Buckhorn Beginnings: Sawyer

“Oh, God.”

“Now just take a few deep breaths. That’s it.” To Casey, he said, “Go get the water,” and his son took off at a sprint, his long legs eating up the ground.

Sawyer turned back to the woman and continued in his soft, soothing tone. “You feel sick because of the blow to your head. It’s all right.” At least, he thought that was the cause. She also felt feverish, and that couldn’t be attributed to a concussion. After a moment of watching her gulp down deep breaths, he asked, “Any better?”

She nodded. Her long fair hair hung nearly to the ground, hiding her face like a silky, tangled curtain. He wrapped it around his hand and pulled it away so he could see her clearly. Her eyes were closed, her mouth pinched. Casey rushed up with the water bottle, and Sawyer held it to her lips. “Take a few sips. There you go. Real slow, now.” He watched her struggling for control and wished for some way to lessen the nausea for her. “Let’s get you out of this hot sun, okay? I can get you more comfortable in a jiffy.”

“I need my car.”

Didn’t she remember crashing into the water? Sawyer frowned. “Let me take you to my house, get you dried off and give your belly a chance to settle. I’ll have one of my brothers pull your car out and see about having it towed to the garage to be cleaned…”

“No!”

Getting somewhat exasperated, Sawyer leaned around until he could meet her gaze. Her lush bottom lip trembled, something he couldn’t help but make note of. He chided himself. “No, what?”

She wouldn’t look at him, still doing her best to shy away. “No, don’t have it towed.”

“Okay.” She appeared ready to drop, her face now flushed, her lips pale. He didn’t want to push her, to add to her confusion. His first priority was determining how badly she might be hurt.

He tried a different tack. “How about coming to my house and getting dry? You can use the phone, call someone to give you a hand.”

He watched her nostrils flare as she sucked in a slow, labored breath—then started coughing. Sawyer loosened his hold to lift her arms above her head, supporting her and making it easier for her to breathe. Once she’d calmed, he wrapped her close again, giving her his warmth as she continued to shiver.

She swallowed hard and asked, “Why? Why would you want to help me? I don’t believe you.”

Leaning back on his heels, he realized she was truly terrified. Not just of the situation, of being with total strangers and being hurt and sick, but of him specifically. It floored him, and doubled his curiosity. He was a doctor, respected throughout the community, known for his calm and understanding demeanor. Women never feared him, they came to him for help.

Looking over her head to Casey, seeing the mirrored confusion on his son’s face, Sawyer tried to decide what to do next. She helped to make up his mind.

“If…if you let me go, I’ll give you money.”

He hesitated only two seconds before saying, “Casey, go start the truck.” Whatever else ailed her, she was terrified and alone and hurt. The mystery of her fear could be solved later.

She stiffened again and her eyes squeezed tight. He heard her whisper, “No.”

Determined now, he lifted her to her feet and started her forward, moving at a slow, easy pace so she wouldn’t stumble. “’Fraid so. You’re in no condition to be on your own.”

“What are you going to do?”

A better question was what did she think he was going to do. But he didn’t ask it, choosing instead to give her an option. “My house or the hospital, take your pick. But I’m not leaving you here alone.”

She took two more dragging steps, then held her head. Her body slumped against his in defeat. “Your…your house.”

Surprised, but also unaccountably pleased, he again lifted her in his arms. “So you’re going to trust me just a bit after all?”

Her head bumped his chin as she shook it. “Never.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Lesser of two evils, huh? Now you know I gotta wonder why the hospital is off-limits.” She winced with each step he took, so he talked very softly just to distract her. “Did you rob a bank? Are you a wanted felon?”

“No.”

“If I take you in, will someone recognize you?”

“No.”

The shirt he’d draped around her was now tangled at her waist. He tried not to look, but after all, he was human, a male human, and his gaze went to her breasts.

She noticed.

Warm color flooded her cheeks, and he rushed to reassure her. “It’s all right. Why don’t we readjust the shirt I gave you just a bit?”

She didn’t fight him when he loosened his hold enough to let her legs slip to the ground. She leaned against him while he pulled the shirt up around her, slipping her arms through the sleeves. It was an old faded blue chambray shirt, the sleeves cut short, the top button missing. He’d often used it for work because it was soft and ragged. She should have looked ridiculous in it, wearing it like a robe. Instead, she looked adorable, the shirt in stark contrast to her fragile femininity. The hem hung down to her knees, and it almost wrapped around her twice. Sawyer shook his head, getting his thoughts back on track once again.

“Better?”

“Yes.” She hesitated, clutching the shirt, then whispered, “Thank you.”

He watched her face for signs of discomfort as they took the last few steps to the truck. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You’re in pain, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m just—”

He interrupted her lie. “Well, lucky for you, I really am a doctor, and for the moment you can keep your name, and why you’re so frightened, to yourself. All I want to do right now is help.”

Her gaze flicked to his, then away. Sawyer opened the door of the idling truck and helped her inside. He slid in next to her, then laid his palm against her forehead in a gentle touch. “You’re running a fever. How long have you been sick?”

Casey put the truck in gear with a rough start that made her wince. He mumbled an apology, then kept the gears smooth after that.

With one hand covering her eyes, she said, “It’s…just a cold.”

He snorted. Her voice was so raspy, he could barely understand her. “What are your symptoms?”

She shook her head.

“Dizzy?”

“A little.”

“Headache? A tightness in your chest?”

“Yes.”

Sawyer touched her throat, checking for swollen glands and finding them. “Does this hurt?”

She tried to shrug, but it didn’t have the negligent effect she’d probably hoped for. “Some. My throat is sore.”

“Trouble breathing?”

She gave a choked half laugh at his persistence. “A little.”