# Longwalker's Child

Debra Webb

Lauren Whitmore had heard the wild rumors about the man on her doorstep. But none of them prepared her for Gray Longwalker. His proud Native American features stole her breath, but it was his eyes that stopped Lauren's heart. Deep, honest and gray as his name–an exact match to those of the little girl Lauren loved and was to adopt as her own.As soon as he learned she existed, Gray rushed to claim his child. Except he hadn't expected a long-limbed vixen to stand in his way. And as tension between him and Lauren heated to a dangerous attraction the lone warrior faced his greatest fear–forgetting the beauty before him was the enemy….

## Lauren watched as Gray smiled down at the child, the tenderness on his face almost more than she could bear.

“Mommy! Mommy, did you see me ride the horse?” Sarah glowed with excitement.

“I sure did, sweetie.” Lauren met Gray’s eyes only briefly. Even that contact sent an unwanted tingle up her spine.

Gray dismounted and lifted Sarah off the horse.

“I had this much fun!” Sarah exclaimed, holding her arms wide. “I want you to ride, too!” She looked expectantly from Lauren to Gray. “Please, Mommy?”

“I’d be happy to take you,” Gray offered.

Lauren glowered at him, which only made him grin. “All right, all right.”

Once Lauren settled on the saddle, Gray slid in behind her. His palm flattened on her abdomen and pressed her closer to his hard male body. She trembled at the feel of him. His fingers knotted in the cotton of her T-shirt, then relaxed.

He felt it too, she realized.

Gray Longwalker might like to pretend he was in control, but when it came to this attraction between them, he was as defenseless as she was.

## Longwalker’s Child. Debra Webb


www.millsandboon.co.uk

Thanks to a friend and fellow author Tina Leonard for keeping me straight on my Texas facts.

This book is dedicated to the light of my life, my little girl, Melissa. God gave me a very special gift when he sent you to me. Be sweet always, and remember that I will always love you.

## ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Debra Webb was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it badly enough. She began writing at age nine. Eventually, she met and married the man of her dreams, and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners, and working in a factory, a day-care center, a hospital and a department store. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin, Germany, and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office. By 1985 they were back in the States, and finally moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again, looking to mystery and movies for inspiration. In 1998 her dream of writing for Harlequin came true.


## Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

## Chapter One

“I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

Lauren Whitmore looked up at the tall raven-haired man filling her doorway. Wearing a black Stetson and duster, he all but blocked the bright morning sun, casting an ominous shadow across her threshold. His dark hair fell well past his broad shoulders, lending an even more roguish quality to his appearance. His face, all shadows and angles, was undeniably good-looking.

At first Lauren considered that maybe the handsome stranger who’d knocked on her door was lost, but one good look into his eyes changed her mind and stilled her heart.

Eyes that Lauren looked into every day of her life—the same intense gray eyes of her soon-to-be-adopted daughter. Fear slid through her veins.

“I’m sure you’re mistaken, sir,” she finally managed to say despite the rush of hysteria crowding her throat. Lauren grasped the tarnished brass knob more firmly and prepared to close the door. Please God, she prayed, just let me get this door closed and locked so I can get to the telephone and call Don. He will know how to handle this.

The man flattened one wide palm against the door, halting its movement. “Wait. You are Lauren Whitmore.”

Lauren knew he wasn’t asking. This was the kind of man who calculated every move, every word. He knew exactly who she was before he stopped at her ranch and knocked on her door.

“Yes,” she said, her voice strained with the effort of maintaining her composure. “I’m Lauren Whitmore.” Panic snaked around her heart as she groped for some kind of plan—any kind of plan to get rid of him until she could make just one call. “But there’s nothing here that belongs to anyone but me,” she hedged. Technically it was the truth—she was alone in the house.

“This is your ad.”

Another statement. He thrust the crumpled newspaper he held in his left hand in her direction. His expression determined, the angular features of his face slashed in granite.

Lauren moistened her dry lips and tried to swallow, but she couldn’t. Her gaze dropped from his watchful gaze to the newspaper he offered. Concentrating hard to keep her hand steady, she took the paper and stared blankly at the ad circled in red. She didn’t have to read the printed words…she knew what they said because the ad did belong to her.

Ice-cold dread formed in her stomach. This was the nightmare Don, her good friend and trusted attorney, had assured Lauren would never happen.

Never, he’d emphasized.

Lauren drew in a shaky breath and met the man’s piercing gray gaze once more. “Who wants to know?” she asked in the bravest tone she could muster. Her heart pounded wildly as she waited for the answer she didn’t want to hear.

“Gray Longwalker,” he said roughly, as if accustomed to a particular reaction to the announcement. A muscle flexed in his deeply bronzed jaw.

“I’ll need to see some sort of identification,” Lauren insisted. The delay tactic would prove futile, but she had to try. Though fear whittled away at her resolve not to run as fast as she could away from him, Lauren held her ground. She needed some inkling of his immediate intent.

One corner of his mouth lifted in a patient but weary gesture that wasn’t quite a smile. She had the distinct impression that he had not smiled often during his thirty or so years. Somehow that thought disturbed her. Lauren tamped down the reaction. She would not feel anything even remotely related to sympathy for this man. This was the man who held the power to devastate the life she had built since coming to this town.

Lauren squared her shoulders and met his searching gaze. Taking his time so that he could analyze her more thoroughly, he reached into the back pocket of his faded jeans and removed his wallet. The March wind ruffled the duster around his legs, the flapping sound loud in the otherwise stark silence.

He flashed a Texas driver’s license. “Gray Longwalker,” he repeated, his tone wary now, as if he’d read her last thought. He shoved the worn leather wallet back into his pocket. “I’ve come for my daughter.”

The words, though expected, echoed all the way through Lauren’s soul. She blinked twice. Her skin felt clammy, and the hasty breakfast she’d wolfed down less than half an hour ago threatened to make a reappearance. She knew the symptoms and what would follow. She willed herself to calm, taking a slow, deep breath to fight the light-headedness already overtaking her. This was not the time to lose control. She focused on blocking the disabling sensations clawing at her.

“She’s not here,” Lauren informed him with surprising strength. She would not allow him to destroy their little family. Surely the man could be persuaded to see reason. But right now she had to get to Don’s office.

“You’re sure about that,” he pressed, easing a step closer, putting himself in her doorway.

Lauren suppressed the desperate words she wanted to blurt out and struggled to think rationally. Gray Longwalker didn’t know his child’s name or what she even looked like, yet he had come to claim her. He had to be reacting on impulse. How could he expect to just take her away? His gaze shifted to the hall behind her, then settled intently back on her.

“I said she’s not here.” She resisted the urge to retreat a step from his stare.

“I’d like to know where she is, then,” he said quietly, too quietly. “Please,” he added stiffly.

Lauren was certain that word hadn’t come easily. Something resembling the same desperation she felt glimmered from the gray depths that marked this man as the father of the child Lauren had called her own for almost a year now. He was every bit as anxious as she was, but beneath the surface a storm was brewing. She could feel it emanating from him in waves. Gray Longwalker was holding back, restraining something that felt very much like rage. Lauren knew with complete certainty that she should be afraid. She should be very afraid.

“I told you she’s not here.” Lauren lifted her chin in defiance of her own emotions. She had to be strong. She had to fight this man. He would not take her child away.

Something changed in his eyes then. The anger she’d felt simmering overrode his restraint. “Patience is not one of my strong suits, Ms. Whitmore,” he warned, his voice low, lethal. “I’ll ask you again, where is she?”

Her heart banged painfully against her chest, but Lauren ignored the ache. “I’ll get my keys and you can follow me into town to my attorney’s office.”

He shook his head slowly from side to side. “I don’t want to see your attorney. I want to see my daughter.”

“Mr. Longwalker, if you have no consideration for my feelings, at least consider the child’s.” Lauren blinked back the sting of tears. “How do you suppose she would feel if you burst into her classroom and announced that you were her father?”

Realization dawned in his eyes.

Oh, God! Lauren realized at that same instant that she had just told Gray Longwalker where his daughter could be found. She could well imagine him roaming the halls of Thatcher Elementary, looking for a child he’d never seen and asking for a daughter whose name he didn’t even know. Somehow he didn’t appear the type to be thwarted by mere technicalities.

“Thank you for your kind assistance, Ms. Whitmore,” he said tightly, then turned and strode away.

Not a single doubt existed in Lauren’s mind that he fully intended to go straight to the school. He had already made it across the porch and down the steps before Lauren found her voice.

“Wait, please,” she called after him. By the time he turned back to face her, Lauren stood on the bottom step, practically at eye level with him. She shivered when his gray gaze collided with hers. A strange spark of awareness arced briefly between them, and Lauren felt oddly violated, as if he had looked right through to her soul.

“What?” he demanded, seemingly oblivious to the zing of electricity that had passed between them.

Lauren dismissed the unfamiliar sensation as a part of the lingering shock of finding Gray Longwalker at her door, not to mention the monster headache threatening. “Think,” she pleaded. “We both want what’s best for Sarah—”

“Sarah…that’s her name?” His features relaxed just a fraction, an almost-imperceptible vulnerability crept into his wary eyes.

