Mostly Good

Chapter Four

Kota moved aside to let his older brother and niece out of the room, eyes never leaving the girl. Even in worn jeans and a too-big t-shirt she looked fierce and . . . incredibly beautiful. Her lean, small body was tense, fists curled, her stance that of a professional fighter. The captivating hazel eyes were cold and calculating, filled with intense distrust.

Something about her reminded him of the filly. Maybe that's why the horse had tolerated her; they were kindred wild spirits. Mentally yanking his attention back to the situation, he spoke in the same calm, quiet tone he used with the horses.

"Your name is Diana?"

The girl didn't move or respond. Her eyes flicked to the others behind him, who were straining to see her.

"I'm Dakota Mansfield," he continued quietly. "Everyone calls me Kota. I'm the one who found you yesterday."

At this the girl's fists raised into a defensive position, but in doing so she placed weight on her right leg, which gave slightly. Her face twisted in agonizing pain, and though she clutched at her thigh, she managed not to collapse. Oh no.

From behind, Kota felt his mother clutch his arm. "Catch her before she falls!"

"She's like a wounded wildcat, Mom. I go near her, she'll attack and injure herself even worse." Or she'd annihilate him.

"She looks hurt bad," Deborah murmured with concern. "We gotta get her to a hospital."

His sister-in-law had a point. Kota took a slow step forward, hand stretched out. "Diana."

The girl immeadiately glowered at him through her hair, jaw clenched. Yikes! He hoped she didn't bite.

"Diana, listen to me. I found you passed out on the back of one of our mares. Do you remember ridin' a white horse?"

Still favoring her leg, Diana slowly straightened, her piercing gaze locked on him. After a long moment, she gave the briefest of nods.

That was encouraging. Kota carefully motioned with his other hand. "This is my mother, Joanna."

Mom stepped into the room with a warm smile and little wave. "Hi, honey."

Diana looked at her, but did not respond.

"This is Grace, my cousin. Those are her clothes you're wearin'."

Grace waved from just outside the doorway, her long brown braids dangling over her shoulders.

Kota motioned to the gaggle standing in the hall. "That there's Gary, my Dad.
Deborah there is married to my oldest brother Ben. He's in the city on a business trip. These are some of the field hands. Josiah's the long-haired cowboy, Jeremiah's the one with the oversized belt buckle, and Damon's the short stocky fella."

Damon shot him a narrow look. "Who you callin' stocky?"

"Huck's our last field hand but he's in town this weekend; wife's having a baby." Kota turned back to face Diana. "None of us are going to hurt you. We're just a bunch of backwood farmers who wanna help. Alright?"

Grimacing, Diana sat down on the side of the bed, both hands clutching her thigh. When she looked up at him again, the hostility was more or less gone.

Kota felt it was safe to slowly approach, pulling his mother's rocking chair footrest up to the bed and squatting on it to make himself seem smaller and less intimidating. Diana watched him like a hawk, but didn't move.

"Now, Darcy said you can't talk. That a fact?"

Again she responded with a nod so brief if he'd blinked he would have missed it.

"That's okay," he assured her gently. "If you don't mind, we'll just ask a few yes or no questions, then I think we need to take you to a hospital. On the way we can get you somethin' to eat. You hungry?"

She stared narrowly at him like he'd asked a stupid question. Which, come to think of it, he had. Of course the girl was hungry. She'd been unconscious for almost two days.

He scratched the back of his neck. "Um, Mom?"

His mother walked further into the room to stand slightly behind him, giving Diana a nervous yet kind smile. "Do you . . . have any idea what happened to you?"

Diana's eyes flicked silently to his mother's face. After a long moment she gave a tiny shrug, averting her gaze.

"Were you in an accident?" Mom tried again.

The girl gave a slight headshake.

Dad was leaning against the door frame with the others still crowded around. "This is crazy," he remarked finally in his husky voice. "People don't just appear outta thin air."

"'Specially during a storm like that one," Pops added.

Diana glanced at them, obviously listening, but offered no explanation.

Kota tried a different approach. "That white horse you were on; were you anywhere near a road when you found it?"

Diana gave another tiny nod. Now he was getting somewhere. "Was it just a regular back road?"

No.

"Highway?"

Yes.

He glanced over at his parents. "She must've been travelin' along the interstate."

"She might not even be from Montana then," Grace reasoned, edging past Dad to step into the room.

Kota turned back to the girl who, truth be told, was actually beginning to look bored and impatient. "Diana, you from out of state?"

Yes.

"Did you have a flat tire or run out of gas?"

No.

Kota sighed, running a hand over his short hair.

Mom squeezed his shoulder. "Know what, let's just bring her to the hospital. Maybe somebody there can help us figure this out."

Kota nodded. Mom turned and exited the room, and everyone began to head downstairs. Kota carefully stood, towering over Diana's seated form. Her eyes followed him, wary but unafraid.

"Think you can make it down the stairs with that leg?" he asked, glancing at her thigh.

Diana used the bedpost to pull herself to her feet, and tested her injured leg. He could tell the pain was immediate and severe. "Here, I can carry you."

Kota moved toward her, but she stiffened and shot him a smoldering glare so intense he was surprised he didn't burst into flames on the spot.

"Uh, sorry . . . I'll just . . . see you downstairs then." With an awkward crooked smile, he quickly backed away and left the room.

*to be cont*