The Drifter

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Late in the afternoon, he’d learned from Ry that the horse troughs had been contaminated with crushed blister beetles, a substance that could have killed some of the horses if they’d taken in enough of it. Apparently, none of them had, and Freddy had only dosed a few for stomach upset. Ry believed the poisoning was sabotage, but he didn’t want to call in the police and risk adverse publicity for the True Love. Chase felt helpless to combat the sabotage if it existed, helpless to protect his investment.

  On top of that, Amanda seemed hell-bent on leaving once he gave her the precious information. He’d suggested the ride as a delaying tactic, and it might buy him another day. After that, he was out of ideas to keep her in Arizona. Life had been a damn sight less complicated when he was on the road. Of course, it had been a little lonely, but at least he’d been in control.

  Through the steam and bustle of the kitchen he saw Leigh and Belinda standing in a corner seemingly oblivious to the hubbub around them as they cooed at Bartholomew. Chase dodged a waiter carrying a trayful of dirty dishes and eased around one of the cooks spooning barbecue sauce into a plastic storage container. Finally, he made it over to the two women.

  “Anybody would think you’d never seen a baby before,” he said, putting an arm around Leigh’s shoulders.

  “That’s almost true,” Leigh said as she rocked Bartholomew. “Belinda was just saying we don’t allow the guests to bring babies, and my wrangling duties don’t attract infants, either. So when would I ever be around them?”

  “Well, you’d better not get too attached to this one.”

  Leigh dropped a kiss on Bartholomew’s forehead. “It’s too late. He won my heart the moment I laid eyes on that dimpled smile.”

  “He smiles just like his daddy,” Belinda said. “Isn’t that right, Bartholomew?”

  “Stop it, both of you,” Chase said. “He’s leaving in a couple of days, so just cool it.”

  Leigh caught him in the pull of her all-knowing eyes. “I’m surprised at you, Chase Lavette. You never struck me as a quitter.”

  “What do you mean by that crack?”

  “You don’t want this baby to leave any more than we do. Are you going to let Amanda run off with him without a fight?”

  Chase knew there was no point in pretending to Leigh that he didn’t want to keep the baby around. She’d been able to read him from the first day they’d spent together. “If you mean take her to court and demand my rights, no, I’m not going to do that.”

  Belinda stroked the baby’s cheek. “I don’t know why not. What makes her think she can keep this little bundle all to herself?”

  Chase sighed. “Think it through. Amanda’s job is in New York. All my money’s tied up in this ranch. Let’s say I won visitation rights. I’d have to move back to New York, get some minimum-wage job and just hang around. And, on top of it all, I know absolutely nothing about babies. Put me in charge of this kid for a couple of hours and it’s panic city.”

  “Then it’s time you got your feet wet.” Leigh plopped Bartholomew in his arms. “I have to get ready for a date soon, anyway. And stop limiting your thinking, Chase. There are usually more than two answers to any question, you know.”

  Leigh’s comments barely registered as Chase struggled to adjust his arms around this tiny, squirming human being that was his son. He tried to get his elbow under the baby’s head, but Bartholomew kept flopping around. “He’s gonna fall,” Chase said, his voice rising as Leigh and Belinda giggled. “You women stop your cackling. Leigh, take him back. I don’t know how. He’s gonna—”

  “Easy.” Leigh helped him reposition the baby. “Just get your right arm under him and cup his head in that big hand of yours. Good. Then wrap your left around him on the outside. See?”

  “I don’t know.” But Chase did know. As his arms found the new position and the baby quieted, Chase met Bartholomew’s rapt gaze. The shock of recognition zinged down to his toes. His son. His flesh and blood. His grip tightened and a lump lodged in his throat.

  “Don’t let her rob you of this baby,” Leigh murmured.

  He couldn’t speak for fear his voice would crack and give him away. Bartholomew looked like him, for sure, but there was something about the baby’s deep stare that stirred a long-dormant memory. His mother, leaning over him...just before she walked away.

  Bartholomew picked that moment to scrunch up his face and let out a long wail.

