The Baby Trail

Would she ever be a mom? Did she really believe a child needed two loving parents?

On Sunday morning after church, Gwen drove straight to the hospital to visit Baby Amy. It was simple and complicated at the same time. She considered herself a progressive woman. Yet she was discovering day by day she had very traditional values. On one hand, what if she never married? Why should she deny herself motherhood because a man didn’t fit into her life…or she didn’t fit into his? On the other hand, a picket fence and a partner for life was her deepest dream.

She’d stopped in to see Amy every day since the baby had been deserted and, in spite of herself, Gwen felt a huge connection to the infant. When she held her and fed her and rocked her, she longed for her own baby as well as an ideal home for this one.

Today, instead of heading for the nursery, she stopped at the ob-gyn nurses’ desk.

Dianne Spagnola looked up. “Gwen, do you know a Garrett Maxwell?”

“I know who he is,” she answered. “Why?”

“Because he was here asking questions and gave me the impression he was working with the sheriff’s department. After he left, I wondered if I should have told him anything.”

Working with the sheriff’s department. Her heart sped up with hope that he was going to take her case. “I asked him to help me find Amy’s mother. He’s on the level. How long ago was he here?”

“About ten minutes.”

Maybe he was going to make up his mind before this evening. “Do you know which way he was headed?”

“He wanted me to see if I could find the clothes Amy was wearing when she was brought in. He gave me a card and told me to call his cell phone number. He said he’d be around town and he could stop back if I found them.”

Around town. Wild Horse Junction wasn’t that big. Maybe she could spot his SUV. It was huge and black and stark. She’d seen it in his driveway. There had been a decal on his side back window, a triangle with a small plane in its center. She’d wondered at the time if he belonged to some kind of club.

“I think I’m going to try to track him down.” She gave Dianne a smile. “I’ll be back to rock Amy in a little while.”

“On our breaks, we give her as much attention as we can, but I think she likes you best.”

After a quick goodbye, Gwen headed for the parking garage.

In her van, she decided to start with the main road in town, Wild Horse Way. As she drove south, she checked out the parking lots at the grocery store, restaurants and many shops that lined the street, catering to tourists—Flutes and Drums gallery, the Saddle Shop, the Turquoise Emporium. At the edge of town at a gas station combined with a convenience store, she spotted a black SUV. It looked like Garrett Maxwell’s.

She pulled up beside it and saw the decal on the window. Pay dirt. After she pocketed her keys and picked up her purse, her heart raced faster and she told herself the increase was simply because she was anxious about him taking the case.

However, when she opened the door to the convenience store and saw him standing at the counter with the cashier, her attraction to him slammed into her full force. She’d always liked tall men, and he was definitely tall. He looked dangerous and sexy and she knew she should run in the other direction. But she needed his professional skill right now and she was going to get it if she could.

When he saw her, there was no simple “hello.”

“This isn’t a coincidence, is it?” he asked, brows raised.

She gave him a quick smile. “No. I went to the hospital.”

“And?”

“And Dianne said you were asking questions and would be around town. Are you taking the case?”

“I’m still deciding.” He turned his attention once again to the cashier. “So you don’t remember a young couple?” he asked the teenager as if the boy had already said he didn’t.

“Nope,” the boy responded. “Who are you anyway? A cop?”

Not caring what Garrett Maxwell thought, Gwen interrupted, “Hi, Reuben. We met at the high school at the beginning of the month when I spoke to the senior class. You helped me with the screen in the auditorium.”

The boy looked at her. “I remember. Ms. Langworthy, right?”

“Right. Reuben, do you remember a story in the paper about a baby that was found?”

“I don’t read the paper much but my folks were talking about it.”

“We’re looking for that baby’s mom.”

“So you can arrest her?” he asked warily.

“No, we’re not law enforcement. We want to find her so we can help her.”

Although the teenager looked unsure for a few moments, he stared at Gwen and seemed to decide that she was sincere. Still he asked, “Help her, how?”

“We need to know why she left her baby.” More times than Gwen could count she’d wondered about her own real mother. How young had she been? How rich or poor? Had there been no one to help her or had she simply not cared enough to keep a child? Had she shirked responsibility or simply been unable to accept it?

