Crazy for Cowboy (16 page)

“Ahhhhh...” Sam sounded like a creaky door opening as he fought for words. “He could be gone fer some time.”

“Naw,” the younger man interjected. “If he’s just going to the ravine and back, it won’t take him long.”

Emily felt sorry for the young guy. He was obviously trying to be helpful. It was equally obvious that Sam did not find the man’s comments so. The look Sam gave him had the redhead turning mute within seconds.

“I think I’ll take a walk that way and meet him,” Emily told the two men, picked up her bag and started off in the direction the redhead had indicated.

“Ya might miss him that way,” Sam cautioned her.

Or she might miss the perfect opportunity to confront Brandon alone. “I’ll take my chances,” she called back and kept walking.

Soon she was making her way down a steep embankment, holding onto the branches of nearby trees for support. She was sheltered from the blaze of the sun by a canopy of leaves. Still, she felt the sweat trickle down her back as she fought her way through the brush.

At last, she saw him. Standing in a clearing, near the edge of the ravine, was a rider astride a black beauty of a horse. The image was postcard perfect—a gorgeous, sexy cowboy, against a backdrop of blue sky.

There was a rumble beneath her. She looked to her right and saw the approaching train. She had only a moment before it would pass between them and separate her from the man.

“Houston!”

Brandon turned toward her. At the same time, the whistle on the train sounded. Then there was another noise. An ungodly one, as if a wild beast were screaming.

Emily realized that the sound came from the black horse. The spooked animal reared back, sending his rider over the edge of the cliff.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Oh, my God!” Emily watched in stunned horror as the horse galloped into the path of the advancing train.

She screamed and prepared for the inevitable clash of steel and flesh. But the horse surprised her. He managed to beat the train and run past her, grinding to a halt in front of a thicket.

She was torn. She wanted—needed—to go to Brandon. But the train now separated them. It took her a moment, but she regained her senses and remembered her training. She could deal with both crises, one at a time.

Right now, the only problem she could reach was the spooked horse. Emily approached the animal, cautiously. Mouthing reassuring words, she grabbed his reins, and tied him to a nearby tree.

By the time she had completed her task, the tail end of the caboose was disappearing around the bend. She crossed the tracks and scrambled to the ravine to peer over the edge.

She scanned the brush and rocks and the water below, looking for Brandon. There, through the greenery, she spotted a swatch of an oilskin duster. Her heart pounding furiously in her chest, Emily began making her way down the embankment, half-sliding, half-tripping.

She could see Brandon clearly now. He was lying on his back, his limbs splayed out at odd angles. Motionless.

As she dove through the bushes toward him, she couldn’t help feeling that the accident was her fault. She should have realized that he was an inexperienced rider. Had she startled him? Was she the reason he was lying in a heap, his face pale, his body still?

She threw herself down beside him, grabbing hold of the front of his shirt. “Are you all right? Can you hear me?”

There was no reaction. She fought back tears. This was no time to get emotional. She had to remember her medical training and keep calm.

She whipped out her cell and started to call 911 when she realized she had no idea how to tell the operator where they were. Emily pocketed the phone again, knowing she was his best hope. She leaned into him. “Please, honey, let me know you’re all right.”

Two arms grabbed her shoulders and pulled her down. A pair of lips claimed hers with such intensity that an involuntary moan rumbled up from her throat. She pulled back and gave Brandon a swat on the chest.

“You scared me!”

“I scared myself.”

“I thought you were dead!”

“If all the angels look like you, then I am in heaven.” He took a big breath and winced. “I think I just got the air knocked out of me.”

Emily ran her hands along his sides, looking for signs of injury. “I’m sorry I smacked you. I thought you were faking.”

“I’m not faking anything, darlin’. Especially not this,” he said and pulled her down for another kiss.

His tongue ran over her lips. Instantly, Emily felt an explosion of heat through her body. Her tongue joined his, as her hands began wandering over his chest.

