Читать книгу Cowboy With A Secret - Pamela Browning, Pamela Browning - Страница 9

“WELL, I’LL BE,” SAID Frisco.

“Is the baby going to live with us?” Eddie asked. “Like a sister?”

“I don’t know, son,” Dita said as she slid an arm around his shoulders. Though she was a native of Mexico, her voice bore little trace of an accent; she’d lived in the States for more than twenty years.

“Colt?” Bethany stood with her arms folded across her chest, reminding herself to be tough. As soon as she’d realized that this baby wasn’t about to be leaving the premises right away, she had summoned Frisco and Dita and Eddie with a quick phone call. Eddie, goggle-eyed, had hurried to get Colt, who ran all the way from the barn. Now the five of them hovered over the wicker basket, and the baby was cooing and laughing up at them, putting on a show.

“I—well, I sure didn’t expect this,” Colt said. His voice rumbled deep in his throat, prickly as a cocklebur.

“The note was addressed to you.” In Bethany’s mind, Colt had some explaining to do.

Colt frowned at the bit of paper, then folded it and stuffed it down into his jeans pocket. He wore only jeans, a T-shirt and boots, and the T-shirt was wrinkled as if he’d just pulled it out of his bedroll. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted.

“It’s a very nice baby,” Eddie said.

“Yes, it is. But it’s not our baby,” Bethany replied firmly, her irritation building.

Colt cleared his throat and looked from one of them to the other, his gaze stopping when it reached Bethany. The pause lengthened, stretched, hung there. “I know whose baby it is,” he said finally.

“Would you mind telling us?” Frisco growled.

Colt seemed to stew over this before shaking his head. “I can’t,” he said.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” Bethany asked, sharp as all get-out. She recalled the well-worn photo on Colt’s bed and figured that the girl in the picture was Marcy.

“I just can’t say right now, ma’am. Mrs. Burke.” Colt had the good grace to look embarrassed, but he met her gaze squarely.

“Call me Bethany,” she said.

“Bethany,” Colt repeated. He drew a deep breath. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask your patience. And your understandin’. I’ll look after the baby.” He looked away for a moment as if considering. “The baby can stay in my apartment for tonight,” he added.

“There’s barely room in your apartment for one, much less a baby, and there’s no air,” Dita said. She tended to have a blunt manner, which people sometimes misunderstood.

“She could stay with us,” Eddie suggested, looking hopeful.

“Absolutely not,” Frisco huffed. “We ain’t set up for a baby.”

At that the baby puckered up her face and began to wail.

Frisco pounced on this development. “You see? Babies cry, and they make messes. Babies are a lot of work. We can’t have the baby at our house, and that’s that.” He stumped over to the door and stood looking out toward the barn.

The baby’s squalling roused a maternal instinct in Bethany. She found herself absolutely incapable of listening to the baby’s screams. Before she’d even thought about it, she had slid her hands beneath the tiny body and lifted Alyssa out of the basket. She halfway expected the child to fill her arms like a minisack of feed grain, but she wasn’t at all like that. Alyssa had less heft to her, and bones. Not only that, but the baby stiffened every time she screamed, clutching her little fingers into wildly brandishing fists and contorting her face into a tight red knot of anger. Instinctively and with only a slight hesitation at first, Bethany rocked the baby back and forth.

“Shh,” she crooned softly. “It’s all right. We won’t hurt you.” Her motherly instinct, or whatever it was, billowed full-blown. It took only a moment to decide what she had to do. She looked around at the others and spoke over the baby’s cries. “Alyssa can stay with me tonight. In the extra bedroom.”

“Great,” said Frisco. “Peachy. I’m going home to watch TV. Too much noise around here.” He slammed outside and down the stairs.

The noise of the door’s banging distracted Alyssa so that she suddenly stopped screaming. Dita touched the baby’s cheek. “So soft,” she said. “So sweet. Look, Eddie, at her little fingers. Have you ever seen anything so perfect?”

“Never,” Eddie breathed in awe.

“Dita, how old do you think she is?”

“A month or two, I’d guess.”

Colt rummaged under the blankets in the basket. “There’s canned formula and a bottle here,” he said, setting them on the table. “And enough disposable diapers until I can get more. And a pacifier.”

