by Joanna Wayne
“A BB couldn’t have hurt as bad as this cut.”
“Not far from it. The thing stung like crazy, and I howled like I was dying. It scared Cam so bad he didn’t touch any kind of gun again for years. Now, he’s probably the best shot in Colorado.”
“I meant, have you ever been shot with a real bullet?”
“I took one of those, too. I was shot in the chest about five years ago while making a routine traffic stop, back when I was with highway patrol. I learned real quick not to turn my back on anyone.”
Heather dabbed the wound with ointment and wrapped it in a clean bandage, taping the edges down. “You were lucky,” she said. “You’re around to tell about it.” Her gaze ran to Matt’s bare chest and the scar that tried to hide beneath the mass of dark, curly hairs.
Her fingers rolled across the scar, catching in the hairs. Every inch of him was male, strong, masculine, sinewy, yet everyone was vulnerable to something. If the bullet had been a few centimeters to the left, it could have wiped out his life in a split second, the same way Ariana’s life had been stolen from her.
Matt’s hand closed around hers. She looked up and met his gaze. The fire was there, hot and burning, feeding the desire that washed through her.
As if reading her mind, he lowered his mouth to hers. His lips devoured her, roughly, hungrily, as if he couldn’t stop himself. She didn’t even try to stop. She wanted to taste him, to swallow his desire, bathe in his need of her.
“I shouldn’t...”
She ended his protest with her mouth. She had learned something in her baptism of fire in Dry Creek. Shouldn’ts, wouldn’ts, couldn’ts were for ordinary times. Not for nights when the preciousness of life stood in stark contrast to the reality of death.
Matt’s hands splayed across her back, his fingers digging into her flesh while he pulled her closer. Finally, he pushed away. “If we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to.”
“Would that be so terrible?”
“It could be. For you.” He stood and walked away from her, his shoulders catching the glare from the overhead light. “I have nothing to offer you except protection and help in finding out how you’re involved in the madness that’s overtaken Dry Creek. If you start expecting more from me, you’ll only be disappointed.”
She longed to go to him, to wrap her arms around him and tell him she could handle the problems of tomorrow better if she found some fulfillment tonight. But making love to him would only make her want him more.
“Why don’t you go back to bed and try to get some sleep?” he coaxed. “We’ll need to get an early start to visit Cass Purdy in the morning.”
“If you’re sure you’re all right.”
“I’m not fine, but my arm is. I wish a scratch was my biggest problem.”
She turned and walked to the door that led to the hall.
“Heather.” She stopped.
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For dressing the cut.”
“That was the least I could do, especially since I’ve ruined your vacation.”
“That’s not your doing. Kathy Warren must have been some woman to cause this kind of trouble twenty-five years after her death. And who knows what tomorrow will bring?”
“Facts, I hope.”
“Yeah. Sleep well,” he said, “and, just for the record—”
“Yes?” She turned and caught his gaze. His eyes burned with the intensity that underlay every thing he did.
“I’m not sorry I broke my promise not to kiss you again. I’d have hated to go through life knowing I missed a kiss like that.”
Warmth stirred inside her. Just when she thought she had him all figured out, the Ranger had thrown her a curve. “You may go through life missing a lot more,” she said. “Let me know if you’re ever brave enough to find out.”
With that, she padded down the hall and back to her bed. Danger all around them, as thick as Texas stew, and bed. Danger all arond them, as thick as Texas stew, and still her emotions rocked with the attraction she felt for Matt McQuaid. Go figure.
CASS PURDY WAS WAITING for them at the door when they arrived. Heather did the introductions, and Cass ushered them into a tiny living room that was stuffed with the keepsakes of seventy years of living.
Pictures of her family filled small tables and stood in zigzag fashion across the bookshelves that flanked the fireplace. A stack of magazines filled a basket at the edge of the sofa, and a vase of silk roses rested in the center of the round coffee table.
“You two look as though you’ve been in a cockfight,” Cass said, eyeing their bruises and bandages.
“It was a...” Matt and Heather both answered at once. Heather stopped and let him finish.
“Heather had an accident in her car. Nothing serious. Mine’s just a scratch I picked up on the ranch.”
He lied with apparent ease, a fact that sat uneasily in Heather’s mind.
“I thought you said you were a Texas Ranger,” Cass said, eyeing him suspiciously.
“I am.” Matt fished his badge out of his pocket and held it out for Cass to see. “But I also own a small ranch near Dry Creek. I don’t get to stay on it much, but running my few head of cattle’s a nice break from chasing the bad guys.”
“I imagine it would be. It’s awfully nice of you to help Heather find her birth mother’s family.” Cass pushed her wire-framed glasses back up her nose. “Her mother was a nice lady. I didn’t get much of a chance to know her, but I’m a good judge of character.”
“I’m sure you are,” Matt agreed. “What kinds of things did Heather’s mother do that convinced you she was nice?”
“Well, she sure was upset over having to leave her baby. If she hadn’t gotten killed so soon after that, I expect she’d have changed her mind altogether and come back for Heather long before the Lombardis had a chance to adopt her.”
