Into the Arms of a Cowboy (6 page)

A small, faintly ironic smile tugged at the corners of Cassie’s mouth. “An interrogation? Do I look like a cop?”

He leaned over the table and pretended to study her even feature, admiring the graceful arch of her pale brows and the sweet curve of her cheek. “Not really. Do I?”
Her smile faltered. “Do you what?”

Jess folded his arms over his chest and jokingly showed her his p
rofile. “Do I look like a cop?”

“I--
I
don’t know. Are you?”

“Well, I sure don’t make my living riding bulls anymore.” He folded his paper plate in half around the chicken bones and tossed it in the trash barrel next to the table. “
Gotta
pay the bills somehow.”

Most of the color drained from Cassie’s face, leaving two bright spots high on her cheekbones. “You’re. . .do you mean you’re a. . . .”

“Captain Logan at your service, ma’am. I’m with the Shasta County Sheriff’s Office, Bitter Creek Substation. Actually, it’s not a bad job. Lots of speeding, petty theft, bored kids breaking windows.” And domestic abuse calls, the worst kind, but Jess left those off the list. Might bring back bad memories. On the other hand, Cassie already looked half scared to death about something. “You okay?”

She nodded, apparently speechless, her gray eyes still wide. A strange reaction, unless. . . Jess’s jaw tensed and his hands curled into fists. He’d known a few bad apples in his life, men who didn’t deserve their badges. “Cassie, your boyfriend, the one who--” He broke off and gestured toward her bruise. “Is he a cop?”

Cassie slammed her napkin down on the table and stood up, her face suddenly closed and hostile. Her lips trembled as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I told you, he wasn’t my boyfriend. And other than that I--
I
don’t want to talk about it.”

Damn. He should have kept his big mouth shut. Jess stood and took a cautious step toward her. He held his hands before his body, palms up, the classic nonthreatening pose he used with wild animals and frightened children.

“Cassie,” he said soothingly, “Cassie, I didn’t mean to push you. Can we forget I asked?”

Some of the anger and fear faded from her expression. Slowly, she nodded. “Fine. Consider it forgotten.” She shrugged and forced a laugh. “It’s just not something I can talk about. Especially with a--well, believe me, you don’t want to know.”

He couldn’t resist one more try. “Even if I could help?”

“You can’t.”

Jess knew better than try again. He hadn’t missed the flash of hopelessness in her eyes, the strain around her pretty mouth, or the flat, final tone of voice. That didn’t mean he was giving up, though. All his cop instincts were on alert now. He’d just wait for a better time to pursue his suspicions.

He changed the subject, and they talked about the rodeo for a few minutes. But the mood stayed tense, and the earlier closeness was gone. Jess cursed himself for the misstep that had broken their connection. Now Cassie barely met his eyes, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was eager to get away from him.

“You will watch my next event, won’t you?” he asked. She nodded, but without her earlier eagerness. “And afterwards? Gus and I made plans for dinner. I’ll bet Gus would like--I mean, I’d like for you to join us.”

Again, her eyes slid away from his. “Thank you. I--I’ll have to think about it.”

Behind the chutes again, fifteen minutes later, Jess found it impossible to concentrate on the upcoming event. Had he said goodbye to Cassie for the last time? He wasn’t sure why the prospect made him feel so damn unhappy, but it did. He didn’t even know her last name, or where she was headed next.

He slammed his eyelids shut, to picture the event ahead. Bull riding was one of the most challenging
roughstock
events, and the most dangerous. He had to use his legs and his upper body to stay on the bull’s back for eight long seconds. It took strength, skill, and focus.

Hard to focus, though, when his mind kept drifting back to the woman whose steady stream of questions and comments made him smile, and whose body inspired bedroom fantasies. But what could he do? She had her own life to live, and he had his.

Jess’s life, for the next few minutes, centered on a tough old bull called Rambo. When he heard his name, Jess marshaled his nerve, collected his thoughts, and climbed aboard the bull. Between his knees, the dark hide rippled with muscles and quivered with outrage. He breathed in the hot, dusty smell of the animal and the mingled scents of manure, leather, and sunshine.

