Buch lesen: «Rancher's Perfect Baby Rescue»

“Don’t try to move.”

He knelt on the hay beside her. “Wait till help arrives. Your baby is right here. See? Safe.”

She reached out and touched the baby’s head. “Melody,” the woman whispered. “I can’t help her right now. Please don’t hurt her. She’s so little.”

Nathan sat back on his heels wondering why this odd woman kept demanding that he not hurt them. What kind of monster would hurt a new mother and her child?

“Her name is Melody?” he asked, trying to make small talk and sound calm. “How old is she?”

“Two weeks yesterday.”

“What’s your name?”

The woman groaned and pursed her lips. Apparently that was one question she didn’t want to answer.

What the hell did he have on his hands? Who was she and where had she come from? That she was running away from something seemed fairly obvious.

Dear Reader,

I must’ve been sitting under my lucky star when I was chosen to write one of the books in the PERFECT, WYOMING continuity. Sometimes you just luck out, you know?

What a series this is! Perfect, Wyoming is a nickname for Cold Plains, a town that has been taken over by a cult. The town is now populated with glassy-eyed, beautiful people who are devoted to a charismatic leader. But an evil presence pervades the small town. Children are missing and beautiful women are dying.

Chilling.

The best part for me of writing one of the books in the series is the terrific group of authors who wrote the rest of the books. How could we miss with wonderful authors Marie Ferrarella, Kimberly Van Meter, Jennifer Morey, Loreth Anne White and Carla Cassidy in the line-up?

My book, Rancher’s Perfect Baby Rescue, is book no.2 in the six-book series. It tells the story of a rancher with demons and his call to rescue a single mother on the run. Come along on Nathan and Susannah’s thrilling adventure.

Happy reading!

Linda Conrad

About the Author

When asked about her favourite things, LINDA CONRAD lists a longtime love affair with her husband, her sweetheart of a dog named KiKi and a sunny afternoon with nothing to do but read a good book. Inspired by generations of storytellers in her family and pleased to have many happy readers’ comments, Linda continues creating her own sensuous and suspenseful stories about compelling characters finding love.

A bestselling author of more than twenty-five books, Linda has received numerous industry awards, among them the National Reader’s Choice Award, the Maggie, the Write Touch Readers’ Award and the RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award. To contact Linda, to read more about her books or to sign up for her newsletter and/or contests, go to her website, www.lindaconrad.com.

Rancher’s

Perfect Baby

Rescue

Linda Conrad

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Patience Bloom and Shana Smith with my thanks

for making this book the best it could be.

Chapter 1

“Shush, baby. Please. They mustn’t hear us.”

Susannah Paul ducked through the cold darkness, dodging tree limbs and praying that her two-week-old little girl would not cry out. Howling winds rustled through the black-as-night woods, sending her scurrying.

Away. If she could fly, high above the rocky, tangled terrain, the two of them would be hundreds of miles away from the town of Cold Plains and its potential dangers. It seemed as if she and the baby had been on the run for hours. Day had become night, and it was harder than ever trying to make her way through the dense forest.

She had no idea how long it had been since she’d bid goodbye to her friend May Frommer and dashed into the woods in broad daylight, but she couldn’t stop now—not until she was sure they would not be found.

The baby in the carrier at her breast whimpered low, her cries so pitiful and weak that Susannah’s heart winced. We’ll stop soon, my darling Melody. Mommy will find safety, I promise. I know you’re hungry.

Frustrated to the point of blindness by not being able to slow her steps long enough to feed her child, Susannah barged into a gully and practically tripped over fallen tree limbs in her way. Breathing heavily, she scolded herself for not paying closer attention. It would never do for her to fall. She couldn’t while carrying her baby and with the heavy pack of their meager belongings on her back.

At the far side of the gully, the moon broke through heavy foliage and lit her surroundings just enough for her to get her bearings. It was infinitely harder to find her way in the pitch darkness than earlier that morning when she’d gotten directions.

She needed to stop for a moment. They both required water, a little breather.

