Someone's Baby. Dani Sinclair
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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