“Yes.”

He looked away. Lauren watched the smooth movement of muscle beneath dark skin as he swallowed hard. However cold and ruthless this man was rumored to be, hearing his child’s name for the first time touched something deep inside him. That knowledge only served to increase Lauren’s mounting anxiety. God, why had he come? He couldn’t possibly love Sarah the way she did.

“Does she know anything about me?” His penetrating gaze locked back on Lauren’s. All signs of vulnerability had vanished. Those gray depths were like hard, metallic points probing past her defenses.

“No,” she said simply, and braced herself for his response.

Gray closed his eyes and then dropped his head. Lauren heard the heavy breath he released. She had expected him to explode into a rage, but he didn’t. For one fleeting moment she wanted to reach out to him…to tell him she was sorry about the whole situation. That maybe they could work something out, then Lauren remembered the promise she had made Sarah’s mother.

“Mr. Longwalker, I love Sarah. I must warn you that I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep her happy and safe.”

His head shot up, and his eyes blazed with a rage probably as old as he was. Startled, Lauren drew away from his fury as far as her precarious perch on the step above him would allow.

“Then we both want the same thing,” he said harshly.

Lauren shook her head, unsure as to how he would react to the words about to tumble from her mouth, but they had to be said. He had to understand. “I made a promise to Sarah’s mother on her deathbed that I would never let you take her child away and I intend to keep it.”

Pain and betrayal flashed in his eyes. Gray adjusted his black Stetson and gave her one last heated glare from beneath the brim. “You’d better get to your attorney’s office then, because you’ll need one if you think you’re going to keep my daughter from me.” He turned away and continued toward his truck. His movements were graceful and sleek like a cat’s, but at the same time more dangerous and determined than any animal’s, domesticated or otherwise, she had ever seen.

Lauren wasn’t a coward, but neither was she one to pick a fight—that fact didn’t stop her from bounding down that last step and grabbing Longwalker’s arm. She pulled him around to face her, which would have been impossible had she not taken him by complete surprise. He glared down at her, impatient and irritated by her lack of cooperation.

With a single lift of his shoulder, he shrugged off her hand. “You have something else to say before we go to your attorney’s office?”

“How can I be sure that you’ll follow me? What’s to keep you from going to the school and trying to find Sarah instead?” Lauren set her hands on her hips and glared back at him, though she trembled inside. Every vicious story she had ever heard about the man flashed through her mind during the brief pause before he answered. Stories that would make the bravest woman fear for her safety in his presence. Especially alone.

“I’ll be right behind you, Ms. Whitmore,” he assured her. “You have my word.”

Lauren almost laughed at the absurdity of his statement. “I’m afraid your word doesn’t mean much around these parts, Mr. Longwalker.”

He made a mirthless sound in his throat. “Tell me something I don’t know.” His somber gaze punctuated his words. “You have my word,” he repeated then turned away once more.

Lauren watched as Gray Longwalker took the last few steps to his truck and seated himself behind the wheel. He made no move to start the engine; he just sat there and stared at her. Waiting, Lauren supposed, for her to get in her own car and lead the way.

Maybe she was a fool, but she believed him. Contrary to the rumors she’d heard, Longwalker didn’t strike her as the sort of man who gave his word lightly. Deliberately Lauren turned her back on the man and went inside the house to get her keys. Despite the display of trust, she listened for the roar of his truck’s engine as she searched for her forever-misplaced keys. The sound never came.

Lauren finally located her keys, grabbed her purse and headed for the door. In an hour she had a teleconference with a client and his building contractor, but she would just have to miss it. Maybe she could call Rosemary from Don’s office and have her reschedule the conference. She didn’t have time to leave her a note. What would her assistant think when she returned from her run to the post office and found Lauren gone? And what about lunch? Lauren swore silently as she locked the door behind her. Buck had asked her to lunch today. The man was obsessing about a reconciliation. But he would just have to wait, as well.

Lauren’s one and only concern right now was Gray Longwalker’s return.

GRAY WATCHED the hushed exchange between the Whitmore woman and her lawyer. He vaguely remembered Don Davis. The best he could recall, the man was at least ten years his senior. When Gray had left the small Texas town of Thatcher six years ago, Davis had been practicing law with his father. Gray supposed the older man had retired or passed away since the storefront window now read The Law Office of Don Davis. Gray remembered the elder Davis as a fair man. He only hoped the son would prove as just.

Had it only been six years ago that he had left this godforsaken place? It seemed like a lifetime. Yet nothing had changed. The people in this town would still think of him as nothing more than a half-breed bastard. An outcast. He wasn’t blind. He had seen the stares as he walked down the sidewalk to Davis’s office. The difference between six years ago and now was that Gray no longer cared. He frowned as the hushed conversation on the other side of the room jerked him back to the present. Whatever Davis was trying to get across to the woman, she didn’t seem to be taking it very well.

Lauren Whitmore was a transplant—a northerner, Gray had assumed from her accent even before Davis had mentioned Chicago. From the discussion they’d just had, Gray had learned that she had moved to Thatcher about three years prior and befriended another of the town’s outcasts, Sharon Johnson.

Gray closed his eyes and summoned Sharon’s image. A slight woman with fiery-red hair and eyes like a clear summer sky. As much as he hated to admit it, he hadn’t thought of her in years, though she had been a friend to him for most of his life. Sharon had been the only person who had tried to understand him or the emotions that drove him. Emotions or ghosts? Gray wondered. It had taken him many years to come to terms with what he was and the hand fate had cruelly dealt him.

He and Sharon hadn’t been in love with each other, but their feelings had been strong just the same. Those last few weeks before Gray had hit the road and left his sorry past behind, Sharon had been his only source of emotional support. He hadn’t meant to make love to her—it had just happened. It grieved him immensely that she hadn’t called on him in her time of need. She had died alone, save for the Whitmore woman and the child whom she had kept hidden from Gray.

Gray opened his eyes and forced the painful memories away. He had left Sharon with child, and she obviously hadn’t considered him worthy of the knowledge. He supposed he couldn’t really blame her. He had been a bitter, mixed-up hothead back in those days. Still, the fact that she hadn’t told him didn’t sit right in his gut. He knew Sharon. Or at least he thought he had. Things had gotten a little crazy those last couple of weeks before he left. Leaving Thatcher had been the only thing that had kept him sane and out of trouble with the law—at least the law according to the Buckmasters.

Enough, Longwalker, he ordered. Gray turned his attention back to the Whitmore woman. A thick mane of blond hair fell around her shoulders. Her eyes were the greenest Gray had ever seen. Like jade. She had long, shapely legs to which the navy leggings she wore clung like a second skin. The thigh-length matching sweater did nothing to conceal the lush curves underneath. Gray felt a stirring in his loins and averted his gaze.

She might look like a million bucks, but he already knew that Lauren Whitmore would treat him just the way everybody else in this town did. Not to mention the fact that she stood between him and his child. The child he had only recently learned existed.

Gray set his jaw and willed the rage to retreat. Rehashing the past would serve no purpose, but he would not allow history to repeat itself. Gray had been called a half-breed all his life. No one who wanted to continue breathing would ever call a child of his half-breed. And no child of his would ever be called a bastard.

He glanced at the Whitmore woman again. No one would stop him from claiming his child.

No one.

Since Gray’s whereabouts had been unknown, an ad announcing the Whitmore woman’s intent to adopt the daughter of Sharon Johnson and Gray Longwalker had been placed in the local newspaper of his last-known city of residence.

Gray knew without a doubt that no real effort had been made to find him. Davis had merely fulfilled the necessary legal technicalities to proceed with the adoption. Neither he nor Lauren intended for Gray to find out about Sarah. If they had known that Gray still had connections in Laredo, the ad would never have been placed in a newspaper there. Still, he’d had to give her the benefit of the doubt. But when he had gone to Lauren’s door, her attitude had told him she wasn’t interested. And now, here they were, sitting in her attorney’s office getting nowhere.

Lauren and Davis had apparently reached some sort of decision and both returned to their seats. Davis settled behind the big oak desk and Lauren sat in the chair adjacent to Gray. She kept her gaze fixed firmly on Davis, not giving Gray so much as a sideways glance.

Gray’s pulse picked up. Now he would find out just how serious Lauren Whitmore was about keeping his daughter from him.

“Mr. Longwalker,” Davis began, “the law clearly gives you the right to demand custody of your child—”

Lauren gasped, but quickly cleared her throat and clasped her hands in her lap. Gray saw the tremendous effort she required to compose herself once more. She evidently didn’t want to hear what her attorney had to say now any more than she had a few moments ago.

“As I was saying,” Davis continued. “If you are, in fact, Sarah’s biological father, then you have every right to petition the court for custody.”

“Is there any question that I’m the father?” Gray straightened in his chair and leveled his full attention on the round face of the stocky attorney. “I thought Sharon named me as the father on the birth certificate.” And with his Navajo heritage there couldn’t be much question as to whether the child had inherited his Native American features. That part would be obvious. With her Irish-American background, Sharon certainly couldn’t have passed those traits onto the child.

