Rescued by the Colton Cowboy

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  * * *

  Soledad was shivering, fright overriding the cold. The entire time Palmer had stood outside the barn with Gavin, she’d been scared to death Gavin would find her. The conversation between the two men had seemed tense. Wanting to see what was going on, she’d scaled a ladder to the barn’s loft, peering out an upper window.

  She’d quickly discovered that keeping herself hidden and Lyra quiet was a bigger challenge than she’d anticipated. The baby had been anxious for attention and gurgled constantly. She was a chatterbox without the words to explain herself, but didn’t let it slow her down. Soledad had pulled out every trick she knew to keep Lyra quiet, grateful that the little girl was not a crier. It had been nerve-racking at best, to say nothing of the fact that Soledad felt horrible to be putting her through such turmoil to begin with.

  She was climbing back down the wooden ladder when Palmer reentered the barn. She noted the quizzical look on his face as he watched her ease down to the main floor, so she gave him the faintest smile.

  “We need to move you and the baby to the main house,” he said.

  “What did Gavin say?”

  “Are you certain that was your friend’s husband?”

  Soledad nodded.

  “He asked a lot of questions. Something tells me he didn’t get the answers he was hoping for, so he may come back. Then again, he might not. We just need to make sure we’re ready if he does. For the time being, though, we need to take care of that wound and then try to figure out what’s next.”

  “I really could use a shower,” Soledad said. “And this bundle of joy—” she kissed Lyra’s cheek “—needs a diaper change and a bottle.”

  Palmer nodded. “If it were daylight, I’d probably hide you away in the horse trailer and drive you to the back of the house, so no one sees you.”

  Soledad shrugged as she considered his comment. She was grateful for his help because he didn’t have to be bothered. “Do you think anyone is up this time of the night who might see me?”

  He shook his head. “No, and I’m fairly sure your friend is gone. But I’m going to shut down the lights to the house just to be sure. Jack will also give us a heads-up if anyone is out there. Just walk straight ahead. There should be enough moonlight for you to see your way.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  Standing in the entrance, he gave a low whistle and Jack shot past him into the darkness. Palmer hesitated momentarily, as if listening for Jack to give him a signal. When the dog didn’t return or bark, he gestured for her to follow. Leading the way, he moved swiftly across the property to the path that led straight to the family home. When they reached the front steps, Palmer tossed her a look, concern seeping past his thick lashes.

  “Watch your step,” he whispered loudly.

  “I’m good,” Soledad whispered back. She flashed him a grateful smile.

  As she took the first step, Palmer eased a protective arm around her waist, his hand resting lightly against her hip, the other cupped under her elbow. His touch was warm, and she was suddenly at ease, comfort washing over her spirit. Soledad hadn’t anticipated such a thing ever happening again. The feeling was unexpected, and her stomach did a slight flip. Then her knees began to quiver and her whole body began to shake, threatening to drop her back down to the ground. She held Lyra tighter.

  “Are you okay?” Palmer questioned as he pushed open the front door and guided her inside.

  Soledad nodded, words stuck deep in her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to explain. Despite everything that had happened, feeling like all was lost, being with this man she knew nothing about had her feeling like everything could be well again if she just gave it some time.

  “Soledad?”

  She lifted her eyes to meet his. He was staring intently, his gaze searching hers, concern seeping from his eyes. Soledad clutched the baby just a little tighter, then dropped to the slate floor and sobbed.

  * * *

  Lyra lay in the center of the queen-size bed, pillows propped on either side of her to keep her from rolling off, later that evening. She was warm, her belly was full, and once again she was sleeping as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Soledad, on the other hand, looked like she’d taken a swift trip to hell, stopping to battle in the next world war before making the trip back home. She could only imagine what Palmer had thought.

  She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror that decorated the door leading into the private bathroom. Dried blood was splattered in her shoulder-length hair and her tears had left deep streaks in the dirt that painted her face. Her clothes were tattered from the thorny branches they’d caught on and mud caked her shoes and pant legs. She looked wretched and it was a wonder the man hadn’t been frightened away by the sight of her. But he hadn’t looked at her with fear, just compassion and kindness. And something else that she couldn’t quite discern. She only knew that she instinctively trusted it, and him.

  Moving to the bathroom, she dropped her top, pants, bra and panties to the tiled floor. She turned on the shower, and when the water was nicely heated, she slid beneath the spray. The warm liquid was a balm to her skin, and she could feel every muscle easing into the comfort of it. She would never have imagined anything being so exhilarating to her spirit, but this was like angels singing in her ears, she thought. Soledad tilted her face into the flow and let it rain over her shoulders and saturate the length of her hair.

  As she lathered the strands, she thought about Annie. How Annie would have teased her about always running into a man when she looked like she’d been dragged around and abandoned by a neighborhood cat. Usually, it was baking flour that clung to her clothes and a spattering of chocolate or butter in her hair, depending on whatever she’d put into the ovens at the bakery. Annie would have doubled over with laughter if she’d been there to hear Soledad tell her about being in Palmer’s barn. Soledad wasn’t ready to laugh about it just yet.