“Eddie and I can bring the old family cradle over,” Dita said. “It’s stored in the attic. Oh, and you’ll want cornstarch. I have that, too.”

“Cornstarch?” Bethany said blankly.

“It prevents diaper rash,” Dita told her.

“Goodness gracious,” she said, embarrassed. “I guess I don’t know much about babies.”

“No reason you should,” Dita said. She chuckled and patted Bethany on the shoulder. “I’ll dig out that cradle right now,” she said, and then she and Eddie left, Eddie chattering excitedly all the way out the door.

When it was quiet, Bethany stopped rocking the baby, who in turn regarded her solemnly. The baby’s hair looked like downy dark chick fluff, and her breath smelled milky. Bethany thought about how it might have been to hold her own baby like this, to have someone to care about more than anything in the world. More than the ranch, even.

“All this time I’ve been learning how to run the Banner-B while other women my age are having children,” she said, half to herself.

“Sounds like that bothers you.”

Colt’s words startled her. She had momentarily forgotten that he was there.

“My husband and I always wanted kids,” she said. The baby was staring intently up at her, searching her face for—what? Its mother? What kind of mother would leave a baby on someone’s doorstep?

Bethany found herself growing angry on the baby’s behalf. A baby deserved parents who cared enough about it to keep it safe. A baby deserved better than being dropped on someone’s doorstep, prey to anything that came along, like abusive kids or coyotes or—well, peeing dogs.

“Here, why don’t you let me take her,” Colt said. Wordlessly she let him lift the baby from her arms. Although his hands were big and rough, he was surprisingly gentle. Bethany thought, maybe Colt McClure has the same feeling for babies that he has for horses.

For some reason, this was a disturbing thought. Or was it the way Colt’s hands adjusted the baby’s blanket, or maybe the unaccustomed softness of expression that flickered brief as heat lightning across his rough-hewn face? Or the way he offered the pacifier and his look of relief when the baby accepted it?

Maybe none of this was so surprising. The baby was his. Had to be. Why else would this Marcy, whoever she was, be leaving a baby here?

Her anger burgeoned to include Colt. And yet there wasn’t much she could do if he’d earlier abandoned this Marcy and their baby to come to the Banner-B. It wasn’t her fault. She reminded herself that Colt was the one who’d advertised for work. She’d only answered the ad. It wasn’t as if she was the one responsible for his irresponsibility.

She thought if she didn’t get away from him she might say something she’d regret. “The baby’s probably hungry. I’ll go pour this formula into the bottle,” she said through clenched teeth. She pivoted abruptly to go into the kitchen, the air in her wake sending a picture of Justin clattering to the floor. Quickly she bent and picked it up, carefully examining the frame to see if it was broken. The picture had been taken during the first year of their marriage, and Justin was smiling into the camera lens. Smiling at her. Bethany had taken the picture.

She carefully returned the picture to its hallowed place on the hall table. “Your husband?” Colt said.

“Yes.” She didn’t want to talk about Justin with this man, but when she went into the kitchen, Colt followed.

“I reckon it’s none of my business, but how long have you been a widow?” he asked in a conversational tone.

“You’re right. It’s not your business.” Any more than it’s my business how a baby came to be left on my doorstep for you. Or who Marcy is, she almost added.

“Sorry,” Colt said.

Suddenly it seemed important to her to let this drifter, this man who’d abandoned his own child, know exactly what responsibility was. “Justin died five years ago after a tractor accident, and I’ve been running the ranch ever since.”

“That’s no easy job.”

“Right,” she snapped. “The most important things in life aren’t.” She could have told him plenty about how hard it was, how she’d had to learn computer management programs and read up on cattle breeding and deal with creditors and, of course, fend off Mott—but she wouldn’t.

If he felt the sting of her words, Colt gave no sign. He didn’t reply, but sat down on a kitchen chair and hoisted Alyssa so that her face rested against his shoulder. The baby was alert, sucking vigorously on the pacifier. Colt looked pensive for a moment and drew a deep breath before he spoke.

“I want you to know that I’ll do my best to find Alyssa’s mother, and as soon as possible.”

“And if she can’t take the baby back?”