“She must have been a very special lady for you to remember her so well. Either that or something else about her must have stuck in your mind. Twenty-five years is a long time.”
Cass chuckled. “Not so long when you’re seventy. Besides I remember the old days just fine. It’s what happened yesterday I have trouble with. I’ve already forgotten to offer you folks something to drink. How about some coffee?”
Heather shifted so as not to sink into the worn chair. “We wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble.”
“Land sakes, it’s no trouble being hospitable no more often than I have callers. Besides, the coffee’s already made.”
“Then let me help you,” Heather offered.
Matt waited while the women went into the kitchen. No matter how Cass dismissed it, he thought it was strange she’d remember one particular woman so well. She must have come in contact with hundreds of babies and their deserting mothers during that time. So how had one stuck in her mind?
The reliability of Cass Purdy as a informant was suspect, though Heather certainly didn’t see it that way. Cass was feeding her exactly what she wanted to hear, that her mother had loved her and hadn’t wanted to abandon her.
He couldn’t blame Heather. He’d fed himself the same diet of lies and wishes for more years than he cared to think about. Only both their moms had walked away, ready to start a new life without them. Mother love. It wasn’t for everyone.
Matt tapped his fingers on the arm of the sofa, waiting impatiently until Heather and Cass returned with steaming cups of coffee and a plate of tea cakes. “Tell me everything you remember about the night Heather was dropped off at the orphanage,” he said, after they’d settled back with their coffee.
Cass picked up her knitting and stabbed the needles through the yarn as she talked. “Kathy showed up at the door looking like a scared rabbit. Most of the women did, but there was something different about her. Everyone noticed it.”
Matt leaned forward. “How was she different?”
Cass squeezed her lips together and wrinkled her brow. “The way she talked for one thing, kind o
f refined, and she didn’t say ‘y’all’ or drawl her words. She was blond, petite, pretty, but too thin to have just delivered a baby. It made me think she didn’t take care of herself during the pregnancy.”
“How old was Heather when she brought her to the orphanage?”
“I don’t rightly recall, under two weeks, I expect. She was a tiny little thing.”
“I was five days old,” Heather said, breaking into the conversation. “That was what my adoptive parents told me when I was old enough to understand. They were always honest with me, in a very loving way.”
Matt scribbled a few notes and turned back to Mrs. Purdy. “And you are sure that Kathy Warren was actually Heather’s birth mother?”
“Oh, the baby was hers all right. She held on to Heather like it was tearing the heart out of her to let her go. I gave her a ride that night myself when she left. That’s probably how I remember so many details. You learn a lot about a person in a slow ride down a lonesome highway.”
“And that was the night you brought Kathy Warren to the bus stop in Dry Creek,” Heather added. “You said she was going to catch a bus to New Orleans.”
“New Orleans.” Cass rubbed a spot over her right ear. “Yes, I do think it was New Orleans. I can’t be sure about that, but I do remember she wanted me to drop her off at the bus station. She cried when she got out and made me promise to take care of her baby girl.”
“And you’re sure you let her out at the bus station in Dry Creek?”
“Oh, I’m positive of that. I was driving on into Del Rio to my daughter’s house. My granddaughter was born that night. She’s only a few days younger than Heather. Maybe that’s why I bonded so well with little Heather.”
“And Kathy Warren never returned?”
“She didn’t get much of a chance to. A few months later, this nice young man came by. I think he said he was Kathy’s brother.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Or he might have said uncle. It’s hard for me to remember that part exactly. I only heard about him.”
“So you didn’t actually see the man who said Heather’s mother had been killed?”
“No, but I heard all about his visit from the other employees at the orphanage. He made quite a hit with them.”
“How’s that?”
“He was young, good-looking and very well-mannered. He said Heather’s mother had been killed in a car wreck. It just broke my heart. That’s how sad I was, knowing little Heather would never see her real mother again.”
Matt stole a glance at Heather. She was quiet and seemed pensive, but her eyes were dry. He doubted they’d been so the first time she’d heard this story Cass Purdy had a way of squeezing every ounce of melodrama out of the account. He moved up to the front of his chair and looked her squarely in the eyes.
“I know it’s been a long time, Mrs. Purdy, but it would really help us a lot if you could remember.” Matt waited until he had Mrs. Purdy’s full attention. “Did Kathy say anything about why she wanted to catch the bus in Dry Creek instead of one of the other towns along the way?”
“No, she didn’t plan to go to Dry Creek, not at first. She was going to ride all the way to Del Rio with me and catch a bus there.” Mrs. Purdy screwed her face as if struggling to remember. “We talked some. I asked a few questions about her life, but she didn’t seem to want to talk about herself. All of a sudden she told me to let her out. She said Dry Creek would do as well as any place because every place we passed through looked the same.”
“So my mother just happened to pick Dry Creek at the spur of the moment. She couldn’t have known a soul in town, much less been involved in any wrongdoing.” Heather reached over and took Cass’s hands in hers. “Thank you, Mrs. Purdy. That’s important for me to know.”
“I told that to the friend of yours who was here the other day.”
