Her Texas Hero. Kat Brookes
Читать онлайн книгу.
she couldn’t bring herself to say those words. She did, however, say a prayer of thanks to God for watching over her. Not that she’d expected the help she’d prayed for, while clinging frantically to the loop of rope her son had tossed down to her, to show up in the form of a Texas cowboy. Hat and all.
“Why don’t you kids pull that rope back in through the window and untie it? Then bring it on down with you?” the man hollered up toward the roof’s overhang. Then he muttered, “The last thing we need is for one of them to use that rope to climb out onto the roof to see that you’re all right.”
“I’ve raised my children to have more sense than that,” she said stiffly, automatically defensive when it came to even the slightest criticism where her son and daughter were concerned. Her ex-husband had done nothing but that for the past three years.
The man holding her securely in his strong arms paused midstep to look down at her from behind the mirrored shades of his sunglasses, which were shadowed by the brim of his cowboy hat. Then his head tilted ever so slightly upward, and if she had her guess she’d say he’d just rolled his eyes heavenward beneath the concealing lenses of his sunglasses.
“I would hope they do,” he said. “But I did just save their momma from breaking her pretty little neck after she tried to retrieve a plastic disc from a rotted roof using a ladder better used for kindling than climbing on.”
“I didn’t know the roof was rotted,” she replied with a frown. “Just a little sunken.” The ladder, however, she had actually hesitated in using. But after a moment’s indecision, she’d given in, deciding that it looked strong enough to hold her for the short time it would take for her to grab her son’s Frisbee and toss it down. What she hadn’t counted on was having it tip out from under her.
“Maybe so,” he said, “but I’m not about to risk your little ones getting hurt because they don’t know better, either.”
She looked up at him in stunned surprise. Here was a man who didn’t even know her children, yet he was voicing his concern, rather adamantly, about their well-being, when their own father couldn’t care less. She couldn’t keep the tears from filling her eyes.
“Ma’am,” he said, his deep, baritone voice laced with concern. “Are you hurt?”
She fought back the tears, shaking her head. “No, I... I’m fine. Just a little shaken.” And sore. Every muscle in her body felt like she’d just rolled down a steep hillside. “I appreciate your concern for my children. I’ll have a talk with them and make certain they know never to go out onto that roof. Any roof for that matter.”
He nodded. “Glad to hear it. Now let’s get you over to that porch swing,” he said as he headed for the crumbling walkway that led to the old farmhouse’s deep-set porch.
“I can walk,” she protested without much conviction as she clung to her rescuer’s wide shoulders. Despite her stubborn determination to stand on her own two feet, she honestly wasn’t sure she could at that moment. She felt like a rag doll without any stuffing.
“Humor me,” he replied, his long strides never slowing until he had her lowered safely onto the porch swing, which, thankfully, appeared to be sturdier than the ladder she had found in the garage.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue, Mr....”
“Cooper,” he said as he took a step back, putting some distance between them. “Carter Cooper.”
“Audra Marshall,” she replied with a tentative smile as she settled back against the swing, her legs trembling. Her right calf ached from having been perched on the ball of her foot atop the ladder rung for so long. She attempted to stretch the cramping limb, pointing her toes downward. Before she could lift her toes upward to complete the motion, the muscle in her calf knotted up painfully, drawing a soft cry from her lips.
Vivid blue eyes studied her. “Cramp?” Carter Cooper asked worriedly.
“Yes,” she gasped as tears once again filled her eyes.
Kneeling in front of her, he lifted her foot, flip-flop and all, in his large hand and then gently pushed her toes upward, effectively stretching the contracting muscle.
“What are you doing?” Her words came out in a pained whisper.
He looked up at her from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. “Working the cramp out,” he said matter-of-factly. Then his focus returned to the painfully knotted muscle in her leg. Keeping the pressure steady, he held her foot in place for several seconds before easing up on the tension he’d been applying. Then he repeated the motion once more. “Helping?”
“Yes,” she said, pulling her leg free of his grasp. “It seems I’m indebted to you yet again.”
Looking up at her, he said, “I only did what my momma raised me to do.”
“Please thank your mother for me,” she said with a smile. “She raised a very thoughtful son.”
His mouth pulled into a grimace. Then he straightened to tower over her. “Afraid I can’t do that,” he said. “We lost her two Christmases ago.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said, her heart going out to him. She’d lost both her parents in a boating accident on Lake Michigan the summer after her high school graduation. Maybe if that hadn’t happened she wouldn’t have rushed into marriage, needing to fill the void her parents’ death had left in her life. No, she probably would have married Bradford anyway. Several years older than her, he’d been a good Christian man with a financially stable job who said all the right things. Sent her flowers. She’d loved him and she thought he’d loved her back. And maybe he had. Until the children were born and he was no longer the sole focus of her attention.
“If your leg starts cramping up again,” her rescuer began, that deep, husky voice pulling her from her troubled musings, “there are a couple of things you can do to try and relieve it. Massage your calf to work the cramp out, or stretch it out like I just did, holding it for a few seconds. Then ease up, repeating the motion until you feel the muscle relax. A warm shower can help as well.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll keep your suggestions in mind.”
He nodded and had just reached up to remove his sunglasses, which were unnecessary now that he was standing beneath the cooling shade of the porch, when the screen door flung open with a loud groan, drawing his attention that way. A second later, her son and daughter flew out of the house.
“Mommy!” four-year-old Lily cried out, racing toward Audra with her tiny arms outstretched, bypassing the towering cowboy without even a moment’s hesitation in her eagerness to reach her.
“Mo—” her son began and then stopped with a gasp halfway across the porch. Green eyes widening, Mason, coiled rope in hand, stood staring up at her rescuer, who was well over six feet in height. A good bit taller than what they were used to, Bradford being only five-nine on a good day.
Sunglasses dangling at his side, Carter Cooper smiled down at her son. “You must be Mason. Nice work with that rope loop.”
“It’s you!” her son said in what sounded like awe, still openly staring up at the man.
“Mason, honey?” she said, attempting to draw her son’s attention away from their unexpected, but very much appreciated, visitor. A man the Lord had sent in answer to her fervent prayers as she’d hung, fearful for her life, from the sagging roof.
Her son’s gaze finally shifted, meeting hers. “Mommy,” he said excitedly, “you were rescued by the Lone Ranger!”
“The Lone Ranger?” Carter Cooper replied with a husky chuckle. “Afraid not, son. The only thing that fictional Texas Ranger and I have in common is that we both wear cowboy hats. Unless you count the fact that I drive a silver Ford F-150 and the Lone Ranger rides a horse named Silver.” He glanced back at Audra with a crooked grin. “My brothers would have a field day with this one.”
“Sweetie,