  With no sense of time, she stood beneath the warmth until the water began to run cold. The chill was just enough to pull her from the reverie she’d fallen into, thinking about the past and pondering the future. A future that suddenly included a six-month-old and the fight to keep her safe from her father. Motherhood hadn’t been on Soledad’s to-do list. Not that she didn’t want to be a parent. Because she did. But she’d planned on having a husband and father for her child first. She’d been more than satisfied with the role of godmother, able to spoil Lyra senseless. Her sister, Dominique, was also planning to be pregnant as soon as she and Stanton made it down the aisle, so she’d be an auntie sooner than later.

  She’d had plans for them that involved excursions for ice cream and visits to the toy stores before returning to their respective parents. Now, assuming she’d get legal custody of Lyra, per Annie’s wishes, Soledad had to consider day care and dance classes, doctor’s visits, Girl Scouts and whatever else little ones did these days. The fact that Soledad didn’t have a clue spoke volumes. She was going to need help with poor little Lyra, she thought.

  Stepping out of the shower, Soledad reached for the oversize white towel Palmer had left for her. He’d been overly concerned with her being comfortable and she appreciated his efforts.

  She paused to examine the wound. It looked worse than it was, the abrasion superficial. The bullet had gone in and out, not hitting anything internal or doing any major damage. She’d gotten lucky and she whispered a prayer of gratitude that it wasn’t worse. The bleeding had stopped and the wound had looked ghastlier than it was. Admittedly, it had scared her at first, and she realized it had unnerved Palmer, as well. She was just grateful the shots had missed Lyra, Gavin not at all concerned about his child with his felonious behavior. He was lower than graveyard dirt, she thought, knowing she’d never be able to rest well until he was behind bars. She took a deep inhalation and held it for a moment before slowly blowing it back out.

  With o
ne last glance in the huge mirror, Soledad made her way from the bathroom back to the bedroom. She suddenly came to an abrupt halt, panic delivering a deep gut punch to her midsection. The bed was in disarray and Lyra was gone.

  * * *

  It had been crying, little face beet red as it gasped for air to bellow back out. Palmer had gone to check that both were well when he heard the baby crying and the shower running. He’d hesitated, not quite sure what to do, but then realized Soledad probably couldn’t hear the child wailing if she were in the shower. And now it lay in his lap, staring up at him, pale blue gaze eyeing him warily.

  Palmer kicked himself for referring to the baby as an it. Even if only in his own head. It was a girl. Her name was Lyra. And she wasn’t crying anymore. Now she just smelled bad. Like the cow pasture multiplied by ten. He couldn’t begin to fathom how such a tiny person could smell so foul. But she reeked, and for the last ten minutes, he’d been trying to get past the stink to put a clean diaper on her bottom.

  Palmer had no children, and for the most part, kids were an anomaly. He had friends who had them and, more times than not, he ignored them. His sister had a son, the toddler holding a permanent place in his heart. But he was not a favored godfather or uncle and had never given any thought to being a parent. Fatherhood had not been anything he’d wanted for himself, most especially when he considered the state of the world. His past had also left him jaded when it came to love and family, not that he was interested in rehashing his bad experiences while trying to get beyond toxic sludge oozing past the thigh line of Lyra’s diaper. He gagged, fighting not to hurl whatever he’d last eaten onto the floor.

  Soledad suddenly barreled into the room wearing nothing but a towel. Her hair was soaked, water trickling down her ringlets. Her warm complexion was pale with fear and fury, the emotion like a stark tattoo across her forehead. Palmer’s eyes widened at the sight of her, skating over the curve of her bare shoulders down to the taut muscles of her legs. She was gorgeous, and she took his breath away, even if he did sense a tongue-lashing coming his way.

  “What are you doing with her?” Soledad snapped, clutching at the towel she was holding precariously around her lean figure.

  He picked up the clean diaper and waved it at her. “She was screaming her head off while you were in the shower. I thought I might be of some help, but it’s not going well.” Wrinkling his nose, he lifted Lyra up and held her and the diaper at arm’s length.

  Soledad looked from him to the baby and back again. The wealth of emotion that had led her into the room suddenly dissipated, rising like a morning mist to expose a sky full of sunshine. A smile suddenly pulled at her mouth and she bit her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing outright.

  Palmer shook his head. “It’s really not funny. What the hell did you feed her?”

  Chapter 4

  Lyra gurgled contentedly, her little arms flapping at her sides. She sat propped against a fortress of pillows on the family room floor. Jack lay beside her, seeming to ignore the occasional ear pull or kick to his side.

  From where he stood in the home’s kitchen, Palmer could easily watch them both and finish the meal he had started making. Usually, he would have grabbed a bowl of hot cereal and kept moving, but he thought Soledad might enjoy homemade banana pancakes with a side of bacon.

  She had been exhausted, and when sleep had finally claimed her, she hadn’t wanted to let it go. After the late night they’d all had, he’d appreciated the few hours of slumber he’d garnered, as well. Lyra’s schedule seemed to mimic his own, the little girl waking with the morning sun. Soledad had been grateful when he had offered to take the child with him so she could rest a few more minutes. Now he was watching Jack watch her watching him and, despite the absurdity of it all, was feeling far more comfortable with the situation than he was willing to admit.

