Someone's Baby

Her gaze swept the surrounding countryside but saw nothing more than empty land. There wasn’t a building or a silo to be seen, much less a gas station. Her left arm was not only hurting badly, but her fingers were starting to feel numb.

She glanced down and gasped. Her sleeve was stained a vivid bright red. Blood actually dripped from her wrist, discoloring the steering wheel and her pants. Panic seized her as she realized she was bleeding profusely. She hadn’t wrenched her shoulder. She’d been shot!

The knowledge opened the way for an instant rush of pain. She gasped again and bit her lip to keep from crying out. Now what? This wasn’t a major road leading toward civilization and a doctor or hospital. And it had been a long while since she’d passed any other side roads.

Fear recharged her adrenaline. How badly was she hurt? She needed medical attention, but she couldn’t stop now. While she may have lost the silver car for now, that driver was unlikely to give up. She’d take bets he was even now searching for her along these back roads. And this stupid red car stood out like a beacon.

Jayne prayed that she wasn’t bleeding to death because there was no help for it. She ignored the pain and the blood and kept driving, looking for something familiar. Twice she saw dirt roads that may have led to ranches, but she was reluctant to try them for fear they wouldn’t go anywhere at all. A line shack would be a death trap.

The baby’s soft cries were increasing which only added another level of urgency.

“Easy little one. I’ll get us out of this. Somehow.”

If only she had her purse and her trusty cell phone. She could actually picture the small telephone lying on the floor of her car—along with the rest of the contents she’d spilled from her purse. Her daring rescue wasn’t looking so daring anymore. Where the heck was a cop when you needed one!

The car began to sputter.

Either she pulled off the road or kept driving until the car died right there in the middle of the street. A drainage ditch ran alongside the road, barely leaving a dirt shoulder here. Still, she couldn’t see any other possibilities.

Jayne pulled over and turned off the key.

For a moment she just sat there. The infant’s pitiful cries reminded her that the child was her obligation now. She ran her right hand up along the wet sleeve on her left arm, probing for the source of the injury. Liquid fire. She had to blink back tears.

Giving in to tears and just sitting there while she waited for help was quite tempting, but she hadn’t passed another car in a long time. That meant she was on her own.

Using her right hand, she reached across her body to open the car door. Stepping out, she had to grip the door a moment to keep from falling as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

Not good. Definitely not good. She swallowed hard and forced her panic back. “You can do this!”

She let her left arm dangle uselessly and used her right hand to open the back door where the baby’s cries helped put her own problems on hold.

“With lungs like that, at least I know you aren’t hurt.”

But the baby was wet and probably hungry.

A large green-and-yellow bag sat on the seat beside the infant. She needed two hands to unzip the bag. That caused blood to flow alarmingly down her arm. She bit down on her lip again to keep from crying out and forced her attention to the bag. Inside was everything a new mother might need. A package of six, already prepared bottles, a can of extra formula, a box of newborn diapers, even a couple of tiny outfits.

Jayne didn’t bother investigating the entire contents. It was enough to know she had the basics. Carefully, she pried her blouse away from her injured shoulder so she could inspect her injury. Blood flowed freely from an ugly raw wound that made her sick to look at. The bullet had torn away flesh as it skimmed across the top of her shoulder. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was bone she glimpsed.

She tried not to be ill. “It’s okay baby. The blood’s not pumping or spurting like it would if the bullet had struck an artery.” The brave words were of little consolation to her or the child. She was bleeding badly enough to be thoroughly frightened.

Using one of the diapers as a makeshift bandage, she covered the wound as best she could, applying pressure for a few minutes in an effort to slow the bleeding. But she couldn’t just stand out here exposed. The baby-nappers would be searching for her. She needed to put distance between her and the silver car.

Pulling the car seat out was pure agony. She was tempted to leave the heavy plastic seat, but it would offer the baby some protection when she had to set the infant down so she could rest. Heck, she already felt woozy and who knew how far she would have to walk before she found help.

