Her Texas Lawman. Stella Bagwell

door—the only other door. It wouldn’t budge. She couldn’t have gotten out of the damn car even if she’d wanted to!

      The bright orb of a flashlight suddenly passed over her window. Desperate now, Lucita turned on the key and pressed the electronic button to lower the thick glass.

      “I can’t open the door!” she called out to the tall figure approaching the car.

      “Just stay where you are. I’ll be there in a second.”

      The male voice was strong and solid and very reassuring. Relief tumbled through her, and for one brief moment she feared she was going to weep.

      Don’t fall apart now, Lucita. You’ve dealt with far worse crises than this.

      The officer finally managed to wade through the tangle of grass and weeds until he reached the side of her wrecked car. Pointing his flashlight straight at her face, he asked, “Are you injured? The dispatcher said an ambulance wasn’t needed.”

      Closing her eyes against the blinding light, she said, “I think I’m okay. Just shaken. Both doors seemed to be stuck. Can you get me out of here?”

      He tried the driver’s door and after a few strong jerks, the latch broke free. Quickly grabbing her handbag, Lucita swung her legs to the ground. With the help of his hand on her arm, she pushed herself out of the car.

      “Ooooh.” Too woozy to stand, she instinctively reached for the nearest solid thing to steady herself, which just happened to be the officer’s broad chest.

      “Whoa!” he urged. “Don’t faint on me now!”

      His reflexes were quick, and suddenly she felt a pair of massive arms wrapping around her, hugging her against the solid length of his body.

      “Easy, ma’am. Take a few deep breaths. Slow and steady.”

      She did as he commanded. After a few moments she could feel her strength returning, and with it the embarrassment that she’d practically collapsed into a strange man’s arms.

      Beneath her cheek, the starched fabric of his shirt was cool and smooth and smelled of musk and sweetgrasses. In contrast, his arms were warm and their strong support made her feel safer than she’d felt in a long, long time.

      Chiding herself for the moment of weakness, she forced her cheek away from his chest. “I—I’m fine. I’m sure I can stand on my own now,” she insisted.

      He dropped his arms, but kept a careful hand on her elbow. “I’m Deputy Ripp McCleod, ma’am, with the Goliad County Sheriff’s Department. And you are?”

      McCleod? Years ago there had been a sheriff with that name. Could they be related? “Lucita Sanchez. I live on the Sandbur.”

      His fingers were so long they wrapped completely around her arm. In spite of her claim that she was fine, she was inwardly grateful for the deputy’s steadying hand. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure her shaky legs had regained enough strength to keep her totally upright.

      “You’re related to Matt and Cordero?”

      It wasn’t a big surprise to hear this man call her brothers by their given names. Most South Texans were familiar with the Sandbur ranch. This lawman was probably a native of Goliad County. More than likely, he knew many people who lived and worked on the ranch. He just wouldn’t remember her. Not since she’d been gone from her family home for several years and had only just returned in the past few months.

      Quickly, she pulled her license and insurance verification from her purse to hand it to the deputy.

      “Yes,” she answered. “Matt and Cordero are my brothers. I—I was on my way home when this happened.” She waved her arm toward the front of the car. She hadn’t uprooted the electric pole with her car’s assault, but it was listing toward the west at a precarious angle. The heavy wires were sagging, though thankfully none of them were touching the ground. Cedar posts from the fence she’d run through were now lying on their sides, along with several strands of barbed wire. It was a miracle none of the bulls had milled onto the highway.

      The deputy’s thoughts were clearly running along the same path as hers as he twisted his head toward a two-way radio fastened to his shoulder. “Hey, Lijah, hurry up. We got cattle here with a fence down. Get it up as quick as you can before they cause more accidents. And you need to call the power company and let them know a pole needs to be reset.”

      “Roger, will do,” the officer answered. “I can see your lights now. Anyone hurt?”

      “Don’t think so.”

      Deputy McCleod turned his attention back to Lucita and the vague notion that she’d seen him somewhere before raced through her mind. “Is there anyone else in the car?”

      It was a hot, moonless night with thin clouds blocking out the stars. The only glimpses Lucita could get of the deputy’s face were when his flashlight inadvertently bobbed upward. Yet in spite of the lack of lighting, she could see that he was a tall man, even after factoring in his dark cowboy hat. His broad shoulders were covered with a uniform-type shirt made of khaki. Blue jeans encased his long, strong legs, while black, square-toed cowboy boots peeped from beneath the hems. A leather gun belt strapped some sort of revolver low on his slim hips. He was the epitome of a Texas lawman, making her acutely aware of his authoritative presence.

      “No,” she said. “I was traveling alone.”

      “Can you tell me what happened? Or do you remember?” he asked.

      He had one of those soft, gravelly voices that made her want to shiver. Or was that reaction from the shock she’d been through? Either way, she hugged her arms against her breasts.

      “I’m not totally sure—something ran in front of me. A wild hog, I think. Did you see one on the highway?” She twisted her head in the direction of the darkened blacktop. “I hope I didn’t hit it.”

      “I didn’t see a hog on the road or the shoulders. Only a set of skid marks a country mile long. You must have been mighty anxious to get home. Just how fast were you going, Ms. Sanchez?”

      There was a hint of censure in his voice, which could only be expected. No one in his right mind would drive the speed she’d been traveling on the highway at night. Except someone in fear for her life, she thought grimly.

      “Too fast,” she conceded. “But I—it’s not like you think. I wasn’t just in a hurry to get to the ranch. I was—”

      Before she could go on, he interrupted, “In this area, wildlife on the highway is a major problem—even while driving the speed limit.”

      He didn’t have to tell Lucita that. This patch of Texas had been her home for many years before she’d moved to Corpus. She’d seen plenty of mangled vehicles and even deaths caused by wandering wildlife.

      “Yes, I’m aware of that, Deputy. But I—” How could she tell him that she believed someone had been deliberately trying to run her off the road? Even to herself, the notion sounded incredible. And because she had no evidence to back up her suspicion, she kept it to herself.

      Wearily, she reached up to push her long hair away from her face. As her fingertips brushed past her temple, they encountered something wet and sticky. She felt around on her head for the source of the gooey substance and yelped when her fingers pushed onto a lump and an open gash.

      “Oww!” Lifting her hand in front of her face, she could see blood smeared on her fingers. “I must have cut myself.”

      “Let me take a look.”

      Stepping forward, he directed the light toward the side of her head. Lucita stood rigidly still while he parted her long hair to examine the wound. Once again she was assaulted with the pleasant smell of his shirt, the masculine strength of his warm body.

      “Yeah, that’s a pretty nasty gash. It was hidden by your hair and I didn’t see it before,” he murmured. “I’d better call in an ambulance, after all. You might