Between Strangers

Marcy began to discuss the food possibilities with the waitress just as the answer hit him. This was the emergency that he’d been saving for. He could give Marcy enough money to get back to her family after the storm and to keep them going for a while. She must have family somewhere. That way he wouldn’t have to worry about leaving her and the baby and heading off to Montana.

What a great idea, he thought with smug satisfaction. This was one way to put some of the money he’d accumulated over his years on the rodeo circuit to a good use. He would send cash back to an auto salvager in the county where they’d had to leave her broken-down car. Then even that wouldn’t be a worry for her ever again. Good thing he’d thought of it.

He wanted to make her life easier. That way she might not be so disappointed when she missed her opportunity to travel the world.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. If it isn’t White Eagle Steele.” The waitress had turned away from Marcy and the baby and was standing with pad in hand, ready to take his order. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you before. It’s just so hectic in here. How have you been?”

Lance couldn’t quite place her name. But then, he hadn’t been to this part of the country for at least a year.

“I’ve been just fine,” he said while he searched his memory for a name. “You knew I retired from competition a while back? I don’t get by here much these days. I wouldn’t be here now except for the storm.”

The waitress laughed, and he belatedly spotted her name tag above the breast pocket of her blue-checked uniform. She wasn’t one of the women he’d spent a few casual nights with, thank heaven. No, he remembered now that she’d been a fan and friend he’d conversed with on his way through this part of the world.

“Yeah, this one’s a killer, all right,” the waitress named Harriet said with a nod. “Looks as if no one is going to be getting home for at least a couple of days. The truck stop employees are all taking shifts…twelve hours on, then six off to grab some rest.”

That gave him another idea. “Speaking of rest… Harriet. Is there a place my friend and her baby can lie down for a few hours?”

Harriet turned to look at Marcy and then at the baby. “All the men are taking turns sleeping on the driver’s bunks. But there isn’t much privacy for a woman, I’m afraid.”

Frowning when she saw the fine lines of exhaustion and the pale-violet smudges under Marcy’s eyes, the waitress shook her head. “Tell you what, sugar, you eat something and then I’ll find you a cot in the employee break room. Okay?”

Marcy shot Lance a quick, glaring glance, and he was afraid she would turn down the offer. But then she hesitantly reached over with a napkin to dab at the baby’s dirty chin and must’ve reconsidered their predicament. “Okay, sure. Thanks,” she told the waitress.

That was just fine, he thought. Now Harriet would take Marcy and the baby under her wing for the duration of the storm. Things were working out just perfectly so he could leave them without feeling guilty.

Harriet finally stuffed her pad into a pocket and told them she’d bring whatever was hot and ready to eat. Then she turned and disappeared back through the crowded tables.

“She called you White Eagle,” Marcy mentioned when they and the baby were alone at the table once more. “I thought you said your name was Lance.”

Had that been her focus when she’d shot him that glaring look? “My full given name is Lance White Eagle Steele,” he admitted. “When I first took up competition, the promoters figured it would be a novelty to have a Native American entrant. So they made me drop my first name from the roster. Once I started winning events they played the cowboy-and-Indian thing up to the hilt.”

Marcy nodded and almost smiled. “So, you’re Native American.”

Lance wasn’t sure whether she was appalled by the idea or just curious. “My mother’s people are Navajo,” he told her plainly and without emotion. “On the other hand, my father’s family, the Steeles, are as white-bread as is possible in America.”

Her smile never fully formed as Marcy looked ready to ask another question. But suddenly the baby seemed to have other ideas. While her mother was preoccupied with their conversation, Angie grabbed the spoon and unceremoniously dropped it on the floor with a clatter.

“That’s it,” Marcy griped at her grinning daughter. “I guess you’ve had all the dinner you want.”

Standing, Marcy unbelted Angie from the high chair. “We’re going to wash up,” she told him over her shoulder as she leaned over. “We’ll be back before the waitress returns with the food.” She pulled the baby up into her arms and took off toward the locker rooms.

Lance watched while the two made their way through the crowded tables. Damn, but the woman provided a mighty fine view from the rear. Marcy’s full, rounded hips in tight-fitting jeans swayed neatly as she sauntered away.

When she finally disappeared around the corner, he was surprised to find that he’d been holding his breath until he completely lost sight of her.

This hot lusting after a beautiful woman was only normal, he assured himself. But the other warm feelings, the ones that seemed to take over his mind whenever she smiled, were downright unusual.

He wished they’d had a chance to finish their conversation. What did she think about him being from a half-and-half heritage? He’d faced every kind of prejudice over his lifetime, so it was a little startling when Marcy’s response seemed more important to him than any of the others.

And he didn’t know why he felt that way.

Well, he would simply have to get over it, whatever it was. By tomorrow morning he would be on his way home to Montana, and Marcy Griffin, her baby and all her attitudes would be only pleasant, and increasingly distant, memories.