  Jack shifted his body to lie beside the baby, his tail like a windshield wiper gone awry. He swatted the infant once and then twice, then suddenly yelped when Lyra grabbed him and pulled. The little girl laughed heartily, the wealth of it like the sweetest balm to his heart through the morning air. Jack barked.

  “Good dog,” Palmer muttered. “Don’t take any crap from her. She’s trying to steal your heart, pal. Don’t let her.”

  A warm alto responded from the doorway. Palmer turned as Soledad stepped through the entrance. She looked relaxed. Her hair was down and loose, the blue-black strands framing her face. She wore one of his T-shirts and an old pair of shorts he’d found in a closet. Left by one of his sisters, probably Grace, they fit her nicely. Barefoot and comfortable, she was the most beautiful woman he knew, if you excluded his mother, of course. He blushed, feeling his cheeks warm with color.

  Soledad laughed. “Really? That’s a little cynical, don’t you think?”

  Palmer had looked up sheepishly as the sound of her voice drew his attention. He felt a wide grin pulling across his face as amusement filled him. “Good morning. I didn’t see you standing there.”

  “Obviously!” She giggled softly. “Good morning to you, too. Lyra wasn’t any trouble, was she?” she asked as she moved to the baby’s side, a finger tickling her chubby cheek.

  He shook his head. “She’s been good. No massive explosions. No tantrums. She took a bottle and she’s been content lying there ever since. Jack’s been in charge, so we’ve had the situation under control.”

  Soledad nodded. “Well, thank you.” She gave him her own bright smile. “You’re good with her,” she said as she eased to the center island and took a seat on one of the bar stools.

  He ignored the comment, the compliment making him feel uncomfortable since being good with anyone’s baby wasn’t in his game book. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Palmer questioned.

  “I would love some coffee. And eggs and toast, if you have them.”

  “I can make that happen. I also have some banana pancakes here. Would you like bacon, too?”

  “You must be reading my mind. I’m famished, and those pancakes smell divine.”

  “You should be. I hadn’t realized how far you’d run last night. You were on the south side of my ranch. That’s almost ten miles by foot, and most of that property is heavily wooded. How long were you running?”

  “I was pacing about ten minutes per mile. Maybe eleven. The added weight slowed me down some.” She gestured toward the baby, who was beginning to nod off, her eyes closing and opening and then closing again.

  “You’re a runner?”

  “Since high school. Lyra’s mother and I ran track together. That’s how we became friends.”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t get lost in those woods.”

  “I was more afraid of the man chasing us than I was a few trees.”

  Palmer nodded as he cracked half a dozen eggs into a stainless-steel bowl and began to whisk them with salt and pepper and a splash of milk.

  “There’s a heavy police presence there right now. When I made my morning rounds earlier, I drove past to see for myself. I’m sure it’ll be on the news before too long if it isn’t already.”

  “Do you have a remote to that television?” Soledad pointed to the fifty-inch Sony that hung on the family room wall.

  Palmer gestured to the corner of the counter, the device resting beside a stack of cookbooks.

  Reaching for it, Soledad hit the on button, then sat back against the counter as she flipped the channels to the local news station. There was the briefest commercial and then a familiar newscaster’s face filled the screen.

  “The big story this morning—an Amber Alert issued for a missing baby and the mother’s body found in an abandoned vehicle on Highway 55. The station’s Diane Albert reports.”

  The camera shifted to the roadside where Soledad’s white Camry was being pulled out of the ditch by a tow truck. The woman named Diane stared into the camera.

  “There is still a
lot about this case that detectives are not telling us,” Diane said. She was a tall, thin woman, with sharp features, lengthy blond extensions and a hungry glint in her eyes. “What we do know right now is that a young mother is dead, her six-month-old daughter is missing, and the woman’s husband and best friend are persons of interest.”

  Soledad bristled. “A person of interest? How could they think I hurt Annie? Why am I not a missing person, too?”

  Palmer reached for the remote and turned off the television. The situation was depressing enough without the two of them scrolling for news that would only make things feel worse. For a split second, Soledad looked as if she wanted to argue. Then she didn’t, her shoulders rolling forward as she seemed to sink lower in her seat.

  Concern seeped out of Palmer’s eyes as he stared at the woman. Sadness had washed over Soledad’s face. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

  Palmer felt the melancholy that tugged at her spirit. It was corporeal, feeling like clabber and just as foul. He slid a mug across the counter toward her, the warm aroma of Colombian coffee beans wafting through the room. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, although he wasn’t wholeheartedly convinced of that himself. “We’re going to figure out what to do. We’ll make this right. I promise.”

  * * *

  There was something about how he said “we” that lifted Soledad’s smile back to her face. Despite the gravity of her situation, she felt comfort in knowing that she wasn’t alone. That Palmer Colton, who didn’t know anything about her, was willing to promise his assistance and stand by her side meant everything to her.