Colton Cowboy Protector

by Beth Cornelison

  She greeted the shopkeeper and began searching the racks of women’s jeans and shirts, finding numerous items she thought would work. Most of the clothes she tried on were affordable, and from the clearance table she scored a great pair of no-frills boots that would be perfect for the ranch yard and stables. After paying for her purchases—two pairs of jeans, the boots and one Western button-down shirt—she headed back out in search of more bargains. Spending Cliff’s life-insurance money always reminded her that soon she’d have to find a job. Not that she had a problem with that. But because Cliff had refused to let her work, she hadn’t been in the workforce for a long time. She’d be playing catch-up, learning the latest technology and software wherever she landed.

  As she strolled down the sidewalk, glancing in store windows, a strange sensation crawled up her spine. She knew the spiders-up-her-back feeling well, had fine-tuned the sixth sense during her marriage to Cliff. A premonition. A warning. She stiffened, and a chill washed through her, despite the muggy heat.

  Someone was watching her. Maybe it was Jack, she thought, trying to be optimistic. Hadn’t she felt an odd sort of connection to him? But her link to Jack didn’t give her this creepy sensation.

  Casting a surreptitious glance to the reflection of the busy street in the display window beside her, Tracy looked for signs of anything suspicious. She studied the reflection but didn’t see Jack or anyone else watching her. Turning slowly, she lowered her sunglasses to better view the people on the street. The prickling sensation eased, and Tracy chalked the feeling up to lingering paranoia. Spending Cliff’s life-insurance money brought the realities of her doomed marriage up from the recesses of her memory. His control over her had included their finances, and she’d had to account for every penny she’d spent. If her purchases didn’t meet with his approval, she’d paid the price physically and in humiliation.

  But Cliff was dead. She was free of his tyranny and cruelty.

  Shake it off. She rolled the tension from her shoulders and wiped the sheen of sweat from her upper lip. Since Jack hadn’t yet texted that he was finished with his business, she headed to the next block of stores and found a boutique with pretty shoes and fun jewelry. Not ranch attire, for sure, but intriguing to browse through. She found a pair of shorts she wanted and some pumps to replace the ones she’d ruined her first day at the ranch.

  Her cell phone buzzed as she was signing the credit card receipt at the boutique, and Tracy glanced at the screen.

  All done. Meet at truck.

  Tucking her phone back in her purse, she thanked the shop attendant and bustled out onto the sidewalk, headed back to meet Jack with her purchases. She smiled to herself, satisfied with the success of the trip. From a block away, she spotted Jack’s black cowboy hat. He was leaning against the front of his truck, his legs crossed in front of him in a relaxed pose as he waited for her. She thought of how her new shorts showed off her legs and wondered what Jack would think of her new acquisition. Her stomach bunched with a giddy thrill as she imagined Jack’s green gaze studying her with a hint of heat and promise.

  Tracy stopped at the street corner, waiting for the light to change and traffic to clear before she crossed. She couldn’t wait to get in the—

  A large hand struck her back. Shoved.

  Tracy gasped as she reeled forward. Her arms windmilled, and her bags scattered as she stumbled off the curb. A car horn blasted. A bumper smacked her legs, and she heard brakes screech, tires squeal. She slammed to the pavement with a tooth-jarring impact.

  Chapter 7

  For several mind-numbing seconds, Tracy lay sprawled on the scorching concrete. She couldn’t catch her breath. Couldn’t hear over the whoosh of blood pounding in her ears. Finally, the fog of shock cleared, and she made a quick assessment of her condition. Her knees stung. Her hip throbbed. Her hands burned.

  An engine roared. A car whizzed past, narrowly missing her head. She was in the street, blocking traffic. People had begun to gather around her, touching her shoulder, asking her questions. Was she all right? Did she need an ambulance?

  She shuddered as adrenaline coursed through her. “I—I th-think I’m—”

  “Tracy!” The deep voice reverberated through her, curling warmly inside her like a smooth shot of whiskey.

  She blinked against the bright sun as she glanced up at the rugged face of the speaker looming over her. Jack. His dark eyebrows were knit, his eyes lit with concern.