Leaning against the thick trunk of a tall pine, she pulled a baby bottle from her coat pocket and placed it against her child’s lips. “Please drink, sweetheart,” she whispered.

Baby Melody seemed drugged and had little interest in the bottle she hadn’t learned to use even in the best of surroundings. “I know. You want Mama’s milk. But we can’t stop that long right now.”

Susannah placed a couple of drops of the liquid against the child’s mouth, hoping some would spill inside, then she pulled off the nipple and drank a couple of swallows herself. Stale. She didn’t blame her child for not being interested in water that tasted old, but her baby needed liquid. It had been several hours since she’d halted their escape long enough to breast-feed.

Did she dare try it now? While they were stopped for the moment, Susannah quieted her breathing and listened for any sign that their pursuers were closing in. She heard leaves rustling in the wind but nothing that sounded like men crashing through the forest after them.

How had she gotten into this position in the first place? Everything that had once been so clean and good had suddenly turned so rotten and dangerous. It didn’t seem fair.

But most of her life hadn’t been fair, either, she realized. She’d been hoping that the new circumstances and pleasant people she’d found in Cold Plains would do the trick and change her life around—for Melody’s sake, if not for hers.

The baby didn’t deserve to start out her life this way. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Susannah refused to allow this kind of prejudice against her child. Melody was not going to suffer the fate she had.

A single tear rolled from the edge of her eye, but Susannah couldn’t cry. She couldn’t afford to waste the bodily fluids. Biting her cheek to make the tears stop, she tried thinking back to how happy she’d been on the day Melody was born.

That morning she’d walked twelve blocks to the other edge of town, already in labor but determined to reach her new friend’s cottage before the birth. May Frommer was one of the kindest people Susannah had ever met—well, next to Samuel Grayson, that was. And May had been waiting with open arms.

Lately Samuel had been too busy selling his health-giving waters and with his duties as leader of the Devotees to spend much time with her. On the other hand, May was the town’s midwife, not one of the Devotees but someone who’d lived in Cold Plains all her life.

May had been secretly helping with her pregnancy for months. To be sure, Susannah had also gone to the special parenting classes given by the Devotees. Their classes were extremely helpful for a woman who knew absolutely nothing about being a mother. Her own mother had not been much of an example.

But when it came right down to it, Susannah felt a bit nervous about using the Devotees’ tiny urgent-care facility for regular maternity checkups. She wasn’t too sure why she felt that way. After all, she’d been ready to turn over the rest of her life to the Devotees. Their facility and most of the town for that matter was brand-new and sparkling clean, and everyone was so pleasant. But she just wasn’t comfortable at their urgent care. And though she’d heard a new doctor had also recently come to town and opened his own office, May had already volunteered weeks ago, and Susannah was happy it turned out so well.

The two of them developed a great relationship in the couple of months they’d known each other. They were like sisters almost. May even invited her to have the baby at her cottage instead of Susannah’s tiny room at the boardinghouse in town.

For two weeks after Melody’s birth, she and the baby had stayed at May’s while she learned how to breast-feed and care for a tiny infant. Everything seemed nearly perfect … until May began putting thoughts into her head.

And then this morning …

Clouds suddenly covered the moon, and Susannah heard an odd noise. Turning her head to the sound, she jolted at the sight of gleaming yellow eyes staring at her from out of the bushes. Night creatures. Were they dangerous? Visions of wolves came to mind, sending chills down her spine.

It was time to leave.

But which way? She knew she couldn’t travel much longer without resting, and the baby desperately needed feeding. But she was becoming turned around in the darkness. How far had they come?

Taking a deep breath, Susannah made a best guess at the right direction and started out through the forest again. Within seconds, the moonlight broke through clouds and canopy, leading her way. She found what looked like a path. Well, maybe it was not a real path but at least a wide place where the brush was not so heavy and the ground seemed level. She rejoiced and followed along. Positive she was at least not headed back toward town, she picked up her pace and hoped to quickly find the highway she’d been seeking all day.

