“My apologies, mister,” the cowboy mumbled.
“Nothin’ to apologize for, son,” Ransom said. “But you better get on down here so Doc Sullivan can look you over.”
“Yes, sir,” the cowboy said.
Then, as he attempted to dismount, the full depth of his weakness from injury and no doubt blood loss was evident as he fell to the ground and groaned.
Autumn, owning a character twin to her mother, was not only prone to mischief and clumsiness but also thoroughly steeped with sympathetic compassion and empathy. Thus, instantly and without thinking, she dropped to her knees and moved the poor cowboy’s head to rest in her lap.
“He needs to breathe, for one thing,” she mumbled as her father hunkered down beside her.
Tenderly she tugged at the brown bandana covering the man’s nose and mouth, gasping when he opened his eyes and looked at her.
Autumn Lake’s heart skipped a beat—it skipped several beats—as she gazed into the deep blue of the man’s eyes…
As the cowboy gazed at Autumn a moment more, he smiled and said, “Heaven’s got better-lookin’ angels than I expected.” But it wasn’t his fevered mind’s words that astonished her. It wasn’t even the fact that the man obviously thought he was at death’s door, or beyond it. It was the sight of his smile—his broad smile, his unusually white teeth—and more than anything, it was the clefts he bore on each cheek—the bewilderingly attractive dimples the man owned—that left Autumn breathless and staring at him. This wounded cowboy was flabbergastingly handsome! He was violently attractive, and Autumn had to inwardly whisper to herself to draw a breath…