It was just a kiss

Sure. And Texas was just a state.

She could not—would not—fall in love with Cade McGovern.

Yet she wanted Cade in a physical and emotional way that she had never wanted anyone else in her life. A sound that was part laugh, part sob broke past her lips that still tingled from his kiss.

She forced her mind away from the man and the kiss that had left her emotions in turmoil and tried to focus. Someone had slashed the SUV’s tires. The incident might have nothing to do with her, but the black market baby ring was out there somewhere, just waiting for her to surface again. Her family was probably worried sick by now. And a small part of her was terrified that the bullet had done some sort of permanent damage to her shoulder.

But none of those reasons was as compelling as her main one: She needed to leave before Cade got so far under her skin, he’d have to be surgically removed.…

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

All the evidence is in! And it would be a crime if you didn’t “Get Caught Reading” this May. So follow the clues to your favorite bookstore to pick up some great tips.

This month Harlequin Intrigue has the distinguished privilege of launching a brand-new Harlequin continuity series with three of our top authors. TRUEBLOOD, TEXAS is a story of family and fortitude set in the great Lone Star state. We are pleased to give you your first look into this compelling drama with Someone’s Baby by Dani Sinclair. Look for books from B.J. Daniels and Joanna Wayne to follow in the months ahead. You won’t want to miss even a single detail!

Your favorite feline detective is back in Familiar Lullaby by Caroline Burnes. This time, Familiar’s ladylove Clotilde gets in on the action when a baby is left on a high-society doorstep. Join a feisty reporter and a sexy detective as they search for the solution and find true love in this FEAR FAMILIAR mystery.

Our TOP SECRET BABIES promotion concludes this month with Conception Cover-Up by Karen Lawton Barrett. See how far a father will go to protect his unborn child and the woman he loves. Finally, Carly Bishop takes you out West for a showdown under a blaze of bullets in No One But You, the last installment in her LOVERS UNDER COVER trilogy.

So treat yourself to all four. You won’t be disappointed.

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

Someone’s Baby

Dani Sinclair

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For Mary McGowan, who’s done her best to keep me sane, a true friend in every way. And for Roger, Chip, Dan and Barb as always.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

An avid reader, Dani Sinclair didn’t discover romance novels until her mother lent her one when she’d come for a visit. Dani’s been hooked on the genre ever since. But she didn’t take up writing seriously until her two sons were grown. Since the premier of Mystery Baby for Harlequin Intrigue in 1996, Dani’s kept her computer busy. Her third novel, Better Watch Out, was a RITA Award finalist in 1998. Dani lives outside Washington, D.C., a place she’s found to be a great source for both intrigue and humor!

You can write to her in care of the Harlequin Reader Service.

Books by Dani Sinclair

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

371—MYSTERY BABY

401—MAN WITHOUT A BADGE

448—BETTER WATCH OUT

481—MARRIED IN HASTE

507—THE MAN SHE MARRIED

539—FOR HIS DAUGHTER*

551—MY BABY, MY LOVE*

565—THE SILENT WITNESS*

589—THE SPECIALIST

602—BEST-KEPT SECRETS*

613—SOMEONE’S BABY

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Jayne Bateman—She is anxious to make her mark as a private investigator, but she intended to be the hunter, not the hunted.

Cade McGovern—He is a loner and he likes it that way, but someone is bent on revenge and now he’s stuck with a woman and her infant.

Heather—The two-day-old infant has no idea she’s so popular.

“Hap” Ramirez—Cade’s foreman has been with the ranch since his grandfather first started operations.

Maria D’Angelo—Cade’s dead wife found a way to seek her revenge from the grave.

Luis D’Angelo—Cade’s brother-in-law wants him to pay for his sister’s death.

Zed Lithcolm—Cade’s friend until Maria came between them.

Rio Cardonza—One of Cade’s hired hands with no ax to grind, unless he was hired by someone else, as well.

Lily and Dylan Garrett—Jayne’s mentor and her brother run the Finders Keepers Detective Agency out of San Antonio.

Diana Kincaid—Her kidnapping starts everything.

Thomas Kincaid—The Texas governor is out to destroy J. B. Crowe and his mob.

J. B. Crowe—He believes laws are meant to be broken.

Dear Reader,

I was really excited to be asked to be part of such a wonderful continuity project. It’s a bit daunting to be the first book in such an extended series, but a fun challenge. TRUEBLOOD, TEXAS involves many exceptional category writers. Talented authors B.J. Daniels, Joanna Wayne and I worked hard to make the Harlequin Intrigue TRUEBLOOD, TEXAS prequel come alive for you. We hope you’ll go on to enjoy the rest of the series as the tale of Lily and Dylan Garrett and the Finders Keepers Detective Agency continues.

Happy reading!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Chapter One

Being a freelance private investigator was exciting. Being a freelance private investigator was challenging.

