Season. Sandra Robbins

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       FOUR

      Cheyenne could hear someone calling her name, but the sound seemed to be coming from far away. She slowly opened her eyes and flinched as the bright lights from overhead almost blinded her. When a figure above her blocked the light, she stared up into the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen. Somehow they seemed familiar.

      She frowned and searched her memory and then realization dawned. “Luke,” she whispered as she tried to push into a sitting position. “What happened?”

      Luke put his hands on her shoulders and eased her back down to the ground. “Don’t move,” he cautioned. “You’ve had a fall.”

      She rubbed her hand over her forehead and closed her eyes. “A fall?”

      “Yes,” another voice beside her said. She turned her head to see Trace Johnson on her other side. “Lie still until the paramedics get here. We need to make sure that you’re not injured.”

      “Trace, really. I think I can get...”

      Before she could move, he gripped her arm. “Please, Cheyenne. It’s our policy that every rider is thoroughly examined when something happens during one of our shows. You need to do as I ask.”

      With a sigh she sank back down to the ground. “Okay, if you insist.”

      “I do.”

      “And he’s right,” Luke said. Again, just as it had done earlier today, his Southern drawl soothed her.

      She looked up at him and smiled. “I know. It’s just embarrassing being gawked at again.”

      Luke grinned. “And this time you have a much larger crowd.”

      She was about to respond when from somewhere close by, Patches whinnied. She jerked her head toward the sound. “Patches!” she cried. “What’s wrong with Patches?”

      “He fell, too,” Trace said. “But don’t worry. Our vet is with him now. And here come the EMTs to take care of you. I’ll go check on your horse and let you know how he is.”

      “I’m going to get up and let the paramedics take charge, Cheyenne, but I’ll be right here,” Luke said as he released her hand.

      For a moment she felt as if she was alone. Then someone kneeled down beside her, and another familiar face came into view. “Well, well, Miss Cassidy. We’ve got to quit meeting like this.” Joe the EMT, who’d answered the call earlier today, smiled down at her. “You certainly have made my day at work more interesting,” he said as he began to check for broken bones. “If it wasn’t for you, I might have spent the whole shift watching soap operas and reality shows on TV.”

      Cheyenne couldn’t help but smile. “I’m sorry to be such a bother, but I feel fine.” She heard Patches whinny again, and she jerked her head around toward the sound. “What’s happening to my horse?”

      Joe turned and glanced in the direction of the sound. “Don’t worry. The wranglers are getting him up now. Looks like he’s heading back to the stalls. Trace is going with them, too. I’m sure he’ll let you know how your horse is as soon as he knows anything. Now just relax and let me finish checking you out.”

      For the next few minutes as Joe performed his examination, she felt as if they were doing a replay of her earlier accident. When he’d finished, he sat back on his heels and smiled. “Everything looks good so far. But we’ll know for sure after we get you to the hospital.”

      “The hospital?” she cried. “I can’t go to the hospital. I need to see about Patches.”

      She tried to push up again, but Joe put his hand on her shoulder to restrain her. “I can’t let you do that, Miss Cassidy. I don’t think you have any severe injuries, but I have to let a doctor exam you.”

      Cheyenne shook her head. “No. I have to see about my horse.”

      “We’ll take care of Patches,” a deep voice beside her rumbled.

      She looked up at Bill Johnson, the show’s owner and Trace’s father, staring down at her. “Really, Mr. Johnson, I feel fine,” she said.

      His gaze raked her face. “That may be, but I need to make sure. I insist that all our performers are checked out after an accident. Besides, if your father was here, he’d tell you the same thing.”

      The mention of her father brought tears to her eyes. He and Mr. Johnson had become good friends when Trace was on her father’s college rodeo team.

      She bit down on her lip and nodded. “You’re right.”

      “I insist, too,” a familiar voice said as someone clasped her hand. She looked up into Gwen’s smiling face. Dean stood behind her with a sobbing Maggie in his arms, and suddenly she didn’t feel alone. Dean and Gwen were here, and her new friend Luke Conrad had been the first one to reach her. Then there was Joe, who’d taken care of her twice today, and Trace Johnson, who’d been her friend for years, was looking after Patches.

      “I’m very lucky to have people who care,” she said.

      The next thing she knew the other EMT arrived with a gurney, and he and Joe lifted her carefully onto it. When she was settled on it, she turned her head and stared at Maggie, who was still sobbing with her head buried on her father’s shoulder.

      “Maggie,” she said. “Please don’t cry. I’m okay.”

      Maggie lifted her head and stared at Cheyenne. A big tear slid out of the corner of her eye and down her cheek. “I told you not to do that trick. It scared me. I thought you were going to die.”

      She reached toward Maggie, and Dean held his daughter down so Cheyenne could grasp her hand. “I’m okay. Now you quit crying and go on home. I’ll see you as soon as I get there.”

      Maggie scrunched her eyebrows and she gave a little hiccup. “Do you promise?”

      “I promise. I’ll see you and Bingo as soon as I get there.”

      Gwen, who stood next to the gurney, nodded. “I think Maggie does need to go home. I’ll take her, and Dean can drive your truck. He can pick you up at the hospital and bring you home.”

      “I’ll be glad to do that,” Luke said. “If Dean will drive Maggie’s truck home, I can bring Cheyenne when the doctor releases her.”

      “You’ll go to the hospital with me?” Cheyenne asked.

      Luke СКАЧАТЬ