Jingle-Bell Baby
Linda Goodnight

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

About the Author

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 Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Christmas Treats

Copyright

Winner of a RITA® Award for excellence in inspirational fiction, Linda Goodnight has also won the Booksellers’ Best, ACFW Book of the Year, and a Reviewers’ Choice Award from Romantic Times BOOKreviews magazine. Linda has appeared on the Christian bestseller list, and her romance novels have been translated into more than a dozen languages. Active in orphan ministry, this former nurse and teacher enjoys writing fiction that carries a message of hope and light in a sometimes dark world. She and husband Gene live in Oklahoma. Readers can write to her at linda@lindagoodnight.com

CHAPTER ONE

LESSON NUMBER ONE in birthing class: never drive a car cross-country alone. Especially during the ninth month of pregnancy.

But Jenna Garwood had never taken a birthing class.

For the tenth time in as many minutes, she cast an anxious glance in the rearview mirror, relieved to see that no one had followed her when she’d exited the interstate some miles back.

Since her escape from the Carrington Estate, she’d zigged and zagged from the east toward the west, careful to cover her tracks. After three days, she shouldn’t be so worried. But the long arm of the Carrington family reached far and wide. And they didn’t give up easily.

When she’d heard the plans they had for her unborn child, Jenna had done the only thing that made sense. She’d run.

She had always been weak, but the little girl beneath her breast had given her strength. After the humiliation and sorrow of the last two years, the baby had given her a reason to try again.

A moan slipped past a bottom lip raw from constant gnawing. She bent forward over the steering wheel to stretch the kink in her back wishing she hadn’t spritzed the car’s interior with eau de parfum this morning. The stench of dirt and oil intermingled with the honeyed notes of orange blossom rose from the floorboard like an unwanted visitor. Saliva pooled in her mouth. As she tried to focus on the road, she swallowed, regretful, too, of the hamburger she’d eaten for breakfast.

Somewhere in this empty Texas landscape, there had to be a quiet little town where she could rest…and hide…until the ache in her back subsided.

“Only a little farther, darling,” she murmured to the hard ball around her middle. “Mommy’s tired, too.”

Tired was an understatement of monumental proportions.

Her back had hurt nonstop throughout the duration of her pregnancy but during the last twelve hours the discomfort had grown steadily worse. If it had been her belly instead of her back, she would have been scared.

In conjunction with long hours behind the wheel, stress was the likely culprit. She hadn’t relaxed once since leaving the estate. Even sleep was accomplished with an ear to the door and her eyes half-open.

The stretching, pressing ache deepened. She really needed to find that town.

She reached for her handbag, a pink crocodile spy bag her mother had purchased for Jenna’s twenty-second birthday six weeks ago. The purse, stuffed full of the very best cosmetics, a spa coupon, and a five-thousand-dollar shopping card, had been nothing short of a bribe and Jenna knew it. Unfortunately Mother never understood that monetary possessions had ceased to inspire loyalty in her daughter. Only one thing had her complete and utter devotion—the tiny person who, at this very moment, was causing a great deal of discomfort to Jenna’s body.

As her fingers flipped open the purse flap, Jenna hissed a frustrated breath between her teeth. She no longer owned the elegant slider phone, complete with GPS and remote Internet access. Still fully charged and activated, she’d donated it to a bewildered but grateful soldier at an airport in Philadelphia. By the time the device had been located, it would be somewhere in the Middle East.

“Who would you call anyway?” Even 9-1-1 was fraught with difficulties. Though the Carringtons disdained public attention, choosing to deal with their scandals in a more discreet and private manner, Jenna would allow no chance of alerting anyone to her whereabouts.

She forced herself to breathe slow and deep. The tense, tense muscles in her back only grew tighter.

A flutter of panic trembled in her stomach. What if she went into labor out here alone?

She turned on the radio, praying for a distraction, while also pressing the car’s accelerator. She needed to get somewhere fast.

A male voice, rich in Texas twang, came through the speakers to announce a fall festival at Saddleback Elementary School and a garage sale at 220 Pinehurst behind the Saddleback Pizza Place.

Saddleback must be a town. But where was it?

She gave the radio a pleading glance. “Can’t you be a bit more specific?”

The pressure inside her body increased. A new and more insistent discomfort had moved around front to a spot low in her belly. Very low. She gasped and shifted sideways onto one hip. The pressure mounted, deeper, harder, stronger.

A guttural groan erupted from Jenna’s throat. The sound was foreign, so different from her normal modulated tone.

From the radio pounded a driving beat of electric guitar and bass. The intensity echoed in her body.

The road ahead seemed to waver.

Fingers of iron gripped her abdomen. She was in trouble. Real trouble.

She blinked, panting, fighting the pressure. Sweat stung her eyes. Texas weather was cool, though not nearly as cold as a Pennsylvania November, and yet, Jenna was roasting inside the small blue economy. She reached for the air-conditioning controls and saw, with concern, how pale and shaky she’d become.

Before she could take another breath, a squeezing pain of epic proportions followed hard on the heels of the intense pressure.

“Oh no.” She was in labor. Either that or her body was rupturing from the inside out.

Mouth open, panting like a puppy, she gripped the steering wheel with both hands and tried to stay on the road.

“Not yet, baby. Not yet. Let me find a hospital first.” She squinted into the glare of an overcast sky, hoping for something, anything. A town, a house, another car.

Nothing but the endless brown landscape and an occasional line of naked trees.

The pressure mounted again, little by little, a warning that another power punch was on the way. Dread tensed her shoulders. “Nooo.”

Her body poured sweat. So unladylike. Had Mother perspired this much with her?

She had to escape the pain. She had to. Perhaps if she stopped, got out of the car and walked a bit. Walking had helped in the past to ease the back ache. Even if walking didn’t help, she could drive no further. She wouldn’t take a chance of having an accident.

She tapped the brake and aimed the car toward the grassy roadside. Her belly tightened again. With one hand, she grabbed for the rock-hard mound, moaning with dread. The terrible pain was coming again. She could think of nothing but the battle raging in her body.

Just before the agony took control, Jenna saw a flash of barbed wire and orange fence posts. The fence moved closer and closer.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

As his King Ranch pickup truck roared down County Road 275, Dax Coleman had two things on his mind: a hot shower and a good meal.

At the last thought, his mouth curled, mocking him. He hadn’t had a good meal since the latest of a long string of housekeepers quit two weeks ago. Supper would be microwave pizza or scrambled eggs, the extent of his culinary gifts. His own fault, certainly. He wasn’t the easiest man in Texas to live with. Just ask his ex-wife—if you could find her.

A snarl escaped him. He reached over to raise the radio volume and drown out thoughts of Reba.

As he rounded the last lazy curve before the turnoff to the Southpaw Cattle Company, a car in the distance caught his attention. Dax leaned forward, squinting into the overcast day.

The guy up ahead was either drunk, lost or having trouble. Dax took his foot off the accelerator. The car, a dirty blue economy model, was taking its share of the road out of the middle. It wove to the left and then back again as the driver began to slow.

With a beleaguered sigh, Dax tapped the brake. He wasn’t in the mood for drunks. He wasn’t in the mood for any kind of people, come to think of it.

For the last five years, all he’d really wanted out of life was his son and his ranch. The rest of the world could leave him the heck alone.

The car ahead slowed considerably and aimed for the side of the road. Maybe the fella was having car trouble.