The crowd quieted. The rodeo hand at the gate lifted his brow, framing a silent question: Are you ready?

The bull shifted under Jess, more than a ton of muscle, bone, and flesh.

He nodded, the gate opened, and the ride was on. Jess’s thighs gripped the bull’s back. He used his free arm for balance, never touching the bull or the equipment. Rambo went into a tight, vicious spin, intent on ridding himself of the burden on his back. Jess sensed the animal’s awesome strength, his brute power. The seconds ticked by with terrible slowness, each one an eternity. But he felt good, loose, on top of his form. Confident. Triumphant, even.

In the stands, he caught a flash of golden-blond hair.

And, an instant later, flew through the air.

Pain lanced through his leg as he landed. He crumpled to the ground, tasting blood. An instant more and the bull was on him.

A second jolt of pain. Dust in his mouth. He felt the sun in his eyes like the sharp edge of a knife.

Then darkness.

Cassie sat perfectly still. She held her breath. Her nails dug into the wooden bleachers hard enough to lodge a splinter in one finger, but she barely felt it.

Open your eyes, Jess. Jump up. Smile. Tip your hat to the crowd, like last time.

Please, Jess.

But he lay there in the arena dirt, crumpled and still. Dead? God, no. . . . The rodeo clowns drew the bull away from Jess’s body. Still no movement. The hush was absolute, the crowd frozen, waiting. In her front-row seat, Cassie waited, too.

Helplessness washed over her in great, terrible waves. All she could do was watch as the paramedics drove the ambulance into the ring and parked between Jess and the audience.

With Jess in trouble, Cassie’s own problems slipped right out of her head. She’d planned on never seeing him again, of course. Jess was a county sheriff, a bona-fide law enforcement official. Just her luck. Who ever heard of a fugitive hitching a ride with a cop?

After Jess’s announcement at lunch, Cassie had decided to watch one last event, then hop the next bus out of town. But now Jess was hurt, perhaps badly. She couldn’t very well take off without at least knowing he was okay. Not after all he’d done for her.

Never one to linger over a decision, Cassie bolted for the exit. She tripped over several pairs of feet on the way, muttering “sorry” as she stumbled into the aisle. Moments later she was outside and rounding the arena. Was she too late? No, there was the ambulance, just pulling out. The back doors were still open.

She stood on tiptoe, trying to peek inside. Cassie glimpsed Jess strapped to a backboard, an oxygen mask clamped over his face. She couldn’t tell whether his eyes were open or not. A paramedic worked to start an IV. The engine was running as a second, bearded paramedic began to close the doors.

“Wait!” Cassie gasped, out of breath from her run. “Please wait!”

The paramedic with the beard scowled at her and barred the way. “Can I help you, miss?”

“Jess--will he be all right?”

“Can’t say, but the docs will take good care of him.” The man shouldered her aside. “Stand back, please, lady. We’re taking him to the ER.”

“Let me go with you.”

“Sorry. We’re in a rush.” The paramedic jumped aboard and began to pull the doors closed behind him.

“I don’t have a car. Please.” Cassie bit her lip in frustration. If they left her behind, she might never know what happened to Jess. “You have to let me go with him. I’m his wife.”

The lie slipped out before she could stop it, but it worked. The paramedic scowled, sighed, and nodded. “Fine. Up front. Hurry.”

Cassie jumped into the front seat with the driver and buckled her seat belt. The ambulance--lights flashing, siren blaring--tore out of the rodeo grounds and headed for the city. It was a short ride, but an anxious one. Every time she turned around to sneak a peek at Jess, he lay still, his face pale and speckled with blood.

Once at the hospital, Cassie reluctantly let herself be ushered into the waiting room. She slumped in a green plastic seat and twisted a lock of hair around and around
her index finger. As her stomach churned with anxiety, she found herself making deals with God.

Let Jess be all right and I’ll. . .I’ll turn myself in to the police. Well, okay, maybe not that. But I’ll do a really, really good deed, I promise.

“Cassie? I hear our boy took a little fall. How’s he
gettin
’ along now?”

At the sound of the rough, familiar voice with its hint of Texas drawl, she straightened up like a shot. “Gus! I’m so glad you’re here. They won’t tell me a single thing.”