Being a freelance private investigator was boring! Especially when you didn’t have a case.

Jayne Bateman stopped her mental grumbling, set down her camera and reached for her soda. In the process, her purse slid to the car floor on the passenger’s side, dumping its contents on the mat.

“Great. Just great.” At least it hadn’t been the soda.

So far her stakeout had been a total bust. Four days of watching in the hope that she might see something important. And all she’d seen so far was more people than she would have thought even lived in the county. What had seemed like a heaven-sent chance was now looking like an exercise in futility.

She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but when her brother the cop had told her brother the judge that his tiny police force would have a problem staking out two locations every day for the next couple of weeks on the off chance a black-market baby ring might select Bitterwater for its next exchange, Jayne had been certain this was her big break.

Lily Garrett had told her all about the organized baby-selling ring operating in Texas. The enviably tall, dynamic woman had sparked new interest in Jayne’s chosen profession when they met at a seminar a week ago.

Lily Garrett was everything Jayne thought a private investigator should be. Intelligent, forceful, determined. She also happened to be strikingly attractive, yet people took her seriously. Lily and her brother Dylan had opened an investigative agency called Finders Keepers in Trueblood, Texas, just outside of San Antonio. She told Jayne their father had converted a big part of his two-story house for them to use as an office. And since Dylan had worked undercover for the police department for several years, his contacts gave them a huge edge.

Unfortunately, Dylan had been called back to work to assist the police in some sort of sting operation against the very mob that was selling black-market babies. Lily expected to be bogged down with work if she took on a couple more cases. She asked if Jayne would be interested in doing some freelance work for her from time to time.

Jayne was thrilled by the possibility. The Garretts were doing positive things with their agency by reuniting families. Jayne liked the sound of that and she liked Lily as well.

Jayne pushed aside a spill of pale-blond hair and surveyed the quiet shopping center over the tip of her straw. Few people ever took Jayne seriously. Okay, so she looked several years younger than her mature, twenty-four years—and she did slightly resemble the famous fashion doll because of her ash-blond hair and her petite stature. She was barely five feet tall if one counted high heels—and she always did. But what people overlooked was the fact that she’d grown up on a working ranch with three brothers. That meant she’d learned to compete at an early age.

The police academy hadn’t worked out for her. Her brother the cop had made police work sound a lot more interesting than it actually was. Besides, there were entirely too many rules. Jayne never had been very good at taking orders. She’d left with no animosity and some knowledge and helpful skills.

In her mind, the next logical step was private investigative work where she could use her training and set her own rules. No way could she envision her life in some stuffy office or crowded city. And while she really enjoyed working with horses, her youngest brother already filled that slot in her family. He worked with their father training cutting horses. Jayne needed to carve out her own niche.

Unfortunately, if she didn’t get a break soon, she’d be in real danger of starving to death first. She had quickly learned she was not cut out for spying on cheating husbands or running boring background checks, yet those were the only sorts of cases coming her way.

This baby-kidnapping ring, however, now that was something she could sink her teeth into. Lily had freely discussed what she knew about the mob-run black-market baby ring over lunch the day they met. Jayne had absorbed the information with rapt attention, wondering how any woman could sell off her own child. Jayne had overheard her brothers discussing that very subject in her father’s barn a few nights ago.

Even Lily hadn’t known that the police suspected the exchanges were made in small-town shopping centers. Nor had Lily known that a new exchange was about to go down any day now. Armed with this inside information, Jayne knew all she had to do was be in the right place at the right time and her career would get the boost it needed. Even her brothers would take her seriously if she came up with a videotape of the exchange and a list of license plates to go with it. The police would then be able to nail everyone involved.

Lily Garrett might even offer her a permanent job. Maybe Jayne could open a branch of Finders Keepers right here in Bitterwater.

“Now if the baby-nappers would just cooperate…preferably before I get arrested for loitering and talking to myself.”

But as morning slipped into late afternoon, their cooperation was looking less and less likely. Too bad her brother the judge hadn’t known a time or the exact spot. With Jayne’s luck, her brother the cop would nail the guys at Bitterwater’s only other shopping center while she was sitting here getting fat eating junk food in her car.

Jayne was debating about going into the grocery store to use the bathroom again when a blue sedan pulled into the lot and parked several yards away from her car. A middle-aged couple sat inside animatedly talking together for several minutes before they finally stepped from the car. She had never seen either of them before.

Admittedly, Jayne didn’t know every single person who shopped here in Bitterwater, but she did know people who looked nervous and out of their element. The woman was dressed in an expensive red sheath far more appropriate for San Antonio. The same could be said for her fancy hairstyle. Jayne brushed absently at her own long, straight hair and continued her assessment. The woman’s dress was nice enough, but the color was all wrong for her complexion. Even from this distance, Jayne would take bets all that gold and glitter coming from the chains and bracelets the woman wore wasn’t costume jewelry. The woman was as out of place as a gelding in a breeding stall.

