The Cowboy's Second Chance

“You!” Maggie echoed, her heart pounding in her throat.

His fingers seared her skin and she tugged free. He grabbed at her handkerchief, held it against his mouth. His denim shirt, ripped open to his waist, was covered in dirt and spatters of blood. A black Stetson sat on the ground nearby.

“Ohmigod, this wasn’t—” She hadn’t recognized the other men as they scuffled in the dirt, but now…Greeley’s foremen. “They jumped you because of me.”

“No.” Looking away, he wiped at the blood on his mouth.

“I don’t believe you.”

He rolled onto his hip, one leg bent at the knee, and gave his head a quick shake as if trying to clear it. “I don’t care what you believe,” he rasped, pushing unsteadily to his feet. “Where’s my hat?”

Maggie rose, ready to catch him if he fell. She grabbed the dusty Stetson, and held it out to him. “The fight was because you helped me.”

“Let it go, lady.”

He grabbed the hat, slapped it on the back of his head, and grimaced. The horse whinnied. The man swayed, but managed to steady himself before staggering to the animal. “Easy, boy…it’s all right.”

Maggie grabbed her purse and followed. “Did they hurt your horse?”

“G.W. is fine. Go away.”

His harsh words stung, but she didn’t give up. “The horse may be fine, but you’re not. We should get some help—”

Maggie stopped talking as he untied his horse and led it inside the trailer. She leaned against the cool metal surface, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. The smell of stale hay teased her nose.

Poor baby, the stallion must have been so frightened. Inside, the cowboy’s muted cadence soothed the skittish horse. Soothed her, too. Gradually his words faded away. She pressed an ear to the trailer. Nothing.

Was he okay? Had Greeley’s men hurt him so bad he’d passed out?

“Damn you, Kyle,” she whispered. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“You still here?”

Maggie whirled around to find him standing behind her, so close the brim of his Stetson brushed against her hair. His height blocked the overhead glow from the parking-lot lights, casting his face into shadow. His presence overpowered her, but somehow made her feel safe, too.

Safe? Where in the world had that come from?

“The medical clinic is down the street,” she said. “You should have someone take a look at your injuries.”

He took a swig from a bottle, grimaced and spat bloody water on the ground. Then he splashed a palm full of water over his face and wiped it away with his shirt sleeve. “Why?”

Maggie planted her hands on her hips. “Look, you need to—”

“I don’t need to do any…”

The cowboy swayed again. She laid a hand against his chest to stop him from crashing into her. “I can’t leave until I know you’re okay.”

His gaze dropped to her hand, then returned to her face. “We’re fine.”

His whispered words belied the uneven beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. She jerked her hand away. “Your lip’s stopped bleeding, but one eye is swollen shut, and you’ve got a nasty bruise at your temple.”

“What? You wanna play doctor?”

His deep whisper sent a flush of heat fanning over Maggie’s cheeks. She swallowed hard against the lump lodged in her throat. “I’ll play operator and dial 9-1-1.”

“No thanks.” He moved past her, shuffling toward the truck cab.

She followed. “I don’t think you should drive. You could pass out and kill yourself and your horse. Never mind what you might do to someone else.”

He tugged on the door, cursing when it wouldn’t open. Finally he got it free and crawled into the cab. “Been in enough fights—not hurt bad—not going far, anyway.”

Maggie put her hand on the door before he could close it. She stepped up on the truck’s running board, and watched him aim for the ignition.

He missed twice before he paused to squint at the keys. “Was planning to look for…a place to sleep.”

The low tone of his voice, mixed with a hint of southern twang, grabbed at her in a place she thought long dead. “This is my fault. Please let me help.”

He shook his head then his eyes rolled closed, his hands fell to his lap and he slumped against the seat.

“Are you—hello?”

Silence.

Maggie hesitated then gently removed his hat to get a closer look at his face. She braced one hand on his thigh to keep from falling into his lap. Soft denim and powerful muscles lay beneath her fingertips. Her pale-blue handkerchief sat clutched in his hand, the lace trim out of place next to his large, tanned fingers and the coarse texture of his skin. A deep shudder rumbled through his chest, the warm rush of his breath falling against her cheek. His eyes remained closed.

