She shrugged off the suggestion. “That’s the way folks around here are. First impressions count for a lot, and I can see you’re a decent man.”
Cord regarded her with blatant amusement. “I thought you said first impressions counted?”
“They do.”
“Your first impression of me was that I was here to rob you.”
A guilty flush confirmed his guess.
“Okay, yes,” she admitted, “just for a second, I did wonder. Most people would have been inside on a night like this, unless they were up to no good.”
“But you don’t wonder anymore?”
Her gaze met his, blue eyes the exact shade of wildflowers searching his face. “Not anymore,” she said at last, giving his hand a brief, reassuring pat.
He told himself later that it wasn’t the way his pulse leapt when her fingers grazed his that mattered. It wasn’t the unexpected yearning that came over him looking into her eyes. It was the fact that she said those two simple words with such quiet confidence that made him fall in love with her. It had been a very long time since anyone on earth had believed in Cord Branson.
Before he could get lost in the wonder of that, a heavy thump against the back door startled them both. Sharon Lynn whirled in that direction, but Cord was faster. “You stay put. I’ll check it out.” He gestured toward the back room. “Where’s the door? Through there?”
She nodded. “It was probably just a dog bumping into a trash can or the wind knocking something over,” she said, right on his heels.
Cord glanced over his shoulder. “I thought I told you to stay put.”
She shot him a defiant look. “It’s my store. Besides, I have a gun right here.” She snatched a very deadly looking rifle out of its hiding place. “I can look after myself.”
He grinned at the fierce response and the determined jut of her jaw. “Yes, I can see that. Okay, but would you stay behind me at least and keep that gun pointed at something other than my backside?”
She regarded him with a faint glimmer of amusement, then shrugged. “I suppose I could do that.”
“I do love an amenable woman,” he said as he began twisting locks. When he’d unlatched the last one, he slowly turned the knob, shot Sharon Lynn one last warning look, then eased outside. What he found stunned him almost as bad as confronting a thief would have.
“Holy Mother of God,” he murmured as he bent down over the basket.
“What is it?” Sharon Lynn asked, nudging against him.
The quick bump of her hip was surprisingly provocative. She was so close he could smell her perfume, something light and innocent, maybe little more than scented hand lotion. It set off a surge of pure lust just the same. There was no time for that now, though.
“A baby,” he replied, his voice hushed as he scooped the tiny child up into his arms. “Some damned fool left a baby out here in this weather. If we hadn’t been here, it would have been dead before morning.” Just the thought of that filled him with cold fury.
“Let me see,” she demanded, scooting around him. At the sight of the tiny infant, her eyes went wide with a mix of shock and indignation every bit as violent as his own.
“Oh, sweetie,” she whispered, reaching at once for the baby. “Let me. Maybe they knew we were inside and knew we’d find the baby before any harm came to it.”
“Maybe,” Cord said, because the notion seemed to console her. The basket had been left a little too close to the trash Dumpster for his liking, though. And the way the snow was coming down now, in no time at all, the basket and its contents would have been shrouded in a way that might have made it blend in with the bags of trash heaped nearby. He suspected that thump they’d heard had been an accident, not a deliberate attempt to catch their attention. No, this had been a cruel and heartless attempt to leave a child to die. He’d stake his life on that.
“Whoever did this can’t have gotten far,” Sharon Lynn said. “See if there’s any sign of him or her.”
“Him,” Cord said grimly.
“How do you know that?”
“The boot prints. There’s just enough snow on the ground to see the size of the shoe. It’s too big for a woman’s.”
Cord knew there was no point in following the trail. Whoever had done this despicable thing was long gone by now, but he went to the end of the alley just to satisfy Sharon Lynn. The footprints ended at the curb around the corner. A melted patch in the midst of all the snow indicated someone had left an engine running for a few minutes at least. Skid marks in the fresh snow suggested that whoever had driven away had probably heard the store’s back door open and left in a hurry.