The man with her wore a tailored business suit that didn’t come off a discount rack, either. He carried a shiny black briefcase that he gripped a little too tightly. His gaze darted about the parking area, nervously expectant.

And his tie was red. The red clashed with the different red shade of the woman’s dress. Not significant surely, yet Jayne’s brain wouldn’t leave it alone.

Wouldn’t that make a great identification signal? Nearly everyone owned something red, yet it was a color that would stand out without looking out of place. Jayne could almost hear the baby-nappers telling the buyers to come to the meeting wearing something red. The more she toyed with that thought the more she liked it. She watched the two of them closely, and dutifully wrote down their license plate number.

They were a mature couple, obviously not hurting for money based on their expensive car alone. And they made it clear they were waiting for someone. That didn’t make them baby buyers. More than likely they were Realtors or something, here to use the small business center located a couple of doors down from the grocery store. Except they weren’t paying the stores any attention at all. They scanned the parking lot as avidly as Jayne herself had been doing. She scrunched down a bit so they wouldn’t notice her and tamped down a rising excitement.

She’d already been surprised by how many strangers actually used this shopping center. Especially at this hour of the afternoon. Still, these two people definitely stood out.

Jayne reached for her camera and snapped off a couple of quick shots. The couple suddenly came to attention. She lowered the camera and swept the parking lot to see what had captured their interest. A flame-red sedan drove sedately down the next aisle over. She’d never seen the car before nor either of the two men inside, but if she were going to typecast a couple of thugs, these guys would make her list. No necks, broad shoulders, low-sloping foreheads—perfect.

Jayne sank even lower in her seat. Since she wasn’t tall to begin with, she didn’t have to sink very far. Anticipation sent her heart dancing. What if this was it? What if she’d actually picked the right spot?

The red car pulled through a parking space and came to a stop only a few cars down from her. The two men stepped out, dressed in ill-fitting suits.

And they both wore red ties.

Her heart tried a triple jump in her chest. This had to be it. It had to be!

Raising her head cautiously, she watched them peruse the parking lot before striding toward the eager couple. Then she remembered she was supposed to be filming the exchange. The baby must still be inside the red car. From her angle, she could just barely make out a car seat jutting up in the rear seat closest to her.

This really was it! She’d done it! They were going to make the exchange right here in front of her!

Jayne reached for the video camera, shaking with excitement. When she turned back, guns had appeared in both beefy hands. The couple looked horrified. Jayne’s own pulses leaped. The man was shaking his head, arguing, while the bigger of the two thug-types was staring at something beyond Jayne and to the left of her position.

Before she could twist around to follow that gaze, she saw the muzzle flash as his gun discharged. Something had gone horribly wrong.

The woman screamed. The man with her shoved her back toward their car. The other two men crouched down and fired again. Someone was shooting back and the car with the baby in it was right in the path of the bullets!

The couple fled toward their vehicle. Jayne dropped the video camera and opened her door. She had to get the baby to safety. If the men made it back to their car, God alone knew what would happen to the child. She could at least prevent them from taking it away.

Jayne flinched at the popping sound the guns made as she ran forward. Beside the car seat, the door was locked, but she glimpsed the infant sound asleep inside. It was so tiny it must have just been born. Any hesitation she had was gone. She must rescue the baby.

One of the thugs noticed her. He aimed his gun right at her. Jayne ducked and wrenched her shoulder opening the driver’s side door. Keys dangled invitingly from the ignition. She seized the easy opportunity to get the baby out of the way and prevent the men from escaping at the same time. She slid inside and started the engine, but she had to stretch to reach the pedals with her toes. The driver was a lot taller than she was.

The big man lunged toward the car. Her fingers clicked on the automatic lock a split second before he grabbed the handle trying to get inside. He reached into the open window, and grabbed a handful of hair and the front of an earring before Jayne threw the car in gear. The man swore and brought up his gun. Using the tip of her shoes on the gas pedal, she pulled out of the parking space with a jerk. A shot whizzed right past her head and exited the driver’s side window. Another man suddenly sprang out from between parked cars. He also aimed a gun at her.

The baby-nappers had brought backup!

Jayne hunched down behind the steering wheel and pushed down on the gas. The man fired right before he leaped out of her way. The windshield cracked as a hole appeared.

Quaking from head to toe, Jayne stayed as low as possible and tore out of the parking lot. The fiery red car nearly careened into an oncoming pickup truck. Avoiding the other vehicle forced her to turn right instead of left into town.

Her body trembled in reaction while her heart threatened to explode. She tore away from the scene with a squeal of tires. Shaken, but also giddy with her amazing success, she pushed the speed as fast as she dared. She had disrupted the exchange. She had saved the baby from being sold!