She finally got the baby and the car seat out of the car and removed the diaper bag. It struck her then, that it might be a good idea to hide the flame-red car as well. The color stood out like a beacon which would make it easy for the silver car’s driver to spot.

She walked around to peer over the edge of the road. The drainage ditch was deep. Not deep enough to hide the car, but maybe deep enough that it wouldn’t be noticed right away. After all, it would be dark in a few hours.

“Worth a shot,” she muttered aloud.

There was enough gas left to get the engine started one more time. She put the car in neutral and aimed the tires at the ditch. A hard shove against the trunk was all that was required. The engine sputtered and died, but the car rolled far enough to slip over the edge. It made a satisfying crash as it tumbled down and flipped on its side.

The baby had begun crying in earnest. Jayne fought against adding her own cries. “I know you need to be changed and fed, but it’s going to have to wait, okay? We’re too exposed here.”

She lifted the diaper bag, surprised by the weight. No way could she carry this on her wounded shoulder, but what choice did she have? She slipped the strap over her head so it would rest on her good shoulder and run across her chest. She bit back a moan when she moved her left arm to get it through the strap, but she managed. Then she lifted the carrier and set off down the road.

Every few yards she had to stop and rest. She was starting to think having the man in the silver car find her was preferable to this form of slow torture when she came across a side road that was slightly wider and better paved. Praying it led somewhere, she turned and started following the road.

Each step jarred her shoulder until all she could do was concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Jayne prayed for someone to find her because she wasn’t sure how much farther she could go.

At some point, the infant stopped crying. She wanted to check on the baby, but was afraid to stop moving for fear she wouldn’t be able to start again. She felt weak and sick to her stomach. Sweat beaded her forehead.

A sound up ahead made her lift her head. Her heart began racing. A gas station sign loomed like a beacon. A town! With renewed energy, she kept moving. Several small buildings squatted on the edge of the road leading into a small town. A combination feed-and-general store sat right beside the gas station. That meant people and telephones.

“We’re going to make it, baby. Just hang on a little longer.”

The baby didn’t make a sound.

Jayne stumbled toward the nearest building which was the gas station. But as she drew close enough to call out, fear paralyzed her vocal cords. A car sat near one of the pumps. A silver car. The same silver car that had chased her from the shopping center.

Jayne came to a stop, swaying in the late-afternoon sun. Beside the car was a public phone. A man speaking into the instrument stood with his back to her.

There was nowhere to run, even if she had been capable of such a feat. A few yards away, a good-looking man was loading supplies into the back of a battered black pickup truck. Tall and lean, the rugged-looking cowboy lifted the heavy feed bags and slung them into the truck as if they weighed nothing at all. He shoved back the hat that sat low on his head and a lock of dark hair fell over his forehead.

She was tempted to call out to him, but fear kept her silent. The odds were too high that the man from the silver car would kill them both and then take off with the baby.

Without once looking in her direction, the cowboy pulled the tarp down over the last bag of feed. He didn’t secure the load. Instead, he wheeled the long cart back inside the feed store.

Jayne called on the last bit of her strength. She skirted the gas station and headed for the pickup truck. Setting down the baby carrier, she tore the diaper bag over her head and thrust it into the bed of the truck as far back as she could manage. Ignoring the screaming pain that traveled up her neck and down her arm, as well as the fresh blood trickling past the makeshift bandage, she lifted the baby from the car seat and set her on a bag of feed. Awkwardly, she tossed the carrier under the tarp. The baby immediately awakened and began to whimper.

“Shh. Don’t cry, baby. Not now.”

Jayne climbed painfully into the back of the pickup truck. Every second she expected to hear a shout or feel a bullet in her back.

She pushed the carrier and the baby bag farther under the tarp toward the cab of the truck. Grabbing the crying infant, she slithered beneath the tarp with the child.

The truck bed was close to full, but she managed to make a place for herself and the baby up near the cab between two heavy bags of feed. If the man got off the phone and started in this direction, the crying would draw attention. Frantically, she opened the baby bag and withdrew a bottle of formula. Terrified they would be discovered at any moment, it seemed to take forever before she got the bottle ready and into the infant’s wailing mouth.