After an afternoon of helping Bryce Patterson separate calves, Dax was too tired and dirty to play nice.

Still, he was a Texan, and the unspoken code of the country was rooted into him as deeply as the land itself. Out here, folks helped folks. Even when it was inconvenient.

Another car might not come along for hours and cell phone usage was spotty. He grabbed the plain black device from the seat next to a pair of dirty leather gloves and a pair of fencing pliers. Sure enough. Not a single bar of connection. He tossed the phone aside.

“Don’t know what good the blasted thing is if it never works where you need it.”

As he glanced back up, still grumbling, the dirty blue car wobbled off the road, onto the grass, and down a slight incline.

“Come on, buddy, stop. Stop!”

The car ahead kept rolling.

Five strands of brand-new barbed wire bowed outward before snapping like strings on a fiddle. Orange fence posts toppled. Dax’s fence posts.

“Blast it!” he ground out through gritted teeth and slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was proud of holding back the expletives that tempted his foul-tempered tongue like flirty girls. A few years ago, he would have let fly with enough curses to make the grass blush, but with a mimicking boy dogging his boot prints, Dax had cleaned up his act. At least, that part of his act. Nothing much would clean up the rest.

Braking hard, he slid the truck onto the shoulder and bounded out into a comfortable November afternoon. The metallic slam reverberated over the quiet countryside, joining the rattle and wheeze of the car now captured in his barbed wire like a sad little bluebird.

“Hey, buddy,” Dax hollered, as he approached the still-settling vehicle. “You okay?”

His question was met with the slow, painful screech of wire against metal, like fingernails on a blackboard. The driver didn’t answer and made no effort to get out of the car.

Dax frowned, slowing his steps to assess the situation. Maybe the guy was drunk. Or maybe he was a criminal fixing to bushwhack an unsuspecting rancher. Dax considered going for the wolf rifle resting behind the seat of his truck but fought off the temptation. At six foot one and a hundred and eighty pounds, he could hold his own. Besides, he’d watched the car weave and wobble for a couple of miles. His gut told him something was amiss, either with the driver or the car. Maybe the guy was sick or something.

The car had been moving too slowly for any kind of serious injury so the accident was a by-product of another problem, not the cause. There had been no real impact other than the scraping entanglement with wire and the now-toppled fence posts.

“Blast it,” he said again. No matter how tired he was, he’d have to get this fence back up in a hurry or risk having heifers all over the road by morning.

Slapping his Stetson down tight, Dax strode down the slight incline and across the narrow expanse of calf-high weeds toward the blue car. Other than a cloud of dust circling the tires and fenders, there was an eerie stillness around the vehicle.

Dax bent down to peer through the driver’s side window. His gut lurched. The occupant was either a guy with really long hair or he was a woman. A real curse drifted through his head. He savored the word like chocolate pie. Women were a lot of trouble.

“Hey, lady.” He tapped a knuckle on the glass while tugging the door handle with the opposite hand. “Do you need help?”

The woman was slumped forward, her head on the steering wheel. She was breathing, but her shoulders rose and fell rapidly as if in distress. Dax exhaled a gusty breath. Crying women were the second-worst kind.

Suddenly, the object of his concern arched back against the cloth seat. A cry ripped from her throat, scary enough to make him jump.

The sound shot adrenaline through Dax’s veins. He yanked at the door. It was stuck. Strong from years of wrangling five-hundred-pound bovines, he yanked again, harder. The door gave way, digging up dead grass and dirt as it opened.

He reached in, touched the slender shoulder. “Miss. Miss, where are you hurt?”

She turned a narrow, haggard face in his direction. Her eyes were wide with fear. Dark blond hair stuck to a sweaty forehead and cheeks.

“My baby,” she managed, the sound more groan than words.

“Baby?” Dax glanced quickly into the backseat, but saw no sign of a child.

The woman squirmed, her hands moving downward to her waist.

And that’s when Dax knew. The woman with the wide, doe eyes and the teenager’s face was in labor.

All the expletives he knew rushed to his tongue. Somehow he held them back, useless as they were to anyone but him.

“Talk to me, miss. How long have you been in labor?”

“The baby’s coming.”

The implication froze him solid. “Now?”

She managed a nod and then slid sideways in the seat, lying back against the opposite door. Her body rocked forward. She fought against it, battling the wave of pain he could see on her young face. Nature was taking its course.

Oh boy.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry for what? Going into labor? Having a baby? The latter set his stomach churning even harder. He knew about that kind of woman.

But he had no time to ponder the past or the woman’s cryptic statement. His brain shifted into warp speed. He had a dilemma here. A real dilemma. A strange young woman was having a baby in a car on his property and he was the only human being around to help.

Great. Just great.

“We need to get you to a hospital.”

Her eyes glazed over and she made that deep groaning sound again. His pulse ricocheted off his rib cage. He’d heard this particular moan before from cows and mares. The woman was right. They were out of time.

“All right, miss, take it easy,” he said, as much to calm his own nerves as hers. “Everything will be okay.”

She nodded again, her huge eyes locked on his face, clinging to his words, trusting him, a total stranger. Dax got the weirdest feeling in his chest.

“How far along are you? I mean, is it time for the baby?”

“Two weeks away.”

Close enough to know this was the real deal. Dang. Dang. Dang.

“How long have you been in labor?” he asked again.

Her body answered for her. Dax was smart enough to know that contractions this close could only mean one thing. Birth was imminent.

Think, Dax, think. What did he need? What could he do, other than wait for the inevitable?

“I’ll be right back,” he said past a tongue gone dry as an August day.

She managed to lever up, almost heaving toward him. “No! Don’t leave. Please. Please.”

Her pleading voice ebbed away on the wing of pain, but not before the sound hit Dax in the solar plexus. What kind of jerk did she take him for?

Guilt pinched him. Okay, so he’d resented the interruption to his afternoon. He’d wanted to drive right past. The point was he hadn’t. He might be a jerk, but he wasn’t a complete slimeball. Most of the time.

He touched her foot, hoping to reassure her. She was barefoot. A pair of fancy-looking silver shoes, complete with a perky bow, rested on the floor. He had the silliest thought that her feet were pretty. Slim and elegant like one of those ballet dancers.

What the devil was she doing out here alone?

“I need some things from my truck,” he said. “It’s right behind us. Not far at all. I’ll only be a minute.”

He loped to his Ford and dug out any—and everything he could find in the cab that might be of some use. There wasn’t much, but he had an old blanket and plenty of water. A rancher could never be certain when he might be ten miles from the house and need water or a blanket. At least he could wash his hands and wrap the baby when it arrived. A bright-red bandanna on the floorboard caught his eye. Gavin had left it behind. Though the cloth was likely none too clean, he grabbed it anyway and drenched the soft cotton with water.

Back at the car, he leaned in to wipe the wet bandanna over the woman’s damp forehead.

“It’s me again,” he said and then felt stupid for saying it. Who else would it be? The Seventh Cavalry?

The little mama made a small humming noise he took for gratitude. She must have been in between a contraction because her eyes were closed and her expression less tense.

As he straightened, he caught a whiff of some sweet-scented flower. Imagine, smelling like flowers at a time like this. She looked like a nightmare, but she smelled good.

He wondered one final time if he could toss her in the truck and get to the hospital in Saddleback in time.

Just as the thought flitted across his mind, her eyes flew open, distressed. “Oh, no. It’s coming again.”