Marcy dropped her spoon in the soup bowl and fought to keep her eyes open. She couldn’t imagine why she felt so tired. Was the frigid weather finally getting to her?

“You look as if you can’t hold your head up to eat another bite,” Lance said from across the table. “Are you ready to try the cot Harriet promised?”

He was so kind. Since the moment he’d picked them up on the side of the road, he’d been the most solicitous and gentle man she’d ever been fortunate enough to meet. Now if only he would agree to take her and Angie to Cheyenne so they would be there by the first of the year. Somehow she was sure she would be able to convince him.

“You won’t leave here without us, will you?” she asked him. “I mean, while we’re napping you’ll be sleeping, too, won’t you?”

Lance scowled and for the first time she noticed how fierce he could look. Marcy had been glad to know she was right about his Native American heritage. She’d never met a real Navajo before and was thrilled to get a chance to personally know one. The idea of someone being part of the founding heritage of the country had always intrigued her.

At least, she’d thought she had been thrilled about the opportunity…until he turned that ferocious glare in her direction.

“I’ll try to get a few hours in before I leave in the morning,” he told her at last. “But you and the baby aren’t coming with me.”

His expression softened as he reached over and tenderly touched her arm. “It’s better that you two go on back home when the storm is over. You’ll be safer that way. I’ll see to it you have enough money to keep you both going for a while.”

The anger hit her fast and hard. How dare he tell her what to do? Come to think of it, the things he’d done that she’d considered as kind might be described as controlling by a more dispassionate observer.

Then again, if anyone would be familiar with controlling behavior it was her. And she felt positive that Lance had just been trying to help—in his own way.

But to think of offering her money? He really was the most arrogant…the most infuriating…the most…

She took a deep breath. He was also probably her only way out of here.

“Look,” she began as reasonably as she could. “I thought you understood. Angie and I don’t have a home to go back to. There is nothing for us anywhere—except in Wyoming.”

“Oh, but surely your parents will take you two in until you get back on your feet.” Lance dragged his hand away from her arm in order to use it to make his point. “And that scum you—uh, your ex-husband, can certainly be made to pay child support even if he refuses to be a real father to Angie.”

Angie shrieked at the mention of her name, and Marcy dug in her bag for something she could play with. Without much thought she placed the baby’s binky into her mouth and handed over the squishy, plastic dog the little girl loved so much. Angie’s outburst provided the distraction she needed to rethink what she wanted to say. She had to make Lance see that he should take the two of them with him when he left.

Lordy, but Marcy hated to talk about her problems. They always sounded melodramatic when she said them out loud, and it usually seemed as if she was using them as a ploy for sympathy. But this situation was becoming desperate and it called for desperate measures.

She ground her teeth and racked her brain for a way to make him understand. “My parents are both dead. They died in a car crash a couple of years ago. Angie and I are all alone in the world with no family.

“And as for my ex-husband, Mike…” Marcy rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Now that I’m legally free of him, I’d just as soon that he never has the opportunity to find Angie and me again. I can’t take money from him without running the risk that he might come back into our lives.”

Lance searched her eyes and seemed to be looking for a truth that she hadn’t yet made him see.

“I had a little money saved up from baby-sitting jobs when Mike ran off,” she said quietly. “But it took every dime for the hospital bill and for Angie’s baby doctor, and then to pay the lawyer who got me the divorce. Angie and I left our studio apartment where we’d been living right before the electric company cut off the lights.”

Yeah. It all sounded too melodramatic to her ears. But she couldn’t help the awful truth. The only way she could make a difference was to change their future. And she had to make a new and better future for herself and Angie.

She just had to.

“I was at the end of the line,” she continued. “Trying to make enough by baby-sitting to keep food in our mouths. We were living out of that old car of mine when this fabulous job opportunity came up.”

Lance was staring with no expression on his face. She didn’t know if she was getting through to him or not.

Baby Angie didn’t seem to care much about her mother’s story one way or the other. She spit out her binky, then squealed as she lifted her arms toward her mother. It didn’t take long for her to begin bouncing in her high chair.

“Oh, Ange,” Marcy sighed.

“What does she want?” Lance asked. He was still trying to absorb everything Marcy had said. The two of them were really all alone in the world. Their circumstances were so far from what he’d always wanted in life that he couldn’t quite get a grasp on how these two sweet females had gotten so messed up.

“Angie wants to get down,” Marcy replied. “She probably needs to crawl around a little to let off some steam. But I’m just too tired to…”

“I’ll watch her for you,” he broke in. “While you clean up…or get your stuff repacked…or whatever. I think I can manage her for an hour or so.”

Whatever had possessed him to blurt that out? He didn’t know the first thing about taking care of babies.

But Marcy looked too tired to be able to care for her daughter. And he’d suddenly wanted to give her a few free moments.

“Uh, what would I have to do, exactly?” he hedged.

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