Cade swore viciously. Every possibility he could think of presented potential danger. His rifle was inside his truck. The only weapon he had with him was a .38. He was pretty sure it only held three or four rounds.
Cade headed back inside. He lit a second oil lamp and dug his gun out of his gear. The feel of the heavy metal was reassuring. At least he wasn't totally defenseless.
His pulse hummed with tension as he walked back outside and checked the wood box. Supplies were on the low side, but adequate for tonight. The real blessing was that he'd unloaded the important supplies before the bastard stole the truck. He had food, bottled water, blankets and his gun. What he didn't have was a radio, transportation, more than one box of diapers or a lot of spare formula for the baby.
He hoped the woman could breast-feed soon or they were going to find out how the infant liked powdered milk. Cade primed the pump and let the water run until most of the brown discoloration was replaced by clear water. He filled a couple of pans with the water and lit the wood-burning stove. After stacking more wood inside, he dragged the table full of supplies over against the front door. At least no one could walk in on them without warning. Finally, he was able to turn his attention to the woman.
Girl, he corrected himself harshly, looking down at her relaxed face in the soft yellow light of the lantern. She couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen. Much too young to be married, let alone have a child. If he had that jerk bastard from the crossing here right now, he'd happily beat the man to a bloody pulp.
As far as Cade could see, the girl hadn't moved. He grabbed the first-aid kit and braced himself for the delicate operation of removing her blouse.
He'd intended to cut the material away from the wound, but given the new situation, he might need to cut his spare shirts into diapers. There was only the one box of diapers tucked inside the bag she'd carried. Who knew how long those would last? He'd have to remove her blouse carefully and try to wash the blood out so she could wear it again.
Fresh blood matted the thin material, adhering it to her like a second skin. Cade frowned. How much blood had she lost? If that bullet had nicked the bone or an artery they were going to be in serious trouble.
If only she wasn't so pretty. Why couldn't she have been some fat old hag? He was feeling like a dirty old man for even noticing this one was female.
Taking a deep breath, he undid her buttons quickly. A lacy, white bra that fastened in the front was revealed. He had no intention of touching that! And he carefully averted his eyes from the sight of her small, high round breasts nicely filling the flimsy material. Cade cursed beneath his breath.
This was going to be harder than he'd thought. She lay like a rag doll as he lifted her slight weight and untucked the blouse from her slacks, slipping the white material off her good arm. She moaned softly as he laid Her back down.
"Hey. Wake up. It would be a big help if you'd open your eyes and give me a hand here."
No such luck. Her skin definitely felt warm and dry to the touch. Not a good sign. He'd take bets she was running a fever. He prayed the wound hadn't gotten infected.
Water boiled on the stove. He let it go and rolled her to one side so he could ease the blouse away from her injured shoulder.
She was as delicate and fragile as a small bird. In back, the material of the blouse had crusted against the wound. He tried to ease it free gently, but the scab broke, starting a fresh trickle of blood.
With a muttered oath, he wadded her sleeve and pressed it against the wound, all the while thinking how badly he wanted five minutes alone with the bastard who'd shot her. At least the bullet hadn't gone into the shoulder, but it had taken out a lot of tissue as it plowed a groove through her skin alongside the bra strap.
He had no business playing doctor with a wound this serious. He should have driven her back into town as soon as he found her, husband or no husband. But it was no use thinking what he should have done. The important thing was to do the right thing for her now.
He pressed against the wound until the bleeding stopped, then he stood, whipped off the bandanna from around his neck and put it into the pan of boiling water. All the while he cursed himself for a fool.
He made himself wait five full minutes before he fished the bandanna out of the water with a fork and held it over the small sink until it cooled enough so he could wring it out.
Gently, he began washing away the dried blood from around her wound. She shifted restlessly. He had to hold her still so she didn't roll onto her back.
"Easy. I'm cleaning away the blood. Hold still, okay?"
She was worse than her daughter. Cade couldn't tell if she heard him or not, but the sound of his voice seemed to soothe her, so he continued talking as he worked.
"This needs stitches, little girl. I've got some thread and if you were a man, I might be tempted." But she was definitely no man and he couldn't bring himself to stick a needle into her soft, white skin.