She grabbed for his hand and squeezed with a grip that would have taken down a sumo wrestler.

“Easy now. Easy,” he said, talking to her the way he would a first-time mare. What else could he do? He was no doctor.

All right, Coleman, he said to himself. You’ve delivered plenty of calves and foals. A baby can’t be much different.

If he believed that he would have gone into the delivery room when Gavin was born.

“You’re doing great. Long, deep breaths. Work with the pain, not against it.” He didn’t know where the advice was coming from, but she seemed to do better when he was talking. “Attagirl. You’re doing good.”

The contraction subsided and she dropped her head back again. Dax shared her relief. This babydelivering business was hard work. His back ached from bending over the seat and his pulse pounded so hard against his eardrums, he thought he heard tomtoms.

Having long since tossed his hat aside, Dax wiped a sleeve across his forehead. Even with a cool breeze floating through the open door, he was sweating like a pig. But then, so was the little mama.

Drenched in sweat, her hair a wet wad around her face, she reminded Dax of a drowned kitten. Pitiful-looking little thing. Somebody, somewhere was going to be real upset that she was out here alone on the Texas plains having a baby.

He wondered about the baby’s father. About her family. She was young. Though her age was hard to discern at the moment, to an over-the-hill thirtysomething like him she looked like a kid. She needed her family at a time like this, not some broken-down old cowboy with a bad attitude, who wanted to be anywhere but here.

She was a brave little thing. He’d give her that. Tough as a pine knot. She had to be scared out of her mind, young as she was, but she hadn’t screamed or fought or carried on the way Reba had. She hadn’t cussed him or the baby, either.

Dax tasted gall as the old humiliating memory thrust itself into his consciousness.

The little mama shifted slightly, emitting a murmur of dread. Another contraction must be on its way.

He gently rubbed her toes. She captured his eyes; a tiny smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Dax felt oddly heartened.

Here they were in about as intimate a situation as he could think of, and he didn’t even know her name. What if something went wrong?

No, he wouldn’t think of that. Even if his life was ruled by Murphy’s Law, he was not going to allow anything bad to happen to this gritty little lady.

“Name’s Dax,” he said. “You feel like telling me yours?”

Something odd flickered behind pain-clouded eyes. She licked dry lips. Then her gaze slid away.

Before Dax could decide if her silence was fatigue or reluctance, the wave of nature took over again. As her shoulders rolled forward, straining, she whispered, “I wanted to be brave, but I’m so scared. Don’t let anything happen to my baby.”

The admission touched Dax somewhere in the cold lump he called a heart. “You’re doing fine, little mama.”

He wanted to say a lot of other encouraging things, to tell her how courageous he thought she was, but with the blood rushing in his temples and his gut twisting with anxiety at the huge responsibility before him, he just patted her pretty foot and muttered nonsense.

He didn’t know how long he’d been there. Couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes though it felt like a lifetime when suddenly she gave one last heaving groan and it was over. She fell back against the car seat, her exhausted breathing loud in the quiet.

A baby, the smallest thing Dax could imagine, slipped into his waiting hands. He’d expected her to be pink and squalling the way Gavin had been. Instead, the tiny form was silent, limp and purplish.

His heart, already jumping and pumping to beat Dixie, rose into his throat. He glanced at the little mama and then down at the infant.

Please God, no. Not this.

CHAPTER TWO

THE BROWN-HAIRED BOY barreling across the yard of The Southpaw in cowboy boots and an open jean jacket lifted Dax’s flagging spirits. The last few hours had been rough to say the least.

“Daddy!”

A swell of love bigger than his fifteen-hundred acre ranch expanded in Dax’s chest. He stopped in midyard and hunkered down. The sturdy little boy, smelling of pizza and backyard dirt, slammed into him. Small arms encircled his neck and squeezed.

Dax pressed the slender body to him, clinging to the thought that his son was alive and well. He didn’t know what he would do if anything should ever happen to Gavin, a fact that had come home to him with a vengeance during these last few hours with the little mama.

Life was fragile. His thoughts flashed to the tiny newborn baby. Real fragile.

“Where you been?” Gavin was saying. “Rowdy had to stay a long time.”

Dax looked up at the young ranch hand ambling lazily toward them, his usual crooked smile in place. Dax figured you could punch Rowdy Davis in the nose and he’d still grin. Sometimes the man’s smirky cheer was downright irritating.

“Everything all right, boss?” Rowdy asked, clearly curious. “You were kind of short and not-too-sweet on the telephone. Had us worried some.”

Short and not-too-sweet. Yep, that was him, all right. He’d simply told Rowdy to be at the house when the school bus delivered Gavin from kindergarten and stay there. Then, he’d hung up, too wrung out to explain that he was at the emergency room fifteen miles away with a strange woman whose baby he’d just delivered.

“Boys, do I have a story to tell. Let’s get in the house first. I could use a cold drink.” Since playing doctor on the side of the road, his appetite was gone but he still wanted a cold soda pop and that hot shower.

Gavin wiggled back from his embrace. “A story about Wild Bill and the buffaloes?”

“No, son,” Dax said. “Not that kind of story.”

He rose, lifting the five-year-old up with him. Gavin looped an arm over his dad’s shoulder and patted his opposite cheek. Dax felt that quivery feeling in the center of his chest. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve Gavin, but he was grateful. Without the boy, he would have given up on life long ago. As it was, he clung to the edges of hope, fighting off his own dark tendencies in an effort to give the motherless boy a decent upbringing. It wasn’t easy. Gavin wasn’t easy. And at times Dax no more understood the boy than he could understand Chinese.

A frown cut a deep gash between Gavin’s black eyebrows. “It won’t be scary, will it?”

Times like these. The boy was scared of his own shadow. Since hearing a ghost story at a fall party he’d been especially nervous.

“No, Gavin, it’s not scary.” He tried, but failed, to keep the annoyance out of his tone. The boy was skittish as a deer. The teacher had had to peel him away from Dax’s side the first day of kindergarten. And Gavin had cried, an occurrence that both worried and embarrassed his father. A sissified kid wouldn’t survive in today’s mean world, but Dax didn’t know how to change his child’s disposition.

By now, they’d made the house and were inside. Dax tossed his hat at a heavy wooden end table, shrugged out of his jacket, and collapsed with an exaggerated heave onto a chair. The living room was enormous, compliments of his ex-wife who had insisted on a house big enough to entertain. Trouble was she’d done her entertaining while he was out working. He liked the house, though, liked the warm, golden-brown stone and wood fireplace and the wine-colored leather furniture.

He propped his boots on a squat ottoman. “You ever deliver a baby, Rowdy?”

Rowdy, who had ventured off to the kitchen, reappeared with a glass in hand. “What? Are you serious?”

Dax accepted the glass and gulped the icy drink in three long gulps. “Crazy afternoon. A young woman ran her car through my fence between here and Jake’s windmill. I stopped to see what the problem was and she was having a baby.”

Rowdy slithered into a chair, the grin forming a surprised O. “Man.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

“Everything go okay? I mean, you delivered the baby and everything.” As the reality of what Dax had done sank in, Rowdy leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. “Holy smoke, Dax. Are they all right? The mama and baby, I mean?”