  “Oh, God.” Chase swallowed the lump in his throat and thrust the baby back toward Leigh and Belinda. “I hurt him. I squeezed him too tight. Take him, one of you.”

  “Stuff and nonsense,” Belinda said. “He might be hungry, or need a change, but you didn’t hurt him. Babies are tougher than you think. Just carry him back to Amanda.”

  “Like this? Screaming?”

  “I’m sure she’s heard it before,” Leigh said.

  “Yeah, but she’s never let me hold him. So the first time she sees me with him, he’s crying. What’s she going to think of that?”

  Leigh smiled. “She might think you’re man enough to hold a squalling baby without getting flustered.”

  “Well, I’m not. I’d rather drive a runaway diesel.”

  Leigh nudged him toward the kitchen door. “Work on it.”

  Chase was nearly to the door when he remembered his reason for coming into the kitchen in the first place. He swung around. “Do we have anything around the ranch I could use to carry him on my back? In case Amanda and I take a ride tomorrow,” he added when both women looked confused.

  Leigh’s eyebrows arched. “Now you’re talking, cowboy. But I don’t know what we might—”

  “I do,” Belinda said. “Back when you and Freddy were babies, your daddy made a cradleboard, just like the ones the Indians used to carry their little ones. I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.”

  “I haven’t a clue what a cradleboard is,” Chase said. He’d begun jiggling Bartholomew, and the squalls eased up. Maybe he had to find the right touch, like working with a sensitive clutch.

  “It’ll work fine,” Belinda said. “Just set up your ride.”

  “Take her up to the pond,” Leigh suggested.

  “Now, don’t you two start getting ideas.” Chase swayed gently, soothing the baby even more. “I just thought she should see some of the country as long as she’s out here.”

  Leigh’s eyes widened innocently. “Why, I certainly agree, Chase. And I promise not to take any of the dudes on trail rides in that direction tomorrow, so you won’t be disturbed while you’re showing her the country.”

  Chase shook his head and started out the kitchen door. Then he turned back again. “You said you have a date tonight? Who with?”

  “Edgar.”

  “The barber? That guy has the personality of a socket wrench, Leigh.”

  “I know, but I haven’t seen a movie in months and it’s obvious you won’t take me any time soon.”

  “Somebody needs to improve the quality of your social life.”

  Leigh waved a hand dismissively. “Feel free to take on my problems after you straighten out your own.”

  Chase rolled his eyes and turned to leave.

  “Nice job with the baby,” Leigh called. Her throaty chuckle and Belinda’s musical laugh followed him as he used his shoulder to edge out the swinging door into the dining room.

  The wedding guests had left, along with Ry and Freddy. Amanda, sitting with her back to the kitchen door, was the only guest still in the room. The clatter of dishes being cleared muffled Chase’s approach, allowing him to pause and observe her for a moment. She took a sip of coffee, put the mug down and ran a manicured finger around the edge. He remembered the gesture from the night in the truck.

  Despite her jeans and boots, she’d never be mistaken for a cowgirl, he decided. Her hands were the color of milk instead of tanned as a cowgirl’s would be, and her jeans were cut too baggy—probably a fashion statement in New York but not in Arizona. He’d become accustomed to the tight jeans Fr
eddy and Leigh wore, which were far more revealing and sexy, yet Amanda’s loose-fitting clothing made her all the more mysterious and desirable.

  He thought again of how she’d raced from the cottage earlier, barefoot and half-clothed, desperate to save her baby. In that moment, he’d known she would protect Bartholomew with her life. That kind of devotion had a powerful effect on Chase, maybe because he’d never experienced it. But although he admired her protective instincts, they made her vulnerable and in need of protection herself. And that’s where, in a perfect world, he would come in. But this wasn’t a perfect world.

  With a muted sigh, he approached her table.

  She turned in her chair, her eyes widening as she noticed he held Bartholomew.

  “Leigh...told me to bring him to you.”