“I’m going to get help.” She’d seen enough injuries on the ranch to know he needed medical attention. “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t.” She jumped when his fingers tangled with hers. He held tight for a moment then his grip loosened. “I’ll…be fine. Please don’t…”

The quiet desperation in his voice struck at the deepest part of her heart. Why was he so against letting someone help him?

“Girly, what in hell’s bells are you doing?”

Maggie gasped and pulled her hand free. She swung around and looked into a pair of startling blue eyes framed by a shock of white hair. “Willie! You scared me half to death. What are you doing here?”

“Your grandmother took my ride. I saw your truck in the parking lot, and figured on hitching back with you. Darned surprised to find you getting all frisky in a stranger’s pickup.”

Willie’s sharp gaze peered around Maggie. “And with a drunken cowboy. Hoo-wee!”

“He’s not drunk.” Maggie stepped from the cab. “There was a fight. I’ve been trying to convince him to let me get help, but he keeps refusing.”

“Yep, right up to when he passed out.” Willie shoved his hands in his pockets. “You sure he ain’t tanked tight?”

Maggie frowned. “I’m sure. Can you take a look at him?”

The old man, more a member of the family than an employee, stared at her for a long moment.

“Please?”

Willie sighed, then nodded and Maggie stepped out of his way. He gently poked and prodded the unconscious man with a sure touch. Finally, he turned, thumbing up the brim of his hat.

“Well, he ain’t dead.”

“I know that. Should we take him to the clinic?”

“He’s got a lot of bruises and took a good clock to his left eye. He’s gonna be hurtin’ in the morning.” Willie stepped away. “But nothing’s broken from what I can tell, and his ribs appear okay. His pupils look fine, too, but that don’t explain why he’s out cold.”

“Exhaustion?” Maggie offered. “He said he needed sleep. He’s not from around here and doesn’t have a place to stay.”

“Oh, boy, I know where this is going.”

“Willie—”

“Don’t ‘Willie’ me. I’ve known you all your life, and if it’s one thing you can’t resist, it’s a hard-luck case.” He pointed his finger at her. “Don’t matter if it’s a four-legged or two-legged creature, you’ve given away more hot meals and places to sleep than anyone I know.”

“Yeah, and then they take off for greener pastures. Look, I’m not out to rescue anyone, but we can’t leave him here.”

Willie crossed his arms, pulling his starched shirt across his bony shoulders. Age stooped his once-tall frame, but he could still look her in the eye. “There’s something more going on here.”

Maggie sighed. It took a few minutes to fill him in on losing Spence and Charlie, as well as Kyle’s sleazy behavior—until this stranger stepped in.

Willie’s features hardened as she spoke. He looked at the cowboy again. “So, they paid him back?”

“Yeah. The least I can do is give him a place to sleep and a decent breakfast in the morning. And I’m not going to get the sheriff involved over something as trivial as Greeley jerking me around.”

“What about this guy getting the crap kicked out of him?”

Maggie dropped her hands to her sides, the cowboy’s Stetson banging against her leg. “He was adamant. He doesn’t want help from the sheriff or anyone else.”

Willie grunted. “You check the trailer. I’ll move him to the far side of the truck.”

Maggie protested, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand. “I ain’t gonna let you drive him to the ranch alone. And it’s no good if he wakes up and finds a stranger behind the wheel. So it’s the three of us.”

“Fine,” Maggie handed over the cowboy’s keys. “My truck can sit here overnight. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

She checked the trailer then climbed into the cab. The cowboy leaned against the door, his face toward the glass. Willie joined them, forcing her to scoot into the middle, pressing her body into the unconscious man from shoulder to knee. His heat radiated through her dress to dance along her skin. The warm night air jumped up another degree as she watched his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm.

“Margaret Anne, I hope you know what you’re doing,” she muttered, dropping his hat into his lap.

Willie pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home as fireworks lit the night sky. A half hour later, they turned off to the ranch. Despite his breathing, the cowboy hadn’t uttered a sound. If he didn’t wake soon, she’d place a call to Doc Cody.