“The baby was kind of blue and not moving at first. I thought she was gone.” Running a finger around the rim of the glass, he didn’t mention how scared he’d been. The telling sounded a lot calmer than the actual event. “Then I thought about how calves are born with a lot of mucous sometimes, so I wiped her nose and mouth off with Gavin’s bandana….” He patted the boy’s knee. Gavin curled up next to him, listening to every word. “Just as I was getting ready to turn her upside down and swat her bottom, she let out a howl.” Sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Man.” Rowdy said again, seemingly devoid of intelligent comment. Dax understood. He’d been speechless himself at the time. As soon as the baby had cried, he’d wrapped her in the old blanket and made sure the mama was all right. Then he’d jumped behind the wheel of the car, forced the little economy onto the road and sped like a NASCAR racer to the emergency room.

“Where is she, Daddy? Why didn’t you bring her home? I want to see her.”

“She and her mama are in the hospital in Saddleback.” He rattled the ice in his glass, shaking out a few more drops of cola.

Beneath a swatch of thick, dark hair a fretful frown puckered Gavin’s forehead. “Are they sick?”

“The doc’s going to check them over. But I think they’ll be okay.”

The child stuck his legs straight out from the couch and tapped the toes of his boots in a steady rhythm. “Noah’s mama had a baby. They got to bring it home and keep it. Now he gots two brothers. But a sister would be okay, too.”

Dax sighed. He and Gavin had this conversation every time one of the boy’s schoolmates welcomed a new sibling. How did he explain to a five-year-old that his daddy wasn’t the kind of man women wanted to have babies with?

“Is she from around here?” Rowdy’s question gave Dax an excuse not to answer the boy. “The woman. Anybody we know?”

“No. Not even a Texan.” He knew that for certain. Her buttery voice with its clipped syllables was upper-class Eastern, a Yankee. He’d stake his ranch on it. Even her clothes were different.

“What was she doing out here on a remote county road all by herself? Visiting someone?”

“Can’t say.” Though he’d been asking himself the same question. “We didn’t exactly have a conversation.”

“No, I guess not.” Rowdy ran a thumb and forefinger along his chiseled jawline. “What did she look like? Is she pretty?”

Dax shot him a frown. His top ranch hand liked the ladies and had a new one on his arm every week. Women seemed to like him right back. Still, the question didn’t sit well with Dax.

“She was a scared kid.” Scared but tough and courageous. He couldn’t get that out of his head or the thought of the tiny, mewling baby that had been born in his hands.

“I’m sad for her, Daddy, if she’s scared. Can we go see her?”

“I told you she’s all right.” The words came out a little harsher than he’d intended. Gavin blanched and sat back against the couch.

Dax patted the boy’s knee, letting him know the sharp retort wasn’t aimed at him. Gavin was tenderhearted to his old man’s hard-hearted, plain and simple. But Dax refused to feel guilty about wanting the strange day to end here and now. He’d done his part to help the woman. He’d played the good Samaritan. She was receiving expert care and the hospital would contact her family. He had a ranch to run and a downed fence to fix. He’d heard the last of the mysterious young mother and her baby. And that’s the way he wanted it.

Jenna heard voices. She opened her eyes in a semidarkened room that smelled of antiseptic and oversteamed food. She faced a wall and a wide pair of windows covered by blinds. The morning sun sliced through, shedding strips of pale yellow across a white woven blanket. Memory flooded in with the sunlight.

The pain, the car, a tall, gruff-talking rancher with gentle hands.

“Oh.” Her hands shot to her belly. The baby. The man had delivered her little girl and brought them to the hospital. A mix of embarrassment and wonder filled her. She’d had her baby in a car with only a stranger to help. Mother would be mortified.

She shifted in the narrow hospital bed. Her body was sore and stiff, but not painfully so, a fact that surprised her. After the torture in the car she’d expected to be half-dead today.

She rolled to her side, eager to hold her new daughter.

The baby was gone.

A tremor rippled through her as the possibilities played through her head. The nurses had left the newborn here, at the bedside, in an Isolette. Jenna was positive.

Had the Carrington machine already discovered her whereabouts?

Fighting the stiff sheets, she sat upright, only to tumble sideways onto the pillow, light-headed and weak. Blood roared in her temples. She took deep breaths, waiting until the black dots dissipated.

For a long moment, she remained still, frustration in every breath. Had someone recognized her and called her family? Was her baby girl even now in the smothering bosom of the Carrington clan?

The heavy wooden door opened with a swish. Jenna braced to face her censuring mother, determined to stand strong for her baby.

When a nurse appeared, backside first, Jenna wilted against the pillow in relief.

“Everything looks great with your little princess,” the woman said, rolling the Isolette into the room. “Doctor checked her all out, gave her the requisite medications and said she was perfect.”

“I didn’t know where you’d taken her.” Her voice sounded breathless and scared.

The nurse, a young woman with a long, black ponytail, whose tag read Crystal Wolf, RN, gave her a sympathetic pat. “Sorry, hon, you were sleepin’ like a rock, so I didn’t want to disturb you. Not after what you went through. You ready for her? Or are you too tired? You look a little pale.”

Jenna held out her arms. Color would return now that she knew her mother wasn’t on the premises. “Yes, please let me hold her.”

“She’s a darling. So pretty with all that fine golden hair and her little turned-up nose.”

Jenna thought her daughter looked like an alien. A withered old lady alien. “Will her head always be pointed like this?”

With a shake of dangly white earrings, the nurse laughed. She reached over, flipped the soft pink blanket back and gently massaged the baby’s head with a cupped hand. “You do that every day and before you know it, the cone head will be gone.”

“Thank goodness.” Jenna gave a shaky laugh.

She’d read books and searched the Internet on the topic of parenting and felt competent to be a mother, but now that the moment was upon her, the idea of caring for another human being frightened her. She had no home, no job, and no one to help. For a person who’d never been allowed to do anything for herself, she had a great deal to learn—fast.

“Do you have a name for this little princess?”

A gentle smile lifted Jenna’s mouth. “Sophie. Sophie Joy because she is the greatest joy I’ve ever known.”

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful.”

Sophie stretched, her tiny face screwing up in an adorable expression. Jenna’s whole body seized up with an overwhelming love, a love so powerful tears filled her eyes. This was why she’d run away. This precious bit of humanity deserved to love and be loved for the right reasons. She deserved to grow up free from fear and the hovering, controlling influences that had stymied Jenna’s life since birth.

Her family, particularly Elaine Von Gustin Carrington, would not control this baby’s life the way they’d controlled hers.

People who envied her opulent lifestyle had no idea what it was like to live in an ivory tower surrounded by hired bodyguards and nannies and private tutors. They had no idea the sadness of a child never allowed to play outside or with other children who were “not like us.” They’d never sat with their faces pressed against the window watching others play in the snow while wondering what it would be like to build a snowman with someone other than a hired nanny and a burly bodyguard.

The world considered her a spoiled rich princess, but they were wrong. Elaine Carrington’s elitism and her kidnapping paranoia had made her only daughter a lonely child, a prisoner of her family’s enormous wealth.

Which was exactly the reason Jenna wanted Sophie Joy to grow up in a normal home, in a normal town, doing normal things. She’d play with other children and go to a real school and maybe even join a soccer team if she wanted to. When she was a teenager, she’d hang out at the mall and have sleepovers and attend school dances with friends of her own choosing.

Sophie would have a childhood her mother had only dreamed of, a wish that sounded foolish to most people—even her late husband, though he’d pretended something far different in the beginning. Early in their secret relationship, Derek had nurtured Jenna’s longing to be a regular wife living in the suburbs. But the Carrington money had followed her in marriage, corrupting the boy who’d claimed to love her, and the few weeks of normalcy had disappeared as quickly as his love.

