The Cattleman And The Virgin Heiress. Jackie Merritt
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a road—a different road than the one she’d been on earlier. Even in the rain and darkness she could tell it was a different road, and gratitude flooded her heart. “Thank you,” she whispered as her pulse leapt tumultuously over this additional proof that she was approaching inhabited territory.
But on the other side of that road was a rise in the terrain, and it was muddy and slicker than ice. She couldn’t let it defeat her and she started up it. She lost her footing and fell backward. Grasping at anything to break her fall, she inadvertently twisted around, and when she hit the ground her head collided with a fence post.
She knew no more, and the rain mercilessly pelted her limp form and muddy face.
Matt McCarlson had heard the rain all night. At daybreak it was still raining, and Matt grimly got dressed and left the house to see what damage this powerful storm was wreaking. Wearing a yellow slicker and a wide-brimmed hat low on his forehead, he saddled his horse, Dex. Inspecting the ranch on horseback made sense. Storms of this magnitude and duration washed out roads, flooded creeks and created puddles the size of small lakes. Mounting Dex, Matt rode from the barn.
It was as bad as he’d suspected. Where water wasn’t actually standing because of runoff to lower ground, it was so dangerously slippery with mud that Matt had to watch every step Dex took. The trees around the house had lost branches and limbs, and the debris was scattered far and wide. Leaving the compound, Matt checked the creeks that wound—normally at a lazy pace—through his land, and just as he’d known in his gut would be the case, every single creek had overflowed its banks. It was a spectacle of flash flooding and nature’s formidable power, and it wasn’t at its worst yet because it was still raining.
Shaking his head disgustedly, Matt directed Dex for home. There wasn’t much he or the men working for him could do today. He’d tell Chuck Crawford, his foreman, to give the crew the day off. They could hang around the bunkhouse or try to get to Hawthorne, the closest town, if they wanted, though Matt doubted that the roads would be passable.
Matt was almost back to the barn when he remembered that he hadn’t picked up yesterday’s mail from the mailbox at the end of the ranch’s driveway. He decided to do that before holing up until the rain at least slowed down some. Yesterday’s mail delivery might be the last one for a week, he thought wryly as he approached the end of the driveway and the mailbox. He’d seen this kind of storm before, and if he managed to pull his ranch out of the financial doldrums into which it had descended this past year and he continued his life as a Texas cattle rancher, he would undoubtedly see it again.
Thinking of his financial problems pulled down his mood, which wasn’t the best to begin with. There wasn’t a place on earth that didn’t need regular rainfalls, but storms of this nature were downright depressing.
“Hell,” Matt muttered as he rode. Matt was just about to reach into the box for the mail when he spotted something strange. Turning his head, he gasped and mumbled, “What the hell?” He felt bile rise in his throat and an increased pulse rate. He saw a person lying in muddy water, resembling a pile of wet rags.
Was the person breathing? Heaven help him—he could be looking at a dead body.
Matt’s stomach turned over. He scanned the area for a car and saw none. Fearful conjecture created horrifying images in Matt’s brain. How had this person gotten here? The McCarlson ranch was miles from Hawthorne and almost that far from any other ranch. Was he looking at a victim of foul play?
With a suddenly bone-dry mouth and jangling nerves, Matt urged Dex over to the mud-streaked, soaking-wet, bedraggled creature. Sliding from the saddle to the ground, Matt blinked twice in genuine shock. It was a woman!
He could hardly believe his eyes. A woman! Where had she come from? Her face was unknown to him. Who was she, and what chain of events had delivered her to his doorstep? Was it something as simple as a flat tire or a disabled vehicle on the main road?
Well, he couldn’t just stand there and speculate, even though he was almost afraid to find out if she was alive or dead. This sort of thing wasn’t his forte, not even close. He was a rancher, not a medic.
And then he caught sight of something that made him grit his teeth and do what had to be done—there was blood in the watery mud next to her head. Obviously she had a head injury, a cut, a gash, some sort of wound that was seeping blood. Matt forced himself to kneel beside her. He removed the glove from his right hand and then took her wrist and felt for a pulse. He found one and breathed an enormous sigh of relief.
“Ma’am? Miss? Can you hear me?” he said, hoping that the sound of his voice would rouse her. At the same time he wondered how he would get her to the house if she didn’t come to.
One option was quickly eliminated. Lifting her onto his horse when she was unconscious wouldn’t be wise. She could have more than one injury and laying her over the saddle like a sack of potatoes could exacerbate her medical situation.
He hated leaving her alone while he went for one of the four-wheel-drive trucks—the only vehicles on the ranch that might make it through such heavy, clinging mud—but that really was his only choice.
“Miss, I’m going to be gone for a few minutes, but don’t be afraid, okay? I’ll be back in a flash. I just need to get a truck to—”
Her eyes opened, startling him, but the intensity of his relief momentarily weakened his knees.
“Hello,” he said gently. She stared at him and said nothing. “Hold on, maybe I can make you a little more comfortable.” Standing, Matt took off his slicker and laid it over her. She couldn’t possibly get any wetter than she was, but maybe the slicker would warm her a little. Kneeling again, he leaned over her and looked into her eyes. They were a beautiful blue color, but so dull and lifeless that he felt another jab of fear.
“Can you hear me?” he asked. “Does your head hurt? Do you feel any pain anywhere else?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Your head doesn’t hurt?”
“Uh, maybe a little. In back.”
He’d never seen such a blank expression in anyone’s eyes before, but he had no idea what it meant. “Are you sure you have no pain anywhere else? The reason I’m asking is that I want to get you out of the rain and into the house, and I don’t want to make matters worse by moving you if I shouldn’t.”
“No pain,” she whispered, and closed her eyes again. “Please, just let me sleep.”
“No! You need to stay awake,” Matt said sharply, causing her eyelids to flutter open again. “You have to stay awake until I can get you inside, do you understand?” He didn’t have to be a doctor to know that she should not be seeking sleep in this unholy situation; it was just common sense. She was obviously weak and probably chilled to the bone. She needed to get warm, she needed dry clothes and a doctor, and she needed those things now, or as close to “now” as he could manage them.
He made a decision then. The fastest, most efficient method of getting her to the house was for him to carry her there. Him, not Dex, not a truck.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “I’m going to slide my arms under you and pick you up so I can carry you to the house. Please just lie still and let me do the work.”
Once again he received a totally blank stare, almost as though she didn’t comprehend speech at all, and yet she let him pick her up and slip and slide to his feet in the mud without any sign of objection.
It was slow going. He estimated her weight to be around 110 pounds and thanked the good Lord it wasn’t more. By the time he reached the house, however, it felt as though he were carrying a ton. His whole body ached, especially his arms and back. During the entire struggle, she had not uttered one sound, though he’d glanced down every so often to make sure that her eyes remained open.
“We’re here,” he said, gasping the message because he was out of breath and tired. Even so, he managed to hang on to her and still turn the doorknob.
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