  “J-Jack...” She tried to stand, tried to dust the grit from her seared palms, but her legs ached and buckled when she attempted to rise from the pavement. A pair of strong arms caught her when she swayed, lifting her, cradling her against a broad chest.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured against her hair. Someone had gathered her bags and handed them to Jack, hooking them on his fingers. He juggled both her and her purchases as he headed down the street.

  Safe. The word flittered through her mind. The instant he pulled her close, a sense of security rolled through her that went beyond that street corner and her tumble into traffic. Her muscles relaxed, and her bones seemed to melt as she leaned into Jack’s embrace. Her galloping pulse slowed to an even canter.

  Jack moved away from the crowded corner and carried her toward his pickup. “Are you hurt?”

  “N-no. Just shaken up. I don’t know what happened. I—”

  He chuckled softly. “Clearly, you tripped. Not surprising, given all these bags.”

  She flattened her hand against his chest, savoring the low rumble.

  And then she remembered the hand at her back, the shove. Fresh adrenaline rushed through her. Her gut twisted, and her body shuddered. Someone had pushed her into traffic. Heartlessly. Viciously. Intentionally.

  She gasped, and her fingers curled into Jack’s shirt. “Oh my God.”

  “What?” Beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, his brow dented.

  “I didn’t trip. I—I was pushed.”

  He grunted. “Accidents happen.”

  “No.” She shook her head as a chill crept through her. “I mean someone shoved me. On purpose.”

  He arched a dark eyebrow. “On purpose?” He gave a short, snorting laugh. “Paranoid much?”

  His skepticism sliced to her core. In the wake of the warm comfort she’d experienced moments earlier, his doubt seemed all the more sharp and cold. “I’m not imagining things. I felt a hand push me. Hard.”

  They’d reached his F-250, and he shifted her bags, trying to open the passenger door.

  “You can put me down. I can stand alone now.”

  He stooped to ease her legs to the ground, and she winced as her hip bore her full weight again. Jack didn’t move away until she steadied herself and gave him a nod.

  “You should see a doctor.”

  She glanced down at her scraped palms. While they stung and she was sure she’d have a nasty bruise on her hip, she didn’t feel the injuries warranted a doctor’s care. “No, I’ll be all right.”

  Jack grunted and narrowed a scrutinizing gaze on her. “Why?”

  She blinked at him as she took her bags back. “What?”

  “Why would someone push you?” He flipped the bucket seat forward, then loaded her purchases on the backseat.

  “I don’t know. But...” Tracy paused and frowned. “You think I’m lying? Why would I lie about it?”

  “I didn’t say that. But maybe you mistook an accidental bump as a push. That makes more sense than someone gunning for you.”

  She blew on her palms, which throbbed more now that the adrenaline from her tumble had subsided. “I know what I felt.”

  “Well, I wasn’t watching you the whole time, but...I didn’t see anyone specific come up behind you. If someone had pushed you, don’t you think someone would have seen them and said something?”

  “I saw him,” a woman on the sidewalk said.

  Tracy whipped her gaze toward the petite woman with glasses. “You did?”

  “I did.” The woman nodded and pus
hed wispy hair back from her face. “He was a big guy, but for his size he moved quickly. He pushed you, and in the hullabaloo of your fall, he disappeared.”

  Jack tapped the brim of his Stetson back as he faced the woman. “What did he look like?”

  “Well...” The woman screwed her face up in thought. “It was an older white man.” She twisted her lips as if unsure, then added, “I mean, I assume he was older. He had a lot of gray hair, anyway. The rest was dark. And like I said, he was really big. Not just tall, but big all over. Dark clothes. That’s all I remember.”

  Tracy should have felt vindicated, having the woman’s confirmation. Instead, her gut roiled and her apprehension grew. Someone had targeted her, tried to hurt her. Jack’s question reverberated in her head. Why? Why would someone want to hurt her?

  “I just came over to make sure you were okay,” the woman said. She waved a finger toward Tracy. “You need to clean those scrapes so they don’t get infected. Do you have hand sanitizer?”

  Tracy tried to answer, but a belated reaction to the man’s attack snaked through her and left her numb and trembling.

