Cowboy in the Crossfire. Robin Perini

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СКАЧАТЬ cheeks red, his lips blue, dried blood on his pants. “My mommy’s dying. She said you’d help us.”

      The boy sank to his knees.

      With an inward curse, Blake scooped up the shaking child, kicked the door shut and sat him down by the fire. He crouched down and slid the boy’s pant leg up to his knee. No obvious injury. “Where did this blood come from, son? Are you hurt?”

      The boy shook his head and pursed his lips together. “Please. Help Mommy.”

      “Where is she?”

      “Our car slid. It crashed.” The boy’s eyes filled with tears. “Mommy kept falling asleep. She made me leave her.”

      No one could survive for long in that storm. Blake shoved his arms into his shearling coat, yanked on his gloves and grabbed a flashlight from the top of the refrigerator. “Is it only your mom out there? No one else?”

      The boy nodded. “Only Mommy.”

      “Stay here. Understand?” The kid couldn’t have walked far. His mother had to be nearby. “Leo, come.”

      The dog, who’d been nosing at their small visitor, bounded to Blake. The boy waited pathetically in front of the fire, shivering, yet his eyes locked on Blake. “Are you a good guy?”

      Blake pulled his Stetson down over his ears. “You can trust me.”

      The boy’s lips quivered in uncertainty. He was a brave little guy. A sharp pang twisted Blake’s heart. Did every boy practice that same look? In that one instant, he’d looked…just like Joey. Just like the son Blake had lost.

      He shoved the pain into the hole where his heart had been. “I’ll be right back. Stay by the fire. Don’t touch anything.” He gave the kid his most stern look.

      With Leo at his side, Blake yanked open the door and stepped into the frozen night. The lights from the barn were bare flickers against the onslaught of sleet and roaring wind. Ice pricked his face, making his eyes water. He scanned for any movement through the darkness. Nothing between here and the horse barn. He had only minutes or the boy’s mother was dead.

      Long icicles dangled from the porch eaves and looked like something out of a horror movie. He shoved through them, breaking off several. They fell to the steps, the howl of the winter wind swallowing all sound.

      Even if the woman were screaming he wouldn’t hear her until he tripped over her body. He swept his flashlight across shiny layers of ice. As he stepped past a large pine, blinking orange just at the edge of his vision caught his attention. Hazard lights. Tilted. The car must be in the ditch. He veered toward the vehicle, but Leo barked, tugged on Blake’s sleeve and shot in the opposite direction.

      “You’d better be right, mutt.” Blake hurried after the animal, swinging his light toward a small gully that lined his long driveway.

      Nothing was visible from the road. When he reached the edge and shined the beam into the ditch, Leo leaped toward a small, snow-covered figure, huddled out of sight of the driveway. Blake slid down the frozen dirt and turned her over. If it hadn’t been for her son and the dog, Blake may never have found her in this mess. She was soaked and freezing, but a small puff of air escaped her nose. Thank God.

      He lifted her into his arms, and she moaned, squirming, pushing at him. “Ethan—”

      “Your boy’s fine,” Blake said. “Now stay still or we’ll both freeze to death.”

      “Blake?” She clutched at his collar feebly. “Please. Help us.”

      Blake’s ears had gone numb, but he could have sworn she said his name, although with this wind he couldn’t be sure. He could barely feel his hands, even through the gloves. She must be closing in on hypothermia. He had to get her inside. Fast.

      He struggled up the gully, his boots losing traction even though she didn’t weigh more than a minute. Each step was treacherous. Leo raced past Blake to the porch light as he slugged his way home. The wind and sleet slammed at him from the side. He stumbled, jostling her to maintain his balance. She whimpered in his arms.

      Blake’s legs stung with cold. Each step took more and more effort. He squinted toward his house. The curtain pushed back, and a small face pressed to the front window. The ranch house looked unbelievably far away. By the time he reached the porch, the woman in his arms quivered uncontrollably.

      The boy flung open the door, his face streaked with tears. “Mommy? Is she…dead?”

      Blake shouldered past the kid and laid his mother on the sofa. What kind of youngster asked a question like that? Ignoring his own tingling hands and feet, he shrugged out of his coat, tossed it and his Stetson on the chair, and knelt beside the unconscious woman. “Is your name Ethan?”

      Wide-eyed, the boy nodded.

      “How old are you?”

      He held up five fingers, and Blake nodded. “I thought so. What’s your mom’s name?”

      “Mommy.”

      Not much help there. Blake pulled the scarf and hat from the woman’s face. A tumble of wild, auburn curls fell to her shoulders. He rocked back on his heels in shocked recognition.

      Amanda.

      He couldn’t believe it was her. The woman he’d nearly lost his senses to beneath the mistletoe one very memorable Christmas Eve. The woman who’d tempted him beyond endurance. The woman he’d known he could never have because she was his best friend’s sister. And she’d almost died.

      “Amanda?” What was that bastard Vince’s sister doing in the middle of an ice storm four-hundred miles from home?

      Ethan scooted under Blake’s arm and laid a small hand on his mother’s cheek. “Mommy?” he whispered. “Wake up. Please. I’m scared.”

      At the boy’s plaintive words, Blake nearly doubled over. Had his four-year-old son said the same thing to his mother after the accident? Blake knew from the autopsy report his ex-wife had died instantly, but Joey had lived for several minutes after their car had been blindsided. His son had been alone, frightened and dying, probably begging for his mother to wake up. Maybe calling for his father to save him. But Blake hadn’t been there.

      Well, he was here now. For Amanda. He ripped off her gloves and clasped her hands. Ice-cold. No way could he warm her in these wet clothes. He unzipped her insubstantial coat. The right side of her shirt was soaked in blood.

      “What the hell?”

      He pushed the denim aside and stared at the injury just below and outside the soft curve of her left breast. He recognized a gunshot wound when he saw one.

      Blake grabbed a clean dish towel from the kitchen and pressed it to the gash, causing Amanda to moan. “Get your coat on, kid. We’re taking your mom to the doctor.” One look out the window told him the ride would be an interesting trip. The visibility had deteriorated even more in the last few minutes. “Hopefully I’ll get us to the hospital in one piece.”

      Amanda stirred restlessly on the couch.

      He nabbed the microphone from the sofa table. “Parris, this is Blake.” СКАЧАТЬ