"I'm going to pour some disinfectant into the wound. It's gonna sting, but we need to keep it from getting infected." He wondered if she heard or understood anything he was saying. "I'll have to use butterfly bandages to try to pull the skin together. I've got tape arid gauze so I'll wrap it tightly. That should hold you until I can get you to a doctor."
God only knew how long that would be.
There was no way to lower the strap of the bra without jarring the wound. She wasn't going to like it, but he used his knife to cut the strap before he set some fresh water boiling on the stove and stoked the fire. He couldn't stall forever. He was going to have to get this over with. He debated between the iodine or the rubbing alcohol. But the alcohol would disinfect the wound and he could put some of the antibacterial cream on it afterward. If this didn't wake her, nothing would.
He poured a small amount of rubbing alcohol directly into the wound. She cried out and opened her eyes, instantly shutting them again tightly.
"What are you doing?'.' she demanded in a raw voice as he mopped up the dripping excess.
"We have to prevent infection."
"I'll take my chances with the germs." Watery blue eyes glared up at him. "Get that stuff away from me."
"Don't worry, I'm done. I need to put some cream on the wound."
"No." Her lips set in mutinous lines of determination.
"Look, you're in no position to be giving me any grief. Hold still or you'll start it bleeding again."
"No. I— Ow! That hurts!"
"All done."
She blinked back tears as he blotted her chest lightly with his handkerchief.
"How would you like me to do that to you?" she growled, brushing away a tear.
He tried not to feel bad or guilty over causing her more pain. "I'm not injured."
"I can fix that."
Cade's lips twisted in a smile in spite of himself. The girl had spunk. "Let me put on a bandage."
"Forget it. Let me die in peace."
"You aren't gonna die."
"I am if you keep helping me."
His lips twitched. Her voice might be weak, but she had spunk. Her grit came as a complete surprise. He'd expected buckets of tears. She had to be in considerable pain.
"It was an antibacterial cream."
"I know what it was and my shoulder hurts like the devil. Will you just take me to a doctor?"
"I'd love to, but we have a problem."
Her tired eyes opened again. "What problem?"
"Someone stole my truck."
"What are you talking about? Where are we?"
"We're at a line shack on my ranch."
"Well, call someone!"
"Happy to oblige, but the radio is in the truck."
"Then use your cell phone."
"I don't have one."
"Everyone has a cell phone these days."
Cade shook his head. "I'm not real fond of modern technology."
"Yeah. I could tell from your archaic idea of medicine. What are you doing?"
"Tryin
' to put a butterfly bandage over the bullet hole. And it would be a whole lot easier if you'd hold still and cooperate."
"I don't trust you."
Offended, he pursed his lips. Ungrateful little witch. "Well, get over it. Right now, I'm all you've got."
She glared at him, but held still while he applied the bandages and began to wrap her shoulder. Suddenly, her eyes grew wide.
"You took off my blouse!"
Embarrassed, he didn't meet her eyes. "Tough to tend your wound with it on. I had to cut the strap off your bra as well."
"You didn't," she gasped.
"'Fraid so, but you can't wear it over that shoulder anyhow. And your blouse won't be good for much even after I wash it out. Don't worry. You're perfectly safe with me."
"You're gay?"
Indignant, he glared at her. "Of course not!"
"Then why should I believe I'm safe with you?"
"Because my taste doesn't run to mouthy juveniles with tiny babies and a gun-toting husband," he snapped in reply. "I take it he was the one who shot you?"
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened, but she swallowed back what she started to say and looked at him strangely. "Who are you?"
"Cade McGovern. Who are you?"
"Jayne."
He waited but she didn't offer a last name. The baby stirred behind him as he finished wrapping the tape around her shoulder.
"Well, Jayne. I hope you're prepared to breast-feed because your daughter will soon polish off those bottles you were traveling with and I don't imagine powdered milk is going to make a good substitute."
Chapter Three
Jayne thought frantically past the pain in her shoulder. This sexy man with the incredible voice thought she was the mother of the baby. She hadn't even known it was a girl.