“I don’t rightly know whether she can or not.”

“There’s always foster care,” Bethany said.

“No!” Colt said forcefully.

Bethany hadn’t expected her casual and matter-of-fact suggestion to provoke such an outburst. She swiveled and looked at Colt in ill-concealed surprise. His expression had gone all dark and forbidding.

“Never. No matter what. I’d leave and take her with me before I’d let her go to a foster home,” Colt said fiercely. His arms tightened protectively around the baby.

Bethany hid her dismay. He could have talked from hell to breakfast and not said that part about leaving when the last thing she needed was to lose a ranch hand.

It took a moment for her to recover. “All right, then. We’ll manage for now,” she replied in a level tone, not wanting him to know he’d rattled her. She ran hot water into a pan and set the bottle in it to warm.

When she heard Dita and Eddie outside, she opened the back door and they came in. They presented the cradle for inspection by depositing it in the middle of the kitchen floor and setting it to rocking. “It’s a family heirloom Frisco and I brought from Mexico,” Dita said. She grinned at Bethany. “Frisco’s not half as hard-hearted as he seems, you know. He already had the cradle out and was cleaning it when Eddie and I walked in the house.”

“I’ll take it upstairs,” said Eddie. He was strong and proud of it.

“Put the cradle in the blue bedroom, Eddie,” Bethany told him.

“Blue bedroom. Okay.” He lifted the cradle and departed.

“Here’s the cornstarch,” Dita said as she set the small yellow box on the kitchen table. “Anything else you need?”

“No, Dita, I think we’re all set.”

They heard Eddie clattering down the stairs. “I put the cradle by the window,” he said.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Bethany told him.

“Well, Bethany, I’ll see you in the morning. Eddie, let’s go. Your dad’s about to pop a movie into the VCR.” Dita kissed Bethany briefly on the cheek and left, Eddie following close behind.

When they had gone, Bethany turned her attention back to Colt. Cowboy and baby made an incongruous sight; Colt was concentrating on his task, his brow furrowed slightly, and Alyssa slurped hungrily at the bottle, her tiny fists curved like pink seashells against Colt’s broad chest.

Bethany thought how pretty the baby was, and how helpless. And she still couldn’t understand how anyone could have left such a beautiful child on a strange doorstep. Or how the father of such a lovely child could leave her behind somewhere to take a job on a ranch like this one.

“She’s stopped drinking,” Colt announced, interrupting Bethany’s thoughts.

“I think that means she’s had enough.”

He looked up at Bethany, his eyes troubled. “I won’t let the baby be a problem. I’ll look after her tonight. She’ll have to be fed and diapered, and I can get up with her and do it. You need your sleep.”

He was right about that, because suddenly she felt very tired indeed. It had been a long day. Her bruised shoulder ached. But he had worked hard, too.

She must have looked hesitant because he said, “I mean it. I’ll be the one to get up with Alyssa.”

Reluctantly she decided that it was only fitting for Colt to do the honors. Plus, she didn’t want to get overly attached to the baby. She was already feeling little tugs of her heartstrings over the way Alyssa looked and felt and smelled.

“Bethany?”

At least he hadn’t called her ma’am again. Colt was looking at her inquiringly, and she knew he wanted her to show him where the baby would sleep. And where he would sleep, too, in order to be near. Well, she had wanted him to accept responsibility, and now he was doing it. Still, she hardly knew him. Did she really want him in her house all night long?

Bethany had sensed something dangerous about Colt McClure from the beginning, and certainly something about him didn’t quite add up. She was well aware that this man could have found work on any of a couple dozen ranches, and she didn’t know why he had chosen to work for her. And, adding even more uncertainty, she knew Frisco didn’t like him.

He waited for her answer, and she detected a challenge in him—or maybe it was a dare. It was almost as if he knew what she was thinking. His eyes filled with concern as he looked from the baby to her and back to the baby again. No—what she saw in Colt McClure was more than mere concern. It was that hunger again, that longing that she had interpreted as insolence when he rode up to the house yesterday.

She briefly considered sending Colt and the baby back to the barn, but she thought again how bare Colt’s rooms were, and how stifling hot. The smells of the animals in the barn below penetrated the thin boards of the apartment’s floor.