Another ten minutes went by until she came upon a fence. It wasn’t much of a fence, just a few wires strung together, but it gave her hope. There was hope for civilization ahead.

She bowed her head to go under one high wire while stepping over the lowest one. Before long, she came to the realization that a fence could be very bad news. What if she’d gotten turned around worse than she’d thought and the fence belonged to the Devotees? They did own property, like the creek and a few isolated houses, which backed up to these same woods. This fence could be at the edge of their property.

She couldn’t guess how many miles she might have traveled today. It was difficult going, fighting her way through the woods with an infant. But she was determined to keep moving ahead. There could be no going back.

As she kept walking and left the fence behind, the woods became less and less dense. Through the trees, she began catching glimpses of structures in the moonlight up ahead—buildings … civilization … people.

She hesitated again, unsure about this. Maybe it was a bad idea to barge in on a stranger, one who could likely be another Devotee.

Gritting her teeth, she walked on in fear. In moments, she came to a clear area surrounding what looked like farm buildings: big barns and sheds. Bright floodlights blazed from every corner of each building, but it seemed no one was around. She hadn’t heard of the Devotees owning any ranch or farm.

Listening closely, she couldn’t hear a sound except the same crickets and night noises she had been hearing since sunset. Maybe everyone had gone to bed.

She started trembling. The air felt chilly in the woods at night, and spring in Wyoming was known for its cold nights and warm days. But she felt sure her trembling must be coming more from fear than from the weather.

Still, she and Melody needed to get in out of the elements and rest—right now.

She held her breath and prayed again that the baby would sleep quietly through the next few minutes; she gingerly tiptoed over the short grasses and bare dirt. Fortunately, the nearest building wasn’t too far from the fence.

She noticed a small door at the back of the huge barnlike structure. Mentally crossing her fingers, she tried the latch. It was open. With another deep breath and with a tiny protest of the hinges, she and Melody were safely inside.

Susannah had to wait a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the lower lighting, but once they did, she moved farther into the barn. As she carefully looked around, she decided this place must be used for storage. Near the back door, saddles and tools were strewn across worktables, and all kinds of ropes and equipment hung on the walls.

Walking silently along a wide aisle, she checked right and left. Nothing; there was no sign of human life. As she took a deep breath, she smelled the scent of hay. She knew it must be hay because it smelled a little bit like new-mown grass, only stronger.

Susannah turned onto the center aisle and moved past a wooden half wall to find a large room full of bales of hay. One of the bales nearby was broken open and had spilled out in a blanket of hay on the barn floor.

Just at that point, her knees gave out and she sank into the soft hay. This was as far as she could go for now. Surely it wouldn’t hurt anything to stay here for a few hours—just long enough to feed the baby, have the last protein bar and maybe catch a little sleep.

She pulled the pack off her back and leaned against it for support as the baby began to stir. “You’ve been so good, my love. It’s time for us to eat now. You first.”

Peeling the carrier cover back, she found Melody making sucking motions with her eyes closed. Trying to wake her enough to eat, she tapped lightly on her cheek. “Come on, baby, don’t give up. It’s finally your time.”

After inching her child out of the carrier and into her lap, Susannah checked on her diaper. It was dry, and that could not be a good thing. Melody must not be getting enough fluids.

Peering through the low lighting at her beautiful child, she repeated in her mind what she knew for certain—Melody was perfect. The baby had all her toes and fingers. Susannah had certainly counted them enough times since her birth. And a soft cap of baby fuzz covered her perfectly shaped little head. Big blue eyes, which may or may not change later, stared at the world full of curiosity and followed things as they moved in front of her face. She was perfect.

So, no, the large raspberry-colored birthmark covering her ear and halfway down her neck did not detract from the baby’s perfection in any way. It did not!

As she settled Melody at her breast, Susannah tried to relax the way May had shown her. She chewed the protein bar and thought back to a few days after the baby was born. She’d been so enthralled with the miracle of her child’s birth that she hadn’t noticed the birthmark—not at all.

