crossed over her right knee. Her clothes were
dusty, there was a smudge on one cheek and her eyes were bright
with unshed tears.
"What did you do to yourself?" he asked as
he drew near, leaned over her.
Blinking her eyes to keep the tears at bay,
she tried a smile. "Just took a little tumble off a horse. Nothing
a big rodeo star would even notice," she said.
"Ah, hell, honey. Did you get hurt?"
She nodded, prepared for his sarcasm, not
prepared for his concern. "I think I twisted my ankle." Not to
mention her banging her hip, shoulder, and every other part of her
that was now starting to ache.
His hands reached out and felt along the
boot, firmly, yet gently. She winced at his touch, catching her
breath at the pain that coursed up her leg.
"It's already swollen. How did it
happen?"
He continued to examine her foot, ankle, leg
as she told him about her aborted attempt to ride. When he
finished, he looked into her shimmering eyes.
Trace's heart slammed against his chest. He
hurt that she hurt. He wanted to snatch her up and ease the pain
away. Shelter her so she never got hurt again. She wasn't any
bigger than Becky. She needed to be cared for, cherished. Why was
she dang so foolish, insisting on continuing in this quest to own
and operate a cattle ranch? Dammit, she was as unsuited for this as
he was for a boardroom in Boston.
"I told her ranchers didn't fall off
horses," Becky said, sidling up to her dad and staring at
Kalli.
"I didn't fall, Stony bucked me off," Kalli
clarified.
"Stony?" Trace asked in disbelief. "He's as
gentle as they come."
"Well, if he's so gentle, I'd like to see
some wild stock."
Gently Trace tugged on her boot. A white-hot
lance of pain shot through her leg.
"Ow! Dammit, Trace, what are you trying to
do, rip my foot off?" Tears spilled over and coursed down her dirty
cheek. The pain was worse now. What was he, some sort of
sadist?
"Just seeing how bad it is. We'll have to
cut off your boot. There's no way we can pull it off if that little
tug hurt so bad."
"Not my new boots," she protested.
"I'm open for other suggestions," he said as
he rose and fetched a knife from the cutlery drawer.
She watched him approach, then looked sadly
at her fancy Western boots. She'd been so excited to buy them.
So excited she needed boots where she was
going. She'd only had them a couple of weeks.
"I'll buy you another pair," he said
sardonically as he knelt beside her. Tossing his hat on the table,
he slipped the blade down between her leg and the boot top, cutting
the soft leather as if it was butter.
She gritted her teeth. She knew he was
trying to be careful, but it still hurt. Finally the boot was off.
Instantly she felt better.
He rose and picked her up. As he turned to
head for her room, he told Becky to fix up an ice pack.
Shouldering open the door to her room, he
noticed she'd made the bed. For a second his eyes met hers and they
both remembered that morning.
Slowly he lowered her to the mattress,
taking care to keep her foot from jarring.
She lay back, moaned slightly and turned
toward her right.
"What else?" he asked.
"I landed on my shoulder, I guess it's
bruised, too." He unbuttoned her shirt and drew it down her arms.
The pale skin of her shoulder showed an ugly purple patch larger
than his hand.
Kalli gripped the front of her shirt across
her breasts. She looked at her shoulder and frowned. "I'm sure it's
just bruised."
He took her arm, releasing her grip on the
material, and rotated it slowly, gently. "How's that?"
"Just great, Doctor." It pulled a little,
but she knew nothing was broken.
"I may not be a doctor, but I do know a
little about injuries people get from being thrown. I probably have
more experience at that than most of your Bostonian doctors put
together."
She grinned. "You probably do. First hand,
too, I'd bet."
"You'd win."
"Here's the ice." Becky stood in the
doorway, watching warily.
Trace stood up and turned to get it. He met
her eyes, his own
dusty, there was a smudge on one cheek and her eyes were bright
with unshed tears.
"What did you do to yourself?" he asked as
he drew near, leaned over her.
Blinking her eyes to keep the tears at bay,
she tried a smile. "Just took a little tumble off a horse. Nothing
a big rodeo star would even notice," she said.
"Ah, hell, honey. Did you get hurt?"
She nodded, prepared for his sarcasm, not
prepared for his concern. "I think I twisted my ankle." Not to
mention her banging her hip, shoulder, and every other part of her
that was now starting to ache.
His hands reached out and felt along the
boot, firmly, yet gently. She winced at his touch, catching her
breath at the pain that coursed up her leg.
"It's already swollen. How did it
happen?"
He continued to examine her foot, ankle, leg
as she told him about her aborted attempt to ride. When he
finished, he looked into her shimmering eyes.
Trace's heart slammed against his chest. He
hurt that she hurt. He wanted to snatch her up and ease the pain
away. Shelter her so she never got hurt again. She wasn't any
bigger than Becky. She needed to be cared for, cherished. Why was
she dang so foolish, insisting on continuing in this quest to own
and operate a cattle ranch? Dammit, she was as unsuited for this as
he was for a boardroom in Boston.
"I told her ranchers didn't fall off
horses," Becky said, sidling up to her dad and staring at
Kalli.
"I didn't fall, Stony bucked me off," Kalli
clarified.
"Stony?" Trace asked in disbelief. "He's as
gentle as they come."
"Well, if he's so gentle, I'd like to see
some wild stock."
Gently Trace tugged on her boot. A white-hot
lance of pain shot through her leg.
"Ow! Dammit, Trace, what are you trying to
do, rip my foot off?" Tears spilled over and coursed down her dirty
cheek. The pain was worse now. What was he, some sort of
sadist?
"Just seeing how bad it is. We'll have to
cut off your boot. There's no way we can pull it off if that little
tug hurt so bad."
"Not my new boots," she protested.
"I'm open for other suggestions," he said as
he rose and fetched a knife from the cutlery drawer.
She watched him approach, then looked sadly
at her fancy Western boots. She'd been so excited to buy them.
So excited she needed boots where she was
going. She'd only had them a couple of weeks.
"I'll buy you another pair," he said
sardonically as he knelt beside her. Tossing his hat on the table,
he slipped the blade down between her leg and the boot top, cutting
the soft leather as if it was butter.
She gritted her teeth. She knew he was
trying to be careful, but it still hurt. Finally the boot was off.
Instantly she felt better.
He rose and picked her up. As he turned to
head for her room, he told Becky to fix up an ice pack.
Shouldering open the door to her room, he
noticed she'd made the bed. For a second his eyes met hers and they
both remembered that morning.
Slowly he lowered her to the mattress,
taking care to keep her foot from jarring.
She lay back, moaned slightly and turned
toward her right.
"What else?" he asked.
"I landed on my shoulder, I guess it's
bruised, too." He unbuttoned her shirt and drew it down her arms.
The pale skin of her shoulder showed an ugly purple patch larger
than his hand.
Kalli gripped the front of her shirt across
her breasts. She looked at her shoulder and frowned. "I'm sure it's
just bruised."
He took her arm, releasing her grip on the
material, and rotated it slowly, gently. "How's that?"
"Just great, Doctor." It pulled a little,
but she knew nothing was broken.
"I may not be a doctor, but I do know a
little about injuries people get from being thrown. I probably have
more experience at that than most of your Bostonian doctors put
together."
She grinned. "You probably do. First hand,
too, I'd bet."
"You'd win."
"Here's the ice." Becky stood in the
doorway, watching warily.
Trace stood up and turned to get it. He met
her eyes, his own
Similar Books