The older man gave her a quick, fierce hug. He smelled of horses and chewing tobacco, not Cassie’s favorite fragrances but somehow
comforting. “
Ol
' boy's tough as
leather,” Gus boasted “No bull’s ever got the better of him before.”

“I know, but. . . .” She flashed back to Jess’s still body in the dust, the white face under the oxygen mask.

“Don’t you dare fret, girl. You hear me?”

Cassie nodded, but she heard the worry behind Gus’s gruff words. What a sweetheart he was, trying to make her feel better when he must be sick with worry himself. She ought to be the one comforting Gus. She opened her mouth to say something reassuring.

Before Cassie could speak, however, a woman in a white coat pushed through the emergency room’s double doors. “I’m Dr. Liu,” she said. “You’re Mrs. Logan?”

Cassie frowned at the doctor, a plump, stern-looking Asian woman in her late 40s. “No, you must have the wrong person. My name is--”

Dr. Liu frowned and cut her off. “You are the patient’s wife, are you not? The paramedics said you came in the ambulance. If there’s someone else I should talk to. . . .”

“Oh! Oh, right.” A hot blush stung her cheeks. She didn’t dare glance at Gus. “How is my--um, my husband?”

Her heart was in her throat as Dr. Liu scanned her clipboard. Gus’s hand slipped into hers, and Cassie gave his fingers a hard squeeze.

“Mr. Logan will be just fine.”

Cassie let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “But he looked so--are you sure he’s--”

“We did a spine X-ray and a CT scan. Your husband is one lucky man. He’s suffered a concussion and a sprained ankle, plus a few minor abrasions. That’s it.”

“He’s awake?” Gus asked, his voice suspiciously husky.

Dr. Liu lifted her brows. “As a matter of fact,” she said, “the patient is conscious and making a nuisance of himself. He wants to know who won some bull riding event.”

“That’s my boy,” Gus crowed.

Cassie grinned. “Can we see him?”

Dr. Liu nodded and led them into an examining room, where she pulled back the curtain. Jess wore a fresh white bandage on his right ankle and a scowl on his rugged face. “Hey, doc, when do I get out of here?” he demanded.

Dr. Liu braced her hands on her ample hips. “As I said before, Mr. Logan, we’d prefer that you remain here for observation for a while.”

“Not a chance. I feel fine.” Jess sat up and swung his legs off the bed. Cassie saw him wince, but he quickly replaced the look of pain with a grim smile. “Hi, Gus. Hi, Cassie. How about springing me from this hellhole they call a hospital?”

Another flood of relief weakened Cassie’s knees. Now she could walk away knowing Jess was really and truly all right.

Except she didn’t walk away. She hung back behind the curtain while Gus questioned Jess about his fall. How handsome Jess was, in spite of his bruises and his current bout of ill humor! Cassie couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“Of all the damned luck,” Jess grumbled. “The doc says I can forget riding for the next few weeks. Which, if I follow her instructions, means missing out on a half-dozen state rodeos. Plus I was looking forward to the Calgary Stampede in July.”

Gus patted his nephew on the shoulder. “There’ll be other years.”

“Yeah, well, I guess. I just hate to let that old bull think he’s got me beat. I’d like another crack at him.” But Jess smiled as he said it, and Cassie wondered if he were really as disappointed as he pretended. “Oh, hell,” he added, wincing again, “right now I’d settle for a couple aspirin and my own bed.”

Gus nodded. “Can’t blame you for that. Your truck’s right outside. I’ll give you a lift to the cabin.”

“Oh, no. You’re going straight back to wrap up your deal.” Jess reached for the crutches leaning up against the wall. “I can get home on my own.”

Dr. Liu’s lips thinned in disapproval. “Not today, Mr. Logan. It would be highly irresponsible for you to operate a vehicle with that head injury. Besides, you can’t drive. You have to keep off the ankle for at least a week, remember? I mean it about absolutely no strenuous activity for a while,” she scolded, with a meaningful frown at Gus and Jess. “I know all about you rodeo people and your ‘cowboy up’ attitude.”