He groaned, sending a new rush of excitement through her. She kissed him back, urgently, as though her life depended on it. Then suddenly, he pushed her away.

“Horse okay?”

“What?” She stared at him, open-mouthed and panting.

“King, is he okay?”

“Yes. He’s fine,” she sputtered. “Don’t worry about the damn horse. Kiss me, you fool.”

He chuckled then promptly obeyed, kissing her deeply. She moaned again as his hands moved up her body, massaging her waiting breasts.

She couldn’t hold back the purring sound that issued from her throat. She’d never thought of herself as wanton, but she was
wantin’
him, all right. She, Doctor Emily Grant, who never made love in public places, who never had sex anywhere but on a mattress behind a closed door, was ready, more than willing and screamingly able to take this man on a bed of leaves. For the second time that week.

She shifted her position and scooted one of her legs in between his so that she could move on top of him.

“Ugggg!”

Emily froze. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

She pulled her weight off him in a variation of the pushup and moved to one side, examining his lower body.

There was an obvious swollen area just below his belt buckle, but she was fairly certain that it hadn’t been caused by the fall. She smiled, pleased that she had the same effect on him as he had on her, but confident there was no medical emergency attached to that portion of his anatomy. It seemed to be in perfect working condition.

She cast her vision lower, finding, just above the knee on the leg furthest from her, a large patch of crimson seeping through his jeans.

“You’re bleeding.” She examined the area around the injury, looking for broken bones. Then she did a quick inventory of the rest of him, something she’d started when his kisses distracted her.

He was lucky. Nothing else appeared to be amiss. No broken bones, no other lacerations. Although, Emily was sure he’d have some pretty major bruising.

She reached for her medical kit and pulled out a pair of scissors. Gently, she clipped away at his pant leg until the wound was completely exposed. Satisfied, she reached for the bottle of peroxide and a wad of sterile gauze.

“This might sting a little,” she warned him, and dumped the contents of the bottle onto the wound.

Brandon sucked in a breath. “Hey!”

“Just be thankful it was peroxide and not alcohol,” she told him, applying pressure to his leg with the gauze.

“If you’ve got some on ya, I could use a shot right now.”

“Not that kind of alcohol, you goof.”

“Man, you are nasty,” he exclaimed with mock indignation. “Is this the way you treat your four-legged patients? I’m glad I have only two.”

“One and a half, at the moment. Here.” She thrust a fistful of individually packaged gauze dressings at him.

“What am I supposed to do with these?”

“Unwrap them for me while I apply pressure.”

He handed them to her one by one as she mopped up the blood. “This looks deep,” she told him. “You’re going to need sub-q sutures.”

“What?”

“Sutures in the subcutaneous area.”

He tilted his head to one side. “That made even less sense.”

“Under the skin.”

“You mean stitches?”

“Exactly. Lucky for you, I’ve got some butterfly sutures with me.”

“You’re going to sew me up right here?” He didn’t sound especially pleased with the prospect.

“No. These are bandages,” she explained as she rummaged through her kit. “They’ll hold the skin around the wound together. Then I’ll wrap the area in more gauze. Damn.”

“Now what?”

“I don’t have enough dressing with me to cover your wound and apply pressure.” She sighed and sat back on her heels. “Take off your shirt.”

Brandon’s brows shot up. “The sight of blood gets you going, huh?”

“Get your mind out of your shorts, big boy. I need something to hold against the wound so I can apply pressure.”

“Why can’t we use
your
shirt?”

“Excuse me?”

“I was planning on talking you out of it later, but since the opportunity has arisen...”

“It’s quite obvious what has arisen around here, mister,” she said, sneaking a glance at his nether regions. “I’ll be leaving my shirt on, thank you very much.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked away. “Go on. Strip.”

Material rustled. Emily chewed on her bottom lip, trying to keep her brain focused on her job and away from her galloping libido.

“Here it is.”

