LITMIR.BIZ

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she was doing?

      She grinned. “Don’t panic. My packing has nothing to do with you. I’m out of a job and—”

      “Can’t you find something around here?”

      She raised one eyebrow. “I could.”

      “Then you wouldn’t have to move,” he pointed out.

      “Thanks for the advice. Now tell me what you decided and where you want me to leave the truck.”

      “I need you to do a couple of other things for me if you don’t mind. Can you go to the rodeo grounds and take care of my horse?”

      “Your horse? You have a horse here with you?”

      “Yeah.” Why did she sound so surprised?

      “You don’t need a horse to do bull riding.”

      “I also do calf roping and team steer wrestling.”

      “Oh. Well, what do you want me to do with your horse? Do you mean clean out his stall and feed him? I can do that.”

      “I’m not asking you to do that kind of work. Check and see if Gabe Randall has left yet. If he hasn’t moved on with the rodeo, get him to take care of Bella.”

      “Bella?”

      “My horse.”

      “And if he’s gone?”

      “I’ll give you some money to pay for someone to take care of her.”

      “Okay. For how long?”

      “I don’t know. I’ll have to call home collect and explain. Explain what happened and ask someone to fly down here and drive me home.”

      “Where’s home?” she asked, curiosity on her face.

      “Rawhide, Wyoming.”

      He frowned when she didn’t respond. She seemed to be concentrating, causing him to ask, “What?”

      “Is Rawhide big enough to have some restaurants, a diner or something?”

      “Sure. It’s got just about everything…on a small scale.”

      “Then I’ll drive you home, save you the cost of airfare.”

      Rich was suddenly uncomfortable. “Look, I appreciate the help, but I’m not offering— I just met you.”

      She stiffened. “All I offered was my driving ability, cowboy. Nothing else. Forget it. Where do I leave your truck after I see about your horse. At the rodeo? Is there someone I can leave the keys with?” She took several steps toward the door as she waited for his answer.

      “Wait a minute! Don’t leave yet.” He didn’t want her to leave. Had he made a mistake? The women who followed the rodeo, called buckle bunnies, took a little compliment and magnified it into a proposal or marriage if a man wasn’t careful.

      “Shall I wait until after you call so I can make arrangements for your horse?” She waited, but she didn’t smile. She didn’t look friendly, either. She looked more like she had last night when she thought he was conning her.

      “Why would you want to drive to Wyoming?”

      “I don’t,” she snapped, taking another step toward the door.

      “Look, some of the women around here seem to think that if a guy pays any attention to her, he’s offering something long-term. I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea. I’ll give you some money to carry you ’til you get a new job. I know I owe you that much, but—”

      She fished the keys out of her pocket and said, “I’ll go get my bag out of the truck and then leave the keys at the desk in the emergency room. Good luck!”

      She headed for the door.

      “Wait!” he ordered, but he wasn’t really surprised when she kept going. He tried to swing his legs to the floor and fell with a cry.

      She stopped and looked at him. Then she moved toward him. He smiled at her, expecting her help to get back into bed. His ankle hurt, but at least he’d stopped her from leaving. Instead, she punched the button for the nurse.

      “Yes? How may I help you?” A voice came through the intercom.

      “Mr. Randall has fallen out of bed,” she said calmly.

      Almost immediately two nurses reached the door. They rushed to his side. He watched the waitress move to the door again. “Please, don’t leave! Make her stop, nurse!” he pleaded.

      “Ma’am, please wait. Surely you don’t want to upset the patient.”

      After staring at first the patient and then the nurse, she gave the conventional answer, “Of course not,” but he noted the complete lack of concern in her voice.

      “Now, Mr. Randall, don’t try to get up again or the doctor won’t release you in the morning,” the nurse warned after they had him settled.

      When they left the room, he asked the waitress, “Why would you be willing to drive me all the way to Wyoming?”

      “Because I need to get away from here and it would save me the cost of a bus ticket.”

      Her simple explanation raised a few questions. “Why do you need to get away?”

      “None of your business.”

      “It is if you’ve broken the law.”

      “Well, duh, if I’m a criminal, you don’t want me to drive you anyway.” She moved closer to the door again.

      “Wait! Look, it would help me a lot if you’d drive me. I just didn’t want—I mean—”

      “I’m not expecting a wedding ring in exchange for two or three days’ driving.”

      He drew a deep breath. “Okay, then I won’t need to call my family. I’ll call them when I get out of this place. But my horse… Hopefully Gabe will be there.”

      “Who is he? Family?”

      “Yeah, kind of a second cousin.”

      “Why doesn’t he drive you home?”

      “Because he’s on the hunt for the National Championship. He can’t afford to miss a single rodeo. But he’ll be glad to help with Bella if he’s still in town.”

      “Fine. Is Bella hard to load?”

      “No, but whoever you get to take care of her can load her for you, and hook up the trailer. Hand me my billfold, please. It’s in that drawer,” he said, waving her in the direction of the bedside table.

      She opened the drawer and took out a leather wallet, then handed it to him.

      He pulled out three one-hundred-dollar bills. Holding them out to her, he said, “You should be able to hire someone for a hundred, but if you need to pay more, you’ll have it. Before you hitch the trailer up, fill up the gas tank. You might get us some drinks for the trip, too.”

      She stood there staring at the money. “Are you crazy?” she finally asked.

      He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

      “You don’t hand over that much money to a stranger,” she said, as if speaking to a child.

      “You’ll need it.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      Frustration filled him. “Just take the damn money. And tell me your name.”

      “Samantha Jeffers,” she said slowly.

      “My name is Rich Randall,” he replied, handing her the bills.

      She took the money, folded it and slipped it into the pocket of her tight jeans. “I’ll return what I don’t spend.”

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