Shaking off those questions, she went on, “If she wants to give the baby up for adoption, that’s fine. But we want to make sure she has the information she needs to make that decision. And if she really does want to be a mom, but needs help, we need to know that, too.”

His gaze went to Garrett, then back to her. “Yeah, I guess you do. I don’t know anything for sure.”

“But you know something?” Gwen asked gently.

“Maybe. I was working Monday night. I only work Monday, Wednesday and Sunday. Anyway, this guy and his girl came in. The girl, she bought acetaminophen and those…those pads girls wear when they get their period. I remember her because she didn’t look so good, really white, like she was going to pass out or something. When they left, the guy had his arm around her. You know, holding her up a little.”

Garrett’s gaze met Gwen’s. Monday night was the night she’d found Amy, and this couple sounded like “the” couple.

“Can you describe them for me?” Garrett asked.

After hesitating a few moments, Reuben finally said, “She had long brown hair. He was a blonde.”

“Did you notice what kind of car they were driving?” Garrett inquired.

The boy shrugged. “It chugged pretty much when the guy started it. I looked outside. It was a brown pickup truck—small, pretty battered up.”

“Anything identifiable on it?” Garrett asked.

“Nah. I didn’t see it up close.”

“Which way did they go?”

“They headed north.”

When Gwen exchanged a look with Garrett, he handed Reuben a business card. “If you remember anything else, give me a call, okay?”

The teenager nodded, and Garrett motioned for Gwen to go outside.

Next to a vending machine, she stopped. Garrett did, too, but he remained silent.

Facing him, her arm brushed his. As a buzz of attraction hummed between them, she asked, “That’s our couple, don’t you think? What do we do next?”

“What do you mean—what do we do next?” he asked warily. “You do whatever you do on Sundays and I’ll continue what I’m doing.”

Maybe he was a loner, but two heads were better than one. “Are you going to take the case?”

Though the nerve in his jaw worked, his tone was even. “I’m just doing some preliminary work to find out if there’s a reason to take the case.”

“You only search for someone when you know you’ll be successful?” she challenged him.

His splayed fingers ran through his hair as if he were frustrated with her beyond measure. “No, of course not.”

“Then, Mr. Maxwell, why is this such a hard decision to make?”

Although his penetrating stare might have made a lesser woman crumble, she didn’t crumble, not even under the appraisal of a tough-guy former FBI agent.

Finally he replied, “It’s a hard decision to make because I’m one person and I have a limited amount of time.”

She certainly understood that. “Did you see Amy?”

His expression didn’t change but something in his eyes did. “Yes, I saw her.”

“We can’t let that little girl go through life not knowing who her parents are.”

“We?” he drawled again, his brows arched.

“Mr. Maxwell—” she began.

“It’s Garrett.”

“Garrett,” she repeated, liking the sound of his name on her lips, liking the look of him, not liking the horribly exciting pull she felt toward him. “You wouldn’t have started asking questions if you didn’t want to help me with Amy.”

“I wasn’t getting very far until you came along,” he acknowledged with a bit of chagrin.

“Reuben thought you were a cop. Kids his age don’t rat on each other, not to someone in authority.”

“I have a feeling you can get your way with the male species when you ratchet up the charm,” Garrett commented.

How wrong he was about that! She hadn’t had enough charm to keep Mark. Over and over she’d asked herself what she’d lacked…where she’d gone wrong…what need of his she hadn’t satisfied.

“And if charm doesn’t get you what you want, solid determination will,” he went on, not looking happy about it.

“You’ve made this analysis when we’ve been in each other’s company a total of what? Fifteen minutes?”

“Am I wrong?” he fired back.

That he’d pegged her so well in such a short amount of time was unnerving. “No, you’re not wrong, but all my charm and all my determination won’t find Amy’s mother if I don’t know what questions to ask or where to look.”

Blowing out a breath, Garrett gazed in the direction of the Painted Peaks. The blue-shadowed, rust, gray and red mountains chased each other higher on the outskirts of town. “Did you have lunch yet?” he asked.

That question was unexpected. “No, I haven’t.”

“Let’s go to The Silver Dollar, get something to eat and talk about this.”