The headlights gleamed over the bunkhouse and barn as they pulled into the drive, and Willie jolted the truck to a stop. “Sorry ’bout that, the brakes on this thing seem to be as old as me.” He opened the driver’s door and stepped out. “You stay here with sleeping beauty. I’ll get the barn doors.”

A gentle rocking caused Landon’s head to loll back and forth. He became aware of soft, feminine curves pressed against him and realized for the first time, in a long time, he wasn’t alone.

This was a dream. It had to be.

Unlike the nightmares of the past, he welcomed the heat against his body. Desire to nestle closer stirred deep. He was desperate for her scent, her touch. Desperate to believe this was real. He wanted her next to him, on top of him.

Then the warmth and curves moved away and a hard bounce caused his head to snap backwards. A ricochet of piercing light sparked inside his brain near one eye, and then spread to fill his entire body. He tried to move away from the pain, but his legs protested.

Was he sitting up?

He shifted again and pain exploded in his chest. A groan threatened to erupt, consuming every inch of air in his lungs as he forced himself to focus.

Did he hear voices? The sound of a truck door closing? His truck?

The familiar stale odors from the trailer filled his nose and he tried to slow the merry-go-round spinning inside his head.

Think, dammit! What’s the last thing you remember?

The sweet scent of fresh linen. No, that didn’t make sense. He hadn’t slept in a real bed in over a week. But the fragrance managed to make its way through the smells of his truck.

He curled one hand into a fist, crushing cool cotton against his palm. The same whiff of clean sheets, fresh from drying in the hot sun and a cool breeze, washed over his face as the gentle touch of a woman’s hand covered his.

Her curves were back, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel her against him. This time his body obeyed his silent command, and his hand found a delicate shoulder.

He pulled her toward him, need rushing through him as he breathed in her cry of surprise. He drew her closer, swiping his tongue over his dry lips before he covered her mouth. Breath rushed inward between supple lips, and his tongue followed.

He didn’t care if he was hallucinating. It was too perfect to stop—and he concentrated on his first kiss in four long years.

A minty flavor greeted him as he explored her mouth. He traced the edge of her teeth with his tongue then slipped out past her lips to dart at the corners of her mouth, sweet like a summertime rain. His hand stole across her upper back, sliding across cool, soft fabric until silky hair tangled with his fingers. He angled her across his chest. Her lips moved against his, and a small stab of pain made him groan. She retreated and this time he let her go.

Consciousness pulled at him, and Landon forced his eyes to open.

One obeyed, the other managed only a slit. His hair fell forward, partially blocking his view of feminine fingers lying over his fist. Clutched inside was a lacy handkerchief. Looking up, he focused on the outline of a woman. For a long moment, a pair of wet lips held his attention. Those lips trembled then the tip of her tongue stole out across her bottom lip.

“Oh…are you okay?”

Despite the shakiness of her words, Landon recognized the voice. Soft, sexy and sweet. The same voice that had sucker-punched him the first time she’d offered a breathless token of gratitude. The lady at the fairgrounds. The same lady who’d interrupted him getting his ass kicked and then refused to go away.

Was it a dream? Had he really kissed her?

Landon ignored her question and the pain shooting through his body. “What are—where am I?” He straightened, tunneling his fingers through his hair.

They sat in his parked, idling truck. He peered into the darkness. Thanks to the glow of a porch light, he could make out the outline of a house.

“My place.”

He swung around to face her, and the throbbing intensified. Landon cradled his forehead in his hand. “What the hell am I doing here?”

“You needed a place to sleep.”

“Lady, are you crazy? You don’t know me.”

She withdrew to the steering wheel, her face now hidden in the shadows. “Was I supposed to leave you in the parking lot for the sheriff? I guarantee I can provide a more comfortable bed than the local jail.”

The image of a barren room with bars flashed before his eyes. It was quickly pushed aside by another image, springing fully formed in his head before he could stop it.

The two of them, in a bed this time, tangled in crisp, clean sheets. Him flat on his back, her hands spread across his shoulders as he cradled her hips. She leaned forward and her curtain of blond hair hid them from the outside—

Landon squeezed his eyes closed to erase the fantasy. Another sharp ache pounded in his head—as demanding as the one pressed against his fly.

