The Rancher's Doorstep Baby. Patricia Thayer
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you, Ms. Hewitt.”
“Er, maybe you should sit down, ma’am,” the deputy said.
Rachel blinked. “Is my sister in trouble, Deputy?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry to say Sarah died nearly three weeks ago in an automobile accident.”
Rachel didn’t hear much more as the buzzing in her head drowned out everything else but the words, Sarah died. She felt herself sinking, until Cole put his arm around her and held her up.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Just lean on me.”
Struggling to regain her composure, Rachel straightened. “Please, sit down.” She moved around the kitchen. “I’ll make some coffee.”
She suddenly felt Cole grip her trembling hands and stop her. “Rachel, we don’t need coffee. You need to sit down.” His eyes held hers. “Do you want me to call someone?”
She shook her head. “Just…can you…stay with me?”
“Of course.” He led her to the table and sat her down in a chair, then pulled out another one for himself.
“I’m sorry to put you through this, Ms. Hewitt, but your sister didn’t leave much information about her family. And it was important we find you because…” The two men exchanged a long look, then the deputy continued, “Because before your sister died she gave birth to a baby girl.”
CHAPTER TWO
AT SIX-THIRTY the next morning, Rachel dressed in a dark skirt and white blouse. The night had passed in a blur. She had relied on Cy and Cole to take the details about her sister’s accident. After the words, blown tire, she hadn’t processed much more. Later, Rachel learned that Sarah had lost control of her car and crashed into a tree. Her sister had been in a coma when the doctor delivered her baby four weeks prematurely.
Unable to sleep, Rachel had wandered through the house, trying to rid herself of the guilt that threatened to consume her. She should have tried harder to find Sarah, tried harder to bring her home.
Now, she was bringing home her sister’s baby daughter.
After packing an overnight bag for the trip to San Antonio, she went out where Cy and Cole were waiting beside the dark late-model truck. Cole took her bag and placed it inside the crew cab. She turned to Cy.
“Are you sure you’re well enough to handle things?”
“Shoot, I could do it with my eyes closed.” He hugged her. “To ease your mind, Bud Campbell is stopping by to help out.”
Rachel studied the man who’d been the only loving force in her life. He was like an uncle to her. “Just don’t overdo it. I left some chicken in the refrigerator for you. So be sure to eat it, and not that fried food and heavy gravy from the diner in town.”
“Stop nagging me, girl.” Cy hugged her. “You have enough to worry about.” He glanced at Cole. “Make sure she eats, too.”
“Will do,” Cole promised as he opened the door. “We better get on the road.”
After Rachel climbed in, he started the engine and headed toward Interstate Ten. Cole tried not to speed, wanting to arrive safely, but it was a long way to San Antonio. For the first few hours Rachel just sat there and stared out the window. The constant steady hum of the engine was the only sound in the truck cab.
“Do you think she suffered?” Rachel finally asked.
Her blunt question caught Cole off guard. He knew all too well how fragile life could be. How fast everything could be snatched away from you. Rachel knew it now, too. “I don’t think so. They said she was unconscious when they got to the car.”
He glanced out the windshield at the miles of highway ahead of them. He didn’t want to think about Rachel’s pain. He had no doubt she was feeling the hurt clear through to the bone. She’d lost a sister she hadn’t seen in years and that empty ache wasn’t going away…not for a long time.
“I used to hate her, you know.” Rachel turned to him. “I was so angry at her for leaving me. And not once did she wonder how I was doing…or how Father was.”
“I didn’t know your sister, Rachel. But maybe she had her reasons.”
“Oh, she had her reasons, all right. She hated the ranch and she hated Father.”
“A lot of parents and kids have disagreements,” he said, but he knew there was more. He’d heard about Gib Hewitt’s reputation. The men who worked for him considered him a tyrant. Apparently he hadn’t treated his daughters much better, either.
“Sarah always rebelled. It seemed she did things to purposely anger Father. One day she told me she was going to leave and make a life for herself.” Rachel looked away. “She took money from Father’s desk.”
Cole took his eyes off the road to glance in her direction. “What did your father do?”
“He said that she was just like our mother. That she was no good. He no longer had a daughter named Sarah.”
Cole cursed under his breath. “Your father might have been overly strict, Rachel, but Sarah had to know that you loved her.”
“All I wanted was for her to come home,” Rachel said and he could hear the emotion in her voice. “Now…it’s too late.”
“It’s not too late for her baby. You can bring her daughter back to the Bar H.”
But deep in his heart Cole knew too well that not everybody got a second chance.
Cole hadn’t been in a hospital in nearly two years. Not since Jillian had been rushed into emergency. Suddenly he felt light-headed and his body began to tremble. He fought it, but couldn’t push away the memories as the antiseptic smell threatened to choke him. There had been many times he’d wished it had. Then he wouldn’t have to face the questions, the accusations…the guilt.
For Rachel’s sake, he had to pull it together. It had been a long day already and she still needed to meet with the social worker in charge of her niece’s case.
Cole punched the button for the elevator and looked at Rachel’s pale face. He took her cold hand in his and held it while they rode up to the fourth floor. All too soon the bell chimed and they got off, then walked toward the nurse’s station.
“I’m Rachel Hewitt, and I’m here to meet Mrs. Nealey.”
The young, blond nurse pointed to the reception area where a middle-aged woman was seated doing paperwork. Rachel went to her. “Mrs. Nealey?”
The woman stood and offered a friendly smile. “Yes, I’m Beth Nealey. You must be Rachel Hewitt.”
“How did you know?”
“I saw a picture of you…in your sister’s things.”
Rachel’s eyes widened. “Sarah had a picture of me?”
The social worker nodded. “You were both a lot younger, but it was you.” She glanced at Cole. “I’m sure the police will give you the rest of her things now that you’ve been located.”
“My sister and I haven’t seen each other in over eight years,” Rachel whispered.
As much as he tried to stay back, Cole found himself stepping closer to offer his strength. “Had Sarah always lived in San Antonio?” he asked.
Mrs. Nealey shook her head. “The police and I have recently learned Sarah had been in town for only the past few months.” The social worker continued, “She rented a furnished apartment, and paid week to week. She worked as a waitress at a local diner. The car she was driving was registered in a friend’s name, Carrie Johnston, who was out of town at the time of the accident. Ms. Johnston returned this week and that’s how we learned about you, Ms. Hewitt.”
“What