She turned to grab the shirt and caught the sight of bare skin. He was lightly tanned and well muscled. She’d gotten a hint of his build during their sexual encounter at the riding stables. Seeing his exposed chest now set her drooling. A fine dusting of curls worked their way down his ribbed abs to the top of his belt buckle, then disappeared.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take your top off too?” he asked innocently.

“No!” Emily shook her head to clear away the lascivious thoughts that had seeped into her gray matter. “We don’t have time for that right now. We need to get you to the hospital.” She grabbed his shirt and wrapped it securely around the sterilized gauze. “Do you think you can make it up the hill?”

Brandon cranked his head toward the embankment. “I’ll try.”

“You can lean on me,” she offered.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Didn’t he think she was strong enough? She was used to patients that were a heck of a lot bigger than he was.

“If I touch you again,” he said, his eyes sparkling, “we won’t be moving from this spot.”

Emily’s heart went ka-thunk. “Stop that. You’re distracting me, and I’m supposed to be the level-headed person around here.” Picking up his discarded duster, she draped it over her shoulder. “Come on.” She helped him onto his feet and put her arm around his waist. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’re looking a little green around the gills.”

“I am feeling kinda light-headed.”

“That’s from your injury.”

“That’s from the woman beside me.” He leaned against her, letting her take some of the weight from his weak left side. Together, they began to hobble up the ravine.

“You ride King,” she instructed him, figuring out their plan of action. “I’ll follow along on foot.”

“It’ll take you half an hour to walk back.”

“That’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

Nice of him to be concerned, but this was no time for chivalry. “Well, you certainly can’t walk. Not in your present condition.”

He didn’t answer her, just ran his hand across his brow and kept climbing.

“Okay, look. You get on the horse and I’ll walk alongside.”

He shook his head. “I don’t like that idea, either.”

“Why not?”

“You won’t laugh?”

“Right now I’m too concerned to find any humor in this. What’s the problem?”

He didn’t speak right away. When he did, his words came out in spurts. “I...don’t...really...want to get...back on a horse right now.”

Emily clamped her lips shut. His reaction was understandable. He’d just been thrown. She even admired the fact that he was man enough to admit his apprehension. Still, he needed medical attention, more than she could give him.

She let the topic go, concentrating her efforts on helping him. Once they were past the cliff, it was easier. The way was level and Brandon was able to clutch at the odd branch for support.

When they got to the other side of the train tracks, Emily left him leaning against a tree while she untied the horse. That’s when the answer came to her. She smiled at the simplicity of the solution.

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll both ride.”

“We can do that?”

“Sure, haven’t you ever seen a Clint Eastwood movie?” She put her foot in the stirrup and hauled herself into the saddle. Then she motioned King over to where Brandon was standing. “Here, I’ll give you a hand up.”

“Up to where?” he asked, looking at the horse dubiously. “This isn’t a two-seater, ya know.”

Who did this guy think he was? David Letterman? “Stop kidding around. You’ll sit on the horse’s rump. You can put your arms around me to hold on.”

“That sounds appealing.” Brandon pulled his left foot up toward the stirrup, flinched, and set it back down. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“That’s okay. We’ll use that rock for leverage,” she told him, indicating the outcrop with a twitch of her head. “If you can get up there, it won’t be so far for you to move your leg.”

While Brandon crawled onto the rock, Emily maneuvered the horse so her new patient could favor his sore leg and mount the animal from the right. She reached out her hand to him.

He squinted up at her. “Am I allowed to get on from this side?”

“I’m sure King won’t mind, just this once.”

Swinging his injured leg over the horse with an audible grunt, he made it onto King’s rump.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he answered, but Emily suspected that it was a lie. She reached back, grabbed his hands and wrapped his arms around her waist.

She decided to make small talk, to help him take his mind off his injury. The fact that her line of questioning was designed to give Brandon an opportunity to confess his true identity was purely coincidental.

“So, how long have you been riding?”

“Today? About twenty minutes.”

“No, silly,” she said, looking heavenward. “I mean, when did you first learn?”

“You know, it’s still so fresh in my mind, it feels like just last week.”