In the end, her mother had been right about her fortune-hunting husband, and Jenna had gone home to the estate, broken. From Derek, she had learned a cruel fact of life—never trust a man, no matter how pretty his promises. Men were only interested in someone like Jenna for one thing. As Mother had so succinctly put it, “A trust fund makes any woman attractive.”

She swallowed back the festering hurt. She might not be beautiful, but she refused to care anymore. All that mattered now was assuring Sophie the happy, uncomplicated life and freedom she had never known.

To do that, she could never go back to the Carrington Estate or even to Pennsylvania.

As she marveled at her baby’s velvet skin, at eyelashes so pale and perfect, the pink rosebud mouth, Jenna made a silent promise. No matter what she had to do from here, her daughter would lead a normal life.

The nurse, whom she’d almost forgotten, patted her arm. In a pleasant drawl she said, “I’ll be back in a few, Jenna. We’ll get your vitals again and then you’ll be good to go.”

Jenna’s head snapped up. “Go?”

Go where? She’d hoped to stay in the hospital a few days, to get her thoughts together and form a plan. To read the newspaper and make sure the world hadn’t been alerted to her disappearance. To figure out where to go and what to do with a newborn.

“Sure thing. Unless there are problems, an OB stays twenty-four hours or less these days. Would you like for me to phone your family?” The young woman reached for the chart at the end of the bed, flipped open a few pages. A frown appeared between her black eyebrows. “Seems we didn’t get that information when you arrived yesterday evening. Well, it was a hectic time. No problem. Someone from the business office will be in. They always extract their pound of flesh.”

Jenna managed a weak smile at the woman’s joke. She hadn’t thought about the hospital bill or even about the records a hospital would keep on her and Sophie.

She’d given them her name yesterday and no one had reacted. But she wasn’t surprised no one recognized her face. Due to her family’s paranoia, their only child had been publicly photographed very little. Jenna found a certain irony in that. The fear that had made her life a prison might be the very thing that assured her freedom. Unless her parents had released her disappearance to the press, there was a chance no one here in this small Texas town would ever guess that she was one of the Carringtons, reluctant heiress to a staggering financial empire.

“Would you like for me to call Dax?”

Jenna blinked. “Who?”

“The rancher who brought you in. Dax Coleman. I thought you knew him.”

A warm blush crept up the back of Jenna’s neck. She hadn’t remembered her rescuer’s name. “No.”

“Oh, well, I just assumed…” The nurse flapped a hand. “Never mind. My mouth is running away, though it’s too bad about Dax. He seemed real concerned, and for a reclusive guy like that, well, we just figured the two of you knew each other.”

Was the nurse asking if she and Dax knew each other in the Biblical sense? Did she think Dax Coleman was Sophie’s father?

Her flush of embarrassment deepened.

“Mr. Coleman,” she said in her most dignified voice, “was kind enough to render aid to a damsel in distress. But no, I had never before made his acquaintance.”

The nurse, who was darkly pretty and not much older than herself, looked disappointed. “Well, then, that’s really too bad. Dax could use a spark in his life after what happened.”

Jenna refused to ask the obvious question. “You know him?”

“Sure. In a region this sparsely populated everyone knows everyone else. Dax is an old friend of mine. Or used to be.” The nurse fanned her face with her fingertips. “He’s still pretty deliciouslooking, too, if you know what I mean. Don’t tell my husband I said that.” She laughed.

Delicious-looking? Jenna remembered a gravelly, rough voice and strong, calloused hands, though he’d been as gentle as could be with her and Sophie. As far as his looks, she could only recall intense green eyes and dark hair that fell in sweaty waves onto his forehead. A cowboy. She remembered that, too.

En route to the hospital, he hadn’t said much. But he’d glared at her and Sophie in the rearview mirror every few minutes until Jenna became convinced she’d somehow angered him. At the time, she’d been too tired and shaky to wonder about her roadside rescuer. Now she did.

“You were lucky he came along,” Nurse Wolf said. “Out here you can drive forever and not see a soul.”

She almost had.

“Yes, I owe him a debt of gratitude,” Jenna muttered, absently rubbing the side of her finger over Sophie’s delicate cheek. She’d never been indebted to anyone before, ever. People were indebted to the Carringtons, not the other way around, but the cowboy, a total stranger, had been there for her and her baby when they’d had no one else. She wasn’t likely to forget that.

“I’ll be back in a few,” the nurse said and started out the door.

“Nurse?”

The woman did an about-face. “It’s Crystal. Please.”

“Crystal,” Jenna said, oddly pleased at the simple request. “Would you mind bringing me a newspaper or two?”

“Nothing newsworthy ever happens around here except church dinners and baby showers and school sports, but I’ll bring you a paper.”

The simple activities sounded like heaven to Jenna who’d never experienced a single one of them. “Thank you.”

With a hand wave, Crystal sashayed out of the room, only to lean back into the room with a twinkle in her eye.

“Prepare yourself. A certain delicious cowboy is headed your way.”

Jenna was sure her mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”

But Crystal had already disappeared, leaving the door open.

Dax kicked himself all the way down the hall. He had no idea what he was doing here. He’d done the right thing already. He’d played the good Samaritan. He should be on the south side of the ranch right now fixing a water gap before snow or rain made the work miserable. But here he was at Saddleback Hospital in the maternity ward, feeling as uncomfortable as if he’d stumbled into one of those ladies’ lingerie stores.

But he was here. Might as well get this over with.

Stetson in hand, he used the opposite hand to tap on the open door, doing his level best not to look inside until he was invited.

“Come in,” a feminine voice said. He remembered that voice. Soft and educated and worried. He’d dreamed about it last night. Imagine that. Dreaming about a woman’s voice. And her bare feet. And the way she’d gazed at him with trust.

Blast it. That’s why he was here. She’d haunted his dreams and he’d not been able to get a thing done this morning until he was certain she and her baby were in good shape.

According to the desk nurse the baby he’d delivered was doing well. Thank God. That should have been enough. He should have turned tail and headed for his truck.

But no. He had to see for himself that the brave young woman with the fancy voice was okay.

With a final inward kick, he stepped into the room.

His eyes went straight to the bed. Fluffed up in white sheets, the little mama looked small and flushed. But good. Real good.

Her dark blond hair, sweaty and uncombed yesterday, was clean and neatly brushed and lay across her shoulders in a soft wave. She was prettier than he’d thought. Her thin face was blessed with long doe-shaped eyes the color of pancake syrup and a mouth that tipped up at the corners.

The thing that really drew his attention was the bundle nestled against her breast. A small eggshaped head covered with a pink stocking cap protruded from a matching pink blanket. He could see the curve of the baby’s cheek, the tiny button nose, the rise and fall of her body as she breathed. Thank God she was breathing smooth and even now.

He allowed himself to breathe, as well, aware that he hadn’t quite believed the child would be alive.

The little mama saw the direction of his gaze and looked down at her baby with an expression that punched Dax in the gut. Mother love radiated from her. The kind Gavin had never known.

His admiration for the girl-woman, whatever she was, went up another notch. She loved her baby. She’d be a good mama.

He shifted, heard the scratchy sound of his boots against tile. What now? He’d seen what he came for. Could he just turn around and walk out?

