Taming The Lone Wolf. Joan Johnston

sound. Then she was crying in earnest.

      She felt the stranger pick her up, being very careful of her wrist, which he settled in her lap, and stand, cuddling her against his chest.

      “It’s all right, Tess. You’re going to be fine. I’m going to take care of you.”

      She should have resisted. She should have told him in no uncertain terms that she could take very good care of herself. Instead she turned her face to his chest and surrendered to his strength, thinking how good it felt to give her burdens over to someone else, even if it was only for a few moments.

      “I’m taking you to my Jeep,” he explained as he began walking. “I’ll drive you to the hospital, where someone will take care of your arm.”

      “I don’t have money to pay the doctor,” she mumbled against his coat.

      “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

      They were such wonderful words. She had been in charge of so much lately, and the burdens had been so heavy. She was more than willing to hand everything over to someone else for a while.

      “What’s going on here?”

      It was Harry. Harry must have seen what happened from the picture window in his office.

      “She fell and broke her wrist,” the man said. “I’m taking her to the hospital.”

      “Tess?” Harry said. “Do you want Stony to take you to the hospital?”

       Stony. So that was his name. And Harry knew him, so maybe he wasn’t a madman, after all.

      It took too much energy to answer, or even to turn around and look at Harry. She nodded.

      “All right, Stony,” Harry said. “I’ll follow you there.”

      “I can take care of it,” Stony said, his voice rumbly against her ear.

      “I said I’d follow you,” Harry insisted. “My patrol car is parked down the street.”

      Stony didn’t argue; he merely turned and headed for his Jeep.

      Tess was feeling drowsy, which wasn’t surprising, considering the amount of sleep she had gotten last night. She had also hit the back of her head against the pavement when she fell, but it was only beginning to hurt because all her attention had been focused on her throbbing wrist.

      “Stony?” she murmured.

      “What, Tess?”

      “My head hurts.”

      “You must have hit it when you fell. I’ll have the doctor check it out.”

      “Tess?” Harry said.

      Answering took too much effort.

      “Looks like she fainted,” Harry said, hop-skipping on the dangerous surface to keep up with Stony’s long stride.

      “Knocked out by the fall, I think,” Stony replied.

      “I only closed my eyes,” she mumbled. “I’m still awake.”

      “I’ll be right behind you,” Harry said, sprinting—insofar as that was possible considering the icy walks—for the police car parked nearby.

      Stony set her in his Jeep and buckled her in. She heard the engine rumble, and things got a little hazy. Behind her closed eyelids she was seeing a picture of the tall, lean, broad-shouldered man who had come to her rescue in the café, his dark brows lowered, his eyes feral and dangerous. And the man who had looked down at her as she lay hurt on the ground, concern etched in his granite features.

      His face was weatherworn, with deep brackets around his mouth and a mesh of crow’s feet around his eyes that evidenced a life lived out-of-doors. His straight black hair needed a cut. It hung at least an inch onto his collar, and a hank of it was forever falling onto his forehead.

      When he looked at her, his dark brown eyes held her in thrall. They were lonely eyes. Or, at least, the eyes of a man used to being alone. They offered sympathy. They asked for nothing in return.

      She had seen him in the café before, but not regularly, so he lived around here somewhere, but maybe not right in town. There were lots of cabins along the river in this isolated place where a lone wolf could find solace from the world of men.

      She wondered what he did for a living. Judging by his Western shirt, jeans and boots, he could have been another cowboy. But a mere cowboy wouldn’t have taken on Bud, who was big enough, and meaty-fisted enough, to be downright intimidating. Stony hadn’t blinked an eye at confronting him. So he was probably a man used to being in charge, rather than one who took orders, a man who knew his own strength and used it when necessary.

      But he wasn’t a cruel man, or he really might have hurt Bud. She had seen how angry he was, but he had kept his rage on a tight leash. He was agile and strong and—

      Stony jostled her broken wrist when he picked her up to take her inside the hospital, and the brief agony jolted her awake. But she couldn’t seem to get her eyes open. Tears of pain seeped from her closed eyelids.

      “Sorry, Tess,” Stony said. “Hang on, and the doctor can give you something for the pain.”

      Tess drifted in and out of consciousness, aware of the murmur of voices, the sting of an injection, the buzz of the X-ray machine, the warm wetness of the cast being applied around her thumb, from the middle of her right hand halfway up her arm.

      She heard the word “concussion” and realized that was probably why she felt so woozy. So it wasn’t only the lack of sleep that made her feel so impossibly tired. She heard the doctor say she would have to stay overnight so she could be watched. But she couldn’t stay, because she had to go pick up Rose from Mrs. Feeny.

      “No,” she muttered. “Can’t stay. Have to go home.”

      “Be reasonable, Tess,” Harry said. “You’re in no condition to leave the hospital.”

      “Have to get Rose.”

      “Who’s Rose?” she heard Stony ask.

      “That’s her daughter,” Harry said.

      “She has a daughter?”

      The shock in Stony’s voice made her smile. She wasn’t sure if the expression got to her face.

      “An elderly lady keeps the little girl for Tess while she works. Mrs. Feeny, I think,” Harry explained.

      Mrs. Feeny was very strict about Tess picking up Rose on time. Otherwise the old woman charged her triple. With all the extra she was going to have to dole out for the doctor, she needed every penny she had.

      “Have to pick up Rose.” She tried to get up, but a palm flattened her.

      “I’ll do it,” Stony said.

      “The kid doesn’t know who you are,” Harry said. “I’ll do it.”

      “I said I’ll do it,” Stony countered. “After all, this is my fault.”

      Tess wanted to smile again. Stony sure had changed his tune. Maybe he was feeling guilty. He ought to. This was all his fault!

      She welcomed Stony’s offer to pick up Rose. For some reason, Rose had taken an instant aversion to Harry. Her daughter had a way of making her feelings known. Tess licked her dry lips and said, “Okay, Stony. Pick up Rose.”

      “Tess, you don’t know a thing about the man,” Harry said. “He—”

      “Don’t interfere, Harry,” Tess murmured.

      “You heard the lady, Sheriff. She can make her own decisions without any help from you.”

      Tess realized she hadn’t told Stony what to do with her daughter. “Take Rose home,” she added.

      “I’ll do that,” Stony