“That’s true. Ms. Johnson did name you as the father, however, that alone won’t stand up in court.”

Gray’s hackles rose at the implication. “Sharon Johnson might not have been one of Thatcher’s more prominent citizens, but she would never have lied about something like this.” Gray had no intention of sitting here and allowing some spit-polished, college-educated snob to sully Sharon’s name, even though she hadn’t seen fit to let Gray know about his child.

“I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” Davis clarified quickly.

“Good,” Gray said, and glared at the man behind the desk. He forced his fury back to a manageable level. He had worked long and hard to learn to control his temper, but this new turn of events was testing those limits.

“Ms. Whitmore was given full custody of the child by the biological mother. If you choose to contend her adoption proceedings, then it’s up to you to prove your right to do so in a court of law.”

Gray shrugged. “I have no problem with that. Just tell me where to go and what to do.”

Davis eyed him skeptically. “The test and court costs will be quite expensive, Mr. Longwalker. Since it is up to you to prove paternity, then the burden of cost for both you and the child will fall on your shoulders.”

“Whatever it takes,” Gray responded without hesitation. His own attorney had warned him to expect this stall tactic.

Lauren darted a nervous glance in his direction. Gray smiled to himself. He may have left Thatcher as poor as dirt, but he hadn’t been as dumb as dirt. Don Davis would probably faint dead away if he knew just how much money Gray had growing interest in a Dallas bank account.

“Well, then.” Davis jotted a few notes on his legal pad before looking up again. “I’ll see that the arrangements for the test are made as soon as possible. Leave a contact number with my secretary and I’ll be in touch. Once the paternity issue is resolved in the eyes of the law, Mr. Longwalker, you may petition the court for custody.”

Gray had a bad feeling about the custody part. Lauren Whitmore probably had the whole town on her side—including the judge. “How long will the test results take?”

“Two weeks at least,” Davis answered smoothly.

“The custody battle, however, could go on for months—” he peered self-righteously at Gray over his wire-rimmed bifocals “—or years even,” he finished smugly.

Gray restrained the anger that skyrocketed inside him. He didn’t care how long it took. Sarah was his child, and he fully intended to have her. “Fine,” he relented, his patience holding on by a thin thread. “When can I see Sarah?”

“Don,” Lauren protested. She clutched the arms of her chair, her knuckles white with the effort.

“We won’t discuss visitation until after paternity has been established,” Davis stated, as if the issue was closed to further discussion.

Gray rose to his full height of six feet two inches. He leaned over and placed his hands palm down on Davis’s gleaming desktop and settled a gaze Gray hoped communicated the seriousness of his words to the man staring up at him. “Discuss visitation or don’t discuss it, it makes no difference to me. But I will see my daughter. Is that clear?”

“You will have absolutely no contact with Lauren unless it comes through me, Mr. Longwalker. I hope that’s clear,” he said cautiously. “And threatening me won’t do you any good,” he added carefully.

“It’s not a threat,” Gray offered without apology. He straightened and picked up his hat from the table that separated his chair from Lauren’s. “It’s a promise.” He met Lauren Whitmore’s gaze for the space of two heartbeats before turning away.

Gray strode out of the office without a backward glance. As angry as he was, he knew one thing for sure—he would never be able to forget the look on Lauren Whitmore’s face. As pale as a ghost, her eyes full of fear, she had looked ready to break down and cry.

He hardened his heart against the sympathy that arose immediately. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t given her the opportunity to resolve this thing between the two of them. But she wanted no part of a negotiation. She had made up her mind long before laying eyes on Gray. She intended to keep his daughter from him, that much was evident. Gray clenched his jaw. He had no doubt that the woman cared deeply for his daughter. Lauren Whitmore would suffer as this battle played out. But her pain was inconsequential, Gray reminded himself. His only concern was claiming his daughter—Sarah.

## Chapter Two

Gray stood in the middle of Thatcher’s only cemetery. The March wind whipped around him and through the branches of the old oak trees, the sound breaking the deathly silence. He felt cold and uncharacteristically lost inside. In the distance the small town that was supposed to be his home sprawled across the flat landscape that seemed to go on forever. The place had never actually felt like home to him, not even when he was a small child. No pleasant memories sprang to mind, no old friends he longed to visit. Nothing remained for him but pain and bitterness, and enough anger to last three lifetimes. But he’d been born and raised here.

And that made this place home.

Gray had always been an outcast. A half-breed bastard who worked like two men for half the pay of one. Gray swallowed the anger that accompanied that memory. Old man Jennings had at least given him a place to sleep, and three meals a day. No one else would have taken him in after his mother died, leaving him alone at sixteen, with no money or place to go. Gray drew in a deep breath and scanned the wide-open blue sky. It was during that eight-year stint on Jennings’s ranch that Gray had discovered his God-given talent with horses and how to use it. But it wasn’t until he left this hate-filled place that he had learned to utilize his skills to their fullest extent.

Horse training required great patience and the ability to open himself completely to reach the animals, and before Gray could do that he’d had to learn to control the rage that had driven him from the age of ten. Self-discipline had been hard earned and long in coming. But he had mastered the art four years ago. Oh, he had the occasional relapse, like today in Davis’s office, but he’d grabbed back control swiftly enough. He wasn’t the same man who left here all those years ago. Despite the indifference and taunting he had suffered growing up, he held no true grudges, except one.

Gray glanced beyond the rows of typical headstones until he found the one of the man who had sired him. A massive monument loomed over the family plot. He gritted his teeth and tamped down the churning emotions that threatened now, even after all this time. His father—the word turned his stomach—had taken advantage of Gray’s mother, turning her into his mistress. Then he’d killed her one inch at a time. Never once had the man spared one iota of concern for the illegitimate child born of their infidelity. By the time Gray had reached school age, the man had turned his back on both of them. Covered up his wrong doing, making their lives miserable in the process.

Determined not to be undone by his past, Gray shifted his gaze back to the small headstone that marked Sharon Johnson’s final resting place. Tiny blue flowers blanketed the year-old grave. A frown furrowed his brow as he tried to think why Sharon would hide the existence of his child from him. They had been friends. It was true that he’d made a mistake by taking her to bed that last night, but she seemed to need him as much as he needed her.

Gray blew out a weary breath. There was no point in wasting energy trying to analyze her motivation. The fact was she hadn’t wanted him to know, and she had made the Whitmore woman promise to keep the child from him. He could not bring himself to hold that mistake against Sharon. God knows he’d made his share. What was done was done.

The sound of a vehicle pulling to a stop next to his truck tugged Gray’s attention in that direction. It was an older model sedan, its dark-blue paint dusty from the gravel road. He squinted to make out the face of the driver. The door opened and an elderly woman slowly emerged from behind the steering wheel.

Mrs. Jennings.

Gray removed his hat and waited silently as the old woman approached the cemetery gate.

She hesitated when she noticed him. Gray saw the instant recognition flare. She eyed him another long moment. Then, using her cane for assistance, she closed the distance that separated them.

“I’d heard you were back,” she said in a voice rusty with age. Faded-blue eyes studied him with surprising sharpness. “Causing trouble already, too, they say,” she added, pointedly.

“Is that what they say?” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Maybe he did have one good memory or two. Marilee Jennings was one little old lady who had a stubborn streak herself. She liked nothing better than to put a cocky young man with a smart mouth in his place. No fifth-grader ever dared defy her authority. Not even Gray.

She nodded sagely. “Of course I set them straight about that.” She leveled her gaze on his and thrust out her thin chin for emphasis. “I told them that to my knowledge Gray Longwalker never started any trouble in his entire life, but he sure as blazes would end it if anyone started it with him.”

The smile won the tug of war with his lips. “It might not be so easy to end this time.”

She lifted a sparse gray brow. “You may be right on that one. That city gal’s mighty sweet and extra good to that little girl of yours.” Mrs. Jennings leaned on her cane for support. “She’ll give you a run for your money. Have you got yourself one of those fancy lawyers?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gray assured her. “The best. I had hoped it wouldn’t come to that though.”

The old woman shook her head. “Don’t count on it, Gray.”

Gray glanced back at the sedan she had arrived in. “How is Mr. Jennings?”

She pointed to the far side of the cemetery with her cane. “He passed on last year.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “The ranch hasn’t been the same without him.” She glanced back up at Gray. “You should stop by while you’re in town. I still put dinner on the table at the same time every day.”

“I’ll try to do that,” he promised. It was probably the only place in the whole county where he was halfway welcome.

“You paid your respects to your momma yet?” she demanded in that once-a-schoolteacher-always-a-schoolteacher tone.

“I was about to do that.” It was a lie. He had no desire to visit his mother’s grave. He didn’t want to be reminded of her final days. But Mrs. Jennings still wielded an unexplainable power over him. Since fifth grade some deeply entrenched habit took over whenever she rattled off an order, and he found himself responding positively.

“Well come along, then, and we’ll see my Fred, too.”