“Would you like to see her?”

The words startled him, breaking through his thoughts of escape. Crushing the brim of his hat between tense fingers, he stepped closer to the bed and cleared the lump out of his throat. “She okay?”

“Perfect, thanks to you.” The doe eyes looked up at him, again with that expression of trust.

“What about you?”

Roses bloomed on her cheeks. “Very well. Again thanks to you.”

He’d embarrassed her, made her recall the liberties he’d taken with her body. He wanted to apologize, but he never seemed to know the right things to say to women.

“Would you like to hold her?” The little mama stretched the bundle in his direction. The blanket fell away from the baby’s face and Dax went all mushy inside. He remembered how Gavin had looked those first few days. All squished and out of shape but so innocent Dax had fallen in instant, overpowering love.

Dax stepped away from the bed. “No.”

He’d been to the feed store earlier. He couldn’t be clean enough to hold a baby.

“Oh.” The little mama’s face fell. He felt like a jerk, but didn’t figure it mattered. Once he was out of here, he’d never see her again.

“Sophie and I are grateful for everything you did.”

“Sophie? Pretty.”

“I thought so. Sophie Joy.”

Feeling oversize, out of place and like a complete idiot, Dax nodded. “I gotta get back to the ranch. Just wanted to check on you.”

“I appreciate it.” She reached out a slender hand and touched his arm. Even through the longsleeved jacket, Dax imagined the heat and pressure of her fingers seeping into his bloodstream. His mind went to the softness of the skin on her bare feet. She was probably silky all over.

Something inside him reacted like a wild stallion. He jerked away. What the devil business did he have feeling attracted to a new mother, a woman young enough to be his.. .well, his niece or something. She was a kid. A kid. And he was a dirty old man.

Without another word, he spun away and hurried out the door, down the hall and out into the gray November where the Texas wind could slap some sense into him.

CHAPTER THREE

STUNNED, JENNA STARED as the cowboy retreated, turning his trim, anvil-shaped back toward her before charging out of the room as if a pack of dogs was after him.

“I don’t think he likes us, Sophie,” she murmured. Though she couldn’t imagine why. He’d behaved the same way in the car yesterday, as though she’d angered him. Yet he’d helped her. And he’d come to visit her in the hospital.

“What a strange man.”

He’d left so fast, the scent of a very masculine cologne lingered in the room like a contrail. Were all Texas cowboys so…reticent? Well, it didn’t matter. She would likely never see the man again, and the truth was, Dax Coleman had saved her, saved Sophie, and she would be forever grateful.

Before she had time to ponder further, a woman entered the room. Dressed in a black pantsuit and white, round earbobs of the 1960s, the woman carried a clipboard and a stack of papers.

“I’m Alice Pernisky from the business office.” She rolled an over-the-bed table in front of Jenna. “Let’s put the baby in the bassinet while we take care of the paperwork.”

Her no-nonsense style brooked no argument, so Jenna did as she said. She was worried enough about completing these forms.

“Let’s take care of the birth certificate first.” The woman pushed a paper under her nose. “The doctor has filled in the basics, but we’ll need your complete information, your name, the father’s name, and of course—” she allowed a thin smile “—the name you’ve chosen for your baby.”

Heart thudding crazily, Jenna stared down at the form and wondered if falsifying a birth certificate was illegal. Ink pen hovering over the sheet, she considered long and hard.

After a few seconds, Alice Pernisky said, “My dear, if you don’t want to put the father’s name, that’s fine. Just take care of the rest. We see more of that kind of thing than we used to.”

Heat flushed from her toes to her head. They thought she was an unwed mother who had no idea who Sophie’s father was.

“My husband died,” she said, which was true, though Derek had been out of her life long before the car crash that killed him.

“I’m sorry,” Alice said automatically, although Jenna did not think the woman believed her.

Would people always assume the worst if she didn’t put Derek’s name on the birth certificate?

Of course they would. This document would follow Sophie all the days of her life. And Jenna would not do that to her daughter.

Taking a deep breath, Jenna bent to the form and began to write. After the divorce, her parents had insisted she return to Carrington and she’d gladly done so. Derek had humiliated her enough. But now, his name might be the one thing that could keep her and Sophie from being discovered.

If she was going to start her life anew with Sophie, she would do it correctly. She would lie only if she had to, and pray her family wouldn’t be able to trace her through hospital documents bearing only her married name.

As she handed over the form, another form appeared beneath. “Those are your release forms, your instructions on self-care, and of course your hospital bill. Do you have insurance we can file?”

Jenna gulped. Lie number one. “No.”

“How do you plan to take of this? We take check or credit card, of course, and if need be, we can set up a payment plan.”

“Cash. I’ll pay cash.”

The woman pulled back, startled. “Cash?”

“Yes.” Accessing her bank accounts or using her credit cards would be too easy to trace. Until she and Sophie were established and on their own, she would not even consider such a thing. Maybe never. Cash was the only way.

Jenna reached for her handbag, aware of how out-of-place the designer crocodile looked in the hands of a woman without health insurance. As she withdrew the funds from her wallet, she had the absurd thought that Alice might think she’d stolen the bag, along with the money. What if she called the police?

Jenna’s hand trembled as she counted out the correct amount and handed it over. She could feel the woman’s curious stare and almost hear the wheels turning in her head.

When the last paper was signed and the woman left the room, Jenna felt light-headed with relief. Before putting her purse aside so she could hold Sophie again, she counted the remaining bills in her wallet. A quiver of worry drew her brows together. Never in her life had she needed to consider money. A Carrington simply grew up knowing there was plenty. Discussing personal finance was considered vulgar.

But she was no longer a Carrington. She was no longer one of Pennsylvania’s old money debutantes with an endless supply of cash and credit cards. She was a single mother alone, scared…and nearly broke.

A tangle of nerves and hormones and uncertainty gathered inside Jenna a short time later as she leafed through two newspapers, including a national one, and waited to be dismissed from the hospital.

After careful scrutiny of each page, she sat back against the scratchy chair and let some of her tension ebb away. There was no mention of a missing heiress. At least, not yet.

She flipped to the classifieds of the local paper, the Saddleback Sentinel, and scanned the help wanted ads. After a couple of minutes, her lips curved in wry humor. If she could run a drilling rig or drive an eighteen-wheel truck, she’d be in business before nightfall.

“Looking for anything in particular?”

At Crystal’s voice, Jenna jumped. The nurse stood in front of her with a wheelchair, smile curious.

The newspaper crinkled as Jenna refolded it and placed it on the nightstand. Part of her longed to confide in the friendly nurse and admit she needed a job. She opened her mouth to do just that but Sophie chose that moment to awake with a startled cry. All thought rushed to her baby.

“Is she all right?”

Crystal chuckled. “Yes, Jenna. She’s fine. Baby’s cry. Get used to it. Real used to it. I probably startled her with the noise of the wheelchair.”

“Oh.” Jenna fought down a blush and gingerly scooped her daughter from the Isolette. “Shh, darling, Mommy’s here.”

To her joy, Sophie stopped crying immediately. Her scrunched-up face relaxed as she blinked up at her mother. A swell of love ballooned in Jenna’s chest.

“You two ladies ready for your free ride in a wheelchair?”

“Can’t we walk?”

“Hospital regs, I’m afraid.” Crystal patted the black seat. “Hop aboard the Wolf Express for the only free thing in this hospital.”