Then, as May was showing her how to give a real squirming baby a bath, she’d mentioned it for the first time. “The color and the mark itself will probably fade over time. I wouldn’t worry about it affecting her life in the future. It’s just now that concerns me.”

That remark had thrown Susannah a curveball. “How can a birthmark hurt her? I don’t understand. Can it make her sick?”

May tested the bathwater and nodded that it was the right temperature. “The mark has nothing to do with her health. But …”

“But what?” Susannah held her daughter in the cradle of her forearm and dunked her body into the water.

“I’m afraid it qualifies her as imperfect in some people’s eyes. And that scares me.”

Susannah began fighting panic. “Why? What are you talking about?”

“Think about it,” May said as she gently wiped a soft, wet cloth across the baby’s chest. “When have you ever seen a child, or anyone for that matter, in Cold Plains who wasn’t perfect?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Everyone in Cold Plains is beautiful—and perfect. I can’t think of one person I’ve seen in a wheelchair or using a cane. Even the elderly are robust and take power walks in the park. I’ve noticed all the beautiful people but never considered that significant. What do you believe it means?”

May tenderly rubbed the baby’s toes and fingers. “I’ve been midwife in this area for years—long before Samuel Grayson and the Devotees came to town and disrupted everything. Take my word for it, not all babies born in this town are absolutely perfect. You see every kind of birth defect here that you see anywhere else.”

Susannah’s hands began to shake. “What happens to those babies? Where do they go?”

“Here, let me help you.” May slid her hand under Susannah’s and pulled the baby from the water.

Next, she laid the child down on a soft towel and showed Susannah how to pat her dry. “There’re lots of wild rumors about what happens to the babies. One I heard suggests the imperfect little ones are taken out of town and given to new parents who can handle the defect.”

When Susannah gasped her horror, May pursed her lips and handed over a dry and happy Melody. “Another rumor is even worse. I heard there’s a secret room located under the community-center complex where everyone who’s not perfect is, well, maybe not in prison but out of sight.”

Susannah cradled her baby. “You’re kidding, right? The Devotees aren’t like that. They’re kind and generous, and they really care about people. It’s impossible.”

Shrugging a shoulder, May asked, “What’s the one thing you like best about the Devotees?”

“That’s easy. The ‘Being the Best You’ seminars Samuel gives every evening. They’re wonderful. He actually makes me think I can do the things I never thought I could.”

“In other words, those seminars make you believe you can be perfect. You’re already beautiful on the outside, but you think becoming a Devotee will make you beautiful on the inside, too?”

“Well …” Not when May put it that way. “I guess not.”

“But being perfect is important to Samuel and his Devotees. Would you agree?”

“I suppose.”

May give her a wry smile. “It’s time for another breast-feeding lesson. Why don’t you just think over what we’ve talked about? You have a few days yet before you need to take the baby to town and go back to the Devotees.”

Susannah had thought about it. The idea grew in her mind until she could think of nothing else. Finally, she told May that she didn’t want to take any chances with her baby but didn’t know what else to do. She loved the Devotees and loved the town of Cold Plains.

Torn, Susannah went through the next few days in a haze until one morning when one of Samuel’s friends, a nice man by the name of Jonathan Miller, called May looking for Susannah.

He told May that he’d heard a rumor that Susannah had already given birth, and the Devotees were eager to welcome the new mom and baby back into their midst. They stood ready to offer her anything she might need.

May hung up, shaking her head. “This is trouble. I told him you weren’t here, but I bet he comes here to look for you later today. It’s time for a decision.”

Suddenly terrified, Susannah gulped down her panic. “We have to leave. Now. This morning. Help me, May. I don’t know where to go or what to do. But they can’t find Melody here. We can’t let that happen.”

May took a breath and nodded her agreement. “Okay. Let’s get cracking. I can lend you a carrier and a backpack—and the money for a bus from the highway to Laramie. You’ll find help in Laramie. I’ll give you a few numbers to call.”

After they had packed up the bag, Susannah remembered the one missing piece of their plan. “How will the baby and I get to the highway bus stop?”