“I know I keep asking, but are you—”

“I’m fine.” It was a lie, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her what was in his mind.

The truck started to move. Landon opened his eyes, and watched her back toward a large barn that loomed out of the darkness.

She slowed to a stop. “Willie’s opening the barn doors—”

“Who’s Willie?”

“He works here for—”

“I’ll help him.”

Landon tugged on the door handle and nearly fell out the cab. He grabbed his hat before it hit the ground and slammed the door closed.

The last thing he needed was this angel of mercy asking him again if he was okay. He wasn’t. Wasn’t close to being okay after the vision he had of the two of them together.

Where in the hell had that come from?

He’d had plenty of chances to be with a woman since his release. Every town he’d worked in had bars and honky-tonks filled with ladies who didn’t care where you came from or where you were going. Women who wanted the attention they weren’t getting at home. He’d never been attracted to any of them. Hell, long before his conviction he’d lost any desire to be physically close to the opposite sex.

Amazing what deception could do to a man.

Burying the memory, Landon reached for the barn doors. He shoved, and they opened easily, thanks to the elderly cowboy on the other side. Had this old timer seen what’d happened in the truck? Did he care?

The man offered a curt nod. “Nice to see you on your feet.”

Landon nodded in return. “Thanks. You must be Willie.”

They moved aside when the trailer crossed the threshold.

G.W. Damn!

He’d started for the barn’s interior when another wave of dizziness hit him. Pressing a hand to his forehead, he fought off the unsteadiness and noticed the square piece of blue cloth in his grasp. A deep breath pulled in the smell of fresh linen and a hint of something spicy. It made him feel…peaceful.

He shoved the handkerchief into his jeans, next to the locket, and entered the barn at the same time as his lady rescuer. She flicked a switch and a circle of light sprang to life overhead. The occupants responded with low neighs.

“Hush, now,” she said, then turned to him. “Okay, let’s get your horse out of this trailer.”

Landon watched the woman, still not understanding how he’d ended up with her and this antique cowboy in the first place. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away the pain behind his eyes. “Ah, I’m a bit confused—”

“Not surprising considering the blow you’ve taken to the ol’ noggin,” Willie said with a hint of mockery. “You look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet.”

“You told me no sheriff,” the woman said, opening the trailer’s gate. “But someone had to look you over, and both you and your horse needed a place to sleep. Willie took care of the first, and the second will be done as soon as we get this animal into a clean stall.”

Landon dropped his hand and watched as she lowered the ramp to the floor. She put a foot on the edge, but Willie stopped her.

“Some cowboys think of their horses like they do their women.” He pulled the lady a few steps back. “Don’t want nobody else touching ’em. The first couple of stalls are empty. Take your pick.”

Landon stared hard at the old man then nodded and walked inside the trailer. He ran his hand along G.W.’s coat and dropped his head to rest against his warm mane. He drew in the familiar comfort of his friend before backing him out of the trailer and into a stall.

Grabbing his duffel bags and ice chest, he dropped his stuff on a low bench outside the stall. Another bout of dizziness hit him, but he pushed it away.

“She does this a lot.”

Landon looked up, surprised to see it was only him and Willie in the barn.

“Can’t resist helping someone who’s downtrodden,” Willie continued. “Been that way since she was a little bit. Doesn’t matter if it’s a rangy dog or a broke-down cowboy, she’s always there to offer a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Landon didn’t know which the old man considered him to be. “Is that so?”

“She doesn’t expect anything in return and that’s usually what she gets, but I’ve been here since God was a boy, and part of my job is looking out for my boss. I don’t want her hurt.”

Wait a minute.

Landon blinked. Did he say boss?

Chapter Three

“Yeah, you heard me right. She’s the one in charge around here. We haven’t been properly introduced. Willie Perkins.” He stuck out his hand.

Landon took it, not surprised at the strong grip. “Landon Cartwright.”

“At least you know who ya are. Come on, I’ll fix ya up in the bunk—”

“No, thanks. I’ll stay here.”

Willie’s bushy white brows arched high. “In the barn?”