By the time Cord got back inside, Sharon Lynn was holding a squalling, wide-awake baby in her arms as naturally as if this were something she did every day. The look of awe and concern on her face was enough to take his breath away. For one wild and improbable second, he imagined that she was his, the baby theirs. In that instant, with a certainty that stunned him, he knew that whatever it took, somehow he would make it happen.
Over the years he had seen too many of life’s most valuable treasures slip through his daddy’s fingers. Hawk Branson had lost his wife—Cord’s mama—to another man. He’d lost a fortune and most of the payments on the family ranch to the bottle. There’d been pitifully little left for Cord, once all the debts had been settled. Watching Hawk’s downfall had made Cord an impatient man.
When he spotted something he wanted, he went after it with a no-holds-barred vengeance. He had come here intending to claim a place for himself at the famed White Pines ranch, vowing to work harder and longer than any other hand.
He could have stayed in Montana and tried to save his daddy’s spread. The local bankers trusted him. They knew he wasn’t anything like his daddy. But there were too many defeats and bad memories associated with the place. He’d wanted a fresh start, not just as a hand at a truly successful ranch where he could learn everything there was to know about running a decent herd of cattle, but someplace where he could earn enough to buy his own land, acre by acre if he had to. Ownership and self-respect were all tied up together in his head.
Instinctively he’d aimed for Texas and its sprawling cattle ranches. He’d hung out in a bar in Fort Worth and asked questions. He’d gone to a couple of cattle auctions and asked more questions. White Pines and its owners had come up time and again, always accompanied by respectful anecdotes.
The last time he’d stopped, about a hundred miles from Los Piños, he’d asked pointedly about the ranch and learned that not only was White Pines taking on new help, but there was a neighboring ranch that might be for sale. The owner had died in a tragic accident and the widow wanted no part of it. The story had piqued his interest. He’d wasted no time in getting to Los Piños.
He’d been prepared to do whatever he had to to get the job he was after and to lay claim to that ranch, if the widow was willing to wait to make a sale. What he hadn’t been prepared for at all was spotting a woman like Sharon Lynn on his first night in town. She was the missing piece of his dream. Gut instinct told him that destiny had brought him into Dolan’s on this icy, miserable night.
He glanced down at her head, which was bent low as she soothed the fussing baby in her arms. The baby’s fat little fist held a thick strand of silken hair and was tugging mightily. Sharon Lynn smiled, even as she tried to disengage that tiny hand. Watching her, Cord felt a swirl of powerful emotions that rocked him on his heels. Just like that, he knew that what he was feeling was love. Impossible, unexpected, but love, just the same. The lightning bolt kind that changed a man’s life when he least expected it.
Slow down, he warned himself. He might be bold and impetuous and ready to believe in fate, but he doubted this woman or any other would be quite so ready to throw caution to the wind and jump into a relationship with a stranger.
He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, just the same. For once in a life filled with nasty twists and turns, it appeared that fate ha
d finally dealt him a winning hand.
Chapter 2
Cord spent a restless night in the back room at Dolan’s. For every pleasant dream he had about a beautiful, mysterious woman sharing his bed, there was a counterpoint—the nightmare of a baby’s whispered cries fading into silence. He awoke bathed in a cold sweat more times than he could count.
Finally just before dawn, unable to face the torment of another nightmare, he’d crawled out of his sleeping bag, rolled it into a neat bundle, then tried to repair the night’s ravages to his face. Eyedrops and a shave took care of the worst of it. A micro-waved cup of last night’s leftover coffee gave him a much-needed jolt of caffeine and a couple of stale doughnuts gave him a sugar rush that would last him through the morning. By six he was feeling almost human and ready to face the day.
But he still couldn’t shake his worry about the baby he and Sharon Lynn had rescued from the frigid night. Had she been out there long enough to catch her death of cold? What if she were spiking a fever? Would Sharon Lynn know what to do? Probably every bit as well as he would, he conceded.