  Her gaze softened and he held his breath, wishing he could find a way to keep that tender expression on her face. When she looked like that, hope replaced confusion in his heart. She stood and held out her arms. He’d give a lot to have her do that when he wasn’t holding a baby.

  “I’d better take him back to the cottage.”

  He settled Bartholomew in her arms, which couldn’t be accomplished without a lot of touching, because he was petrified that he’d let go before Amanda had a firm grip.

  Amanda’s warm breath caressed his cheek. “I’ve got him,” she murmured.

  “Right.” He stepped back reluctantly, already missing the weight of his son cradled against his chest.

  “Apparently you’ve held babies before,” she said, adjusting Bartholomew’s T-shirt over his round tummy.

  Chase was immensely pleased. “Some.”

  “I thought I heard him crying in the kitchen, but you seem to have calmed him down.”

  “He’s probably hungry or needs a change.”

  “Probably.” Amusement lit her eyes. “You sound like the voice of experience. Did you have little brothers and sisters?”

  “Uh, no.” He glanced away as sudden anger at his mother overtook him. He thought he’d forgiven her for dumping him into the world with no safety net, but apparently he hadn’t. “Ready to go?”

  “In a minute. Let me put him in his seat.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He watched her position Bartholomew in the plastic carrier. “Belinda says she has something called a cradleboard that I could strap on my back if we want to take that ride tomorrow.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Freddy and Leigh’s father made it for them when they were kids, so I guess it is. The Indians used to carry babies that way.”

  Amanda lifted the carrier in her arms. “Bartholomew’s no papoose.”

  “He’ll be okay. Babies are tougher than you think.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “If you’ve never had little brothers or sisters, how come you know so much about babies?”

  “I pay attention. Here, let me take him.” He relieved her of the infant seat before she had a chance to protest, and felt a rush of pleasure that he had his son back in his grasp. This father business was dangerously habit-forming.

  On the way back through the patio he spotted Dexter sitting in his usual corner with Chloe at his feet. “Let’s go pick up your bodyguard,” he suggested as he walked toward Dexter.

  Chloe lifted her head and thumped her tail against the concrete.

  “Baby,” announced Dexter with a grin.

  “Yeah, and its time for him to turn in,” Chase said, crouching next to Dexter’s chair so the old man could get another look at Bartholomew. “Is it still okay if Chloe stays at the cottage tonight?”

  “It’s okay.” Dexter tucked a bony knuckle under Bartholomew’s chin. “Smile, some?”

  Bartholomew responded with a gummy grin.

  Chase’s heart swelled. He could see what Leigh meant about losing her heart to that smile. “He’s sure taken a shine to you, Dex.”

  “Yep.”

  “Guess we’d better get him tucked in, though.”

  “Yep.” Dexter gave Bartholomew another chuck under the chin before Chase stood, lifting the infant seat.

  He grunted as pain squeezed his lower back.

  “Chase?” Amanda’s forehead puckered with worry.

  Great, just what he needed, to wimp out now and show he couldn’t even carry his own kid around. “I’m fine,” he said.

  “It’s your back, isn’t it? Let me—”

  “No, I’m really fine. See you later, Dex.”

  “Yep.”

  “And thanks for the loan of Chloe.” Chase whistled and the dog came instantly to his side.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Amanda asked as they crossed the patio in the pink light of sunset.

  “Yes.” The spasm was easing a little, but he desperately needed to get into the pool and swim the laps he’d missed today. Leigh had said stress would make things worse, and as always, she was right.

  “Why didn’t Dexter eat in the dining room tonight?” Amanda asked.

  “He can’t take too much confusion. The stroke messed up the circuits in his brain, and he has to concentrate really hard to find the words he wants. He has something called aphasia. When a lot of people are talking, it’s an overload situation. Quiet routine is the best thing for him.”

  Amanda nodded. “And so you just let him stay on, even though he doesn’t have a specific function at the ranch. I think that’s wonderful. Some efficiency expert would have Dexter out of here in no time.”

  “But then we’d lose Belinda, and I don’t know if the ranch could function without her.”