Unfortunately, she was speeding down the two-lane road away from town. She needed to get the car turned around so she could drive the baby into Bitterwater and the police station there. Her brother was going to have a cow!

Only, even scrunched down like this she could barely reach the pedals. She was going to have to stop for a minute and adjust the seat for her much shorter legs or she’d wreck.

Her elation was so high she was shaking. Wait until she walked into the police station with the baby in her arms. Her brother wouldn’t be able to tease her about her choice of career anymore.

Jayne pulled off on the side of the road raising a cloud of dust. She fumbled for the lever that would let her pull the front seat close enough to the steering wheel that she could drive the car in relative comfort. Her left shoulder was beginning to actively hurt. She must have wrenched it badly. She resisted an urge to rub the sore spot. Instead, she cast a look over the back seat to make sure the baby was okay. The car seat faced away from her so she could barely make out the small infant, but it still appeared to be sleeping.

Confident now, and bubbling with excitement, she pulled back out onto the road ignoring her shoulder. There was a crossroad up ahead. She could turn around there. The scarred glass with the bullet hole in the center made it a little tricky to see, now that she was sitting up, but she could manage. She’d just rescued a baby amid a hail of bullets. She could do anything!

She glanced in the rearview mirror as she pulled out. A silver car was barreling up behind her.

Intuition, or even a premonition, had her pressing down on the gas pedal. Lots of people drove fast. It was practically a rule. It didn’t have to mean a thing. But the car was gaining on her with single-minded purpose. She couldn’t have said why she knew the driver was coming after her, but she didn’t fight her desire to flee.

She came to the crossroad and took the turn too fast. She nearly lost control of the flame-red car. If there’d been another vehicle in the oncoming lane she would have crashed. The silver car followed closely behind her. Jayne didn’t dare slow down now. She fed the car more gas. Her police training kicked in. With an effort, she steadied her breathing and concentrated on the skills she’d been taught about high-speed pursuits. Funny. She’d expected to use these skills pursuing the bad guys—not being pursued by them.

She whipped down secondary roads, going deeper and deeper into unfamiliar territory. Her pursuer stayed right on her tail. His skills were obviously every bit as good as hers. Maybe better. He was gaining on her.

Without warning, she rounded a corner and came up on a horse trailer moving sedately along the narrow two-lane road. There was no time to slow down even if she’d wanted to. The shoulder abutted a gully. Her head pounded with fear as she pulled around him in the oncoming lane at eighty miles an hour. She barely squeezed back in before colliding head-on with an SUV heading in the opposite direction.

The sound of her heavy breathing filled the car. Her shoulder began to burn with surprising fire where she’d wrenched it. The baby began crying. Ahead was a major road. In her rearview mirror, she saw the silver car speed past the horse trailer. She’d gained ground, but not nearly enough. His car was faster. There was no choice. She whipped onto the new road amid honking horns and the squeal of brakes—and undoubtedly more than one curse.

She raced dangerously along the more heavily traveled, four-lane road, darting in and out among the cars, even using the shoulder to go around slower vehicles. All the while she prayed for a police car with flashing lights and a blaring siren. Instead, another quick glance in the mirror showed that the silver car was closing on her once again.

Impossible! There had to be a way to lose him.

Directly ahead was another cross street. An eighteen-wheeler hauling heavy bridge joists was in the right lane, lumbering along at a sedate fifty-five miles an hour. Jayne judged the distance. The timing would have to be exactly right or she’d kill both herself and the infant she was trying to protect. She knew she could make it. She also knew the silver car could not.

He was right behind her. She glimpsed his angry, set features in her mirror. With unnatural calm, she again measured the distance, saw there was no traffic on the secondary road, and cut directly in front of the semi at the last second. His horn blared a deep, furious warning as she sailed past and onto the side road, barely maintaining control over her car.

Instantly, Jayne dropped her speed. Something warm and wet ran down her left arm. She ignored it, bypassed the first side road she came to and kept going until she found a second one. The distances between roads became farther apart the longer she drove, but she repeated the process twice more before finding herself on a country lane in the middle of absolute nowhere.

Fences bordered the road indicating ranches or farms. Good. Her pursuer would never find her now. Even she didn’t know where she was. All she had to do was keep driving until she—

A yellow light flashed on her dashboard. Her gaze flicked down and her heart began to pound all over again.

Low gas.

How could she be almost out of gas? What sort of criminals didn’t fill their gas tanks?

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.

He reached for the bottle and stuck the nipple in the little guy’s mouth. Greedily, the baby began to suckle. Dark-blue eyes opened and gazed up at him with such trust that Cade knew he was lost. A child needed its mother. He knew that better than most.

And in this case, the mother needed a protector. Looking at the tiny infant he knew he’d just been elected. There was no way he was driving them back into harm’s way until he knew what the situation really was.