“I can drive—” May stopped talking when the sound of a car turning into her long driveway came through the trees. “Oh, Lord. They’re here. You’ll have to walk. Out the back way through the woods. Quick. Here’s a map and general directions. Don’t let them spot you.”

Susannah put the baby in the carrier and hurried to slide the backpack over her shoulders. She tore out the back door of May’s house at a dead run and never turned around.

Tired and exasperated with his family, Nathan Pierce rolled his tight muscles as he strolled across the barnyard toward the foreman’s quarters. It was almost dawn, and he’d had maybe two hours of sleep last night. And now he was out here looking for the ranch foreman to issue orders for the day before he could even start breakfast.

Reminding himself for the fiftieth time in the past two days that he loved his family’s ranch enough to stick around when things got rough, Nathan sighed and whistled for the dogs. While he was out this far, he might as well make sure they were fed and groomed.

With one whistle, old Joey came running, barking and bouncing in the morning’s gray light. The shepherd was a longtime favorite. But where were the rest of the hounds?

The care of these dogs was the only thing he expected his brother to handle. Was even that too much to ask of the man who actually owned the whole place?

Sighing with frustration, Nathan thought back to how he’d gotten in this position. His mother’s father, the one who’d built this ranch from a humble few acres into a grand showplace, died eight years ago. He had loved his granddaddy dearly, but every day since he’d passed away, Nathan had cussed out the old man for leaving the ranch to his oldest grandchild.

What the hell had Isaac been thinking? Nathan might’ve understood if his grandfather had bequeathed the place to his son-in-law, Nathan’s father, Evan. But Evan and Isaac had never agreed on anything—least of all on the management of the land. So Nathan’s older brother, Derek, ended up with everything.

Not that Derek cared one way or the other. Right after the reading of the will, his brother had turned over management of the place to their father—against all his grandfather’s wishes.

Where were those dogs? Nathan whistled again and then listened. He heard Buck the coonhound baying from somewhere nearby. Buck never bayed like that unless he had a critter cornered.

Hell. It was just another chore that would have to be attended to before he could start his day.

Nathan strode forcefully toward the dogs’ commotion, wondering if he would need a rifle to dispatch whatever kind of critter could have wandered into one of the barns. He hated the thought of killing a hapless wild animal and decided to try shooing whatever it was back out into the woods without deadly force. He just hoped the damned thing wasn’t a skunk.

By the time he reached the dogs, his ranch foreman was coming from around the other side of the barn with a rifle already in hand.

“Hold it, Mac. Take charge of the dogs, and let me see what we’ve got cornered before we go tearing in, guns blazing.”

“Okay, boss. It’s your skin.” With a grin, Mac grabbed the three dogs by their collars and held tight.

Nathan shook his head and entered the largest hay barn. Was he being foolish to come unprotected? Stopping right inside the door to pick up a pitchfork, he cautiously walked down the long center aisle while being careful to check both right and left among the huge stored hay bales.

Toward the end of the aisle, right before the entrance to the tool storage area, Nathan heard a strange noise. He stopped and listened intently. What was that sound? It wasn’t like any animal he’d ever encountered. Then after a few seconds he took that sentiment back.

The noise sounded for all the world like the mewling cries of a newborn kitten. Jeez. The dogs were going nuts over a new litter of kittens?

Just in case he was wrong, Nathan hefted the pitchfork in both hands and crept quietly around the half wall on his way to the main storage room and the cries.

What he saw on the other side of the wall stopped him cold—not kittens. There, hunkered down in the hay, was a gorgeous woman cradling a fussy newborn infant in her arms.

After finding his voice, he cleared his throat and tried to calm her. “Uh, excuse me. Miss. Um. Mrs …”

The woman blinked her eyes and then jolted straight up, pointing at the pitchfork. “Oh, don’t hurt us. Who are you? I …” Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed into the hay.

Worried about the infant’s safety, Nathan dropped the fork and swooped up the child before it fell out of its mother’s arms.

What the devil had he gotten himself into now?