  “I have a first-aid box in my truck, and I’m taking her to the ER, just in case.” Jack’s voice cut through her distraction, and he put a hand at her elbow to assist her into the truck.

  She roused from her daze with a jolt. The ER? The urgent-care department at hospitals held too many memories of trips for injuries when she’d “tripped over the dog” or “slipped on the ice.” Her most recent visit to the ER had been the worst. Laura had been pronounced DOA. Cliff had arrived in a separate ambulance, barely scraped. And Tracy had sustained a broken collarbone, bruising to her face and internal injuries that required a week’s stay in a Denver hospital. She swallowed hard, forcing down the bitter taste that rose in her throat.

  “No, Jack, please...no hospital,” she pleaded.

  “My brother works at Tulsa General. I’ll call and have him meet us.”

  When she shook her head, a lightning-like streak of pain shot under her skull. She drew a sharp breath and raised a hand to her screaming temple.

  “Humph,” Jack grunted. “See? No arguments.”

  The ER. She hugged her arms to her chest as Jack circled the truck and climbed behind the wheel. Images flashed in her mind’s eye, and whispers of ancient shouts hissed in her ear. Cliff’s derision. His slaps. His fingers biting into her arm. She thought she’d escaped that brand of fear. Laura had died helping to free her.

  Jack cranked the engine and turned the air conditioner on high. Reaching across her, he opened the glove box and took out a plastic box.

  If Cliff was dead, who was the man targeting her today?

  Jack handed her the first-aid kit. “Here. I keep this in here for accidents when I’m out in the pastures. You can waste a lot of time driving back to the house to treat every cut and scrape you get while ranching. This is a start, but I want Eric to check you for concussion.” He started the engine, then paused, narrowing a hard look at her. “Tracy, what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  In a manner of speaking, she had. “I—I just can’t imagine why someone would want to hurt me. Who would w-want to do this?”

  Jack shook his head. “I still think you’re making assumptions. You don’t know you were targeted. The man that woman described may have bumped you, but that doesn’t mean he singled you out, to harm you.”

  She angled her head to meet Jack’s gaze, to reiterate her case, but stopped. His words said he didn’t believe her, but his eyes were full of doubts and turmoil.

  Over the next several minutes, she protested his decision to take her to the hospital many times, but Jack headed straight to the emergency room, where his brother Eric met them at the entrance with a wheelchair. She felt a bit self-conscious using the wheelchair, but when she tried to climb out of the truck, her body throbbed and she stumbled. Jack caught her arm and eased her into the seat.

  “Missy, set them up in exam room three, please.” At his bidding, a nurse scurried ahead of them down a side hall. Eric wasted no time hustling Tracy through the lobby. “What happened, Jack?”

  Jack explained how she’d fallen into the street, leaving out her allegation that she’d been pushed, and outlined his concerns about a head injury and significant contusions. Eric parked the wheelchair in the room where the nurse was waiting, then lifted Tracy from the seat onto the exam table. Like his brother’s, Eric’s arms were strong and steady, his chest broad, but she didn’t get the same deep-down sense of security that Jack’s hold had given her.

  “This is all unnecessary. Really.” She tried again, but like his brother, Eric ignored her protest. While the nurse took her blood pressure, Eric began a meticulous examination of her pupils, the injuries to her hands and knees.

  She sat quietly through the exam, giving Jack’s brother her own brand of scrutiny. Though Tracy saw the obvious facial similarities, Jack’s brother wore his lighter brown hair in a buzz cut instead of the shaggy style Jack did. Jack had introduced him as his younger brother, but Eric seemed older than Jack in several ways. Foremost was the fact that he had tiny creases around his eyes and bracketing his mouth. On someone else, the fine lines would have detracted from his appearance, but on Eric, the creases enhanced the chiseled intensity of his handsome face. Eric’s Colton-green eyes had a much more serious look that reflected his gravitas as he treated his patient. With a gentle touch, he palpated her scalp, and she winced when he found a tender spot.

  “Missy, will you arrange for a CT scan?” Eric asked, without looking up from his study of Tracy’s injuries.

  “Of course, Dr. Colton.”