Since she was breathing okay on her own, and not bleeding anymore, he decided to deal with the infant first. The crying had been more than he could stand. He wanted to make absolutely sure the baby wasn’t hurt.

His medical skills were limited, but any good rancher knew enough first aid to deal with emergencies. What Cade didn’t know was what to do with a human infant. Give him a cow or a horse or even some poor kitten—no problem. But God help him, he’d never even contemplated changing a diaper before. Yet the kid was soaked. It couldn’t be good for the little guy. Holding the baby and bottle awkwardly in one hand, he reached for a large, soft bag that had become jammed between the cab of the truck and some sort of baby carrier.

The yellow-and-green bag hadn’t been there when he first began loading the truck so he guessed it was hers. There were blood smears on it, as well. No doubt he’d need both the contents of the bag and the carrier that doubled as a seat.

The dark, dusty interior of the unpainted building was less than welcoming. Cade frowned. It was a line shack, for crying out loud. There was one window and one door. This was a place where a couple of men could throw down their gear and sack out on the bunk beds, protected from inclement weather. He took mental inventory. It housed a cookstove, a few dishes, some implements, the bunk beds, a wobbly table and four chairs. There was a lean-to out back with a couple of stalls for horses and some oil lanterns for light. And thankfully, a pump to provide water. Beyond that, there were no amenities.

Well, it was what it was. The shack would do until he could determine how badly she was hurt.

Awkwardly, he set down the carrier and placed the baby inside. The minute he removed the nipple, the infant screwed up its face and began to wail.

“Okay, look. Just hold on for a minute. I’ve got to see to your mother. You can finish eating in a second.”

The baby was in no mood to be placated by mere words. He was hungry and he was letting Cade know it. He howled at the top of his tiny lungs.

“Certainly can’t be anything seriously wrong with you if you can scream like that.” Cade wasted a few minutes grabbing his kit from the front seat of the truck and spreading his sleeping bag over the lumpy mattress. Then he returned to the truck for the woman.

She moaned softly when he lifted her, but those sweepingly thick dark eyelashes only fluttered against her pale cheeks without raising. She was incredibly slender. Why, she didn’t weigh much at all.

Long, pale hair spilled like ribbons of satin against his toughened skin. He tried to pretend that he didn’t notice how good she smelled or how pretty she was. Her graceful neck draped limply over his arm. Like her kid, she was a tiny bit of a thing. Small boned, delicately shaped, she had an upturned little nose and soft, nicely shaped lips.

And a bullet hole in her shoulder.

Cade toughened his heart and his thoughts. He carried her inside and laid her down on his open sleeping bag. She was pretty, but young. Much too young for an old man like him. In fact, too young for the jerk claiming to be her husband. No wedding ring, either, he noticed. In fact, no rings at all.

Since carrying her inside hadn’t started the bleeding up again nor roused her, Cade turned his attention back to the screaming infant. He was afraid the little guy would hurt himself crying that hard.

The baby quieted instantly as soon as the nipple returned to his mouth. Cade let him drink for several minutes before pulling the bottle back. He had to get the supplies inside before it got dark. Junior was not happy.

“Okay, fella, hold your horses. I’ll be right back.”

He off-loaded the food supplies first. Then he dug out the first-aid kit and a couple of jugs of fresh water, removed the spare blankets and added the two new shirts he’d bought himself today. The young woman would need something to put on once he cut off her fancy shirt, and these were all he had to offer beyond the change of clothing in his bedroll.

The baby had really worked himself into a state by the time Cade hauled all the stuff inside. He dropped his hat on a chair and turned back to the infant.

“Shh. Hush. It’s okay. The feed bags can wait. I’ll get them later.” He withdrew another bottle from the contents of the bag and stuck the nipple back in the baby’s mouth with one hand and tried to unwrap the kid with the other hand.

“We’ve got to get you out of this wet stuff. You stink worse than the outhouse, kid. You’ll get a rash or something sitting around in it like this.”

What the heck was he doing playing nanny to some baby? He didn’t know anything about kids. Especially one as small as this. He’d probably hurt him with his big clumsy hands. Look how tiny his fingers were! How could something this small make so much noise?

“You’re awfully loud, you know that, tiger?” The baby ignored his commentary to suck down the formula.

“Man, you were thirsty. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It must have been hot as Hades under that tarp. But you’re going to get a stomachache drinking like that.”

In the end, he waited for the baby to finish the bottle. The kid instantly began to whimper again wanting more.

“Hang on. I’ll see what I can do as soon as I get you changed, okay?”

Obviously it was not okay based on the noise and the way the baby began to flail his arms and legs. Cade stripped away the wet garments. A gauze pad covered his stomach. For a second, his heart stopped. Had the infant been hurt as well? He peeled back the pad carefully and discovered the stump of the umbilical cord.