Gray stepped back for her to lead the way. “Do you know Lauren Whitmore well?” he asked as he followed Mrs. Jennings’s slow progress down the long center aisle that separated the two sides of the cemetery.

“I know she won’t give up that little girl without a fight.” Mrs. Jennings turned back to Gray, her gaze connecting with his once more. “She loves the child like her own. She’s done a fine job since Sharon, God rest her soul, passed on.”

Though he appreciated what the Whitmore woman had done for his daughter, renewed anger twisted inside him that she somehow thought a few months of baby-sitting made the child hers. “That may be, but Sarah is my daughter, not hers.”

“Watch your step, Longwalker,” she warned.

“Things are not always as cut-and-dried as they seem. Lauren isn’t the only citizen of Thatcher who has an interest in little Sarah.”

Gray considered her words for a long moment. “Sharon had no living relatives,” he countered. There was no one, except him, that would be related by blood to Sarah.

“Let’s just say that blood isn’t always thicker than water. Buckmaster himself told me just before he left this world that he intended to make things right with you. I doubt his boys liked that idea very much.”

“They can rest easy,” Gray told her. “I never heard from the old man.”

LAUREN PACED the long entry hall that separated her living room and dining room, then peeked out the window for the umpteenth time. Nothing, only pastures quickly turning a rich-green spread out as far as the eye could see. Bluebonnets added a punch of color to the sea of green. Though Lauren’s small ranch only included fifty acres, she loved every square foot of it. Five years ago she would have laughed had anyone told her that very soon she would be living in the middle of nowhere on a former horse ranch. Lauren had loved the energy of the city. Loved the hectic pace of her job. But things changed.

Pushing the thoughts of the past away, she paced in the other direction, her fuzzy pink house slippers soundless on the polished oak floor. Otherwise Sarah would have wondered why her mommy was behaving so nervously.

Fluffy, Sarah’s huge black-and-white Persian, sauntered to the door and yowled. Lauren smiled and reached down to scratch the feline’s furry head. Like Spinner, the old horse left on the ranch she had inherited from her aunt, Fluffy had come with the place. It hadn’t taken Lauren long to realize that life on a ranch wouldn’t be complete without at least one cat and one horse. While most folks around here felt lost without a dog sleeping on the porch, Lauren had yet to make a trip to the pound in Dallas to adopt one. Something always came up. But she had her heart set on a big old Labrador. Fluffy voiced her irritation with Lauren’s slow reactions.

“Okay, girl, you can go outside even if the rest of us are stuck in the house.” Lauren opened the door just far enough for an impatient Fluffy to squeeze out, then closed and locked it. She immediately resumed her pacing.

This is ridiculous, she fumed silently. She couldn’t keep worrying that Gray Longwalker would show up at her door again. Don’s parting words echoed inside her head. You need a restraining order.

“Yeah, right,” Lauren huffed to the empty hall. She knew all about Longwalker’s reputation. If he wanted to drop by, it would take more than a legal document saying he couldn’t to stop him.

“Mommy!” The shrill little voice pierced the tense gloom shrouding Lauren, bringing a smile instantly to her lips despite her worries.

Lauren stepped into the living room to see what Sarah wanted this time. Five minutes ago, she thought, affection widening her smile, it had been Leah. Sarah hadn’t been able to find the special doll she’d had since the day Lauren brought her home to live with her. After searching every nook and cranny of the house, they had finally found the doll under the dining table.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Lauren crooned to the little girl, who was gazing expectantly at her.

“Can I have a cookie, please?” The child smiled angelically, her expression hopeful as well as pleading.

“Pretty, pretty, please? With sugar on top?”

Sarah’s big gray eyes mocked Lauren, reminding her of the man poised to shatter both their lives.

Lauren tamped down the sudden urge to grab the little girl and run as far away as possible—maybe even back to Chicago. But Lauren knew that her life was here now, and Thatcher was the only home Sarah had ever known. And she had made that promise. She had to trust Sharon’s reasons, though she had not expounded upon them in depth, for not wanting the child to be raised by her father. If he was half as bad as the people in this town insinuated, he had no business raising a child.

Whatever happened the next few weeks, Lauren had to act as if everything were normal until the problem of Gray Longwalker could be resolved. Hard as it might prove to be, she would keep a happy face in place for Sarah’s sake. Her daughter was particularly adept at picking up on Lauren’s feelings.

Lauren forced her usual disciplinary expression, which was not nearly effective enough, and said, “You know better than to ask, Sarah, it’s only four-thirty. You’ve had your after-school snack already.” She gestured toward the television. “Watch cartoons. Dinner will be ready in a little while.”

Sarah groaned and pulled her knees up under her chin. She shifted her doleful gaze back to the animated antics on the television screen. In a matter of seconds she had forgotten the denied request and was giggling at Bugs Bunny.

A long curtain of silky black hair slid around her thin little shoulders. Other than her skin being a shade or so lighter, the child looked exactly like her father. Lauren shivered at the memory of that haunting gaze of Gray Longwalker’s.

Exactly.

Lauren’s chest felt unbearably heavy. She couldn’t lose this child—not now, not after she had fallen head over heels in love with her and made Sarah her own. Her breath caught at the memory that Lauren had at first refused Sharon’s deathbed request to take the child. After losing the only man she had ever loved four years ago, Lauren had resigned herself about never having children. She couldn’t possibly ever love another man; the risk of losing was too great. Thus, there would be no children. She had turned off those emotions. Though she loved children, she had simply disassociated herself with the concept of ever having any of her own. The thought of a child without marriage first had never entered her mind.

She closed her eyes and allowed the memories she would just as soon forget to flood her mind. She and Kevin were both ambitious and career oriented. They planned to marry and someday in the distant future they would have had children. They had been happy. Until the accident. And then he was gone. Lauren opened her eyes and clenched her jaw. It was bad enough that she lost the man she loved that dark, rainy night, but fate had also thrown her one final blow—the headaches. Life-altering headaches. Headaches that kept her from participating in life as she once had. That sent her scurrying away from the stress and noise of big-city living. That kept her working from a home office to reduce her stress even further. She’d even had to hire an assistant to help her do a job she had once accomplished by herself without thought.

Lauren sighed wearily and shuffled back to the hall. But she had survived, moved to Thatcher and made two very good friends, Rosemary and Sharon. Just over one year later, and at Sharon’s perpetual insistence, Lauren had started spending large chunks of time with Sarah. The knowledge that the little girl would very soon be completely alone in the world had worn away at Lauren’s resolve not to grow attached to her. Slowly but surely, the child had stolen Lauren’s heart. And now Sarah belonged to her in every sense of the word. Nothing, not even Gray Longwalker was going to change that. He would not take her away, Lauren would see to that if it was the last thing she ever did.

She took one final peek out the window before going to the kitchen. Don was a good attorney. If anyone could prevent Longwalker from breezing back into town and taking Sarah, Don could. Lauren had to trust that, otherwise she would have a heck of a time maintaining her sanity.

A pleasant aroma met Lauren when she entered the kitchen. The roast she had planned for dinner simmered in the oven. Lauren smiled and double-checked the temperature setting. She loved to cook, even if it was only for the two of them. When she had remodeled this old ranch house, Lauren had designed a large, gourmet-style kitchen. Though she rarely entertained guests, she had wanted this big, airy kitchen and she had gotten it, guests or no.

Well, there had been those few dinners with Buck. Lauren shook her head. How could she ever have believed that she would be happy with him? She couldn’t love him, she was too gun-shy to give her heart away again. Lauren threaded her fingers through her hair. Lack of confidence in herself in her new role as mother and plain old fear of the unknown had made her vulnerable to Buck’s relentless pursuit. After Sharon’s death, Lauren had somehow gotten it into her head that Sarah needed a father figure in her life. And, she admitted ruefully, she had been desperate to ensure she raised the little girl properly. After all, what did she know about raising children? She was an only child.

Thankfully, Lauren had realized in time that she didn’t need Buck or anyone else to help her love and care for Sarah. Lauren was plenty capable of doing so on her own. Buck hadn’t given up completely, though. He still called her from time to time. In fact, now that she thought about it, his efforts seemed to have increased lately.

Just what she needed, Lauren mused, another man disrupting her life. She shivered. Gray Longwalker looked man enough for two lifetimes. That strange awareness pricked Lauren at the thought of just how much man Longwalker was. So very tall, dark and…dangerous. And it wasn’t just his rumored reputation, either. There was something about him…something Lauren couldn’t quite label that made her uneasy, restless even.

She shook off the ridiculous feeling and turned her attention to the bread rising on the counter near the sink. She did not need anyone except Sarah to make her life complete. They were a family. And Lauren’s parents were thrilled about having a grandchild. Both college professors, they would be coming for a visit at spring break. Lauren smiled when she suddenly remembered Sarah’s glee at seeing snow in Chicago this past Christmas.

A wave of dizziness broadsided Lauren. She clutched the counter to steady herself, belatedly realizing she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The dizziness passed, but the deep, heavy ache that settled on the right side of her head didn’t.

