A Conard County Baby

by Rachel Lee

  Inside, he announced that he was going up to shower. Before he vanished, however, he pulled three serving-size glass dishes from the freezer and popped them in the oven.

  “Lasagna for dinner in about an hour,” he said, then headed upstairs.

  Left at loose ends again, Hope helped herself to more tea. When she turned from the counter, mug in hand, she was startled to see Angie, who looked angry. The girl’s tone was sharp.

  “You’re spying on me for him!”

  Startled, all Hope could answer was, “No.”

  “Yes, you are. I saw you out there talking to him. What did you do? Tell him everything I said to you?”

  “The only thing I said about you was that you and I wanted to go riding.” Hope felt a spark of anger of her own. “He said he’d show me the horses in the morning so we could. Then we talked about the dogs. Am I going to have to report on every conversation we have to you? Because if so, life isn’t going to be pleasant for either of us. I don’t spy on anyone.”

  With that, tea in hand, she marched past Angie and went to sit in the living room. Almost as soon as her bottom met the seat, she regretted her anger. This was not a good start.

  But to her surprise, Angie followed her a minute later. “Those are designer jeans,” she said. “You don’t belong here.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Are you some kind of rich bitch?”

  The word shocked Hope and she hoped she managed to hide her reaction. This girl was trying to push her buttons, and she couldn’t allow it or she’d be done here in a few days. “Not anymore,” she said flatly.

  “What happened?”

  “Maybe I’ll tell you someday, when I learn I can trust you.”

  Hope thought she glimpsed a tiny bit of uncertainty behind Angie’s angry expression, but it vanished quickly. She received another angry glare, then listened as the girl pounded back up the stairs to her bedroom.

  This was not going well. She felt a wave of near despair along with drowning fatigue. She reminded herself not to expect much. After all, she’d only been here a few hours. And the fatigue itself was to be expected. Not Angie’s fault, but the fault of a long, stress-filled day.

  Resting her hand over her stomach, she allowed her eyes to close. A little nap might help, she thought, letting her head fall backward against the sofa. She’d get through this somehow because she had to. There was absolutely no other option. Not yet.

  Scott’s face swam before her eyes, filling her with a rush of adrenaline and fury. No. Not him. He was gone for good. Don’t think about him.

  At last exhaustion released her.

  * * *

  When she awoke, she had a crick in her neck. She twisted it immediately, trying to ease it, then saw the room was dimly lit by a single lamp. Opening her eyes wider, she found Cash at the other end of the room in a green plaid-covered armchair, reading a magazine. He appeared absorbed. Several matching armchairs dotted the room, looking weary and worn. The sofa on which she had dozed was also green, but plain and a bit lumpy. No Angie in sight. She knew a moment’s shame at how much relief she felt. That girl was a handful, and she could only feel sympathy for her father. She understood that Angie had been through a terrible experience, but she seemed determined to push everyone away.

  When she shifted some more, Cash looked up from his magazine. “Hungry? Your lasagna is still warm in the oven.”

  “Thanks. I’ll get it.”

  “Nah. It’s no problem. I’ll bring it out here and put it on a TV tray. You like salad? We’ve got tossed greens and some Caesar dressing.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” Her mouth started watering before she even got all the sleep out of her eyes. For the first time she realized she had eaten very little that day. A hearty meal would probably make her feel a whole lot better about everything.

  She felt marginally more awake by the time Cash returned with her meal and a beverage. “Thank you so much, but you really don’t need to wait on me.”

  “You just woke up. It’s okay.”

  Then he returned to his chair and resumed reading while she ate. As famished as she suddenly realized she was, she was glad he didn’t try to converse or keep her company. What looked like a large serving of lasagna disappeared rapidly, along with the salad. By the time she finished, she felt more than full, yet it wasn’t long before her spirits and energy began reviving.

  “I needed that,” she remarked.

  He looked up and smiled. “I saw how little you ate all day. You didn’t even finish Maude’s pie. I guess I’ll hear about that next time I’m in.”

  “Did I insult her?”

  “Probably, but it’s easy to insult Maude. She’ll get over it as long as you don’t make a practice of it.”

  “I doubt I’ll go there very often.” She needed to save every penny from this job. She lifted the table, moving it back, and started to reach for her dishes.

  “I’ll help.”

  She glanced at Cash and caught her breath. She recognized a look of pure male appreciation when she saw it. She’d seen it often enough. Instead of feeling flattered, however, this time she felt as if little ice crystals grew inside her. Never again. No man would ever have his way with her again. As far as she was concerned, it was just fine if no man ever touched her again. Touches were lies and then they could be followed by demands that turned violent. As with Scott, who simply refused to accept her decision to wait for their marriage. The ugly names he had called her remained branded on her heart, and the memory of his greater strength, the way he had subdued her against her wishes and then violated her... No, never again.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  She came back to the present with a start. Cash now stood only a few feet away, his hand extended as if about to lift her plate. “No...no. Just a...memory.”