  “You mean if something happened to Belinda, Dexter would be out on his ear?”

  The idea took Chase by surprise. “No, I guess not. Dexter’s as much a part of this ranch as anyone.”

  “Exactly as I thought. It’s nice to see business partners with heart.”

  Chase fell silent. Affection for the ranch and the people who lived here was sneaking up on him, muddying his thinking. He needed to remember that he still wanted to sell the place one day soon, even if Ry seemed to be waffling on that point these days. Chase had figured out that if he made enough profit on the ranch sale, he might be able to return to New York in style and claim his place as Bartholomew’s father. But selling the ranch meant ripping people like Belinda and Dexter out of the only home they’d ever known, as Leigh had so cleverly pointed out today. She knew good and well that would bother his conscience.

  They walked along the path, lit by ankle-high landscape lights, the silence punctuated only by the chirp of crickets in the creosote bushes.

  “It’s beautiful out here this time of day,” Amanda said after a while. “I’ve never seen sunset colors like that, so fiery.”

  Chase remembered he’d intended to tell her that her hair reminded him of the colors in the evening sky. But that was when he thought they’d be strolling back to the cottage for a night of lovemaking. “It’s nice.”

  “Are you watching for snakes?”

  “Sure am. So is Chloe. Guess I could have sent you back with her.” He should have thought of that, but of course he’d been determined to protect her himself, while he still had the chance. And he might be about to pay the price. The weight of Bartholomew in the infant seat began to pull at his back muscles. He shifted the burden cautiously.

  For the first time in weeks, his back seized up on him. “Damn!”

  “What?” She clutched his arm. “A snake?”

  “No.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “My...back. Take the infant seat.” When she’d relieved him of it, he doubled over.

  “I’ll get help.”

  “No. Just...give me a minute.” He hoped to hell a minute would do it. Chloe nuzzled his hand.

  “Can you walk?”

  He groaned. “Maybe.”

  “Then come this way. We’re closer to the cottage than we are to the house.”

  The pain made him too weak to resist as she guided him, hobbling like somebody Dexter’s age, up the path. Commanding Chloe to stay with him, she hurrie
d inside the cottage and returned a short time later to help him up the steps and through the door. She closed it behind him.

  If he didn’t hurt so damned much, he would have laughed. He was inside her cottage at night with the door closed, and he was barely capable of moving, let alone making love. He sank to his hands and knees on the Indian rug, and his hat toppled to the floor in front of him.

  Chloe circled him once, obviously unsure whether to help him or guard the baby.

  “Go lie down,” he rasped. She trotted to one corner and plopped to the floor.

  “Tell me what I can do to help,” Amanda said just as Bartholomew started to cry.

  Chase forced the words out past his pain. “Take care of the baby. And don’t step on my hat.”

  “But you—oh, damn. Okay. I’ll change him.” She whisked Chase’s hat off the floor and out of his sight.

  He tried the imaging techniques Leigh had taught him and pictured himself cradled in warmth while gentle fingers worked lovingly at his tortured muscles. The picture wouldn’t hold through the steady wailing of his son.

  “I guess he’s still hungry.” Amanda sounded upset. “Let me call someone. Maybe Leigh could—”

  “Feed him,” Chase muttered. “Leigh’s gone for the night.”

  “All right. I’ll feed him.”

  Chase closed his eyes and imagined himself sliding into hot mineral springs. Hell, he might as well imagine someone handing him a cold beer. Might as well picture Amanda, wearing a string bikini, sliding into the mineral springs with him.

  “I have one hand free.”

  He glanced sideways to see her kneeling on the rug, the nursing baby balanced in the crook of her left arm.

  “I can massage with one hand,” she said almost impatiently, as if talking to someone who wasn’t very bright. “Just tell me how Leigh does it.”

  Not with her blouse open and a baby at her breast, he thought. But her concern for him had apparently overridden her modesty. And maybe she could ease the bunching of his muscles. “Okay.” He took a shallow breath. “The heel of your hand, circular motion, above my belt.”