Now, as he stood before her holding the baby in his arms, he didn’t seem at all threatening, only worried. She reminded herself that she was doing this for the baby’s sake. The kid already had a couple of strikes against her, and Bethany didn’t want to make things even worse. Being responsible, she told herself, meant doing things you didn’t want to do sometimes. That was what finally made up her mind.

“Okay, come with me,” she said into the loaded silence. She heard Colt let out his breath as if in relief. It surprised her, that release of tension, but then he’d been full of surprises ever since he appeared, galloping his horse up the driveway.

She led Colt, who was still carrying the baby, through the quiet and dark house, into the hall with its picture of Justin staring at her reproachfully from its embossed silver frame, past the seldom-used living room full of well-worn but cherished furniture, up the stairs and past the door of her own bedroom.

Across the hall from hers, the guest room was occupied by a four-poster double bed, which was covered with the quilt that had been given to Justin’s mother by her best friend on her wedding day. An antique washstand held a matching china pitcher and wash basin, and rag rugs hooked by Justin’s grandmother adorned the hardwood floor.

Bethany turned on the small candlestick lamp on the bow-front dresser. It bathed the room in dim golden light. “Here’s where you both can stay. The bathroom’s near and you’ll be comfortable enough. In fact, you can put Alyssa in the cradle now. Wait—we’d better check to see if her diaper is wet. I’ll get a towel.”

Bethany hurried into the bathroom next door. When she returned with the towel and spread it over the quilt, Colt laid the baby on the bed, opened the blanket and felt the diaper.

“Soaked,” he said. “Looks like I’d better be fixin’ to change her.”

“Do you know how?”

“I’ve never changed a diaper before,” he conceded. “Have you?”

“No, never. It can’t be too hard,” she said. Reluctantly, because she didn’t want to have anything more to do with this situation than absolutely necessary, she picked up one of the clean disposables and unfolded it. Colt had already removed Alyssa’s wet diaper.

“Hand it over.”

She gave him the diaper and Colt slid it under Alyssa’s plump bottom. He fumbled with the adhesive tabs. “Waste-basket?” he said.

Bethany nudged it closer to him with her foot. “Here.”

Colt tossed the pull-off strips into the basket and tentatively sprinkled on a smattering of cornstarch. Alyssa bicycled energetically, her plump little legs pumping the air. Colt’s enormous hands fit the fresh diaper around her hips, and even though he stuck it together lopsided, Alyssa didn’t seem to mind. If she hadn’t been so tired and so angry with Colt, Bethany would have smiled at the sight of the big rawboned ranch hand turned nanny.

Those same hands lifted Alyssa tenderly, readjusted the sacque she wore, and laid her carefully in the cradle. For a moment the baby stared curiously up at them, two large strangers looming over her with concern. Then she uttered a soft little sigh, and slowly her eyelids became heavier and heavier until they closed.

“You can sleep on the bed,” she said to Colt. She leaned over him and pulled the quilt down to expose the clean sheets underneath.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. His touch was so unexpected that a warm tremor swept through her, and she stepped away from him as far as the narrow space between bed and wall would allow. “I’ll do that. You’ve done enough. Thanks, Bethany. Thanks for not flyin’ all to pieces over this.”

His appreciation sounded heartfelt, and she was bewildered at the confusion she felt. She was still angry with him, but she was beginning to respect the way he was rising to the challenge of this baby.

In that moment it struck her that he was standing so near and the setting was so intimate she could have reached over, twined her fingers together behind his neck and pulled his head down to hers. And kissed him.

Heavens! She would never.

“Good night,” she said, pushing past him so that her thigh brushed his, so close that she could smell the clean male scent of him, so close that the hollows under his cheekbones lost their shadow. All grace had left her, had drained clean away, and she felt awkward and ungainly. She stumbled over the toe of his boot, and his arm whipped out to steady her.

“You all right?” he asked.

“I’m okay. I’ll see you in the morning.” She made herself walk past the cradle and out the door.