The baby immediately stopped crying and began to suck avidly. Jayne sank back, totally drained, the infant cradled against her bad side.

Moments later, a man’s low curse choked her with dread. The truck’s owner threw back the edge of the tarp.

Her terror escalated as she waited for him to discover her. But instead, he continued cursing as he pitched several more items inside and drew the tarp back down.

“Afternoon,” another man’s voice called out near her head.

The cowboy grunted and began tying off his tarp.

“I was wondering if you’ve seen a woman and a baby in a red sedan,” the voice asked.

The man from the silver car was practically next to the spot where she lay. She didn’t breathe, praying the baby’s sucking noises weren’t audible through the tarp.

“Nope.”

Her inadvertent rescuer had a deep soothing rumble of a voice. He managed to convey disdain and disinterest in that single syllable.

“My wife and I had a stupid fight,” the man from the silver car continued. “She ran off with the baby before I could apologize. I’m afraid she may do something foolish and hurt herself.”

Jayne continued to hold her breath. The baby’s slurping sounded so loud over the pounding of her heart she was certain the two men would hear.

“Haven’t seen any red cars with or without a woman driver. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

The cab door creaked open.

“Okay. Sure. Thanks, anyhow.”

Jayne didn’t release her breath until the engine started and the truck began pulling away. She’d done it! They were safe. As soon as the truck came to a stop again, she’d ask the man to call the police.

Her head fell back in exhaustion. She only hoped she didn’t bleed to death before the truck stopped.

Chapter Two

Cade McGovern pulled off his dusty Stetson and set it beside him on the passenger seat. He chomped down on the toothpick in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Dumb bastard. He’d be smarter to let her go,” he muttered.

In his mirror, Cade watched the other man staring after him, before turning to walk back to his silver car. Cade could have been nicer, he admitted to himself. It wasn’t that poor bastard’s fault that Cade was out of sorts with himself and the world at large.

He’d jammed his thumb good on that cart when he started loading. Besides, Cade wasn’t fond of strangers and he hated coming into town. Technically, Darwin Crossing wasn’t enough of a town to make most maps, but it was as close to so-called civilization as he wanted to get. He could live just fine without other people and their problems. Especially some jerk old enough to know better than to saddle himself with a runaway wife.

At least Cade’s former wife, Bonita, had been smart enough not to get pregnant before she ran off, he thought grimly.

Thinking of Bonita caused him to bite down harder on the toothpick. How come all the paths in his head led to thinking about her lately? She was the last person he wanted to think about. No man liked to remember past mistakes, and Cade had never made a bigger one.

He’d been old enough to know better, yet her dark flashing eyes, sultry smile and lush beauty had nailed him like a deer caught in headlights. His grandfather had tried to warn him about women and ranching, but he hadn’t listened. Family history alone should have warned him.

It was funny, too, because Cade had been a loner by choice, ever since he could remember. Even when he was riding the rodeo circuit he’d kept to himself. Of course, in retrospect he realized that had been the draw for Bonita. She’d seen him as a challenge. And a winner, of course. Bonita wouldn’t have given him the time of day if he hadn’t been successful.

Cade cursed. She was haunting him from her grave.

No doubt because of the recent acts of sabotage on his ranch. He hadn’t gone out of his way to make enemies, so he could think of only one person who might have a reason to be causing him these petty problems. Luís D’Angelo. Bonita’s younger brother, was the only man alive who hated him that much. Luís blamed Cade for his sister’s death. He didn’t seem to find it significant that she’d died in a car crash with a man who wasn’t her husband. Luís was convinced Cade had been abusive and chased her away.

Cade could have told him how far off the mark that was. He could have told Luís several truths about his sainted sister, but the kid had only been sixteen when she died and in a moment of misplaced gallantry, Cade hadn’t wanted to totally disillusion the boy. So now the kid was out to destroy Cade and his ranch. And he didn’t seem to care who got hurt in the process.