“Geez, you know better than this, Whitmore,” she grumbled. Lauren reached for the medication she kept by the sink. She hoped she hadn’t waited too late for the drug to be effective. Everything around her had spun out of control, the last thing she needed to do was let this monster rear its ugly head.

A loud knock at the front door startled Lauren. She jumped, and a few of the pills scattered across the counter. She hastily scooped up the runaway pills and dropped all but one back into the bottle.

She blew out a breath and willed herself to calm. She was letting her imagination run away with her. Lauren popped the single pill into her mouth and washed it down with the last sip of cold coffee left in her favorite mug. She grimaced at the bitter dregs, set the mug that said I Love You, Mommy down and headed into the hall to answer the door. Lord, there was nothing in the world that tasted worse than cold coffee.

She prayed it wasn’t Longwalker. Don had mentioned calling this evening, maybe he had decided to drop by instead. Lauren could use a little more of his reassuring to shore up her waning resolve. She had spent the entire afternoon pacing the floor and worrying about the situation.

“Pull yourself together, Lauren,” she chided aloud.

“Falling apart isn’t going to help.” Another knock echoed down the long hall.

“I’ll get it!” Sarah squealed.

“No!” Lauren shouted as she bolted for the door. She caught Sarah just before she opened it. “I’ll get the door. You go right back into the living room and play or watch cartoons.”

“Mom-mee,” Sarah whined. Her big eyes darkened with disappointment. As they had so few callers, the child loved answering the door when the occasion presented itself.

“Do as I say, young lady,” Lauren told her firmly. The little girl dropped her chin to her chest and trudged back into the living room. Not wanting Sarah to overhear any conversation regarding the present situation, Lauren closed the French doors behind her.

She chastised herself for being so hard on the child. They usually played games after school or watched Sarah’s favorite cartoons together, but today had been different, and Gray Longwalker was to blame. None of this was Sarah’s fault, yet the effects were already filtering down, changing Sarah’s routine. No matter how things turned out in the long run, Lauren knew that Sarah would be the one to suffer and not understand why.

The pounding came at the door again, louder this time, more insistent.

Lauren exhaled and braced herself for the worst. Surely Longwalker wouldn’t show up again today. Don had told him that all contact with her was to be made through him. But she knew deep in her heart that it was most likely him. Don wouldn’t pound on her door like that. Outside of calling the sheriff, who would be a good twenty minutes responding, she felt she had no choice but to answer the door. If it was Longwalker, she doubted he would simply go away if she didn’t answer.

The knock rattled the hinges this time. Lauren muttered an unladylike curse. What was she so worried about? Don was convinced that Longwalker couldn’t possibly really want Sarah. Once he’d had a chance to think the whole thing over, he’d surely realize that fighting over a child he didn’t even know would be far more trouble than he wanted. Once his indignation cooled, he would likely be on his way.

He was a drifter, what would he do with a child?

Feeling a boost in her confidence, Lauren pulled the door open and looked up into the very face she did not want to see. Gray Longwalker stared down at her with equal measures of wariness and impatience. She tried without success to blink away the black spots that suddenly floated before her eyes. A bolt of pain shot through her head, and she almost winced.

“Is my daughter here?” Gray asked quietly, his gaze steady from beneath the wide, black brim of his hat.

“Mr. Longwalker, this is my home, you have no right to be here.” Lauren kept her voice low so as not to draw Sarah’s attention. “I didn’t extend an invitation, so please leave.” She took several slow, deep breaths to counter the intense pain sizzling around the edges of her consciousness. She had waited too long before taking her medicine and now she would pay the price. She blocked the doorway with her weakening body. Please God, she prayed, let him leave before—

“I only want to see her,” he persisted. “You can’t keep her from me.”

“You can’t just show up like this,” she argued with the last of her waning strength. Nausea rose in the back of her throat. She needed to lie down. Her body trembled. “Please go away. Talk to my attorney.”

That silvery gaze settled fully onto hers, the weight almost buckling her knees. “I can’t do that.”

Lauren opened her mouth to protest, but a blinding flash of light obscured his image. Her knees gave way beneath her.

No, she willed silently, not now. This can’t happen now.

Lauren struggled to hang on to consciousness. Darkness swallowed her as the pain exploded inside her head.

As if from some place far away, Lauren heard Sarah’s cry…Mommy.

## Chapter Three

Gray caught Lauren Whitmore just before she hit the floor. He held her limp body in his arms and dropped down to his knees.

God in Heaven, what am I supposed to do now?

“Mommy!” a shrill voice screamed.

Gray jerked his head up at the terrified sound. What he saw sucked the air right out of his lungs.

A little girl stood stock-still in the middle of the entrance hall. The terror in her eyes far exceeded what he had heard in her voice. Big, tear-filled eyes stared back at him…gray eyes. Black hair draped her trembling shoulders and fell all the way to her waist. Hair so black it looked blue wherever the light reflected against it.

The drumming of Gray’s heart blocked all other sound. An emotion so foreign he couldn’t possibly hope to identify it rushed through him.

This was his child.

Gray didn’t need a test. He couldn’t have denied this child even if he had wanted to. This was why Lauren Whitmore’s eyes had widened so when he had first appeared at her door this morning. Gray had assumed she had recognized him by old photographs Sharon had left behind, but that wasn’t the case at all.

Lauren Whitmore had seen Sarah in him.

“What’s wrong with my mommy?”

The question jerked Gray from his intense reverie. He looked from the frightened child to the woman in his arms and relaxed the overtight hold he’d only just realized he had on Lauren. She was out cold.

“I don’t know,” he said, and then lifted his gaze back to the child’s. She watched him with a wary but expectant gaze. “We were talking and she passed out.”

The little girl sniffed and eased closer. “Mommy says if nobody’s home ’cept me when she gets sick, I should call 911 like she showed me.” She gave him another wary look as she took one more small step closer.

Gray exhaled heavily. He looked down at Lauren Whitmore, who still hadn’t moved a muscle. He checked her pulse at the side of her throat. “Well, she’s breathing and her pulse is strong and steady.” He looked back at the child, hoping to appease her. “I don’t think we need to call 911, Sarah.”

The child’s eyes grew wide at his use of her name. “How’d you know my name? You’re a stranger.”

Holding Lauren against his chest, he stuck out his free hand. “Gray Longwalker.”

Sarah stared at his outstretched hand, her dark eyebrows knit in worry. “Are you a friend of my mommy’s?”

Gray hesitated, then nodded. It was a flat-out lie, but he knew the child needed reassuring.

Sarah didn’t take his hand. “Are you gonna help my mommy, mister?”

“Just call me Gray,” he offered, letting his hand drop.

Sarah didn’t respond, she simply stood there and stared at him—clearly fearful of what might happen.

“How about we lay your mom down somewhere and then I’ll call her doctor? She has a doctor, doesn’t she?”

The child nodded and gestured for Gray to follow her down the hall. Gray took off his Stetson, tossing it on the hall table. He adjusted his hold on Lauren and got to his feet. He followed Sarah to the far end of the hall, into a darkened bedroom. She turned on the bedside lamp and climbed onto the bed. Silently she waited while Gray laid Lauren beside her.

“Dr. Bill’s number is by the phone in the kitchen,” she said quietly, never taking her eyes from the still form next to her.

“I’ll go call, then.”

Sarah didn’t answer or even look up. She caressed Lauren’s cheek with small, trembling fingers.

Gray forced the haunting image from his mind as he retraced his steps down the hall until he found the dining room. He skirted the already-set table and passed through an open doorway into the kitchen. After locating the phone, he punched in the posted number for Dr. Bill Prescott. Gray didn’t recognize the name, obviously another newcomer to Thatcher.

Gray inhaled the mouthwatering aroma that filled the kitchen. His stomach rumbled. How long had it been since he’d had a home-cooked meal? Too long to remember, he thought with uncharacteristic longing.

While he listened to the receptionist’s greeting, Gray turned the oven off. Whatever Lauren Whitmore had on tonight’s menu would have to wait. He noticed the open medicine bottle by the sink and picked it up to read the label.

Gray gave the receptionist a quick summary of what had taken place. After a brief wait on hold, a man answered and identified himself as the doctor.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Prescott ordered, concern in his voice.

“One minute we were talking and the next she was out like a light.” Gray rotated the bottle in his hand to verify the name when the doctor asked about medication. “Yes, the open bottle was next to the sink, but I have no idea if she took a tablet.”

“This is the first episode Lauren has had in quite some time,” Prescott said, and then hesitated as if considering the best course of action. “She’ll sleep for several hours. When she wakes up she’ll be weak, and the pain will likely come again. Just keep her comfortable and have her call me as soon as she’s up and around again. I can come by tonight if she needs me.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what’s wrong with her?” Gray ventured, and then quickly added, “I haven’t known her very long.”

There was a long pause before Prescott responded. “She has cluster headaches,” he finally explained. “They’re similar to migraines, but the cluster effect makes them more intense. She doesn’t have them often anymore, but when they strike they’re debilitating. It’s not as bad as it sounds, Mr…. what did you say your name was?”

“Longwalker. Gray Longwalker.”

