Copyright © 2009
All rights reserved, The Wild Rose Press
Scott Landry rolled to a stop and threw his pickup into park. He leaned across the seat to crank the passenger window down.
The woman shuffling down the dirt road stopped and turned her head. He peered at her. The thing he noticed first was her emerald-colored eyes. Second, he noted her disheveled appearance. Her face was pretty, but dirty, and her long ebony hair was tangled. She wore sweat pants and a fitted tee shirt, ripped along the shoulder. She didn't carry a purse or a backpack. Not even a bottle of water.
“Hello,” he called. “Can I help you?”
The woman stared at him with a blank expression. It was apparent she needed assistance. He pushed open the squeaky door and stepped out. As he sauntered around to the front, the woman's eyes grew wide and then she sprinted down the road.
“Wait!” Scott hollered, running after her. He punched down his cowboy hat to keep it from flying off.
She hadn't gone a hundred feet when she collapsed to the ground like a rag doll. Scott rushed to her, knelt, and found her unconscious. His touch was gentle when he patted her cheek.
“Come on, ma'am. Wake up.” He laced his fingers around her neck and raised her into his lap. As she lay limp, he saw an angry purple bruise splotching the inside of her arm. When he brushed the waterfall of hair out of her eyes, he spied a lump on her forehead as big as a goose egg.
When she came to, her eyes got enormous. She struggled to break free from his hold.
“Hang on, lady. I'm not gonna hurt you.” Scott released her and she attempted to stand. “Take it easy,” he drawled. “Let me help. You just fainted. You might pass out again.” He offered his hand.
With a wary look in her eye, she placed her hand in his and let him pull her off the ground.