Her Texas Lawman. Stella Bagwell

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СКАЧАТЬ settled around her, she realized the shoulder strap on the safety belt was biting into her throat. She reached for the buckle at her waist, then cursed beneath her breath as her fingers fumbled with the latch several times before she finally managed to unfasten it. Once she was free from the belt’s restraint, she breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

      Now, she needed to find her purse, she thought, as she tried to come up with a plan. Her cell phone was inside the bag. If all the jolting hadn’t damaged it, she could get help within a few minutes.

      Like a blind person, she flattened her hands and began to pat carefully along the seats and the floorboard. After several attempts, she finally discovered the handbag behind the passenger seat. Thankfully, the bag was zipped shut and the cell phone was exactly where she’d placed it.

      When the instrument lit up, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks and quickly punched in 911. After informing the dispatcher of her accident and approximate location, she put the phone away and leaned back in the seat. Her family had gone to dinner at a neighbor’s and she didn’t want to bother them until she had to.

      Lucita’s mind tumbled with questions as to what to do next. Should she get out of the car to wait? Even though she didn’t smell any fumes, the thing could be leaking gasoline, and any kind of spark might ignite flames. But knee-deep grass and weeds surrounded the car and rattlesnakes were as thick as rats in this area of Texas. Anyone with a lick of common sense wouldn’t walk across their yard at night without a flashlight, much less wade through a tangle of vegetation on the side of the highway. If she had a flashlight to illuminate her steps, she might venture the trek from her car to the highway. But, damn it, she could never remember to keep one in the glove compartment.

      Ten minutes later, she was growing restless and about to climb out of the car anyway, when a pickup truck with flashing lights atop the cab pulled off the shoulder of the highway. Relieved beyond measure, she reached for the door handle and realized with faint shock that the door was jammed. Quickly, she leaned across the seat and tried the passenger door—the only other door. It wouldn’t budge. She couldn’t have gotten out of the damn car even if she’d wanted to!

      The bright orb of a flashlight suddenly passed over her window. Desperate now, Lucita turned on the key and pressed the electronic button to lower the thick glass.

      “I can’t open the door!” she called out to the tall figure approaching the car.

      “Just stay where you are. I’ll be there in a second.”

      The male voice was strong and solid and very reassuring. Relief tumbled through her, and for one brief moment she feared she was going to weep.

      Don’t fall apart now, Lucita. You’ve dealt with far worse crises than this.

      The officer finally managed to wade through the tangle of grass and weeds until he reached the side of her wrecked car. Pointing his flashlight straight at her face, he asked, “Are you injured? The dispatcher said an ambulance wasn’t needed.”

      Closing her eyes against the blinding light, she said, “I think I’m okay. Just shaken. Both doors seemed to be stuck. Can you get me out of here?”

      He tried the driver’s door and after a few strong jerks, the latch broke free. Quickly grabbing her handbag, Lucita swung her legs to the ground. With the help of his hand on her arm, she pushed herself out of the car.

      “Ooooh.” Too woozy to stand, she instinctively reached for the nearest solid thing to steady herself, which just happened to be the officer’s broad chest.

      “Whoa!” he urged. “Don’t faint on me now!”

      His reflexes were quick, and suddenly she felt a pair of massive arms wrapping around her, hugging her against the solid length of his body.

      “Easy, ma’am. Take a few deep breaths. Slow and steady.”

      She did as he commanded. After a few moments she could feel her strength returning, and with it the embarrassment that she’d practically collapsed into a strange man’s arms.

      Beneath her cheek, the starched fabric of his shirt was cool and smooth and smelled of musk and sweetgrasses. In contrast, his arms were warm and their strong support made her feel safer than she’d felt in a long, long time.

      Chiding herself for the moment of weakness, she forced her cheek away from his chest. “I—I’m fine. I’m sure I can stand on my own now,” she insisted.

      He dropped his arms, but kept a careful hand on her elbow. “I’m Deputy Ripp McCleod, ma’am, with the Goliad County Sheriff’s Department. And you are?”

      McCleod? Years ago there had been a sheriff with that name. Could they be related? “Lucita Sanchez. I live on the Sandbur.”

      His fingers were so long they wrapped completely around her arm. In spite of her claim that she was fine, she was inwardly grateful for the deputy’s steadying hand. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure her shaky legs had regained enough strength to keep her totally upright.

      “You’re related to Matt and Cordero?”

      It wasn’t a big surprise to hear this man call her brothers by their given names. Most South Texans were familiar with the Sandbur ranch. This lawman was probably a native of Goliad County. More than likely, he knew many people who lived and worked on the ranch. He just wouldn’t remember her. Not since she’d been gone from her family home for several years and had only just returned in the past few months.

      Quickly, she pulled her license and insurance verification from her purse to hand it to the deputy.

      “Yes,” she answered. “Matt and Cordero are my brothers. I—I was on my way home when this happened.” She waved her arm toward the front of the car. She hadn’t uprooted the electric pole with her car’s assault, but it was listing toward the west at a precarious angle. The heavy wires were sagging, though thankfully none of them were touching the ground. Cedar posts from the fence she’d run through were now lying on their sides, along with several strands of barbed wire. It was a miracle none of the bulls had milled onto the highway.

      The deputy’s thoughts were clearly running along the same path as hers as he twisted his head toward a two-way radio fastened to his shoulder. “Hey, Lijah, hurry up. We got cattle here with a fence down. Get it up as quick as you can before they cause more accidents. And you need to call the power company and let them know a pole needs to be reset.”

      “Roger, will do,” the officer answered. “I can see your lights now. Anyone hurt?”

      “Don’t think so.”

      Deputy McCleod turned his attention back to Lucita and the vague notion that she’d seen him somewhere before raced through her mind. “Is there anyone else in the car?”

      It was a hot, moonless night with thin clouds blocking out the stars. The only glimpses Lucita could get of the deputy’s face were when his flashlight inadvertently bobbed upward. Yet in spite of the lack of lighting, she could see that he was a tall man, even after factoring in his dark cowboy hat. His broad shoulders were covered with a uniform-type shirt made of khaki. Blue jeans encased his long, strong legs, while black, square-toed cowboy boots peeped from beneath the hems. A leather gun belt strapped some sort of revolver low on his slim hips. He was the epitome of a Texas lawman, making her acutely aware of his authoritative presence.

      “No,” she said. “I was traveling alone.”

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