The hope that he was really going to help her almost made her feel giddy. “All right. That sounds good to me.”

Afraid he’d change his mind, she was starting for her car when he reached out and snagged her arm. There it was again—that snap and crackle of heat.

“Just because we look for Amy’s mom doesn’t mean we’ll find her. More often than not, leads turn into dead ends,” he warned her with the edge of experience in his statement.

“And sometimes, leads turn into other leads,” she protested quietly.

With a shake of his head, his mouth turned up slightly at the corners. “Are you a Pollyanna?”

Because of the way she’d grown up, she was far from that. “No, but I make a conscious decision each morning to look at the brighter side of life and I think that pays off.”

When he dropped his hand to his side, she felt its absence.

“I’ll meet you at The Silver Dollar,” he said gruffly, then stepped down off the curb and climbed into his SUV. After waiting for her to start up her van, he followed her.

She found herself smiling as she drove. Since when had lunch at The Silver Dollar seemed like a main event?

Since Garrett Maxwell had extended the invitation.

Not knowing what in the hell he was going to do with Gwen Langworthy, Garrett noticed her terrifically long legs covered by her deep violet slacks, the sway of her breasts and hips under her sweater. He spotted an empty table and they headed for it.

The Silver Dollar was three-quarters full. It was a nice-sized restaurant decorated with ranch brands and lariats on the walls, alongside framed signed photographs of Roy Rogers and Gene Autry. But the western atmosphere barely registered as Garrett pulled out Gwen’s chair for her.

Damn, she got to him in a way Cheryl never had. She was pushier than his ex-wife, franker, definitely more determined. In spite of himself, he wanted to know more about her and that was a big mistake. If he took this case, he’d just have to stay away from her.

If he took this case? He was already hooked and he knew it.

Stay away from Gwen Langworthy, he repeated to himself as if he had to translate the words from a foreign language. Standing behind her, looking down at her shiny auburn curls, all he wanted to do was sink his fingers into them. Well, that wasn’t all he wanted to do.

Swiftly moving away from her perfume that smelled fruity and flowery all at the same time, he took the chair across from her and realized that his knees could too easily brush hers at the small table. It didn’t take Yoda shaking a spiny finger at him to warn him not to engage in physical contact. May the Force be with him.

Before she opened her menu, her dark brown eyes met his. “How much do you charge?”

“I don’t charge when I find children.”

“As you pointed out, this isn’t a child.”

He shrugged. “Same difference this time.”

“I can’t let you—”

He dismissively brushed her words away. “You’re not letting me do anything, and as I told you before, we might not find her.”

“If this takes your time away from your other work, I need to reimburse you…for something.”

“Let’s just see where it goes. My workload is moderate right now.” It would be until he heard the decision on the government contract he’d bid on.

She leaned forward a little. “The article I read said you do security consulting work. What exactly is that?”

“It varies.”

When her eyes were still questioning, he knew she was going to come up with another inquiry. He remembered that determination he’d pegged in her. “I develop firewalls that are hacker-proof, along with suggesting physical systems for particular needs.”

“You make Web sites secure? So that if I use my credit card number, nobody can filch it?”

“Something like that.”

“Is that what you did for the FBI?”

Now she was treading into territory where he didn’t want to go. “The skills I used in the FBI were varied.” If his job had only been concerned with Internet security maybe Cheryl wouldn’t have divorced him…maybe she wouldn’t have lost their child.

“Classified?” she asked as if she knew what that was all about.

He laughed. “Let’s just call it that and say the subject’s off-limits.”

But she didn’t stop probing. “For personal or professional reasons?”

It was time he stopped her get-to-know-you session, although at some point he hoped to turn the tables on her. He didn’t see a ring on her finger and wondered if she was involved with anyone.

“This conversation has nothing to do with Baby Amy, and that’s who we came here to talk about.”

“All right,” she acquiesced begrudgingly. “What are we going to do next?”

Gazing into Gwen’s beautiful dark brown eyes, he almost lost his train of thought. Focusing again, he answered her. “My guess is, the couple wasn’t here more than a day. The fact that they bought the supplies they did at a convenience store rather than a grocery store or drugstore tells me they might have been passing through, maybe living out of the kid’s truck. Maybe the girl even had the baby in the truck.”