With a smile at Crystal’s humor, Jenna complied, jittery to think that in a few minutes, she and Sophie would be alone and on their own. She’d known when she left the estate that this would happen, but she hadn’t expected it to happen quite so soon. She’d hoped to be settled somewhere before Sophie’s birth, to have the trunk full of layette items set up and ready for the baby’s homecoming. She’d even had fantasies of a job where she could keep Sophie with her. Instead, she was down to her last few dollars with nowhere to take her newborn daughter.

Crystal guided the wheelchair down the long, pristine hospital corridor and out the exit toward the parking lot.

“So what did Dax have on his mind?”

The question startled Jenna. She’d tried to put the rugged cowboy out of her thoughts. “I’m not sure.”

“What did he say?”

“He asked if Sophie and I were all right and then he left.”

Crystal chuckled. “He’s not a big talker.”

“I noticed.”

“Hunky, though, huh?”

“I suppose.” She really didn’t want to talk about the cowboy. “I think I scared him off.”

“Nah. He’s just quiet. I don’t think anything scares Dax Coleman except his ex-wife.”

“He’s divorced?”

“Yep. For years, but as far as I know, he’s never dated again. Reba did a number on him, the witch.”

Jenna, in spite of herself, tilted her head in question. “Was she?”

Crystal hitched one shoulder. “I never liked her much, though some folks think the divorce was Dax’s fault.”

He wasn’t exactly Mr. Congeniality, but after the way he’d helped her, she felt compelled to take his side. “Outsiders seldom know the full story.”

She knew that from personal experience.

“Too true. And Dax has always been one of the good guys. Or he used to be.”

Jenna let the subject of the cowboy drop. Something about him unsettled her in the oddest manner.

Wheels clattered over the concrete parking lot as Crystal pushed her and Sophie into the weak sunshine. The fresh air felt good on Jenna’s skin after the stuffiness of the hospital.

Holding her pink-wrapped daughter snuggled close to her body, a few free baby supplies compliments of the hospital stuffed between her side and the arm of the chair, she couldn’t help thinking how different this dismissal would have been in Philadelphia. Surrounded by masses of flowers, a private nurse, and at least two burly bodyguards—one for her and one for Sophie—she would have been gently hustled into a waiting car driven by Fredrick, the family chauffeur, and driven home to the nursery suite especially commissioned and furnished by her mother. There, in the stark white nursery, a nanny would have whisked Sophie from her arms and taken over every nuance of the baby’s care. If Jenna was lucky and made enough fuss, she might get to hold her child occasionally.

No, she’d made the right decision, even if she had no idea where she would go or what she would do now.

The wheelchair slowed. “Which way is your car?”

“Out to the left, I think. It’s a faded blue.” She scanned the parking lot, hoping she’d recognize the still-unfamiliar vehicle. Was it only four days ago when, in an effort to conceal her true destination, she’d taken the train as far as Baltimore and purchased the car from a classified ad?

“There.” She pointed, gripping Sophie tighter as Crystal picked up speed.

When they reached the car, the nurse held the baby while Jenna dug out her keys and unlocked the door.

“Someone washed my car,” she said in wonder, gazing into the backseat. Someone had even cleaned the interior, which now smelled of vinyl cleaner instead of dust and designer perfume.

“Interesting,” Crystal commented. “Must have been Dax.”

“Why would he do that?”

The nurse shrugged. “Don’t know, but it sure is interesting. Visiting you at the hospital and washing your car. Maybe he has a thing for new mothers.”

Shocked, Jenna’s snapped around to stare at the nurse. Crystal burst into laughter. “Girl, you should see your face. I was only teasing.”

“Oh.” But Jenna got that fluttery feeling in her stomach again. What was it about the mention of Dax Coleman that stirred her so?

“Where’s your car safety seat?”

“My what?”

“Texas has a child safety seat law. You can’t leave the hospital with Sophie until you have one installed.”

One more thing she hadn’t thought of. “Where can I get one?”

Crystal studied her from beneath black eyelashes. “The hospital sells them. If you’d like I’ll run back inside and get one for you.”

“Do you mind?”

“Not a bit.” She named a price and Jenna extracted the required bills from her wallet.

“Cute purse,” Crystal said. “Is that real alligator?”

“Crocodile. It was a gift,” she hurried to say, downplaying her ability to purchase such a bag. What she really wanted to say was, “Want to buy it?” The cost of the handbag would go a long way toward apartment rent.

“Wish somebody would buy me gifts like that.”

“No, you don’t,” she nearly said to the nurse’s retreating back. You don’t want someone to try to control you with money and things and fear.

While Crystal was gone, Jenna thought of her dwindling resources, spirits ebbing lower and lower. Even during her short marriage, they’d always had her considerable bank account, a fact that had changed her average Joe husband to Joe Millionaire in a matter of weeks.

She tasted the bitterness of his betrayal on her tongue. Before her name was dry on the marriage license, Derek, who had sworn he was not at all interested in Jenna’s inheritance, had begun flashing her credit cards, living the high life and leaving her at home when she refused to play along.

“Here we go, Jenna.” Crystal reappeared to pop open the back door and installed the car seat in short order. She held out her arms. “Give me the princess.”

Jenna complied, happiness replacing the gloom. She wasn’t alone anymore.

As the nurse settled the baby and strapped her in, Jenna watched, learning. She wasn’t stupid. She was just inexperienced.

“All set.” Crystal slammed the back door. Sophie’s little arms jerked upward but before Jenna could rush to soothe her, she’d resettled.

“Thank you for everything, Crystal.” Jenna slid behind the wheel, uncertainty overtaking her again. What now?

“You are as welcome as summer.” Crystal, holding the driver’s door open, leaned in, her dark eyes soft with concern. “Honey, are you going to be all by yourself with this new baby? Do you have anyone to help you?”

“Oh, certainly, I’ll have plenty of—” Jenna lifted a hand to wave off the suggestion that she had no one and then let the hand fall against the warm steering column.

“No,” she admitted, suddenly needing to talk to this young woman who was kindness personified. “My husband died. I’m alone, looking for a place to start fresh. I thought Sophie and I would be happier somewhere new, away from the memories.” She gave a pathetic little laugh. “So here we are.”

That much was absolutely true.

Crystal draped an arm over the top of the car door, all her weight on one hip. “So that explains it. I knew something was not right, but bless your heart, all alone. That’s awful.”

The woman’s compassion was almost Jenna’s undoing. She fought back a wave of self-pity, and then, angry at herself, she refused to acknowledge the emotion. She’d chosen this route even if things hadn’t gone quite as smoothly as she’d planned. Starting fresh was the best thing for Sophie, no matter how difficult the first few weeks might be. She could do this. She wanted to do this. For her baby girl and even for herself. Alone was better than lonely and utterly dependent, with your life mapped out before you were out of diapers. Now that she had Sophie, she would never be lonely again.

Stiffening her spine, she said, “Can you direct me to a hotel?”

After a moment’s consideration, Crystal took a scrap of paper from her uniform pocket and scribbled on it. “There’s a little B and B over on Second Street, not fancy but decent and clean. Terri Wallace runs it. We graduated high school together. Nice gal. Tell her I sent you. I put my phone number on there, too. Call me if I can do anything. Or just to talk. I can always use a new friend.”

A friend. Crystal couldn’t begin to comprehend how much the offer heartened Jenna.

“Could I ask one more favor?”

“Name it.”