Cade swore. “Sorry, kid. But that looks nasty.” There was dried blood around the withering navel. Was it supposed to look like that? Should he be doing something for it?

“Why couldn’t you have been a kitten?”

First, he’d better get the wet diaper off. Paying close attention to the way the diaper fastened, he removed it.

“You’re a she!”

Why that surprised him, he couldn’t have said, but the infant quieted at his exclamation. She stared up at him with wide, trusting eyes.

“Oh, yeah, you’re definitely a female. Don’t be batting those baby blues at me, kid. You’re like every other woman I’ve ever met, you don’t like being wet or dirty, do you? Must be something you’re all born with. Now hold still while I give this diapering business a try. How the heck is this supposed to work? You’re a lot smaller than these diapers, kid…No…Hold still. Don’t kick your legs like that…Will you hold still?”

It was like trying to pin a wet octopus. Her arms and legs thrashed and she began crying again, probably wanting more milk. Eventually he got her wiped off and the dry diaper in place—after a fashion.

“It ain’t pretty, kid, but it should do the job.”

He found rubbing alcohol in his kit and dabbed a little on the cord where it had been bleeding. The baby objected.

“Sorry, little girl, but you’ll get an infection or something.” He covered the area with some antibacterial cream and a small bit of gauze.

After digging through the bag, he came up with a second outfit and finally won the battle of getting her into it. Then he reached for another bottle of formula.

“Mouthy little thing, aren’t you? You want what you want when you want it.” But he found an unaccustomed smile curving his lips as he watched her drink. She was beautiful. Her eyes stared complacently up at him, then closed peacefully as he rocked her gently in his arms.

“You’re going to grow up to be a heartbreaker, you know that? You’ll lead some dumb male on a merry chase, won’t you, little one?”

Running the back of a knuckle over her soft skin, he marveled at her tiny countenance. There was something almost soothing holding her like this. Wisps of light-colored hair and a small pointy chin were her only real distinguishable features. He glanced over at the mother to see if her chin was pointy, too, and found himself being observed by a pair of light-blue eyes.

“So, you’re awake. How do you feel?” Unnerved to be caught off guard that way, the words came out sharper than he’d intended.

The woman’s mouth parted dryly. The tip of her tongue licked at her chapped lips and he realized the baby wasn’t the only one who was thirsty. She tried to sit up and her face contorted in obvious pain. “Is…the baby okay?”

“Your daughter is fine. She was just wet and hungry. I’ll get you some water and have a look at your shoulder in a minute. She’s already polished off a bottle and a half and she’s nearly asleep.”

The cabin was growing dark. He needed to get the rest of the supplies inside and arrange some light so he could see before it grew too dark. A fire wouldn’t be amiss, either. He’d need to make dinner and he desperately wanted a cup of coffee.

The baby’s frantic sucking had slowed right along with its breathing. He took a chance and set the infant back in her carrier. With a contented sigh, she seemed to settle back, peacefully asleep. Cade reached for a lantern and used a few seconds to fire up the wick.

“Let me get a fire started and put some water on to boil, okay?”

The woman’s eyes had closed again. She didn’t answer. He walked over and laid a hand on her forehead. A little warm. Was she running a fever? He hoped not. His first-aid kit wasn’t as up-to-date as it should have been. She lifted her eyelids with obvious effort to peer up at him.

“Here. Let’s try a little water.” He found a cup, wiped it out with the inside of his clean handkerchief and offered her water from one of the jugs he’d brought inside. Like her daughter, she drank thirstily as he held her silky head. Damn, but she had nice hair, even if some of it was matted with dried blood. Her eyes closed and he laid her back down.

“Stay with me, okay?”

“’kay,” she whispered, but she didn’t open her eyes again.

Cade frowned. This wasn’t a good sign. How much blood had she lost? The wound might become infected. Bringing her inside had been a really bad idea. He should have taken her straight back to town or over to the doc’s place.

“Listen. Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” she replied without opening her eyes.

“I’m going outside to the truck. I’m going to radio Hap to send us some help. It’s going to take awhile, but I’ll get you to a doctor as quick as I can, okay? Miss? Hey. Can you hear me?”

He touched her cheek lightly, but she didn’t move. Her chest rose and fell in steady rhythm. She’d fallen asleep.

Or into a coma.

That thought scared him with gut-clenching intensity. As he squatted beside her, the sound of his truck engine coming to life was like an unexpected thunderclap. Cade leaped to his feet. In three short strides he was at the door.

“Hey! Hey hold it! Come back here!”

Someone was stealing his truck!

Cade raced after the vehicle as it barreled away down the rutted path that served as a road. He shouted to no avail. The bastard had no intention of stopping. While Cade hadn’t gotten a clear look at the driver, he didn’t need to. It had to be his brother-in-law, Luís.