“Mr. Longwalker, Lauren’s headaches appear to be mainly related to stress. As long as she stays clear of any major stress she doesn’t have any problems. I have no idea of your relationship with Lauren, but I sincerely hope you won’t let this incident color your opinion of her. Lauren’s a terrific young woman. Obviously, though, there’s something stressful going on in her life right now.”

Gray assured the doctor he would have Lauren call him. He pushed the off button and placed the cordless receiver back in its cradle. He swallowed hard as he considered Dr. Prescott’s words.

Stress.

He had done this to Lauren Whitmore. Gray shook off the regret and forced away the guilt. The woman had chosen to come between him and his child. She had, in effect, brought this particular stress upon herself, he rationalized, but it didn’t relieve the guilt nagging at him.

When Gray returned to the bedroom, Sarah sat in the exact same place he had left her, still stroking Lauren’s cheek. Gray eased down on the edge of the bed feeling sorely out of place in the role of caretaker to anyone but himself.

“Is my mommy gonna be okay?” She looked up at Gray with a worried gaze that squeezed his heart.

“Yes.” He smiled and awkwardly patted her shoulder. “She’ll sleep for a while, but the doctor says she’s going to be fine.” He quashed the renewed rush of guilt that crowded his chest.

“Good.” Sarah frowned then, her whole face puckered in the process. “I don’t want my new mommy to go to Heaven like my old mommy did.”

Gray swallowed back the emotion that pushed up into his throat. He’d never in his life been an emotional man. He didn’t quite understand his reaction. Maybe he was tired from the trip and all the anger he had felt at life these past two days.

“Don’t worry, Sarah. She’ll be fine.”

“You promise?” She stared up at him, tears brimming.

“I promise,” he said, his voice strained, almost harsh.

Gray had wished for many things since he had learned of his child’s existence, not the least of which was the blackest curse he knew to fall upon the person’s head responsible for trying to keep his child from him.

Right now, though, he prayed with his entire being that Lauren Whitmore would be okay.

For Sarah’s sake.

LAUREN DRIFTED somewhere between asleep and awake well before her eyes would obey the command to open. Wherever she was, darkness surrounded her. No glimmer of light shone through her closed lids. She could hear something…the sound vaguely familiar.

She tried to reach out, to feel and maybe identify her surroundings despite the darkness, but her arms were so heavy that she couldn’t move. Her head hurt.

The sound was louder now.

Water.

Water was filling the car. Lauren was trapped. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe…

Fear crowded her throat and robbed her of rational thought. She struggled against the seat belt, but couldn’t quite free herself. The water continued to rise around her.

Air…she needed air.

Hold your breath, Lauren, hold your breath. Kevin… She reached for him…

Lauren sat straight up in bed, gasping for air.

A dream. It was only a dream, she realized. The accident was a long time ago. It was over now. She was safe.

Weak as a kitten she cradled her head in her hands and willed the lingering remnants of pain to retreat. She massaged her forehead and then pressed the tips of her fingers against her temples in an effort to keep the raging beast at bay.

Slowly, very slowly, the perception of time and place returned.

She was home. And she was okay.

Just a headache and a nightmare. It had been a long time since she’d had either. Not since Sharon’s death.

She should get up and check on Sarah….

The memory of what had taken place just prior to her blackout slammed into Lauren’s head. She threw back the coverlet, dropped her feet to the floor and forced herself to stand. A wave of nausea washed over her when she took a step, but she ignored it and forced another step and then another after that.

She had to find Sarah.

Lauren had no idea how long she had been out. Longwalker could have taken Sarah anywhere by now. She swallowed back the metallic taste of fear. Goose bumps skittered across her skin as adrenaline surged through her body, giving her the strength she needed to stagger across the room.

Once in the dark hall, her hopes plummeted. The house was entirely too quiet and dark.

No playing-child noises. No television sounds. Nothing.

Lauren moved down the hall, her heart racing, urging her to hurry. She tried to breathe more slowly, but failed. Her hold on composure thin at best, she kept one shaky hand against the wall for balance.

God…Sarah has to be here. She just has to be here.

Lauren blinked back the tears threatening and tried to recall the details of Longwalker’s truck. The police would need that information. She frowned with the effort of concentration. Her head felt like a bomb that had already exploded once and was prepared to do so again.

Think, Lauren, think. Black, she knew it had been black and new looking. But that’s all she remembered.

She should never have opened the door. Never have allowed him inside. Why hadn’t she called the sheriff?

Now he had Sarah.

Oh, God. How would she ever find her? If Gray Longwalker disappeared again, she’d never find Sarah.

The night’s full moon had pitched the dimly lit living room into long shadows. The television taunted her with its black screen. Panic rushed anew through Lauren then.

They were gone.

She pivoted unsteadily and propelled herself in the direction of the kitchen. She had to call the police now.

And Don. She should call Don, too.

Lauren banged her hip against the dining table as she passed, a chair clattered to the floor behind her. She knew she would have a huge bruise by morning, but at the moment she didn’t feel the discomfort. She clenched her teeth and refused to give in to the storm steadily building inside her head.

Lauren snatched the phone from its cradle and sagged against the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut at the fierce stab of pain that knifed through the right side of her skull.

The light…the overhead light was so bright. Had she turned it on? She didn’t remember.

Unable to stand any longer, Lauren slid down the wall to the floor. A sob tore past her lips at the next rush of pain and she clenched her teeth to prevent the scream that wanted to follow. Biological parents stole their children back from adoptive parents all the time. Ultimately the law was on the side of the matching DNA. Getting Sarah back would be next to impossible.

Lauren had to make that call—now—before she lost herself to the pain. She clutched the receiver and forced her eyes open. The numbers on the keypad blurred. She blinked and tried again to focus. The overhead fluorescent light sent black spots floating before her bleary vision. She couldn’t do it.

Another sob escaped her as she momentarily yielded to the anguish. “No,” she whispered hoarsely. Lauren sucked in a ragged breath and peered at the numbers through the haze of pain. She had to do it. She had to call.

Seemingly out of nowhere, strong fingers grasped her arm. Lauren screamed and tried to jerk free of the powerful hand holding her so firmly. Her heart thundered in her chest. The beast inside her skull roared, breaking the fragile barrier between her and the pain.

“What are you doing?” a deep, raspy voice demanded.

Ignoring the torturous light, Lauren looked up.

Him. It was him. Gray Longwalker was still here.

“Where’s Sarah?” she choked out, her throat almost closed with fear and anguish.

If he was here, then…Sarah must still be here, too. Lauren clutched the cordless receiver and struggled to get to her feet. Her stomach churned violently, followed so closely by a stab of agony that she almost blacked out. She moaned despite her best efforts not to.

She sank back to the floor and squeezed her eyes shut. God, it hurt so badly she could hardly draw in a breath. “Sarah,” she murmured.

“Sarah is asleep in her room,” Longwalker said quietly, as if he knew not to speak too loudly.

But how could he know?

Lauren forced her eyes open to see his face, and immediately regretted doing so. The light inflicted more of its pain. Could he be telling her the truth? She had to be certain. She had to see Sarah with her own eyes. She commanded her body to move…but nothing happened.

“What can I do to help?” He knelt beside her now. The slightest hint of concern in his voice.

“The light,” Lauren whispered. “Please turn off the light.”

The light was out before she realized he had even moved.

“Do you need the medicine on the counter? Your doctor asked if you’d taken it.”

His words registered in her brain, but didn’t quite make sense. Had he called her doctor? Why would he do that for her? Why hadn’t he taken Sarah and gotten as far away as he could before Lauren regained consciousness? Maybe he still intended to do just that.

“Sarah…I have to go to her,” Lauren whispered as she waged a war with her unwilling body to stand. She opened her eyes, immensely thankful for the answering darkness.

“Let me help you.” His strong arm slid around her waist, and he lifted Lauren to her feet with ease.

Why would he help her? Suspicious, Lauren jerked free of his grasp, almost falling as another wave of pain slashed through her. The silent figure towering over her steadied her with sure hands.

“Don’t touch me,” she warned and backed away, the wall stopped her.

“It’s okay, I won’t touch you.”

Lauren couldn’t see his eyes in the dark room. It was impossible to guess what he might be thinking. She didn’t care. She only knew that she had to get to Sarah.

She drew in a deep breath and focused on blocking out the pain. She got a slight measure of temporary relief.

Still holding the phone, Lauren groped her way along the wall for balance as she moved down the dark hall toward Sarah’s room. Uninvited, Gray followed.

When Lauren finally reached Sarah’s door and opened it, the dim night-light gave off enough illumination for her to see that her child was, as he had said, tucked safely into bed. Sarah slept soundly, totally unaware of the threat that lurked just outside her room.

And what had he told Sarah while Lauren had lain unconscious?

She backed out of Sarah’s room and quietly closed the door. Lauren turned to the man waiting in the darkness behind her, his silent presence more unnerving than the pain radiating beneath her scalp.