“But if she wasn’t from here, why would she leave the baby with me? How did she know who I was?”

“You tell me.” He had an idea, but he wanted to see if he was right.

After Gwen fingered her menu and chewed on her lower lip—whether she knew it or not, the habit was damn sexy—she explained, “When I go to a town to set up a program, like Jackson Hole or Cheyenne, sometimes there’s an article in the paper about what I’m doing. But I don’t think anyone would see that and decide to leave a baby with me.”

“That depends. I imagine it’s clearly stated that you’re an obstetrical nurse practitioner. That would qualify you to take care of a child. My guess is, if she’s not from Wild Horse Junction, the mother met you at one of your programs. I want you to make a list of any young girls you talked to within the past year.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

“No, I’m not.”

“But I usually don’t know last names.”

“I don’t care. Just try to get down names and if you can, picture faces with the names.”

Suddenly Gwen’s serious expression was overtaken by a brilliant smile as she spotted somebody coming through the door. It was a couple with a baby who looked to be six to eight months old.

The tall, sandy-haired man carrying the child and the pretty woman beside him came straight to Gwen. The two women hugged while the man looked on patiently. Then Gwen gave him a hug, too, baby and all. “It’s so good to see you. Are you all unpacked?”

“Almost,” Gwen’s friend answered with a sideways glance at Garrett. “We have decorating to do, though. We’re using lots of Dylan’s photographs, of course, but I need some sconces and hangings.”

“She really needs them,” the sandy-haired man joked, trying to suppress a smile.

His wife playfully swatted his arm.

Before the conversation developed further, Gwen gestured to Garrett, who had stood.

“This is Garrett Maxwell. He’s helping me find Baby Amy’s mother. Garrett, this is Shaye and Dylan Malloy and their son Timmy. Shaye is the social worker I called.”

Now the puzzle pieces fit. Garrett had seen the article in the Wild Horse Wrangler about Dylan Malloy’s show at the Flutes and Drums Gallery and how successful it had been. The man was a top-notch wildlife photographer. Garrett also remembered the write-up on the accident that had taken the lives of Dylan’s sister and brother-in-law in February. Timmy had been born right before his mother had died.

Garrett shook hands with the husband and wife. Timmy was a cute little guy with blond hair and green eyes, but he was already getting itchy, squirming in Dylan’s arms.

“Okay, big fella,” Dylan said. “We’ll pick up dinner and go.”

“We called after church,” Shaye explained to Gwen. “We’re taking a meal out to Kylie.”

“I spoke to her last night,” Gwen said. “I’m worried about her. Ever since Alex’s funeral, she’s been working twice as hard as she should while she’s pregnant. Now at over five months, she should be slowing down.”

“I know.” Shaye shook her head. “That bull-riding accident didn’t just end Alex’s life, it left Kylie with a burden that’s too big to handle on her own.”

“That’s why we’re going out to Saddle Ridge,” Dylan interjected. “She has a fence down and Dix hasn’t had time to get to it. I’m no expert, but I can rig up something.”

After realizing they were keeping Garrett out of the conversation, Gwen turned to him. “We have a friend who was widowed in July. She’s taken on running the ranch with her foreman and it’s a lot to handle, especially with her being pregnant.”

The cashier near the door waved to Dylan and Shaye and motioned to the takeout containers on the counter.

As Timmy began to fuss louder, Dylan lifted him high and wiggled him a bit. “We’re going. We’re going.”

Shaye gave Gwen’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll call you later.”

After goodbyes all around, the Malloys went to the counter to pay for their dinner. Dylan’s arm curved around his wife’s waist as they waited for the cashier to ring up their food.

“They’ve only been married since July,” Gwen told Garrett as she sat down once more. “They’re still newlyweds.”

“I imagine it’s hard to be newlyweds with a baby.” Garrett kept his tone even. When he thought about the child he’d lost before it even had a chance, his insides went cold.

“Timmy brought Shaye and Dylan together,” Gwen explained. “So they cherish every day with him.”

“Timmy was Dylan’s sister’s child?”