“I need a job.” She swallowed her pride and said the rest. “In a hurry. Do you have any suggestions?”

The darkly pretty face twisted in thought. “Can’t think of anything right off.”

Jenna’s hopes fell. She pressed her lips together in dismay. Maybe Saddleback wasn’t the right town. Maybe she should drive on to Austin or even on to Los Angeles, where she and Sophie could get lost in the masses. But she was too tired and shaky from childbirth to drive that far today.

“Listen,” Crystal was saying. “The county employment office is located here in Saddleback. It might be worth a try.” She rattled off an address. “In a few days, when you’re feeling rested, just drive down Main Street. When you see the boot store—you can’t miss it, there’s an enormous sign out front shaped like a big red cowboy boot—the employment office is right across the street. Shirley McDougal runs the place. Sweet as pie. She knows everyone and everything in Saddleback. Go talk to her. Tell her I sent you.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever repay your generosity.”

Crystal patted her shoulder. “Just take care of Princess Sophie and give me a call when you get settled. We’ll have lunch or something.”

Still stunned by the kindness of strangers in this Texas town, Jenna could only nod, fighting back the tears that suddenly clogged her throat.

Crystal stepped back from the car, lifting a hand to wave as Jenna slammed the door, cranked the engine and pulled out of the Saddleback Hospital parking lot.

CHAPTER FOUR

TEN DAYS LATER, Jenna knew she’d recuperated as long as her limited finances would allow. Twice during that time, Crystal Wolf had stopped by the B and B, spreading her brand of Texas hospitality, but Jenna had been afraid to tell her new friend just how desperate things were becoming.

After a sleepless night of baby care and worry, Jenna now stared at a pile of unfamiliar forms at the county employment agency while the woman named Shirley cooed and hummed to Sophie. From the moment she’d started the paperwork, Jenna had been stumped. About the only thing she could fill out easily was her name. She’d finally scribbled the address of the Red Rose Bed-and-Breakfast as her residence, but she had nothing to put in the experience and reference forms.

“What kind of work are you looking for, Jenna, sugar?” Shirley asked, never looking up from Sophie’s sleeping face.

“I’m not at all particular, but I would like to secure a position where I could keep my baby with me.”

“Hmm. Well, that leaves out the fast-food places. I send a lot of folks to them. The junior high is always looking for substitutes, though you’d have to leave this precious one with a sitter.” She glanced up, brows drawing together over her black plastic glasses. “Don’t suppose you have a degree in education or computers?”

Jenna shook her head, hopes tumbling. “No.”

She’d spent one semester at Brown University under the watchful eyes of her grandparents. Unfortunately, neither they nor her ever-present bodyguards were as watchful as her mother would have liked. She’d met Derek there. Heads had rolled but Mother’s fury had come too late.

“How about the medical field? There’s always a need for that. Nurses, paramedics, lab techs…”

Again Jenna shook her head. An overprotected heiress was a useless human being.

Shirley studied her beneath thick blond bangs. “Do you have any training? Any experience at all?”

Jenna’s hopes fell even further as she bowed her head to the application and didn’t answer. She could plan a dinner party for fifty, direct servants and organize a charity auction; none of those skills appeared all that useful in Saddleback, Texas.

Even if no one recognized her here, she might have to move on. Yet, Saddleback’s friendliness and easy pace drew her. She wanted to remain in this remote place where her daughter had been born and where people treated her as just another person.

Shirley pushed her glasses up with one finger. “You don’t seem the type, but would you mind doing domestic work? We get a few calls for that.”

Domestics? As in a maid? Or a cook?

An idea popped into her head. She and Mother had taken a gourmet cooking class from a well-known chef. She’d loved it.

“Could I possibly keep Sophie with me?”

“That would be up to your employer, but I think most people would be all right with a little one around as long as you did the work.”

“Then,” Jenna said, suddenly thrilled at the idea, “I am a fabulous chef and quite amenable to domestics.”

Surely, cleaning a house couldn’t be that difficult. She’d watched the maids dozens of times.

Shirley grinned. “My dear girl, I think I may have something for you. A family outside of town needs a cook and general housekeeper. Want to check it out?”

A renewed zip of energy had Jenna sitting up straighter. “Absolutely.”

The woman returned a still-sleeping Sophie to Jenna’s arms and then riffled through a set of files, pulling out a card.

“Here you go,” she said, handing the information to Jenna. “I’ll call and let him know you’re coming for an interview.”

Jenna was beyond delighted, though admittedly a bit nervous as she gripped the index card in her fingers. This was her opportunity to start life all over again, to make a life for herself and Sophie, to finally be her own person.

With held breath, she glanced at the name and address of her prospective employer.

The information she read froze the smile on her lips.

Southpaw Cattle Company. Dax Coleman.

Dax slammed the telephone receiver down, then looked around the living room to be sure no one was listening before letting out a curse.

Last night, he’d dreamed of the little mama and her baby. Again. Then he’d lain awake, staring up at the dark ceiling as he listened to a north wind rattle the trees outside and wondered if the fragile pair was all right.

They haunted him. He couldn’t get them out of his head, a fact that infuriated him.

Now a phone call to the hospital told him exactly nothing. What had he expected? The day he’d visited her, he hadn’t even thought to ask her name. He’d just asked for the mother and baby he’d brought into the emergency room. How stupid was that? All the receptionist would tell him was that mother and baby had been discharged, but unless Dax was next of kin, and she knew danged well he wasn’t, no other information could be shared.

A distant relative of Reba’s, the hateful old biddy had never liked him anyway. She’d enjoyed putting him in his place.

“Fine,” he said to absolutely no one. The little mama and her baby were gone. They were all right. He could forget them. They were not his responsibility. He had enough of that to choke a horse already. End of topic.

No use fretting over a baby girl he’d never see again when he had his own problems to contend with. Shirley down at the employment office was sending him a new recruit this morning.

He laughed, a mocking sound. Good old Shirley had warned him she was sick and tired of finding him housekeepers only to have him run them off with his cranky-butted attitude. Her words. Cranky-butted. He could almost see her shaking her finger in his face.

He’d laughed when she’d said it. Now he wondered. Was he cranky-butted? Was he a bitter man with a bad attitude? Was that why Reba had walked out, leaving behind a new baby, a husband who’d adored her and an easy life?

He kicked a chair leg. Reba and her betrayal was not allowed in this house.

Dax snatched up the two empty glasses and a corn dog wrapper from the coffee table, toting them to the big, silver, step-levered trash can in the kitchen. Silly to feel nervous about interviewing a prospective housekeeper, but he needed to get this woman on board right away. Rushing home to meet Gavin’s school bus each evening took a bite out of his productivity.

He trailed back through the living room, wiping a shirtsleeve over the fireplace mantel then grimaced to discover his shirt was now covered in dust. He batted at it and sneezed when the dust flew upward, dancing in the overhead light.

The doorbell chimed.

As he strode across the carpet toward the foyer, he noticed two of Gavin’s miniature cars and a sock sticking out from under the couch—along with a dust bunny the size of a jack rabbit.

He gave up. He was a rancher. This was why he hired housekeepers.

With a final slap at his dusty shirtsleeve Dax yanked the front door open. His mouth also fell open as he looked down into a familiar face. A very young, slender and decidedly pretty face.

Blast it.

What the devil was the little mama doing on his porch? Please, please. Surely not to apply for the housekeeper position.