The temptation to go by her place to see how the pair of them were doing was tremendous. It was also a distraction, one he’d vowed not to allow, especially since he couldn’t be sure that concern for the baby was the only reason he wanted to drop in. He was determined that the previous night’s incidents weren’t going to take his mind off of what he had to do today.
Right after his discovery the day before that White Pines was hiring, he’d made a call to the ranch. He was scheduled for a 7:00 a.m. meeting with Cody Adams and nothing on God’s earth was going to keep him from being on time for it. Allowing for the condition of the roads, it was going to take every second he had allowed to drive to White Pines. He figured showing up on schedule despite the adverse conditions would be a point in his favor.
His tight timetable and grim determination not to allow any distractions might not permit a visit, but he could detour past Sharon Lynn’s house. That might not be nearly as satisfying as getting a peek at the two of them, but it would be enough to reassure himself that they were nice and cozy inside on this miserable morning. Then he could go on to his job interview with a clear conscience.
“That’s a plan,” he concluded, slamming the door on his pickup and easing out onto a road covered with snow and a treacherous undersheet of ice. The drive was going to be a picnic, all right, he thought as the tires skidded, then finally held.
The sun was just beginning to sneak over the horizon as he eased cautiously down Main Street. He caught a glimpse of the huge orange ball in his rearview mirror as he crept down the block, then turned the corner to drive past Sharon Lynn’s.
The small, neat house, which also doubled as a veterinary clinic, had surprised him when they’d arrived there the night before. He’d been expecting something bigger, fancier, but once he’d walked through the front door he’d had the feeling that the house suited Sharon Lynn. It was homey and warm, a welcoming kind of place with its cheery yellows and mellowing blues. And she’d explained that the veterinary practice belonged to her cousin, who actually owned the property and, she added with a grin, most of the cats and kittens who were scrambling around their ankles the instant they’d walked through the door.
“Dani’s always taking in strays, me included,” Sharon Lynn had told him. She indicated the baby in her arms. “This would be a little over the top even for her.”
“But not for you,” he’d guessed. “You’re a natural mother.”
The comment had brought on a too-quick denial…and tears she hadn’t been quick enough to hide. There were emotions there he couldn’t begin to fathom and she hadn’t given him time to try.
With a briskness that had amused him, she’d thanked him for walking her home, for helping with all the baby supplies she’d taken from the store, and hustled him out the door before he could blink. Before he knew it, he was outside looking in, just as he had been all his life. The woman was a self-sufficient whirlwind, all right. It was an irritating trait, especially to a man who had hoped to be needed.
She wouldn’t go on brushing him off, he’d promised himself as he left. Soon he would be part of her life, but only after he was settled, only when he had something to offer. He wasn’t long on patience, so he’d just have to make sure he had steady work by the end of the day. That would give him confidence and resources, so he could begin phase one of his campaign to win Sharon Lynn’s heart.
As his pickup idled, he gave the house a quick survey in the pale morning light. There was a light on—in the kitchen, he thought, recalling the layout of the house from his brief stay the night before. He pictured Sharon Lynn, her hair tousled from sleep, her cheeks flushed, maybe wearing nothing more than a robe, heating a baby bottle or maybe making coffee. It was like gazing into his heart and seeing what he’d longed for all his life—someone to come home to, someone who cared. And a baby they’d created together, one who would never know the kind of abandonment he’d felt when his mama had run off.
He imagined he heard a baby’s whimper, though it would have been impossible at this distance with windows closed and the wind howling. Just thinking of that tiny baby brought on a smile, one that lasted until he thought of the son of a bitch who’d left her in the alley. Heaven help the man if Cord ever came across him. Or if Sharon Lynn did, he thought, grinning at the memory of her outrage and the flash of temper that had accompanied it.
Satisfied that short of going inside to check in person, he’d made sure that all was well, he sighed deeply and drove on. He was more determined than ever to get to White Pines in time to get that job. Though he didn’t like thinking that his goals had shifted and had gotten all twisted up with staying close to a woman and a baby, he couldn’t help conceding he had more reasons than ever for wanting to settle down in this little corner of west Texas.