Two of Cade’s men had been injured in the stampede someone had deliberately started while they were trying to move the herd yesterday. That was how Cade got saddled with coming into town today. With his banged-up elbow, Rio couldn’t lift the heavier supplies they needed and Sven had bruised a couple of ribs. Cade was only thankful that had been the worst of it.

Only plain dumb luck had kept anyone from getting hurt in the fire in the grain silo last week. Fortunately, Hap had spotted the smoke right away and the fire was put out before much damage was done. But the way these attacks were escalating, it was only a matter of time before someone got seriously hurt.

Cade’s foreman, Hap Ramirez, had wanted to call the sheriff in the beginning, right after the fences were cut and several girths were slit. Cade had found himself reluctant to send the law after his brother-in-law because of his age. But now, it looked like the kid was going to give him no choice in the matter.

This was a busy time on a working ranch. A time when a man didn’t need to be out hunting some fool kid hell-bent on a vendetta to avenge a cussed woman who hadn’t been worth it in the first place. With a sigh, Cade turned on the radio to drown out his thoughts.

He decided in town not to go straight back to the main house. The way things were going it had occurred to him that it might be a good idea to pick up some extra supplies and take them out to the old line shack. A backup location might come in handy in case the kid decided to torch the house next. Cade and his men couldn’t be everywhere at once. The Circle M was a large spread in the middle of nowhere. Normally, that suited Cade just fine.

He debated about calling Hap on the radio and letting him know about the change in plans, but the dour older man already had his hands full right now, especially since he was down three men with Cade gone, too. They needed to get the rest of the strays rounded up and the herd moved this week. Of course, Hap could run the Circle M by himself after all these years. He’d been foreman for Cade’s grandfather since forever. It had come as a shock to all of them when the old man succumbed to a bout of influenza and died unexpectedly last year.

Known for being a crusty old curmudgeon, Otis Mc-Govern had nevertheless taken in his only grandchild after the deaths of Cade’s own parents. Unfortunately, not before Cade had spent several years being shuffled from one foster home to another. Otis and his son hadn’t spoken in years, so it was some time before Otis learned what had transpired.

By the time Otis convinced authorities to let him have guardianship, Cade had a chip on his shoulder big enough to be visible a mile away. Otis ignored the chip. Being a cowboy from the old school, and a loner himself who liked it that way, he took Cade’s chip to be a matter of course. He took in his bewildered, angry grandson and taught him the only skill he knew. Ranching.

The two of them had butted heads like a pair of bulls after a rodeo clown. Neither knew how to back down. Yet somewhere along the line, Cade came to realize that he loved ranching and the land as much as his grandfather did. Still, as big as the ranch was, there could only be one person in charge. Cade finally walked out after a heated argument over some breeding stock and headed for the rodeo circuit. He’d been determined to win himself a stake that would let him buy a place of his own up in Colorado. He hadn’t wanted anything half as ambitious as the Circle M, just a small spread he could run himself.

Oddly enough, that pleased his grandfather. On Cade’s infrequent visits home, they got on better than they ever had when they’d lived together.

Cade let his thoughts roam the past until the line shack finally came into view. For a moment, he sat in his truck just drinking in the rugged beauty of the landscape. Jagged cliffs formed a backdrop for the shack. They fed the stream that ran to a small pond down below. The Circle M boasted some fabulous grazing land as well as several thick draws that were a haven for deer and other wildlife. The peace of this land never failed to move him. Several times Cade had thought this particular spot would have made a better location for the main house than the one his grandfather had selected all those years ago.

Maybe he’d unload everything and spend the night here. The idea had definite appeal. He must have had some subconscious thoughts along this line because he’d thrown his gear into the truck before he headed into town.

Cade pulled around in a semicircle in front of the shack to facilitate unloading. He turned off the engine, swung down from the cab, and settled his hat back on his head, low over his eyes. He tossed the mutilated toothpick into a thicket of brush and started to undo the tarp. A small mewing sound of distress made him pause. A kitten? What would a kitten be doing way out here? He looked around, hoping he hadn’t hit some animal when he pulled in.

