The Billionaire And The Baby. Rebecca Winters

a second to lose.

      Saying a little prayer that Elizabeth would be safe, Hannah crept across the museum and left for the corral, locking the door behind her so no one could get in to hurt the baby.

      Her horse, Cinnamon, walked over to the gate and waited for her to open it. Hannah grabbed the reins and hoisted herself in the saddle. “Come on, girl. Let’s find out why that horn is stuck.”

      More at home on the back of the horse she’d raised and trained from a foal than in her own car, she took off at a gallop and raced toward the rise, which she reached in no time at all.

      She cried out when she saw a Jeep lying against an outcrop of rock near the bottom of the hill. A few feet away a man’s body lay face-up in the grass, not moving.

      Urging her horse forward, they made a careful descent. As soon as they got close enough, she jumped off and hurried over to the inert male who looked to be in his mid-thirties. The well-honed body dressed in faded jeans and a cream-colored polo shirt had to be several inches over six feet. His bronzed face and hard-muscled arms attested to a lot of time spent in the sun.

      She sank to her knees and reached for his wrist to find a pulse. Her touch produced a moaning sound and eventually his eyelids opened. Though the pupils were enlarged, she could tell his eyes were as dark brown as his hair.

      In terms of male beauty, Hannah thought him the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on in her life.

      When he tried to sit up, she held him down. “Please lie still for a minute. You’ve had an accident and I’m afraid you might be suffering from a concussion.”

      He muttered something indistinct and made a determined effort to get to his feet. After a struggle he succeeded, but the second he put his weight on his left foot, he almost collapsed. If she hadn’t been there to hold him up, he would have fallen. Either his foot or ankle, or possibly both, could be broken.

      “Come on. I can’t leave you out here. Let’s get you on my horse. Lean on me.” Though this man might be tall and powerfully built, he needed her help if he planned to go anywhere.

      Hannah stood five feet four inches, but she’d performed in rodeos and had done trick riding all her life.

      More recently she’d been trained in fire fighting and rescue work through her association with Laramie’s Indian Paintbrush Brigade. The group of fifty female volunteers rode horses together for pleasure. They could also be called upon to assist in an emergency.

      With a low whistle she summoned her horse. Cinnamon immediately walked up to her. After adjusting the right stirrup to hang as low as possible, she urged the stranger to hoist himself up using his sound leg for leverage.

      Standing on tiptoe, she eased his injured limb over the back of the horse and up onto its neck. The man made no noise, but she saw his striking features form a grimace and knew he had to be in excruciating pain. Dazed as he was, she considered it a miracle he didn’t fall off her horse.

      With the reins in one hand, she mounted Cinnamon from the left stirrup. Straddled behind the stranger, she used one arm to circle his waist while she guided the horse with the other.

      This close to the injured man’s virile physique, she could feel his warmth and smell the pleasant scent of the soap he’d used in the shower. Surprised at the direction of her thoughts, she forced herself to concentrate on the crisis at hand. Cinnamon obeyed Hannah’s clicking sound and started up the hill for the corral.

      Soon the man’s body slumped over the horn of the saddle, yet she felt him stiffen with every movement of the horse.

      Anxious to encourage him, she whispered, “The museum isn’t far from here. Just a few more minutes.”

      Again she heard something unintelligible escape his lips. Only semi-coherent right now, the foreign-sounding words coming through clenched teeth attested to his pain. He needed a doctor as soon as possible.

      In a short time the buildings came into view. With the blare of the horn still rending the night air, she half expected to hear Elizabeth wailing from the annoying sound. To Hannah’s relief, all was quiet.

      The second the horse stopped, she slid off its rump and hurriedly reached to help the stranger dismount. With him sagging heavily against her, she fumbled in her pocket for the key, then unlocked the front door.

      Half dragging him, they reached the bunk at one end of the room. He fell into it with a muffled groan and didn’t open his eyes again, beads of perspiration dotted his upper lip and hairline.

      To Hannah’s relief the baby had fallen asleep and all seemed well. She muttered another prayer, this time in gratitude because residue guilt still plagued her for having left Elizabeth at all. But Hannah had sensed a crisis and was glad she’d been able to help the stranger.

      Worried about the man’s head, she examined his skull with her fingers. There was a small lump on the back beneath his dark, vibrant hair, but no open wound. It was possible he could have sustained internal bleeding.

      Carefully she eased his long, powerful legs onto the thin mattress. With all the gentleness she could muster, she rolled up the hem of his jeans to examine his injured limb. The area around the outside of his ankle looked swollen, unfortunately, she couldn’t tell if it was sprained or broken.

      Thankful he wasn’t awake to fight her, she took another peek at Elizabeth who slept on undisturbed, then reached for the first-aid kit beneath the counter. In a few minutes she’d lightly wrapped his ankle with a roll-around elastic bandage.

      Looking about her, she took down one of the saddle blankets from the wall and propped his leg to keep down the swelling. If she just had some ice! Not for the first time did she wish there was electricity out here so she could keep a little fridge with a freezer compartment.

      Throughout her ministrations, he groaned several times but still didn’t come to.

      “That’s just as well,” she murmured to herself as she once more reached beneath the counter for her cell phone. Satisfied that both the baby and the stranger would stay asleep for some time, she tiptoed out the door of the museum, then called for an ambulance.

      After a short discussion, it was agreed they would turn off their siren so as not to alarm the baby or Hannah’s patient.

      Next, she phoned Jim Thornton at home. He ran one of the local garages in Laramie. When he heard what had happened, he promised he’d be out first thing in the morning to deal with the Jeep.

      After she’d made her calls, Hannah walked Cinnamon to the barn. With the aid of a lantern, she removed the horse’s trappings and provided her with fresh water and feed. “You deserve a reward after all your hard work at the river,” she murmured, rubbing Cinnamon’s forehead affectionately. The horse whinnied in response.

      With Cinnamon taken care of, she carried the lantern back to the museum. Little had Hannah guessed she would need it tonight. But since finding the stranger, darkness had crept over the sage-dotted land. Lack of electrical power made it necessary for her to supply enough light for the ambulance attendants to do their job.

      When Dominic opened his eyes this time, he let out a moan to discover himself alone on a hard bunk bed inside a tiny log cabin, his head and ankle hurting like hell.

      His bleary gaze surveyed the dim interior in an attempt to focus. By the time he could see one image instead of three, a poster hanging on the wall right above his feet, stared back at him.

      Wanted For Pony Express

       Young, Skinny, Wiry Fellows. Not Over Eighteen.

       Must Be Expert Riders. Willing To Risk

       Death Daily. Orphans Preferred.

       Apply Before April 3, 1860, To

       The Central Overland California Express Company.

      At first the words had him truly confused, but he gradually became aware of his surroundings and remembered the museum. For the life of him, he couldn’t