  Tracy cut a glance to the nurse as she lifted the receiver on an in-house phone. Tracy noted that the nurse’s attention never left Eric as she made the call. The young woman’s expression was openly worshipful, leaving no question that she was smitten with the doctor. Not that Tracy blamed the gal. She’d yet to meet a Colton male who was less than drool worthy.

  “Does this hurt?” Eric asked her as he flexed her wrist.

  She shifted her attention back to Jack’s brother, who seemed oblivious to the nurse’s admiring gaze. “Not much. Just a—oh!” She gasped as a bolt of pain shot up her arm.

  Eric grunted. “Let’s get her wrist x-rayed, as well.”

  “Yes, Doctor.” Missy all but swooned when he glanced at her.

  Another nurse passed the open door to the exam room and did a double take as she glanced in. She pulled up short and stepped inside, pasting a smile on her lips. “Dr. Colton, I didn’t know you were working the ER today.”

  “I’m not. I’m just helping my brother out with an emergency.” Eric never glanced up as he cleaned and disinfected Tracy’s scraped knee.

  “Oh, can I do anything to help?” The nurse smiled and squared her shoulders in such a way that her ample bosom was thrust forward in a none-too-subtle move.

  Eric either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the attractive woman’s flirting. The scenario was repeated when a radiology tech arrived to take Tracy for her scans. The women postured and flaunted their wares, but Eric remained focused on his job, apparently immune to the women’s attention.

  Jack accompanied her to the X-ray lab, and when they were alone she whispered, “Do women always fall over themselves for your brother like that?”

  He snorted. “Yeah.”

  “I can understand. He’s quite handsome.”

  Jack gave her a disgruntled look, one that said he was irritated that she’d noticed his brother’s appearance. “They’re wasting their time. Eric is all about the job. He’s probably the best trauma surgeon in the state, and he’s not about to compromise that for a workplace romance.”

  Tracy had little time to puzzle over Jack’s curious reaction to her comment before she was escorted back for her CT scan and X-ray. An hour later, she was discharged with a diagnosis of a strained wrist, which Eric skillfully bandaged with a brace, but no skull fracture. Eric gave her a
low-dose shot of Demerol for pain and a prescription for Lorcet for her aches in the coming days, along with instructions to keep her scrapes clean and disinfected with over-the-counter ointments. Jack helped her to the hospital pharmacy to fill her prescription and buy a supply of antibiotic cream before heading for home.

  The drive back to the ranch was largely quiet. Jack cast frequent side glances to her, until she finally muttered groggily, “I’m fine. Just woozy. The shot your brother gave me is making me sleepy.”

  “Good. You should rest. Close your eyes. I’ll wake you when we get home.”

  She rocked her head from side to side, the drugs in her blood making it feel thick and heavy. “I can wait until we get back.”

  By the time they returned to the Lucky C, Tracy was physically and mentally exhausted. Jack helped carry her bags into the main house, dropping them on the marble floor at the base of the wide staircase. Before he left, he gave her a stern appraisal. “I can have Maria send a tray up with dinner.”

  “Not necessary. I don’t want to be any more of a bother.”

  He arched an eyebrow, silently communicating his skepticism.

  She bent to gather her bags, biting her bottom lip to hold back the grunt of discomfort, and wobbling from the painkiller. When she turned and contemplated negotiating the massive staircase, she couldn’t help the fatigued sigh that escaped. Before she could take the first step, Jack wrapped his fingers around her good wrist and tugged the bags from her grasp.

  “I’ll come back and get those,” he said, when she raised a startled look to him. He bent to catch her behind the knees and across her back, then scooped her up to cradle her against his chest.

  Tracy gasped in surprise and clutched his shoulders for balance. “Jack, what are you doing?”

  “I’d think that was obvious.”

  He started up the steps two at a time, and she had no choice but to lean into him and hold on. With her arms looped around his neck, she buried her face in his shoulder and inhaled the masculine scents of soap and leather that clung to him. As a little girl watching Gone with the Wind, she’d swooned when Rhett carried Scarlett up the grand staircase. But Tracy’s girlish response to Rhett’s act of passion paled now as her head swam dizzily over Jack’s valiant gesture. His hold was strong and sure, his stride unfaltering. When he reached the top of the steps, he wasn’t even breathing hard.