Landon pulled his hand free. “Yeah, I’ve slept in worse places. Believe it or not, I’ve been in fights before, too.”

“Now, why don’t that surprise me? We got enough trouble around here, you hear?”

“Look, old man. I didn’t ask for her help. Or yours. And trouble is the last thing I’m looking for.”

Willie stared back at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll park your truck by the house. You get the doors.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Minutes later, Willie walked by and tossed him the keys before disappearing into the bunkhouse. Pocketing them, Landon closed one barn door, then stopped. His eyes drifted across the yard to the light spilling from a window in the main house.

Who was this lady? Did she own this spread? Alone?

Willie hadn’t mentioned a husband, and she seemed pretty upset with Greeley back at the carnival. He couldn’t remember if she wore a wedding ring, not that a piece of jewelry kept someone faithful.

And this ranch.

Other than the outlines of a few buildings, including a one-story house with a wraparound porch, he couldn’t see much in the darkness. The quiet surprised him. The barn sounded as if it was full of horses, but except for Willie, there weren’t any other cowboys in sight, and only one other pickup besides his own.

Unusual for a Saturday night and a holiday…

Stop thinking so much. Landon shut the other barn door. You’ve got more important things to worry about.

His body was wracked with sharp twinges of pain as he moved toward the stalls. After closer inspection of G.W.’s leg, he was happy to see the swelling under control.

“Wish I had some liniment to help you out, boy.” He kept his voice soft as he rewrapped the leg with firm pressure. “We’ll have to rely on good ol’ cold and hot therapy until I can get more cash.”

G.W. responded with a flick of his ears. A twinge of guilt twisted through Landon as he watched his horse feed. After a week of foraging on the side of the road, it was clear the palomino was enjoying the fresh hay and water.

Landon left the stall and walked to the bench. A low groan escaped as he pulled off his boots. It took a minute for another wave of dizziness to pass before he emptied his pockets into the duffel bag. He kept the tarnished silver locket. It took all his strength not to open it and look inside.

Rubbing his fingers over the inlaid scrollwork, he stared at it for a long moment then shoved it back into his jeans. Not now. He couldn’t deal with any more pain tonight.

What was left of his shirt hung free and he undid the few remaining buttons before releasing the top button of his jeans. His shoulders and arms ached as he reached around to rub the scar tissue on his lower back. He could get the crap kicked out of him and the injury didn’t flare up. Then something as simple as changing a tire and—

Injury. Yeah, right.

Injury implied healing. Not this. This he would carry for the rest of his life. He peeled the shirt off his shoulders. A low creaking caused him to spin around.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She walked from the shadows, her arms filled with blankets, a pillow and a glass of water. “Willie called me from the bunkhouse and said you’d be staying…”

A rush of heat spread across Landon’s skin when her gaze trailed from his face, past his open shirt to his feet, then back again. Brightness shone in her emerald eyes. The pink on her cheeks matched her full lips and the memory of their imaginary kiss came rushing back.

He didn’t know if she was married or not, but the intensity of her stare was enough to start the pressure building behind his fly for the second time tonight.

“I guess I should’ve knocked first.”

Landon forced himself to relax. He tugged his shirt back onto his shoulders, thankful he still wore his hat. “It’s your barn.”

She held out the bedding in her arms and frowned. “Why sleep out here?”

“I already told your cowboy. The place is clean and the hay’s fresh. Better than where I’ve slept the last few days.” Landon’s heart pounded as he took the blankets, warm from her body. The now-familiar scent of fresh linen drifted around him. “Besides, most cowboys don’t welcome sharing a bunkhouse with an outsider. And I’m sure your husband isn’t too crazy about you bringing home a total stranger.”

He placed the items on the bench then turned to find her holding out the glass in one hand, two pills in the other and a faint blush on her cheeks.

“You might be right about the cowboys, but not the husband. I don’t have one.” She pushed the glass and pills at him. “Here, you must have one heck of a headache.”

No husband.

He ignored the jolt the news gave him, looked at the pills instead. He hesitated, hating how three years in prison had colored his view of people. He doubted the pills were anything other than pain medication. How could he refuse? She’d done more for him, a total stranger, than anyone else since he’d gotten out.