But how had the kid known where he was? How had anyone known where he was?

An icy finger of fear raised the hair on the back of his head.

What if he was wrong? What if that hadn’t been Luís?

In the deepening twilight, Cade controlled a moment of panic. He forced himself to think. The line shack was a long way from the road. Hell, it was a long way from anything. How had Luís gotten here?

Cade surveyed the landscape surrounding the shack. There was no sign of another vehicle or a horse but the kid couldn’t have walked in. A drifter? There was a draw out behind the cabin to the east a ways, and of course the hills behind the shack. It was possible that a drifter had been camping nearby and seized the moment.

It was also possible that the drifter hadn’t been alone.

That thought stopped him cold. The isolation of the line shack was complete. Without that truck he had no means of communication or escape. Cade cursed his stupidity and the bastard who had driven off. His options had just vanished, leaving him stranded with a badly wounded woman and an infant.

Another chilling possibility worked its way forward. What if the woman’s husband had followed him here? A remote chance, but barely possible. He hadn’t really paid any attention to others on the road once he left town.

If it had been the husband, the bastard would have had to leave that little silver car of his out near the road. That meant he walked in, which meant his car wasn’t far away.

If it had been the husband.

Cade couldn’t leave the woman and the baby alone to check out that theory or any of the others. This was a perfect place for an ambush. Once he was out of sight all the bastard had to do was ditch the truck and circle back to the clearing.

Cade swore viciously. Every possibility he could think of presented potential danger. His rifle was inside his truck. The only weapon he had with him was a .38. He was pretty sure it only held three or four rounds.

Cade headed back inside. He lit a second oil lamp and dug his gun out of his gear. The feel of the heavy metal was reassuring. At least he wasn’t totally defenseless.

His pulse hummed with tension as he walked back outside and checked the wood box. Supplies were on the low side, but adequate for tonight. The real blessing was that he’d unloaded the important supplies before the bastard stole the truck. He had food, bottled water, blankets and his gun. What he didn’t have was a radio, transportation, more than one box of diapers or a lot of spare formula for the baby.

He hoped the woman could breast-feed soon or they were going to find out how the infant liked powdered milk. Cade primed the pump and let the water run until most of the brown discoloration was replaced by clear water. He filled a couple of pans with the water and lit the wood-burning stove. After stacking more wood inside, he dragged the table full of supplies over against the front door. At least no one could walk in on them without warning. Finally, he was able to turn his attention to the woman.

Girl, he corrected himself harshly, looking down at her relaxed face in the soft yellow light of the lantern. She couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen. Much too young to be married, let alone have a child. If he had that jerk bastard from the crossing here right now, he’d happily beat the man to a bloody pulp.

As far as Cade could see, the girl hadn’t moved. He grabbed the first-aid kit and braced himself for the delicate operation of removing her blouse.

He’d intended to cut the material away from the wound, but given the new situation, he might need to cut his spare shirts into diapers. There was only the one box of diapers tucked inside the bag she’d carried. Who knew how long those would last? He’d have to remove her blouse carefully and try to wash the blood out so she could wear it again.

Fresh blood matted the thin material, adhering it to her like a second skin. Cade frowned. How much blood had she lost? If that bullet had nicked the bone or an artery they were going to be in serious trouble.

If only she wasn’t so pretty. Why couldn’t she have been some fat old hag? He was feeling like a dirty old man for even noticing this one was female.

Taking a deep breath, he undid her buttons quickly. A lacy, white bra that fastened in the front was revealed. He had no intention of touching that! And he carefully averted his eyes from the sight of her small, high round breasts nicely filling the flimsy material. Cade cursed beneath his breath.

This was going to be harder than he’d thought. She lay like a rag doll as he lifted her slight weight and untucked the blouse from her slacks, slipping the white material off her good arm. She moaned softly as he laid her back down.

“Hey. Wake up. It would be a big help if you’d open your eyes and give me a hand here.”

No such luck. Her skin definitely felt warm and dry to the touch. Not a good sign. He’d take bets she was running a fever. He prayed the wound hadn’t gotten infected.

Water boiled on the stove. He let it go and rolled her to one side so he could ease the blouse away from her injured shoulder.

She was as delicate and fragile as a small bird. In back, the material of the blouse had crusted against the wound. He tried to ease it free gently, but the scab broke, starting a fresh trickle of blood.

With a muttered oath, he wadded her sleeve and pressed it against the wound, all the while thinking how badly he wanted five minutes alone with the bastard who’d shot her. At least the bullet hadn’t gone into the shoulder, but it had taken out a lot of tissue as it plowed a groove through her skin alongside the bra strap.

He had no business playing doctor with a wound this serious. He should have driven her back into town as soon as he found her, husband or no husband. But it was no use thinking what he should have done. The important thing was to do the right thing for her now.

