by Brenda Novak
“Why don’t you sleep in once in a while?” she asked. Or tell me you’d at least like to stay with me.
He tossed her a sexy grin while stepping into his jeans, but she could tell that his mind was already on something else, something that haunted him. “Didn’t you get enough last night?” he teased.
Sex again. It was his out, his way of avoiding anything deeper. “You work too hard,” she said, not knowing how to reach him.
“Everything’s going well. Josh and I have managed to raise the money we need to fund the resort. We’ve already signed all the agreements and have had an architect draw up the plans—”
“What about me? Don’t I get to see them?”
He shrugged. “Sure, if you want to.”
“When will you be breaking ground?”
“By the end of the summer, if we can get our engineering done in time.”
“That sounds great.” She waited, hoping he’d offer more, but he didn’t.
“Have you talked to your uncles lately?” she asked, reluctant to see him walk out the door because she knew she wouldn’t have any time with him again until nightfall.
“Not lately.”
“Do they know what you’re doing?”
“Yeah.” He yanked on his boots. “They don’t think it’ll work.”
“Do you?”
“Sure,” he said.
But Delaney doubted the smile he flashed at her went much below the surface. And she couldn’t help wondering if his confidence reached any deeper.
“HOW’S THAT BABY?” Aunt Millie asked.
Delaney rested the phone between her shoulder and ear so she could finish tying her shoes. “Getting big. I’m feeling like a cow and waddling like a duck. Those are good signs, from what I hear.”
“You can’t be waddling too much. You haven’t gained enough weight.”
“My doctor said the bulk of the weight generally goes on between the fifth month and the end, so I should still be okay.”
“You are in your fifth month.”
“I know. I’m just saying there’s still time.”
“How’s Conner treating you?”
“Very well,” Delaney said, keeping up the front she’d established right from the beginning. She didn’t want to start the whole town talking about their marital problems. And, in a way, she felt that she deserved whatever she got because of what she’d done to put herself in this situation.
“How’s Uncle Ralph?”
“Good. You two coming for dinner on Sunday?”
Delaney thought about the weekends and how Conner worked through every one of them. “Conner might be busy,” she said.
“Again?”
“He’s trying to build that resort, you know.”
“So?”
“That’s not an easy thing to do.”
“Well, you’ll come, won’t you? I don’t like you staying out there by yourself all the time.”
“I’m not by myself. Dottie’s here. And I’m busy with my garden.”
“Are you missing your job at the library?”
“A little.”
“I talked to Dave Small on the city council. He didn’t seem to think it’d be a problem for you to return once they open, now that you’re married and all.”
“I’m pretty settled out here with my garden and helping around the house. I don’t think I’ll go back until the baby gets a little older.”
“I just wanted you to know it’s an option.”
“Thanks. Can I bring Rebecca to dinner with me?”
Aunt Millie paused, but she didn’t say any of the things she would’ve said only months before. Rebecca had redeemed herself—partially—by doing Millie’s hair for the wedding and giving her the kind of set she claimed no one else had ever been able to achieve. Now Rebecca was her regular hairdresser, and the fact that she went to Aunt Millie’s place once a week to get the job done had helped soften the old woman’s heart even more.
“Fine,” she said at last. “Rebecca’s not as bad as she used to be.”
Rebecca had never been “bad.” But her sweeter side was still one of the best-kept secrets in town.
“Rebecca’s great,” Delaney said, and smiled, thinking of the cradle her friend had painstakingly refinished for her, insisting that in her condition, Delaney couldn’t be exposed to the fumes. “See you later.”
WHY WASN’T CONNER HOME YET?
Delaney paced in front of the fire, feeling tension knot the muscles in her neck and shoulders. She stretched, trying to work out the kinks, and took another sip of the herbal tea she carried in one hand. But the stiffness wouldn’t ease, and neither would her worry. Roy and the others had arrived at the house hours ago. When they’d left to go to the Honky Tonk at eight, they’d assured her Conner was on his way. But he’d never appeared, and she was beginning to wonder if something had happened to him. He put in long days, but he generally spent the hours after dark in his study, not outside on the range.
She wished Dottie were around to reassure her. She liked the stalwart older lady, knew she could trust her advice and her devotion to Conner. But Dottie had headed into town about the same time as the ranch hands, to stay with her son and daughter-in-law for the weekend, as she usually did. Delaney was alone. Even Rebecca wasn’t answering her phone; Delaney had tried to reach her several times.
What now? she wondered, glancing nervously at the clock and cringing to see that it was nearly midnight. Should she call the police?
No. What if Conner had simply gone into town without telling her? He didn’t exactly give her a detailed rundown of his activities. But she’d checked the vehicles. Those she recognized were still in the drive. Could he have caught a ride with Roy and the others and forgotten to tell her?
She hated the thought that he might have joined the hands at the Honky Tonk instead of spending time with her, hated the thought of him drinking and dancing while she paced a hole in the carpet. But that was the most likely explanation, which meant she shouldn’t bother the police.