Nothing moved anywhere nearby. Cade cocked his head, listening closely. The sound seemed to be coming from inside the bed of his truck.

He hurriedly unlashed the tarp and started pulling it back. Blood stained the nearest sack. Some poor little critter had obviously hurt itself and climbed in the back of his truck to nurse its wounds. And from the trail of bloodstains, the wound was probably going to prove fatal on a small animal. With a new sense of urgency, he yanked back the tarp, snagging it on something. Cade barely noticed.

There was no kitten in the back of his truck. Instead, shock held him still when he revealed a woman’s dainty foot, half in and half out of a small, badly scuffed loafer. A length of shapely leg was also revealed due to a rucked-up pant leg. Several nasty scratches ran along that leg, but nothing serious enough to account for the blood on the feed sacks. He ignored the pounding of his heart, unhooked the snagged tarp and stripped it all the way back.

The body and the face that went with the leg were definitely worth a second look. But from the blood that had soaked one side of her sheer blouse, the woman could be dead already.

For a moment, cold panic swept him. Clutched protectively against her chest was a tiny infant, its red face screwed up in distress. Its tragic cries sounded a bit like a kitten in distress.

He reached over the woman to lift the infant. Cade had never in his life held a live human baby this small, though he’d helped bring plenty of animals into the world. This little guy couldn’t be more than a couple of days old at most, he guessed. He checked it over quickly, looking for the source of the blood. There was no outward sign of injury and based on the amount of blood, there would have been. The blood must have come from the mother.

Cade swore under his breath. The woman never moved.

Instantly, his mind pictured the jerk outside the feed store. The man had said he was worried about his wife. Cradling the crying infant in one arm, he studied the woman. More of a girl, really, with a long spill of blond hair that partly covered her face. She didn’t move. With a sense of fatality, he reached out to feel for a pulse.

She had one! A fairly steady one at that. She was still very much alive.

One hand holding the baby, he gently, carefully, rolled the woman on her back to look for the source of the blood. Under her blouse something bulky lay against her shoulder. He worked the top two buttons of her blouse free and pulled out one of the baby’s disposable diapers.

“I’m afraid she may do something foolish and hurt herself,” the man had said. But Cade knew a bullet wound when he saw one. The bullet had chewed a path right across the top of her shoulder, tearing away the material of her blouse.

He couldn’t think of a single person who’d ever tried to commit suicide by shooting himself there. He examined the ugly raw wound. Unless he missed his guess, she’d been shot from the back, not the front.

Even if he was mistaken, an accidental shooting victim wouldn’t climb in the back of a stranger’s truck to hide. The bastard had shot her!

Cade growled, torn by conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he could understand all too well the anger a woman could raise in a man. On the other, there was no valid excuse for violence against a woman. Especially one who had to be half the bastard’s size—and age, judging by appearances. How could the bastard shoot her when there was an innocent little baby involved?

Cade muttered a curse. The last thing he wanted was to become embroiled in someone’s domestic problems. The woman had left him no choice. He’d become involved the moment she’d climbed into the back of his pickup truck and sought refuge.

He’d lose hours turning the truck around and taking her back to Darwin Crossing. Besides, it was a trip she might or might not survive, given her condition. When he thought of the jolting ride she must have endured back here under the hot tarp, he winced. No wonder she was unconscious.

The blood had stopped flowing, but she definitely needed medical attention. Only, the nearest doctor was almost an hour away. No doubt her jerk husband had discovered the doctor’s location as well. He’d probably be there waiting for her to show up.

The baby began to wail in earnest. A movement in the truck drew his gaze back to the woman. Even unconscious, she reached blindly for her child. Something inside Cade loosened at that sign of protective love.

A small bottle lay beside her. She’d obviously been trying to feed the tyke before she passed out. He frowned over the fact that she wasn’t nursing, but maybe she couldn’t. It probably wasn’t safe for her to do so with that bastard coming after her.