He pressed against the wound until the bleeding stopped, then he stood, whipped off the bandanna from around his neck and put it into the pan of boiling water. All the while he cursed himself for a fool.

He made himself wait five full minutes before he fished the bandanna out of the water with a fork and held it over the small sink until it cooled enough so he could wring it out.

Gently, he began washing away the dried blood from around her wound. She shifted restlessly. He had to hold her still so she didn’t roll onto her back.

“Easy. I’m cleaning away the blood. Hold still, okay?”

She was worse than her daughter. Cade couldn’t tell if she heard him or not, but the sound of his voice seemed to soothe her, so he continued talking as he worked.

“This needs stitches, little girl. I’ve got some thread and if you were a man, I might be tempted.” But she was definitely no man and he couldn’t bring himself to stick a needle into her soft, white skin.

“I’m going to pour some disinfectant into the wound. It’s gonna sting, but we need to keep it from getting infected.” He wondered if she heard or understood anything he was saying. “I’ll have to use butterfly bandages to try to pull the skin together. I’ve got tape and gauze so I’ll wrap it tightly. That should hold you until I can get you to a doctor.”

God only knew how long that would be.

There was no way to lower the strap of the bra without jarring the wound. She wasn’t going to like it, but he used his knife to cut the strap before he set some fresh water boiling on the stove and stoked the fire. He couldn’t stall forever. He was going to have to get this over with. He debated between the iodine or the rubbing alcohol. But the alcohol would disinfect the wound and he could put some of the antibacterial cream on it afterward. If this didn’t wake her, nothing would.

He poured a small amount of rubbing alcohol directly into the wound. She cried out and opened her eyes, instantly shutting them again tightly.

“What are you doing?” she demanded in a raw voice as he mopped up the dripping excess.

“We have to prevent infection.”

“I’ll take my chances with the germs.” Watery blue eyes glared up at him. “Get that stuff away from me.”

“Don’t worry, I’m done. I need to put some cream on the wound.”

“No.” Her lips set in mutinous lines of determination.

“Look, you’re in no position to be giving me any grief. Hold still or you’ll start it bleeding again.”

“No. I—Ow! That hurts!”

“All done.”

She blinked back tears as he blotted her chest lightly with his handkerchief.

“How would you like me to do that to you?” she growled, brushing away a tear.

He tried not to feel bad or guilty over causing her more pain. “I’m not injured.”

“I can fix that.”

Cade’s lips twisted in a smile in spite of himself. The girl had spunk. “Let me put on a bandage.”

“Forget it. Let me die in peace.”

“You aren’t gonna die.”

“I am if you keep helping me.”

His lips twitched. Her voice might be weak, but she had spunk. Her grit came as a complete surprise. He’d expected buckets of tears. She had to be in considerable pain.

“It was an antibacterial cream.”

“I know what it was and my shoulder hurts like the devil. Will you just take me to a doctor?”

“I’d love to, but we have a problem.”

Her tired eyes opened again. “What problem?”

“Someone stole my truck.”

“What are you talking about? Where are we?”

“We’re at a line shack on my ranch.”

“Well, call someone!”

“Happy to oblige, but the radio is in the truck.”

“Then use your cell phone.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Everyone has a cell phone these days.”

Cade shook his head. “I’m not real fond of modern technology.”

“Yeah. I could tell from your archaic idea of medicine. What are you doing?”

“Tryin’ to put a butterfly bandage over the bullet hole. And it would be a whole lot easier if you’d hold still and cooperate.”

“I don’t trust you.”

Offended, he pursed his lips. Ungrateful little witch. “Well, get over it. Right now, I’m all you’ve got.”

She glared at him, but held still while he applied the bandages and began to wrap her shoulder. Suddenly, her eyes grew wide.

“You took off my blouse!”

Embarrassed, he didn’t meet her eyes. “Tough to tend your wound with it on. I had to cut the strap off your bra as well.”

“You didn’t,” she gasped.

“’Fraid so, but you can’t wear it over that shoulder anyhow. And your blouse won’t be good for much even after I wash it out. Don’t worry. You’re perfectly safe with me.”

“You’re gay?”

Indignant, he glared at her. “Of course not!”

“Then why should I believe I’m safe with you?”

“Because my taste doesn’t run to mouthy juveniles with tiny babies and a gun-toting husband,” he snapped in reply. “I take it he was the one who shot you?”

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened, but she swallowed back what she started to say and looked at him strangely. “Who are you?”

“Cade McGovern. Who are you?”

“Jayne.”

He waited but she didn’t offer a last name. The baby stirred behind him as he finished wrapping the tape around her shoulder.

“Well, Jayne. I hope you’re prepared to breast-feed because your daughter will soon polish off those bottles you were traveling with and I don’t imagine powdered milk is going to make a good substitute.”

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