In her own room, she closed the door with a firm click and locked it for the first time ever. Then she leaned against it, wearily circling a hand under the damp collar of her shirt and thinking that Texas summers had surely grown hotter than they used to be. After a minute or so, she removed her clothes and pulled on a nightgown, any gown, from her dresser drawer. The gown smelled of old cherry wood and fabric softener and, faintly, of lavender. Its soft familiarity soothed her.

She lay awake for a long time that night, listening to cicadas chirring in the shrubbery and to Jesse James yodeling at the moon. She never heard the baby cry, not even once. But she did hear Colt’s footsteps pacing back and forth, back and forth on the creaky oak floor. If he slept at all, she couldn’t tell it, and she didn’t fall asleep herself until past midnight.

MORNING. PALE LIGHT. A baby fussing. The scent of coffee.

Colt struggled out of a deep sleep. For a moment he was confused. Where was he?

Then he remembered. Marcy’s baby was waking up. He’d fed her and diapered her during the night, and now she was probably hungry again.

He forced himself to slide out from beneath the smooth sheets, marveling at the fact that he no longer slept in a prison bunk. As he pulled on his jeans and shirt, he thought that never again would he take a real bed with a comfortable mattress for granted.

He bent over the cradle. Alyssa was squirming, screwing her face into an expression that he’d learned meant she was about to let loose with big-time bawling. He poked around under the blanket and found the pacifier.

“Here’s your stopper,” he said. Alyssa opened her mouth and accepted it, her eyes wide as she took in the looks of him.

“I know I’m not much to look at with this scar and all,” he whispered as he gathered her up from the cradle, a family heirloom carved with initials and angels and roses. Eddie had probably slept in this cradle, and maybe Frisco, too. Colt smiled to think of the crusty Banner-B foreman as a baby.

He changed Alyssa’s diaper, getting the hang of it now. It wasn’t an unpleasant job, exactly. Cleaning up after horses was much worse, though he’d heard tell of horses that wore diapers, carriage horses in touristy towns, and he thought it was a travesty. Babies, now, that was a different thing altogether. Trouble is, the person who should be dealing with this baby’s diapers was Marcy.

“Well, now, I am goin’ to find your mommy,” he told the baby. “Goin’ to bring her back.”

Not that it was so hard to understand the desperation that had brought Marcy to the point where she’d left her baby with him, but he couldn’t imagine what she’d thought he would do with a baby. Just out of prison, trying to make a life for himself—well, he could think of better things than dealing with somebody else’s problems. But then he’d always been a sucker for Marcy no matter how sorely she tried his patience, mostly because he knew how unhappy she was. Poor kid, she’d never had a chance with Ryzinski for a father.

“We’d better get you something to eat,” he said to the baby. He lifted her in his arms and studied her features for a moment. She had Marcy’s dark hair and eyes, and the set of her chin was pure Marcy.

A voice materialized outside the door. “Colt?”

Colt caught a glimpse of himself as he passed the mirror over the dresser. He looked rumpled and unshaven with one lock of hair falling over his forehead and his eyes rimmed by dark circles. He’d hardly slept at all.

He swung the door open with his free hand. Bethany stood there smelling of soap and shampoo, and he felt a little current of pleasure quiver through him just to see her. She’d showered and washed her hair, he could tell from the fresh clean scent of her. And she was wearing a T-shirt today. It was big, though, and left plenty to the imagination. He had no trouble imagining, none at all.

“How is the baby? I didn’t hear her cry during the night.”

“I didn’t let her cry. Didn’t want her to wake you.” He’d jumped up out of that comfortable bed at the slightest whimper from the cradle, and he’d rocked and fed and changed diapers like he knew what he was about.

Bethany sallied forth into the room. There was a sashay to her walk, but he’d bet she was completely unaware of it. “I’ll fill her bottle with more formula.” She looked at the baby, and the focus of her eyes softened. “Here,” she said, “let me take her.” She held out her arms and he sort of dumped Alyssa into them. He was wary of touching Bethany’s breasts by mistake. Wary and aware. Today she wore a bra, but instead of enhancing her figure, to his way of thinking it minimized it. Maybe that was what she wanted.

As Alyssa began to whimper, Bethany hesitated, then, as if she couldn’t help herself, dropped a kiss on the fuzzy little head. “Hush,” she said, a gentle command. The baby hushed.