Pivoting at the end of the Navajo-style rug that covered the hardwood floor, she rubbed her arms to ward off the chill settling deep in her bones and told herself that her husband would come strolling in any second.
But he didn’t. The minutes continued to tick by. Finally Delaney called Directory Assistance to get the Honky Tonk’s phone number, and dialed the bar.
“’Lo?” A gruff male voice answered. It had to be Bear, the weekend bartender. Music blared in the background, partially drowned out by raucous laughter and voices.
“Bear?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“Delaney Armstrong. Is my husband there?”
“Haven’t seen him, but hang on, let me check.” He covered the receiver, but Delaney could still hear him when he shouted “Conner Armstrong here?”
“Sorry. No one answers to that name,” he said after a few seconds.
“Can I talk to Roy, then?”
“Roy White?”
“Yeah.”
“Just a minute.”
Another music-filled pause and then Roy came on the line.
“Roy? It’s Delaney.”
“Something wrong?”
“I’m looking for Conner,” she said. “He never came home tonight.”
“He didn’t?”
The surprise in Roy’s voice heightened Delaney’s anxiety. “I thought maybe he went to the Honky Tonk with you,” she said.
“No, we left him near the south pass. He was going to check on some cattle that came up missing. But that shouldn’t have taken him more than an hour.”
“What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll be right there.”
“Should I call the police?”
“No, I’ll take a flashlight and go out and look for him. I’m sure he’s fine.”
The phone clicked and Roy was gone, leaving Delaney even more worried. The concern in his voice had belied his words. Conner could
be hurt. He might need help….
Delaney couldn’t bear to waste another second. Scribbling a quick message for Roy, she tacked it on the front door, grabbed a lightweight sweater and slipped out the back. She’d go after Conner herself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CONNER WAS EXHAUSTED. Stamping the mud off his boots at the back door, he stepped into the house to find a light burning and his dinner waiting for him in the refrigerator.
“Thank you, Dottie,” he murmured, sliding his plate into the microwave. The smell of steak, potatoes, peas and garlic bread soon filled the kitchen and made his stomach growl, but he was almost too anxious to wait for his food to heat. This time of night, Delaney would be asleep, curled up on her side, all soft and womanly with her small round belly, and he couldn’t wait to slip into bed with her. Somehow, when he held her in the dark, all the worries that came with the light of day—the frustration, the anxieties, even the past—seemed to disappear….
The telephone rang just as the microwave buzzer went off. Conner grabbed the receiver to keep the noise from waking Delaney, then pressed it to his ear as he retrieved his plate. Who the heck would be calling at nearly one o’clock in the morning? he wondered.
“Hello?”
“Conner?”
“Rebecca?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Thank God you’re home. When did you get back?”
“Just a few minutes ago. Why?”
“You don’t normally come home so late.”
“I went up on the mountain to look for a few calves that were missing. I didn’t think it would be difficult to find them, but one had fallen down a gorge and it took me quite a while to get it out.”
“Delaney left five messages on my answering machine while I was out tonight. She was afraid something had happened to you.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s good. Tell her I’ll call her in the morning, then.”
“Just a minute,” he said, carrying the phone as he hurried along the hall. If Delaney had been upset, had she calmed down enough to sleep? Because she certainly wasn’t up and around.
The door to their bedroom stood slightly ajar. Conner pushed it open the rest of the way, hoping he’d find his wife safely asleep. But he didn’t even need to turn on the light to know Delaney wasn’t there. The same full moon that had been his salvation out on the range illuminated a bed still perfectly made.
“She’s not here,” he told Rebecca. “Where could she be?”
“What do you mean she’s not there? Every message said to call her at the ranch.”
Conner kept the phone to his ear but ignored everything Rebecca said as he jogged through the house, calling Delaney’s name. He’d thought there might be a chance she’d become frustrated with his tardiness and gone to sleep in her old room or on a couch. But only darkness and silence greeted him.
“Where would she go if she was angry with me? Would she go back to Aunt Millie’s?” he asked, but something niggled, telling him he was missing an important detail. Had all the horses been in the barn when he’d put Trigger away? He’d been so tired he hadn’t even noticed. Someone, probably Roy, had already put some hay out for Trigger, and he’d simply removed the saddle and bridle and turned the horse into his stall before flipping off the light and heading wearily to the house.
“I don’t think she was angry with you,” Rebecca was saying. “She was worried. I’m angry with you, but that’s a different story.”
Conner didn’t know what Rebecca was talking about, and right now, he didn’t care. “Delaney?” he called again, but every room he checked was empty. He hurried to the front door to see if all the cars were still in the drive, and they were.
Just as he turned around to go and check the barn, he found a yellow piece of crumpled paper lying on the floor. Picking it up, he ironed it out to see his wife’s handwriting.
Roy, I couldn’t wait. I went after him myself. Don’t worry. I’m a good rider, and I’ll be back as soon as possible. Laney.