  “Not a good one.” But he didn’t pursue it. Instead, he helped with the dishes, showing her the dishwasher and then giving her a five-cent tour of the kitchen so she could find anything she was likely to need.

  As soon as he finished, though, she pled fatigue. “I’m really tired. Do you mind if I go up now? Once I catch up on some sleep, I’ll be fine.”

  He nodded, his eyes narrowing a bit. As she started to walk out toward the stairs, his voice stopped her. “Have you seen a doctor? About the baby, I mean?”

  She froze, her back to him. “Not yet.”

  “I think it’s high time. Don’t tell me you can’t afford it. I’ll see to it.”

  She kept walking, unsure whether she felt annoyed by his presumption or simply glad that someone cared enough to help. She’d needed to see a doctor for months now, but it hadn’t been allowed. Her family didn’t want this baby unless she married Scott, and if she went to any doctor it would be for a discreet abortion. To see a local obstetrician might set tongues wagging.

  She’d tried to escape long enough to see a doctor. She hadn’t managed, not with all the eyes ordered to watch her every minute. She couldn’t get out the door without a keeper.

  Hand over her stomach, she mounted the stairs, still astonished by the rabbit hole one man had shoved her into. No proper prenatal care. No one to believe her story except a stranger in Wyoming. Her entire family had turned on her and had treated her worse than they would have treated a prized racehorse that might be off the circuit because she had come unexpectedly into foal.

  Oh, she didn’t miss the parallels. From birth she had been groomed for one thing. Maybe the saddest thing of all was that she had been naive enough to believe they loved her. Instead, brutally, she had learned that she was simply a chip on the poker table of life.

  Cash had been right. The whole thing had been medieval.

  When she entered her room and closed the door, ready to sink onto a soft bed with a book, she froze. Even though she�
�d been in here only briefly today, she felt something had changed.

  Looking around, she couldn’t imagine why she felt that way. Did the air smell different? How would she know, as little time as she’d spent in here?

  She turned on all the lights, looking more closely, then saw that the closet door stood open just a tiny bit. At once she went over and opened it. One look told her everything. Her suitcases were not as she had left them. Someone had been looking through her luggage.

  Angie.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and stared into the closet, wondering how to handle this. Most of the cases were locked, and unless the girl was a wizard who could guess combinations, she probably hadn’t been able to get into them.

  An almost laugh escaped her when she thought of how that must have frustrated the girl. But the issue was bigger than that and she knew it. Angie had no business trying to get into her bags. It was an invasion of privacy, supremely rude and possibly indicated an intent to steal something. She decided, however, that unless there was some other action on Angie’s part, she should just ignore it. Making an accusation might only ruin any possibility of getting through to her.

  Standing, she unfastened her jeans and sighed with relief as they loosened, but this time she didn’t think about how much she needed to get some maternity clothes. Her mind was firmly fixed on Angie, and she lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, looking for any key to the lock around Angie’s heart.

  She didn’t know the girl well yet, but she’d picked up on a few things. Maybe riding with her tomorrow would help loosen the steel bands Angie insisted on wrapping around herself. Or maybe not.

  The truth was, Hope felt even more at sea now than she had this morning. More unanswered questions faced her than before.

  But she made up her mind that she wasn’t going to give up on Angie, no matter how hard it was.

  Because, frankly, she could see herself in that young woman. The self that was angry, bitter, hurting, betrayed and all the rest of it. She just didn’t make a show of it.

  Angie was crying out for help in all the wrong ways.

  Maybe.

  * * *

  Downstairs, Cash poured himself a bourbon and carried it into his office. He sat staring at the darkened computer screen, knowing he should take care of some business, but his mind was unwilling. He had too much else to think about.

  There was Angie, of course. There was always Angie. His daughter was a puzzle within a puzzle, and he couldn’t see the first chink or move to make. His repertoire of fatherly actions was limited, no question. He had no real experience to guide him, and the years lost between them weren’t helping.

  But he’d been struck by Hope’s comment about Angie being angry because her mother should have been saved. He hadn’t considered that before at all. To him, the loss of life for someone so young was the same, no matter the means. But Hope had cast it in a different light, and he would have bet that she was right. Sick people were supposed to get well unless it was something like cancer, and how much more true that must seem for someone Angie’s age. The idea that an infection could kill someone so swiftly must be beyond her ability to believe.

  Then there was Hope herself, who had until recently led a charmed life it seemed. Now she was cast alone, friendless and penniless on the waters of a world she knew nothing about. When he thought about the fact that she hadn’t yet seen a doctor about her pregnancy, anger burned in the pit of his stomach. He simply couldn’t imagine people who thought the way her family evidently did. No care for the child, no real care for Hope, who was their daughter. More concern for a guy who might be a senator one day, a guy who wasn’t even family.

  Twisted. Very twisted.

  He rolled the glass slowly between his hands, warming the bourbon and thinking about his newest employee. Maybe she would work out, maybe she wouldn’t. He certainly wouldn’t hold her accountable if she couldn’t get through to Angie. Hell, he’d been trying for months now.

