Rancher's Refuge. Линда Гуднайт

The shadow staggered back, arm upraised in defense.

      The haze of fear cleared from Annalisa’s eyes. A man had joined her behind the falls but not James. He wasn’t James. He was a big, dark, angry stranger in a cowboy hat.

      And she’d bashed him with a rock.

      * * *

      Austin blinked rapidly at the slender woman with the stunned face. She was as pale as strained milk and bleeding from the nose and mouth.

      “What’s going on here?”

      She dropped her whamming rock and shrunk away from him.

      Austin frowned. Why the heck was she cowering?

      “I’m sorry. I thought—” She clamped her pale, chattering lips shut.

      He rubbed at the growing knot at his temple, surprised to find his hat barely askew. As he adjusted the Stetson, the stars subsided enough that he could remember why he’d come down from the ridge to begin with. “What happened to your face?”

      She shook her head. Hair as gold as a palomino horse clung to the sides of her face. It was a good face, nice bone structure, with long blue eyes that took up a lot of physical real estate. But her nose was bleeding and her upper lip puffed out like a bee sting.

      Those eyes shifted to one side. In a low murmur she said, “I fell.”

      “Here? On the rocks? Did you fall from the ridge?”

      “Um, yes. On the rocks. I was...um...hiking.” Again, her eyes skittered all over the place. Everywhere but on him. Austin’s sixth sense crackled like milk-drenched Rice Krispies. There was something the little lady wasn’t saying. His gaze dropped to her shoes. Heels. Strappy, spiky heels. She was hiking in those?

      “Looks like you need a doc. Can I call someone for you?” He fished in his pocket and dragged out a cell. “No guarantee of service up here.”

      She shook her head. “There’s none. I tried.”

      Other than his, Austin didn’t see a cell phone. In fact, she carried nothing at all, and unless his eyesight had worsened in the past three minutes, she had no pockets in the sleek pants and fitted sweater. The sixth sense squealed louder. Something was amiss.

      He glanced at his trusty little flip phone. The woman was right. The satellite logo was spinning like a top and coming up short. No service. “You hiking up here alone?”

      “What?” She looked startled, doe-eyed and guilty about something. A drop of blood rimmed one nostril. She dabbed it with a wrist.

      “You said you were hiking and fell. You alone?”

      “Oh. Um...yes. Alone.” Again the shifty eyes, the jittery movements. Add a hard swallow for measure and he was sure the lady was lying through her even, white teeth.

      She started to move as if to pass him. Austin stepped back but not in time. She bumped the rock face. A cry slipped from swollen lips as she grabbed for her left arm. “Oh, God, please.”

      Austin jacked an eyebrow. Was she one of those fruitcakes lured by the town’s “rumor” of answered prayers? “Forget it. It’s just a story made up to draw tourists.”

      She blinked, cradling the arm against her chest. “I don’t know what you mean.”

      “Praying under the waterfall.” He motioned toward the foaming spray of water. “Useless.”

      With a bewildered look, she doubled forward and moaned. Her body shook like a motherless calf on Christmas morning.

      Against his better judgment, Austin accepted what he had to do. “That’s it. You’re going to a doctor.”

      “I think my arm may be broken, but...” She ended on a sob.

      “But what?”

      Her pale lips tightened beneath worried eyes. Austin huffed a frustrated sigh. One, the woman was hurt. Two, she was lying. Three, he wasn’t sure what else to do.

      He didn’t like getting involved in other people’s business. In fact, he didn’t like getting involved with any kind of people for any reason, but he wasn’t a heartless mule, either, who’d leave a woman with a broken arm five miles from the nearest working telephone.

      “Come on.” He edged his way from beneath the falls and out into the perfect early autumn day. Or it had been perfect until the calf disappeared and a woman showed up.

      Austin started up the rocks toward his waiting horse before he remembered. The woman had only one good arm. Going down to the falls was an adventure. Getting back up required two good hands and a stout disposition. With a sigh, he pivoted, taking care on the slick limestone.

      Wet and shaking, the blonde edged cautiously along the wall, still cradling the arm.

      He trudged back to her. “How did you get down here anyway?”

      She shrugged but said nothing. Her silence bothered him.

      “Oh, right, you fell.” And I flew in on a Learjet. “Come on. You first.” If she slipped, he could catch her.

      She skittered past him, huddled into herself, the bright blue sweater stretched taut across her stooped back. She was like a wounded blue jay, a flash of color against the deep gray rocks.

      Austin wanted to take hold of her elbow to steady her ascent but she didn’t give him the chance. She was a strange creature, a mystery with her scared-doe eyes and defiant rock thumping.

      He lifted a hand to his temple, found the knot. It didn’t hurt much, nothing compared to how the woman’s arm must feel. He’d had a broken bone once when a horse and cow collided and his leg was sandwiched between. Hurt like the dickens.

      He could hear her breathing, the puffs of someone unaccustomed to long hikes on rough terrain. He thought of her girly heeled shoes, her upscale clothes, the bleeding face. She was lying.

      The question was, why?

      He moved in behind her and took her elbow with one hand and supported her back with the other. She flinched, a motion that made Austin grind his back teeth. But she didn’t pull away, a good thing, because Austin was a stubborn man. If he had to, he’d swoop her over one shoulder and cart her up the rise like a sack of sweet feed. She probably didn’t weigh much more than a hundred-pound sack of oats.

      They reached the top of the ridge and she paused for a moment to catch her breath and look around. Not a casual glance at nature’s beauty, but a search. A furtive, wary search.

      For what?

      Austin’s eyes narrowed. “My horse is this way.”

      She spun toward him. “Horse?”

      “Look, lady, there are no roads back in here. The nearest ATV trail is three miles and then it’s another two miles to town. You either walk or ride horses.” Or like some high-rollers, you flew over in helicopters. Man, did that ever set his teeth on edge. He scowled. “You didn’t fly in on a helicopter, did you?”

      “No.” She hitched her chin. He noticed long red marks on her throat. Funny place to be injured in a fall. “I can walk if you’ll lead the way.”

      Stacking fists on hips, Austin rolled his eyes. “Afraid of horses?”

      “No.”

      “Then why walk when you can ride?”

      “But you said...it’s your horse.”

      “I don’t know where you come from, lady, but around here a man doesn’t ride while the woman walks. What’s your name anyway?”

      She hesitated before saying, “Annalisa.”

      No last name. Interesting.

      “Fancy name.” But then she was a fancy-looking woman, sleek and well-groomed. Except for the blood and bruises. “I’m