By Saturday morning Sharon Lynn was exhausted. The baby hadn’t settled down for more than a minute all night. Fortunately the drugstore had had all the supplies she’d needed to keep the baby comfortable and fed. Cord Branson had walked her home carrying all the packages. Even though she’d said she could manage, he’d given her one of those impatient, superior male looks, picked up the supplies and waited for her to lead the way. It hadn’t seemed worth arguing about. And it had been reassuring to have someone to cling to each time her feet had slipped on the icy sidewalks. She was forced to admit it wouldn’t have been easy to avoid a tumble without him. For her own sake and the baby’s, she’d been grateful that he’d insisted.
At the house, though, she’d been eager to have him leave. Other than family, she hadn’t had any male company since she’d moved in and Cord was the kind of man who made his presence felt the instant he walked through the door. All that potent masculinity was an unnecessary distraction when she wanted to concentrate on the baby.
Cord had offered to stick around and help, to bunk on the sofa, but she’d figured she was going to have enough explaining to do about the baby without having to come up with explanations for letting a total stranger—a very masculine stranger—spend the night in her house. It was a very logical excuse for ridding herself of a man who made her nervous for reasons she wasn’t quite ready to explore.
The minute she’d hustled him out the door, the baby had begun to cry as if she’d felt abandoned all over again. Sharon Lynn had begun her night of pacing. Even after the baby had fallen into a restless sleep, she’d been unable to fall asleep herself. There were too many decisions to be made, too many unanswerable questions to consider.
By morning she’d reached only one conclusion. She knew she was going to have to call someone, Justin maybe, and report the baby turning up. She probably should have done it at once, but the instant Cord had placed the child in her arms, she had known she couldn’t let go until she could come up with a plan to keep the baby safe from whomever had abandoned it on her doorstep. Protecting the child was all that mattered.
She wanted to believe it was
someone who’d chosen her store because he or she had known that Sharon Lynn would care for the baby. She tried to envision a mother desperate enough to let her child go but concerned enough to assure that the baby was in good hands.
But even as she tried to put the best possible spin on things, she couldn’t help thinking that the baby could have died, could have been left in that alley all alone, undiscovered, until it was too late. She knew that was what Cord thought had happened. He hadn’t believed for an instant that the baby was meant to be found. Skepticism had been written all over his face when she’d suggested it. The possibility that he could be right infuriated her.
How could anyone be so heartless? How could any mother do that? she wondered fiercely.
Then she recalled what Cord had deduced. The person doing the leaving had been a man. The baby’s father, perhaps? A man who couldn’t cope with his own responsibility for a newborn? Somehow that was even worse. She prayed for the chance to see that man rot in jail for his crime against the precious baby now sleeping in her room.
It hadn’t required a lot of detective work last night to determine that the baby was a girl. One diaper change had answered that question. The baby wasn’t a newborn. That question had been answered as well. The umbilical cord had healed. She had to be a few weeks old at least. That meant that the mother had held her and fed her and comforted her—and then let her go.
Which brought Sharon Lynn right back to the question that had been tormenting her all night long. How could any mother give up her baby, especially in such a cruel and heartless manner? Had an unwilling father or a new boyfriend been the one to take the baby and leave it in the alley? Why would any woman choose a sick man capable of doing that over her own precious baby?
Those were all questions for the authorities, but as the night had worn on, Sharon Lynn hadn’t been able to imagine letting them take the baby away while they searched for answers. There had to be some way she could become the child’s temporary guardian, if only to assure that the baby wouldn’t become just another statistic in the overburdened foster care system. She’d read too many horror stories about slipups, about babies sent home only to wind up beaten or dead within days or weeks. It wouldn’t happen to this child, not if she had anything at all to say about it.
The Unclaimed Baby Page 2