“If you said anything to upset her—”

“I told her I was a friend, nothing more,” he said, his voice cautious, unreadable. “You should take more of your medication and lie back down. I’ll help you. Dr. Prescott said—”

“I want you to leave, now,” Lauren said with as much bravado as she could muster. How dare he speak with her personal physician. Had he asked questions about her? If he had, surely Bill hadn’t answered. Longwalker already knew more about her than she wanted him to know—she wasn’t about to tell him anything else. He would no doubt look for anything to use against her in the custody battle.

“I’m not leaving,” he stated flatly. “You’re in no condition to be left alone with a child to care for.”

The sudden blast of outrage Lauren felt almost cloaked the fierce pain. “I appreciate that you stayed,” she said, her voice strained, “but I have real friends I can call for help, Mr. Longwalker.”

“You’d better call someone, then, because I’m not leaving until you do.”

Lauren held her anger in check, knowing the emotion would ultimately only add to her misery. Somehow she had to stay in control until she could get this man out of her house. There was no way of knowing why he had decided to be nice to her. Or why he hadn’t taken Sarah and gotten as far away as possible. But she wasn’t about to risk a sudden change of heart. Lauren concentrated on the task of locating the correct numbers without the aid of sight. Much calmer than before, she was able to visualize mentally their location and punch the necessary numbers without much trouble.

Rosemary, Lauren’s friend and assistant, answered after the second ring. “It’s Lauren,” she said without preamble. “I need you to come over and—” she glanced up at the brooding figure next to her “—stay with me tonight.” Rosemary agreed without hesitation, Lauren thanked her and disconnected.

“Satisfied?” Her breathing had become shallow with the increasing difficulty of keeping the mounting pain at bay.

“All right,” he said roughly and turned away.

Relieved, Lauren followed him toward the front of the house. Gray snatched his hat off the hall table, opened the door and turned back to face her. A golden glow pooled around him from the porch light. Lauren could see the rigid set of his shoulders, the grim line of his mouth. Her heart thudded in response, sending a quickening of panic through her weary body, which only served to add to her suffering.

“I will be back,” he warned.

“You know what my attorney said,” she argued, “you have to wait for the test results.”

His taunting smile was slow, bitter, involving only one corner of his mouth. “I don’t need a test and you know it. Sarah is my child and I will be back.”

Lauren braced herself against the wall for support. She was close to losing control again. “Why don’t you go back to wherever you came from and leave us alone?” She hated the desperate sound in her voice, hated her weakness in front of this man.

“Get used to it, Ms. Whitmore. I’m not going anywhere.” He turned and disappeared into the dark night without a backward glance.

Lauren closed and locked the door behind him. Rosemary had a key. She could let herself in when she arrived. Lauren pressed her forehead against the hard surface of the door and slowly yielded to the agony that would be postponed no longer.

The threat of Gray Longwalker would have to be shoved to the back burner until tomorrow or maybe even the day after. Right now Lauren had to deal with the pain. She sank to the floor and curled into a ball, surrendering to the pain and the blackness that would soon follow.

Gray Longwalker would just have to wait his turn to make her life unbearable.

SHE WAS DOING the right thing, Lauren told herself two days later when she took Sarah to the lab appointment Don had scheduled. It was a necessary evil that should have been done yesterday, but the bout of headaches had kept Lauren in bed for nearly forty-eight hours. This morning was the first time she had been out of the house since the episode with Longwalker. She forced the memory away. She didn’t want to think about that right now. She wanted this business over.

Sarah held Lauren’s hand as they followed the lab technician down the long, white corridor. Lauren could almost hear the pounding of her own heart; the sound seemed to echo in the stifling silence around them. The steady tap of her low-heeled pumps countered the squeak of the lab tech’s rubber-soled shoes against the polished tile floor. Both kept time with the pounding in her chest. I’m doing the right thing, Lauren told herself once more.

She glanced down at her daughter, who was busy taking in everything she saw. Sarah hugged Leah close to her side. Lauren had dressed Sarah in her favorite pink overalls. Her long black braid hung down her back with a pink satin ribbon tied at the end. The plain white blouse looked stark against her dark skin.

Lauren shivered when Gray came immediately to mind, despite her best intentions not to think about him. This was all his fault. If Gray Longwalker had stayed away, she and Sarah wouldn’t be here right now. Lauren moistened her dry lips and swallowed hard. But he has rights, she reminded herself. She just prayed those rights didn’t allow him to take Sarah away and prevent Lauren from seeing the child again.

Frank, her boss, was nearing a cardiac episode with her work delays. An architect at the growing Dallas firm, Lauren was very lucky that Frank allowed her to work from home. He was very sympathetic to her needs. But this thing with Longwalker only made matters worse. Though he understood, Lauren knew the last few days had put him seriously behind. The rest of the world didn’t stop just because hers was crashing down around her. Contractors needed their new specs for design changes, clients wanted their architectural drawings now. No one wanted to wait. Except Lauren. She wanted time to stop right now, before fate tore her heart out yet again.

The lab tech she and Sarah followed down the endless corridor would take the necessary blood and saliva samples for the DNA test.

Lauren shuddered inwardly but smiled down at Sarah’s upturned face. She had to be strong. She had to. “It’ll be okay, sweetie,” she assured her quietly. Sarah blinked and managed a hesitant smile.

“Right in here, Ms. Whitmore,” the lab tech announced and gestured toward an open door.

“Thank you,” Lauren said automatically, though she felt far from thankful. Every instinct told her to grab Sarah and run. Her stomach twisted itself into a thousand knots as she led her innocent, unsuspecting child into the small room. Sarah had no way of knowing that what was about to happen would forever change her life.

Lauren had struggled with the decision the entire journey to Dallas. If she opted not to submit Sarah to the test, Gray would no doubt make a legal move. By taking the test, Lauren had a couple of weeks to figure out some way to fight him. Two weeks, three tops. It was no time at all.

“You may hold Sarah in your lap if you’d like,” the tech suggested, nodding toward the beige molded-plastic chair against the wall.

Numbly, Lauren sat down and pulled Sarah onto her lap. She pressed a kiss to the top of her head and gave her a hug. Her chest ached with the fierce pounding of her heart.

“Mommy, if I’m a good girl, do I get a present?” Sarah looked up at Lauren, her big gray eyes hopeful.

Please let this be the right thing.

“Sure, baby,” Lauren said softly.

“And I want a Little Mermaid Band-Aid,” Sarah piped up.

“I think I can handle that.” The tech smiled.

Lauren fought the burn of tears behind her eyes. Even the medicinal smell of the place made her stomach churn. She had to do this. They needed the time before Gray made a move. But Lauren knew how this test would turn out.

“Now,” the tech began, “this won’t hurt a bit.”

## Chapter Four

Time crawled at a snail’s pace for Gray. Three days had passed since he had arrived in town…since he had seen Sarah. He had been in Thatcher only seventy-two hours and it felt like a year.

He hated this god-awful place. Sarah was the only reason he had come back. Yesterday afternoon he had driven to Dallas and parted with the required samples for the DNA test. He supposed that Lauren had taken Sarah, as well. But, of course, he had no way of knowing because no one told him anything.

Gray blew out a disgusted breath as his surroundings came back into focus. He sat alone in the diner. The booth’s red vinyl seats were faded and cracked with age. Nothing had changed about the place. Same scarred counter. Same black-and-white tile floor, coated with years of wax and buffed to a high, slightly yellowed sheen. Booths and tables, some mismatched and all worn from decades of use, filled the surprisingly clean diner.

A waitress placed his breakfast in front of him, freshened his coffee and smiled flirtatiously. Gray nodded, but didn’t return the smile.

He knew what people thought of him in this town. He’d stopped caring long ago. The quick, nervous glances and periodic murmuring told him that, like the diner’s decorating scheme, the people hadn’t changed, either.

Gray stared at the bacon, eggs and toast on his plate with complete disinterest. He really wasn’t hungry. He hadn’t been for days.

Not since he had seen his child…Sarah.

Gray closed his eyes and envisioned the little girl. His heart squeezed in his chest. When he’d first learned of her existence, he had tried to imagine what she looked like but hadn’t been able to put a mental image with his expectations.

Now he knew.

He opened his eyes and surveyed the small crowd in the diner. These people knew Sarah was his daughter, as well—they would have to be blind not to know. Mrs. Jennings had known.

Had anyone in this pathetic excuse for a town ever treated Sarah as they had treated him? Anger rose with such swiftness that he balled his fists.

Gray forced back the anger, shuddering with the effort. He would not allow it to consume him. He picked up his fork and stabbed at the food. His stomach turned. He couldn’t eat. Even the invitation for dinner at the Jennings ranch held no appeal for him. The fork clattered against the heavy white plate, earning Gray another round of suspicious looks and renewed murmuring.

Gray clenched his jaw and met each look with a fierce stare of his own. Let them say something, he mused. His fingers itched for an excuse—any excuse—to pound someone senseless.

He dragged in a long, deep breath and forced his attention to the wall of windows and the street outside. The last thing he needed was a fight. The law in this town would love an excuse to send him packing, or worse.