  But he could ensure she had a place to stay until this baby came, and that she received decent care. That seemed the least he could do.

  She was an awfully attractive woman. It was hard to look at her without noticing her appeal. Given her past, though, he put a big mental off-limits sign on her. No way could life on a ranch hold her long-term, and more importantly, she’d been raped. It’d be a long time before she’d be inclined to see men as anything but a threat. Couldn’t blame her for that.

  Although he had to give her credit for the way she had handled this day. She’d accepted a job from a strange man and had come home with him. She must be desperate beyond belief to cross those hurdles as bravely as she had. “Single father” in that ad should have been enough to make her skip even calling.

  The fact that she had gathered her courage to call him told him plenty. Hope Conroy was at the end of her rope to the point that she was willing to take a huge risk.

  Desperate enough that maybe she hadn’t even evaluated the risks he might pose. More frightened for herself and her baby than anything else.

  Understanding drove through him like a spike. He supposed that made her tougher than a lot of people. Surprising, given her life until recently. Or maybe he didn’t really understand that, either. Regardless, she had a lot of backbone. Or maybe she was past thinking clearly about some things.

  Either way, a decent man owed her some protection. That much he could do.

  Tomorrow was another day, he reminded himself, sipping his whiskey. He needed to wrap up a few things before they got out of hand, then head up to bed. It was the time of year when 5 a.m. seemed to come awfully early.

  Chapter Three

  In the morning Hope awoke with a considerably clearer head and a much calmer state of being. She’d managed to hold off the wolf at the door, at least temporarily. She had a roof and room and board for as long as she could manage to hang on to them.

  It only struck her as she sat up and peeked out to see it was still dark what a huge risk she had taken yesterday. Not in applying for a job, but in coming home with a man she knew nothing about, except that he seemed to get along well with a sheriff she didn’t know, either. Given what Scott had done to her, given that she had known him for years and he’d still turned into a monster, she wondered where her brain had been.

  But as she felt the very faint stirring of the child within her, she knew. She’d given up everything to save this child without entering into a marriage that could only be hell. One thing and only one thing drove her. She needed to keep that in mind now when she made decisions, because the one she had made yesterday could have turned out badly for both her and her baby.

  At the time she had seen no other choice. Frankly, standing at the window staring into darkness, she admitted she had had no other choice except to push on as far as she could with her remaining cash and hope she didn’t wind up stranded in the middle of nowhere. She’d been heading toward mountains with no idea if she could make it across, if she would freeze to death sleeping in her car, if...

  But enough. She stopped herself. She had been caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, and she had chosen to jump. So far so good. So far she was lucky. Just lucky.

  Perhaps, through sheer chance, she had managed to land on her feet. Hanging on to that hopeful thought, she dressed for the day in a simple sweater and the same snug jeans. Clothes were going to turn into a problem, she thought again. She’d packed everything she had thought she would need, but she hadn’t packed for this lifestyle. Of course, it wasn’t as if she had a closet full of clothes meant for a ranch. At least she had brought her riding boots, although she wasn’t sure why. A memento from a happier time? Maybe. She tugged them on and pulled the jeans down over them. Riding boots were not the same as cowboy boots, and she didn’t want to draw too much attention to them. Even if Cash said nothing, Angie would.

 
Angie. Her luggage. She wondered again if she should address that, then once again decided to wait and see. She was definitely sure that she shouldn’t tell Cash about it, though. That would create entirely the wrong impression with Angie, one that might never be corrected.

  Downstairs she found Cash puttering around making eggs and bacon. Her mouth watered immediately. He glanced up from the stove with a smile. “I heard you moving so I made extra. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starving.”

  “Good. Grab some coffee if you want, then grab a seat. You past the morning sickness?”

  “I never had it really bad and it seems to be gone.”

  “Or you’d be running from the smell of the bacon,” he said humorously.

  “Too true.”

  “So how far along are you?”

  “Approaching four months.”

  He paused in the process of turning bacon. “Four months? Good God, wouldn’t they let you have any care at all? Can they still force you to have an abortion this late?”

  “They wouldn’t let me anywhere near a doctor unless I agreed to an abortion.” She hesitated, her heart sickening. “There’s still time. It wouldn’t matter, anyway. Money buys nearly everything, even doctors who will discreetly ignore the law.”

  He finished flipping the bacon, then leaned back to look at her, his arms folded. “I’m sorry. I realize it’s none of my business, but I just can’t get the thinking behind this. It’s like your ex-fiancé is more important than you. Than their own grandchild.”

  “The baby was a problem unless we got married right away. Then I became a problem when I refused to marry Scott and threatened to pitch a public fit if they dragged me to a wedding in front of a judge or notary.”

  “I still don’t get it.”

  “I don’t get it, either. I certainly wasn’t expecting this. I thought when I told them what Scott had done, they’d be on my side.”

  “This can’t all just be about scandal. Even a scandal that might keep Scott from the senate.”