“You can wash up in the bathroom if you like,” she said. “Meet me in the kitchen afterward.” It was as if she hardly saw him. She only had eyes for the baby. Which was a good thing. At least she hadn’t demanded that he leave. In fact, she’d looked right put out last night when he’d said that bit about not letting the baby be sent to a foster home. Well, he’d meant it.

Colt went into the bathroom. It was all white tile and white fixtures with a fluffy blue rug on the floor. It was clean, real clean. To him, it seemed the ultimate in comfort and convenience. He would have liked to take a shower from a spigot with a decent flow of water, but Bethany hadn’t said anything about that so he didn’t. He did open the corroding mirrored door of the medicine cabinet, hoping to find a razor. There wasn’t one, only a bottle of aspirin and one of mouthwash. He gargled with the mouthwash and studied his face in the mirror. No wonder Bethany wasn’t more friendly.

Well, hell, why would she be? He’d arrived unannounced, taken up residence, and saddled them with a baby, all in a short period of time. Boy, would he give Marcy a real talking-to when he finally caught up with her.

And how would he do that? He had no idea. The last time she’d visited Colt in jail, Marcy had informed him that she had a boyfriend, and she’d made it clear that she’d moved in with the guy because there was nowhere else to go. The man had probably walked out on her, left her pregnant and she couldn’t support the kid. End of story. Beginning of a major problem—for Colt, anyway.

He’d have to find Marcy. And he would, as soon as possible.

When he walked in the kitchen, Bethany was sitting in a rocking chair that hadn’t been there before. She had the baby spread out on her lap and was crooning to her, punctuating each word with a gentle pat-a-cake of the baby’s tiny feet. Alyssa seemed to like it, gazing at Bethany in rapt attention.

“You’re safe with us, Alyssa, safe with us. Yes, you are, you are,” Bethany said. She glanced up at the sound of Colt’s footsteps and suddenly became all business.

“Give me her bottle, will you, Colt? And help yourself to the coffee.” She gathered the baby in her arms, the game, whatever it was, over.

Colt handed Bethany the warm bottle, which she tested on the inside of her arm before sliding the nipple into Alyssa’s eager mouth. The baby began to suck and commenced looking blissful, making little dovelike noises deep in her throat.

Colt circled around and poured himself a big mug of coffee. Then he leaned against the counter and said, “I know it’s a burden on everyone, havin’ a baby here. This morning I thought I’d make a few phone calls, see if I can find out where her mother is.”

“Good. I’m supposed to work cattle with Dita today, and you can pick up digging postholes whenever you’re through making calls. But—” her face fell in dismay “—someone has to watch the baby. We can’t leave her alone here.”

He raked a hand through his hair. There were so many things to think about when a baby was involved. “She can stay with me while I’m on the phone,” he said. “Isn’t there someone around here who can babysit?”

Bethany shook her head, and despite everything else that he was thinking about this morning, he couldn’t help reflecting that she was one beautiful woman. She was talking, and he made himself concentrate on her answer to his question.

“We’ll have to manage ourselves, I’m afraid. The closest people are Milt and Betty Harbison, who live on the next ranch. They’re elderly and don’t get around too well, and I can’t imagine that they could look after a baby.” Colt got the idea that Bethany Burke prided herself on her self-reliance and wouldn’t ask for help with much of anything.

That decided him. “How about if I make a quick trip into town? I’ll get more diapers and more formula. While I’m there I’ll ask around, see if there’s anyone who could help out.”

Bethany tossed off a resigned look that seemed to say, Well, okay, if that’s what you want to do. “Fix yourself some breakfast first. There’s eggs and bacon, and I’ve set the skillet out. Bread’s in the freezer, make yourself some toast. After you eat, you can use the pickup and take Alyssa with you. I don’t think you’ll find a babysitter easily, unless you make it worthwhile money-wise.”

“I’ll pay whatever I have to.” This delivered with grim determination.

Another look, highly skeptical. “I expect you remember that I won’t be handing you your first paycheck for another two weeks,” she reminded him.

“That’s okay. I have money.”

He didn’t think she believed him, but it was true. His life savings were parked in interest-bearing accounts here and there. Before he went to prison, he’d been planning to start a business.