Gray hadn’t been in a brawl in more than four years. He walked away from conflict now. He had made peace with himself, if no one else. He had chosen his path and never looked back. There hadn’t been any reason to look back, until now.

The idea that his blood ran through that little girl’s veins shifted something—some sort of balance—deep inside him. Gray didn’t quite understand the feeling. He didn’t exactly love Sarah…. How could he? He didn’t even know her. The sensation was something much more primal than love. A sense of responsibility or protectiveness maybe.

Whatever it was, it grew with each breath he took.

When he had tucked Sarah into bed the other night, he had sat on the floor for a long while and watched her sleep. He had never before experienced such a driving desire to possess something. He wanted this child. His child.

Gray pushed his plate away and finished off his coffee. He hadn’t heard anything from Lauren Whitmore’s attorney other than the time and place for the lab appointment. Davis had until five o’clock today to contact Gray, after that his own attorney would start legal proceedings. He would not waste any more time waiting or analyzing Mrs. Jennings’s comment about someone else having an interest in Sarah. No one would keep him from claiming his daughter.

Gray had stayed away from Lauren since the episode on Monday night. He had struggled ever since with guilt he shouldn’t even be feeling. He didn’t know much about headaches, other than he’d had his share, but he had never seen anyone suffer the way Lauren had. But he had to set his sympathy aside. Lauren Whitmore was an obstacle he intended to remove from his path—one way or another.

Gray stood, ignoring the wary looks his every move earned him. He dropped the cash on the table for his meal and headed for the door. He’d had about all the Thatcher social life he could stand for one morning.

A bell jingled as he pushed the door open and stepped outside. Gray closed his eyes and raised his face to the warmth the sun offered against the cool March wind. He drew in a deep breath, settled his hat on his head and wondered how he could occupy himself today. He had visited a few of his old haunts the last couple of nights. What little night life Thatcher had to offer hadn’t changed much since he left, either.

Maybe he would go out to Manning’s ranch and take a look at that stallion the old man was having such a hard time with. He had heard the stories at the tavern last night about the demon horse Manning owned. The animal had injured the half dozen or so men who had tried to work with him already. Gray had a gut feeling that the horse had probably paid dearly for his rebellion, and that bothered him far more than what the men who had tried to break him had suffered.

Gray walked in the direction of the hotel where he had taken a room and left his truck. Thatcher was always quiet at this time of the morning. The kids were in school, and most of the other folks were at work, except those who made a career out of hanging out in Sid’s Diner or Dilbert’s General Store.

The same old storefronts lined the sidewalk, with only a fresh coat of paint here and there to mark any progress. The wind slashed down the straight line called Main Street that cut smack through the middle of the two-horse town.

Gray shook his head in disgust. Thatcher only reminded him of the things he had worked hard to forget. The longer he stayed the harder it became to maintain the discipline he had struggled to achieve.

A mane of blond hair fluttering in the wind caught Gray’s eye. His gaze traveled the length of the female whose back was turned to him. His attention riveted to the firm, round derriere encased in snug-fitting jeans. Maybe there was a thing or two in this town worth a second look. The sound of the woman’s almost musical voice wafted to his ears. Gray stopped dead in his tracks. Every muscle in his body tensed.

Lauren Whitmore.

Gray headed in her direction. No time like the present to find out just what was going on with the visitation arrangements. He had no intention of taking no for an answer.

Lauren shifted, providing an unobstructed view of the man who had her attention.

Gray’s step faltered, and his gut clenched. His fingers curled into tight fists.

James Buckmaster, Jr. Buck.

Gray swore hotly. The very sight of the man resurrected a lifetime of bone-deep hatred. Gray set his jaw hard against a long string of vulgarities lined up on the tip of his tongue.

The annoyingly pleasant sound of Lauren Whitmore’s laughter floated across the breeze. Buck smiled and leaned down to drop a kiss on her waiting cheek.

Something inside Gray broke lose and threatened to explode. Rage like he had not allowed himself to feel in a very long time washed over him.

Whether Lauren Whitmore knew it or not, the stakes had just been upped.

LAUREN MANAGED a polite but strained smile for Buck. The man was incorrigible. No matter how often she said no he still asked again. Would he never get the message? She just wasn’t interested in resuming their relationship. She would never allow herself to fall in love again, and a loveless marriage held no appeal whatsoever. Besides, her plate was full with taking care of Sarah and work. Frank had faxed her two more designs for which he wanted immediate changes. Rosemary could do many things for Lauren, but architectural design wasn’t among her talents. She was way behind schedule.

“It’s just a fund-raiser, sugar,” Buck persisted with a charming smile. “You remember last month when the Conroy place burned?”

“Of course I remember. Elly, their youngest, is in Sarah’s kindergarten class.” How could she forget such a horrible event? Though no one had been injured, the family had lost everything.

“Then how can you say no to such a good cause?”

Lauren sighed. How could she say no? But how did she get the point across to the man that he was barking up the wrong tree? She had nothing to offer him.

“Okay, Buck. I’ll go to the dance with you.” She relented, faced with the alternative of having him suggest a cozy dinner for two or, worse, a night out at the movies. He wasn’t going to let it go with her usual brush-off.

“Well, gosh, Lauren.” He pushed his wide-brimmed hat a little farther up his forehead and set one hand on his hip. “Don’t make it sound so bad.”

“Personally, I can’t think of anything worse.”

Lauren whirled at the sound of Gray Longwalker’s smoky voice. She found herself face-to-face with his tall, muscular frame. His cool gray eyes fixed on hers and her heart stumbled. A slow heat simmered inside her when his gaze slid slowly down her body. Nerves, she decided. The man made her seriously nervous. His full lips tightened into a grim line as if he disapproved of what he’d found.

“Mr. Longwalker,” she managed despite the sudden dryness in her throat.

The wind shifted his long raven-black hair over those impossibly broad shoulders. When his gaze met hers again, Lauren saw the faintest flicker of something akin to desire, but it vanished so quickly that she thought she must have imagined it. She had to have imagined it.

“Well, well,” Buck piped up, an edge in his voice.

“I’d heard you were back in town, Longwalker.”

Gray shifted his intimidating attention from Lauren to Buck. Barely checked anger sent a warning. Buck reacted instantly. Only the slightest change in his posture, but Lauren noticed.

“And no welcome-home party?” Gray returned haughtily.

Lauren stepped back from the anger generated by both men. Whatever the story with these two, it wasn’t good. Maybe if she just walked away neither would notice.

“Why, heck, Longwalker, me and the boys heard you were dead.”

An evil gleam sprang to life in Buck’s eyes taking Lauren by surprise. She had never seen this slightly sinister side of him. He had always come off as the good-old boy type to her—easygoing and happy-go-lucky. But his complete dislike, if not total hatred, for Gray Longwalker was more than obvious.

Gray cocked one dark brow. His stance remained relaxed and confident despite Buck’s fierce glare. His mouth curled into a contemptuous half smile. “Wishful thinking, eh?”

Buck laughed, but the sound held no trace of amusement. “Yeah, maybe so.”

Lauren retreated another step. The tension was too thick for comfort. She didn’t need to hear this, and she certainly didn’t want a confrontation with Gray Longwalker. It had taken her forty-eight hours to recover from his last visit.

Dr. Prescott had chastised her repeatedly for not taking care of herself above all else. Take your medication, Lauren. Don’t let the stress get to you, he had said.

Easy for him to say, Lauren mused. He didn’t have Gray Longwalker to worry about. Or Buck Buckmaster for that matter. She knew if Gray gave her a hard time, Buck would react with his usual “this one’s mine” mentality.

“I’ll pick you up at seven, Lauren.”

Startled, Lauren jerked to attention. She had lost the thread of conversation in her attempt to escape. “Sure, Buck, that’ll be fine.”

His usual pleasant smile slid back into place and he acknowledged her acceptance with a tip of his hat.

Gray continued his lethal stare long after Buck had turned and walked away. Lauren didn’t think she had ever seen that much hatred in a man’s eyes, not even in Buck’s just moments ago.

Seeing her chance, she swung around and started in the other direction. This was one encounter she had every intention of avoiding.

“In case no one’s told you, that man is a snake.”

His words brought her up short. “Excuse me?”

Gray closed the distance between them in two long strides. When he stopped, he was too close. Lauren looked up into his steely gray eyes. Way too close.

“Buckmaster is a low-life bloodsucker who would sell his own mother if the price was right.”

“Buck’s mother died two years ago, Mr. Longwalker,” Lauren said curtly, though she had no idea why she felt compelled to stick up for Buck. He was certainly capable of taking up for himself. “Not to mention that his father died just three months ago.”

“I guess we’re even then,” he said without remorse.

Lauren shook her head in disbelief. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Appalled, she wondered how anyone could be so callous.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he assured her.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Longwalker, I have things to do.”

His hand was on her arm before she took her next step. Gray swung her back around to face him, his hold restraining but not overly forceful.

“Let go of me,” Lauren insisted, scanning the sidewalk in both directions. The last thing she wanted to do was give the gossipmongers anything to talk about. She could imagine the curious faces pressed against the glass in the shops on either side of the street.