“Right. Are you from around here? Did you know Julia, Dylan’s sister?”

“I was born here, but left when I was a teenager. Since I came back, I don’t socialize much. I didn’t know his sister.”

“How long ago did you return?”

He wondered if he was attracted to Gwen because she irritated him or in spite of the fact. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

Instead of being offended, she smiled sweetly. “How else am I going to learn what I want to know if I don’t ask questions?”

Shaking his head, he had to chuckle. “I returned five years ago.” Now he turned the beacon of questioning on her life. “How long have you and Shaye Malloy been friends?”

“Shaye and Kylie and I were pals in grade school. When Kylie skipped a grade, we kind of took her under our wings.”

“Her husband died recently?”

“Shortly after Shaye and Dylan’s wedding. We want to help her but she’s so independent. She insists on doing everything herself. As her pregnancy gets further along, I don’t know what she’s going to do.”

“I’m not sure I understand. Why can’t she hire extra help?”

“Have you heard of Saddle Ridge Ranch?”

“Nothing lately. Jack Warner owned the place when I was younger. He raised cutting horses, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but his son Alex—” Gwen abruptly stopped. “I shouldn’t say anything else.”

So Gwen wasn’t a gossip and she was loyal to her friends. Most of the women he’d known had been very competitive and a little thing like friendship wouldn’t have made a difference or gotten in the way of catching a man or achieving a higher level in a career.

The waitress came over to them and they quickly glanced at the menus and ordered. As they ate the special of the day—roast beef, mashed potatoes and a vegetable medley—Garrett noticed Gwen finished almost all of it.

“Do you work out?”

Laying down her fork, she wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I work out at the Wagon Wheel Fitness Center. Why?”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Because it’s been a long time since I saw a woman down mashed potatoes.”

Spots of color came to her milky white cheeks that were dotted with a few freckles. “That’s an advantage to working out, I guess. I eat pretty much what I want.”

As his gaze passed over her pale lilac sweater and the way the material clung to her breasts, his jeans got tight and not from the food he was eating.

Retreating to safer territory, he remarked, “Now that Malloy’s married, I wonder what will happen to his career.” Garrett knew all about careers ruining marriages—first his dad’s, then his own. The thing was he’d become an FBI agent for a good reason and the idea of giving up his mission had been unthinkable. If his friend hadn’t been kidnapped when they were both nine, if he hadn’t felt a moral calling to right the world’s wrongs, maybe he could have given up his vocation and put all of his passion into his marriage. Maybe.

“He’s changing how he works,” Gwen admitted. “He’s contracted for a book about the wild mustangs and another one on whales in Alaska. He’s determined not to let his work get in the way of his marriage.”

“Work can do that,” Garrett muttered softly.

“Yours got in the way of a relationship?”

“Mine ended my marriage.” It was the first he’d ever said it out loud to another living person, and why he’d said it here, now, to Gwen Langworthy, he didn’t know. He didn’t like not knowing.

Picking up the bill the waitress had left on the table, he glanced at it, pulled out his wallet, left a tip, stood and said, “I’ll take care of this. I want to ask the cashier a few questions.”

The restaurant had emptied out and the cashier sat on the stool by the register, reading a romance novel. Romance might come alive in books, but that was the only place anybody would find it, Garrett decided as he made his way to her.

By the time the cashier closed the book and stood, Gwen was by his side, the fruity-flowery scent of her annoying him, her energy invigorating him, her beauty capturing him. He fought against the capture.

He was aware of Gwen watching him while he paid the bill. She was such a distraction, he wanted to put her outside while he completed his questioning. But he knew she wouldn’t stand for that.

A few minutes later, to his surprise and Gwen’s, the cashier described the couple in more detail than the teenager at the convenience store, then pointed them toward the waitress who had been on duty that night.

Mandy Jacobs remembered the couple. But foremost on her mind was batting her lashes at Garrett and flirting with him for all she was worth. “The girl had soup and the cute guy had a burger. They didn’t leave a tip, that’s why I remember them so well. That’s about all I know. I’ll ask around, Mr. Maxwell. I’ll be sure to contact you if any of the other girls saw anything or remember more than I do.”