The Lawman's Noelle. Stella Bagwell

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      At the bottom of the wash, Noelle dismounted. After tying Driller’s reins to a dead juniper trunk, she hurried over to the motionless body.

      Dropping to her knees, she leaned over him, but stopped short of touching any part of him. Only a portion of the left side of his face was visible, yet it was enough for Noelle to discern he was young—somewhere in his thirties—and clean-shaven. A trickle of blood oozed through the dark chestnut hair just above his ear.

      Jerking off her leather glove, she shoved away the kerchief tied around his neck and felt for a pulse. Relief flooded through her as she detected a faint but steady beat.

      “Hey, mister, can you hear me? Wake up and tell me what happened.”

      With her property being so remote, it wasn’t much use carrying a cell phone. She would either try to move this man on her own or go for help. And considering that he appeared to be at least six feet tall and somewhere close to a hundred and eighty pounds, she figured throwing him over his horse would be a mighty big chore.

      Racing back to Driller, she jerked a bottle of water and a piece of ragged towel from her saddlebags. “He’s out, Driller. Colder than a mackerel. If I can’t wake him up, you and I might have to ride like hell to get help.”

      Noelle raced back to the downed man, while behind her, the horse pawed as though to tell her he understood. And she’d bet that he did. Living out here for nearly four years, with no one to talk to but her animals, she figured they’d all learned a vast human vocabulary.

      The water was slushy with ice. She poured a bit onto the rag and placed it on the man’s forehead, then shook his shoulder.

      “Mister, can you hear me?” she practically yelled. “You need to wake up so I can get you out of this gulch.”

      The shock of the water coupled with her voice must have done the trick, because he suddenly moaned and attempted to lift his head from the gravel bed.

      Tossing the cold cloth aside, she slipped a hand beneath his head and lowered it to the ground. “Whoa, there. Just lie still for a minute.”

      He continued to stir. As his head moved slowly back and forth, his eyelids fluttered open. Noelle had never been so glad to see a pair of dark green eyes, even if they weren’t totally focused.

      “Oh, hell—I hurt all over.” Lifting a hand to the wound on the side of his head, he gazed groggily up at her. “Who are you?”

      “Noelle Barnes. My property runs along the east side of this gulch. I spotted you from up on the ridge. Do you know what happened?”

      Appearing to gather more steam, he braced a hand against the ground and, with Noelle supporting his shoulder, he pushed himself to a sitting position. “My head feels like someone used a claw hammer on it.”

      “No doubt. You have a goose egg and a gash just above your ear. I’m not a doctor, but I’m guessing you have a concussion, at least. You can move your arms and legs, so that’s a good sign. Still, you need to get to a hospital.”

      He swiped a hand across his face and Noelle used the moment to gather more details about the man. He was dressed in dark blue jeans and a pair of brown ostrich-leather boots that probably cost more than she would spend on food for the next six months. His heavy, olive green jacket was made of oiled canvas, and beneath the corduroy collar was a white shirt. Although he looked natural in the cowboy gear, he appeared far too neat to be a working rancher.

      “I’ll worry about that later.” He turned his head stiffly in an effort to look behind him. “Right now, do you see my hat anywhere? And what about my horse?”

      “You sit still,” she ordered him. “I’ll round up both of them.”

      She found the tan felt hat a few feet from where he’d fallen. The left side of the crown was bent in and the brim smeared with dirt, but that was the least of this man’s problems at the moment. She wasn’t at all sure he was feeling up to riding anywhere.

      Thankfully, the horse, a black-and-white paint, wasn’t far away. The moment he spotted Noelle, he walked right up to her, as though he’d already decided he and his saddle pal needed help.

      After gathering his reins, she gave the animal several reassuring pats on the neck, then led him through a tangle of sagebrush and rock until they reached the man. He was still sitting on the ground, his head hanging between his knees.

      “Here’s your hat and your horse,” she told him. “But I’d advise you to stay where you are and get your bearings before you try to stand up.”

      He turned an accusing eye on the horse. “This is the first time a horse has dumped me in years. That’s what I get for trusting my brother when I asked him for a mount.”

      Noelle didn’t attempt to figure out that last remark. Instead, she got straight to the point. “Do you remember what happened?”

      “I do now. A sage hen or some kind of bird flew up right in front of our faces, and it must have scared the devil out of the horse. Before I knew what was happening, he was walking on his hind legs, and I was headed toward the ground. I must have hit my head on a rock or something. That’s all I know until I woke up and found you standing over me.”

      The man was an attractive son of a gun, she thought, but not in the pretty-boy kind of way her old girlfriends down in Phoenix used to swoon over. No, this man’s features were too harsh and rugged to be described as handsome or anything close to it. But the dark rusty hair falling onto his forehead was as sexy as all get-out, and so were his green eyes.

      “What are you doing out here, anyway?” she asked. “This is private land.”

      He reached inside his coat and pulled out a leather wallet. When he flipped it open and flashed a lawman’s badge at her, everything inside Noelle went cold and stiff.

      If the man hadn’t been injured, she would’ve climbed on Driller and rode away without a backward glance. But he was dazed and hurt, and she wouldn’t turn her back on anyone who needed help. Even a lawman.

      “Detective Evan Calhoun, Carson City Sheriff’s Office,” she read aloud. “What’s a detective doing out here on my land?”

      “Your land? I was on government lease, following four-wheeler tracks. I crossed over a downed fence because the tracks continued into this gulch. I never thought the fence was a boundary line. Most landowners try to keep those upright.”

      She huffed out a heavy breath. “The fence on the other side of this draw does need work,” she admitted. “I’ve been using the gulch as a boundary fence.”

      “Well, sorry about getting onto your land.” He pushed up the cuff of his jacket and squinted at a gold watch. “Damn. I’ve been out here way too long.”

      He made a move to get to his feet. Noelle felt compelled to grab his arm and give him a steady pull. Once he was standing, he swayed slightly, but with her supporting him, he managed to stay upright.

      “Between the freezing weather and that whack on the head, it’s a wonder you haven’t gone into shock,” she told him.

      His СКАЧАТЬ