Page 5 of The Cowboy and the Stray

I shifted back quickly. "Someone," I corrected. “Yes, a human.” Their expressions shifted from curiosity to concern. All except Buck, whose weathered face split into a grin.

"A woman, eh?" He wagged his eyebrows. "She pretty?"

I shot him a look that could've skinned a bull. "She's bruised. Out of it. And clearly hiding."

That shut Buck up real quick. Gray just shook his head, lips pressed into a grim line. But Jace couldn't keep the suspicion off his face.

"You sure she ain't faking?" His nostrils flared, no doubt trying to catch her scent on the wind. "Could be a trap. Could be working with some rival shifter pack. Just cause we don't know of anyone who hates us doesn't mean they don't exist."

A low growl punched out of my chest before I could stop it. The injuries on the woman weren't fake, and the fear-scent coming off her was real. She wasn’t a spy. I'd bet my life on it. But Jace did have a point. My family couldn't afford to take chances.

"Reid." I jerked my chin toward the barn. "Stand watch. She so much as twitches, I wanna know."

Reid just nodded, already moving. I envied his clear head. I couldn't think past the need to get back in that barn and… what? Shake her awake? Demand answers? Bury my nose in the curve of her throat and just breathe? Get a grip, Calder Maddox. You’re the alpha. Not some hormone-addled pup.

Footsteps sounded behind me. Sloane, stalking across the yard with a thundercloud brewing behind her eyes. Eli came hot on her heels, all gangly limbs and worried frown.

"Noah?" I asked.

"He's fine." Sloane tucked a loose piece of hair behind one ear, a rare tell. "Someone did knock on the door, a woman, but he hid. Did what we trained him to do." Good kid. Smart. Tough.

Pride and guilt churned in my gut. My nephew was a quick kid, resilient as hell. But no eight-year-old should have to hide just 'cause we left him alone for an hour. And he wouldn't shift and run with us until he hit puberty.

"I told you he’s too young to be left alone," Sloane hissed, her cool veneer cracking. "He's just a boy. If that stranger got inside, if she tried to⁠—"

"She didn't," I growled. “He’s almost nine, Sloane, and when was the last time someone walked up on the ranch? This was a one-in-a-million type situation.” How could we have known that the first and only time we left Noah alone this would happen?

Sloane's mouth twisted. "Did you find an ID on our guest?"

"No. I didn’t get close enough." I glanced at the barn, my gut clenching.

Midge appeared at my shoulder, her wizened face set like stone. "Boy. You plannin' on lettin' that poor girl bleed out in our barn? Or you gonna bring her up to the house?"

Any other day, I would've bristled. Even though she was my grandmother and elder, I was alpha. But the quiet command in Midge's steel-gray eyes left no room for argument. I could fight her. I’d lose. I didn’t ask how she knew the woman was in the barn. She’d either overhead us or had one of her feelings. Sometimes my grandmother just knew stuff.

"Fine." I gave in. "But she's not staying. Soon as she's conscious, I'm questioning her. Then she's gone."

Sloane nodded, some of the ice leaching from her gaze. "I'll look into her. Facial recognition, internet traces, the works. We'll find out who she is. Once you wake her up, get me her name and any other information you can."

She'd do it, too. My sister could uncover a tick on a dog's back from a thousand yards. But I just grunted, already turning back to the barn. Back to her.

Reid stood over her, just like I’d asked. The woman hadn't moved, but her breathing seemed easier, like she sensed the danger had passed. I crouched beside her, my hands suddenly clumsy. She looked so small. Breakable. Don’t get attached. Don’t be stupid.

Get it together, Maddox.

I scooped her up, shocked at how little she weighed. Even as she went limp, the duffle bag was firmly gripped in her hands, against her chest. Her head lolled against my chest, red-gold hair spilling over my arm. The pain lines around her eyes smoothed as she curled into me, seeking warmth. Seeking safety.

Something inside me cracked open. Something raw and so damn confusing. I tucked her closer, trying not to jostle her injuries, and carried her out.

The walk up to the house was a blur. Dimly, I registered Eli holding open the screen door, Sloane barking orders about the guest room. Midge watched me climb the stairs, a knowing glint in her eye that I steadfastly ignored.

In the guest bedroom, I laid the woman down on the quilt as gently as I could. She was cool to the touch, almost clammy. I grabbed an extra blanket from the closet, tucking it around her too-thin shoulders. As I smoothed her hair back from her bruised temple, she turned into my palm, seeking contact even in sleep. Hell. She’s wrecked.

Shit. I snatched my hand away like I'd been scalded. What the hell was I doing? She wasn't a stray puppy. She was a stranger. A threat, until proven otherwise. And yet I couldn’t walk away.

Disgusted with myself, I rifled through her duffel. Some cheap-feeling jeans, a couple of plain tee shirts. A dented water bottle. No ID, no wallet, not even a damn hairbrush. Either she was on the run, or she had nobody left.

The woman made a small noise in her sleep, pain and fear, and broken pleading. Every nerve ending I had fired hot. Before I could stop myself, I reached out, smoothing the crease between her brows with the pad of my thumb. "You're all right," I heard myself say. "You're safe."