Matt jerked to attention, alarms blaring in his brain. “Which friend was that?”
“I don’t remember... I think he said his name was Bob Smith, something like that. He came by here about three days ago asking questions about Kathy Warren’s daughter. He’d gotten my name from Mrs. Hawkins, same as Heather did.”
Heather’s voice caught on a hurried breath. “You mean someone has been to see you this week? Exactly what did you tell him?”
“That you were in Dry Creek looking for some sign of your mom’s family. He looked mighty pleased when he heard that. I figured he rushed right over and looked you up.”
“No, but he could be part of my mother’s family. They might be looking for me the same way I’m looking for them. I’ll have to go back to the motel in Dry Creek and wait for him.”
Matt swallowed a curse.
All he needed now was a description of the man, and then they would get out of here and back to Dry Creek fast. His guess was the man was no longer looking for Heather. He’d already found her. And though he had no idea why, there was a good chance it had been this stranger’s calling card that had been left in shades of purple across Heather’s face.
Now they needed to find the man.
“I’M REALLY EXCITED, Matt.” Heather pulled down the mirror over the dashboard and applied a coat of pink lipstick. She smacked her lips together and smiled at her image. “If the man went to all the trouble to track down the daughter of Kathy Warren, he must be related to me in some way. It might be the uncle who told the orphanage my mother was dead. It might even be my real father.”
“For your sake, I hope that’s true, but I wouldn’t count on too much if I were you.”
“You’re such a pessimist.”
“I like to think of myself as a realist.”
“Same thing. If this person who’s looking for me is related to my mother or father, he might be able to answer all of our questions about what happened to her after she left Dry Creek. He might know the story behind why someone is so upset by my asking a few questions.”
“The timing seems a little too coincidental for my liking. Some strange man turns up at Cass Purdy’s looking for you a few days before two men attack you in your car.”
“Mrs. Purdy said he was a nice man, and that he wasn’t from around here. He tracked me through the former administrator of the orphanage, the same way I found Cass. He’s obviously not connected with the trouble in Dry Creek.”
“I’d never jump to that conclusion, and you can forget that ridiculous notion you threw out about going back to stay at the motel.”
“I knew you’d say that.” She touched the bruise around her eye, stretching to get a mirror view from all angles. “I look almost human again.”
“Which is no reason to take chances.”
“I know. After I thought about it, I realized that anyone in Dry Creek can probably tell the man where I’m staying.”
“No doubt about it.” Matt lowered his foot on the accelerator, inching his speed a few miles over the limit “Tell me about your adopted family, Heather. Were you unhappy with them? Is that what drives you to search for a family that let you be given away?”
“Absolutely not. My adopted parents were wonderful My mom was a secretary and very funny. She could make me laugh no matter how upset I thought I was. And my dad was super—a little strict, but very loving. They were honest with me from the time I was old enough to understand adoption. If they were still alive, they’d back my search one hundred percent. They’d know no one would ever take their places.”
“How long have they been dead?”
“My dad had a heart attack my senior year in high school. He died instantly. My mom had cancer. She fought it as long as she could. She passed away two years ago.”
“I’m sony.”
“So am I. I’d like for them to have met you. Actually, they’d probably have flown down here the minute they heard about my attack. My mom would be telling you how to conduct this investigation. She was never at a loss for words.”
“Who’d ever have guessed?”
Heather hit him playfully on the shoulder and then nestled closer. A f
amiliar ache settled in the area of his groin. The longer he was around her, the more she filled his mind and tore at his control.
If he gave her half a chance, she’d burrow into his heart so deeply he’d never be able to walk away when this was over. He’d start imagining they could have a life together, fool himself into believing he could make her happy over the long haul.
He’d be wrong. The spitting image of Jake McQuaid in every way. That’s what everyone said about him, even Susan Hathaway, and she knew both of them better than anyone else did. She might be the only woman who could love either of them enough to put up with them.
She’d stayed with his dad through thick and thin, but Jake had never been the man she deserved. To this day he wasn’t. He’d let her down, let Matt’s mother down, too, but in a different way. The rest of the world might call him a legend.
Matt couldn’t even call him a real man.
“Hey, this isn’t the way to Dry Creek. You should have turned back there.”
“I told you we’re going to spend the rest of the afternoon looking up old records.”
“I assumed you meant at the sheriff’s office in town.”
“No, we’re going to my office in San Antonio. The local records have been transferred into a computer base. They’ll be a lot easier to access in that form. Plus, I can check out everything where I have all the resources I need to cross-reference incidents and dates.”
“You should have told me. I’d have worn something besides these jeans.”
“You look all right.”
“Thanks for that gushing compliment.”
He snaked his arm over the back of the seat. Her hair brushed against his arm, and his heart plunged. “Actually, you look great,” he added, “bruises and all.”
She stared up at him, her eyebrows arched in surprise. “Why, Ranger McQuaid, I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me since we met.”
“I told you, I’m not much at small talk.”
“To a woman, a compliment is never small.”
They rode in silence after that. It was one of the few conversations they’d had that hadn’t ended in a confrontation or a kiss, and he was not up to either.