I went after him? Oh God! That meant at least one horse had been gone when he’d put Trigger away. His pregnant wife was out in the mountains in the middle of the night by herself. What if her horse tripped and went down? What if the animal spooked and threw her? What if she lost control? She hadn’t ridden since she’d come to the ranch. She didn’t know these horses.
“I think I know where she is,” he said to Rebecca. “I gotta go.”
“Wait! Should I come out there?”
“No, stay put. I’ll call you as soon as I find her,” he said and hung up.
He ran to the barn and checked the stalls. Two horses were gone.
So Roy was out there, too. Maybe he’d already found her.
THE CIRCLE OF CONNER’S FLASHLIGHT bounced as he urged his horse into a full gallop and headed for the south pass. The moon bathed the open range in mercurial silver, but the evergreen trees towering around him on this hilly section of the Running Y blocked all but the most meager natural light. Cicadas chirped a constant, rhythmic chorus, and small animals, alarmed by the beating of his horse’s hooves, scurried away in the underbrush. But Conner’s attention was on scanning the landscape on either side of him for his pregnant wife. Delaney was out in the dark alone. He had to find her before something happened.
Problem was, he couldn’t be sure he was even looking in the right places. Delaney didn’t know the ranch. Not like he did. She wouldn’t have known where to search for him, which meant he didn’t know where to search for her. With so many miles of raw land surrounding them, she could be anywhere.
And she could be hurt….
Conner felt sick at the thought. What if she lost the baby? Would she give up on him? Leave him?
Just last night when he made love to her, he should’ve told her how much she’d come to mean to him. He should have gambled it all when he had the chance. But he hadn’t. He’d kept the most private part of himself from her, and now it might be too late….
“I’ll have another chance,” he muttered, hoping the sound of his words would convince him. But he couldn’t help imagining the worst, couldn’t help wondering what he would do if he lost her for good. Suddenly, all his efforts to keep her at an emotional distance seemed foolish. He couldn’t stop himself from caring because he already did. He loved her. He loved her more than anything.
“Delaney?” he yelled, his words whipped away by the wind. He’d been riding for almost an hour and wasn’t far now from the south pass, where he’d been looking for those calves—but he didn’t know if she was aware of that. And he heard no response. “Delaney?”
He came to the campsites he and Roy had organized, and found a couple of men sleeping in a tent.
“Hey, wake up,” he called, not caring who they were or whether he dragged them out of the depths of sleep.
A tall unshaven man finally stumbled to the tent door, dragging a rifle and squinting at his light. “Who is it? What do you want?”
“It’s Conner Armstrong. I own this land, and I’m looking for a woman. Have you seen anyone tonight? Heard anything?”
“Haven’t seen a woman, but a fella came by ’bout half an hour ago, wanting to know the same thing.”
Roy. They were on the same track. Conner used his flashlight to scan the surrounding area, just in case. A creek ran alongside the campsite, gurgling over moss-covered rocks, but everything else remained silent and still.
“Thanks,” he said, and started following the creek upstream. But he wasn’t so sure he should be heading upstream. Maybe he should go downstream instead. Or to the north or east side of the ranch…
Delaney. He could search all night and never find her. Did she need him? Was she okay?
He rode for another two hours without seeing anything other than a few deer, so exhausted he could hardly remain in his saddle. He was about to head back to the house to see if Roy had found her and planned to gather a search party if not, when someone finally answered his call.
“Delane
y?” he cried again, adrenaline chasing away his fatigue.
Nothing.
“Delaney?”
Finally he heard his name. Kicking his horse into a trot, he followed the sound. It led him farther up the mountain, where the forest grew denser and rocks, foliage, fallen limbs and rotting logs made progress difficult. He recognized the voice that answered him. But it wasn’t Delaney. It was Roy, and it wasn’t difficult to tell that something was terribly wrong.
CONNER’S CHEST constricted until he could scarcely breathe when he saw his wife lying on the ground. Roy was kneeling over her, but he got to his feet when he heard Conner’s horse burst through the trees.
“What’s wrong with her?” Conner demanded, his voice sounding oddly strangled to his own ears.
“She’s having cramps,” Roy told him. “Probably from all the riding. Or maybe she’s just too tired or cold or…I don’t know.” He shrugged helplessly.
“Dammit!” Conner cried. “What did she think she was doing coming all the way out here?” Pulling on Trigger’s reins, he jumped down before the horse had even stopped moving. “She could’ve died. She could’ve lost the baby.”
Conner knew she could still lose the baby, but he wasn’t willing to face that.
“Conner?” Delaney’s eyelids fluttered open when he bent and touched her cheek. “Conner, are you okay?”
God, she was worried about him? “I’m okay, babe,” he said gently. “Tell me what’s going on with these cramps.”
She rubbed the lower part of her abdomen. “It’s probably nothing. Anyway, they’re getting better,” she said, but her smile faltered when their eyes met, telling him she was being more optimistic than the situation warranted.
“We’ve got to get her out of here,” he told Roy. “Go get the wagon and bring it as far as you can. I’ll get her out of the trees and meet you by the road that leads to the campsites.”