Caution curbed her first impulse to tell him everything. She didn't know him or anything about him. But watching him with the infant had brought a lump to her throat. For such a large man, he handled the tiny baby with a gentle touch. He hadn't seemed awkward, just a bit unsure which endeared him to her. He was obviously a good person.
Though he'd hurt her, he'd been nothing but kind trying to fix her shoulder. It was probably insane, but she trusted him. The only problem was, the kidnappers had already proved they would stop at nothing. Was it fair to involve him any further in this mess?
"Who stole your truck?"
His eyes darkened and a hardness set in around his mouth. "Good question. I don't like any of the answers including the possibility that your husband may be outside right now with my rifle trying to figure out the best way to get in here and finish the job he started."
Fear returned with a vengeance. In her mind, she clearly pictured the man standing in the parking lot aiming the gun at the car she stole.
"You think he followed us here?" She swallowed past her dry throat.
"It's not a possibility I'm willing to rule out."
"We've got to get out of here!"
She tried to sit up but he held her in place easily with one hand. She was so weak the effort nearly drained her and the motion jarred her shoulder alarmingly. She could have wept from the searing pain.
"We've got no place to go," he said soothingly.
"But—"
"I'm not completely unarmed," he told her. The flick of his hand sent her eyes to his waistband where the handle of a gun protruded. "He'll have to go through me to get to you."
That braked the fear and reached into her muddled mind with a whole host of confusing sentiments. He was going to protect her?
"You don't even know me."
"No, ma'am, I don't. And if you'd had the decency to pick someone else's truck to hide in, I'd have been a whole lot happier. But you didn't, so I'm stuck with the situation."
Jayne blinked in surprise at this grumpy discourse. "And here I was thinking you were a nice person."
"Whatever gave you that impression?" he growled.
"I have no idea," she snapped weakly. "I suppose I could have just stood there and let him shoot me, but I assure you, he probably would have shot you, too. He's even nastier than you are and he's not apt to leave witnesses. He just wants the baby."
"Good."
"What?"
"If she's what he wants it gives us an advantage."
New fear washed over her. "I am not giving him the baby!"
"Of course not, but it means he won't start shooting indiscriminately into the cabin."
Jayne tried to hide a shudder. She closed her eyes and attempted to think. Her uncooperative brain was sluggish with pain and fear and exhaustion.
"Why would he take your truck? That doesn't make sense. He could have walked in the door and shot us both when you weren't expecting him. He doesn't need your rifle. He's already got a gun."
Silence filled the cabin.
"Good point," the man called Cade finally said thoughtfully.
"And why don't we have anywhere to go?" she asked, opening her eyes again. Cade wasn't looking at her. He was staring at the wall apparently deep in thought.
"This is a line shack," he said after a long pause. "We put them in places that are far from the main house. After a day roping cattle or riding fence it's a roof over your head instead of a bedroll on the ground. Especially during bad weather."
She knew that. "So walking for help isn't an option?"
"Not at the moment." He pulled a toothpick from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. Grimly, he stood and began packing supplies away. "You can breastfeed, can't you?" he asked again.
"No!"
He suddenly eyed her with an expression of disdain. Did he believe she felt such a natural process was beneath her?
"There's milk in the diaper bag."
"She already drank two of the six bottles. They're really little bottles."
"There's an unopened can of formula. We'll have to mix up more formula when we run out."
He turned and began rummaging through the bag. He pulled out the can and gave her an acerbic look. "This won't last forever. Then what?"
"I don't know! Are we going to be stuck here forever?" She tried to sit up, but her shoulder hurt and the action made her feel weak and dizzy. Her stomach lurched appallingly. She tried to cover her helplessness with a glare. "You can wipe that expression right off your face. I'd feed her if I could, but it isn't possible."
Her head began to ache in tandem with the burning throbbing of her shoulder. Jayne closed her eyes against the pain and vowed not to be ill. "I don't know what to do," she said trying not to panic. "I can't seem to think right now."
"Okay," he said more kindly. "I've got powdered milk. I can add it to the formula to stretch it out a ways if we need to. It may not be great, but it should get us through until help arrives."
She opened one eye and immediately closed it again. She was very tired and it was cold in the cabin.
"So help will arrive?" she asked.
"Let me worry about that. When's the last time you ate?"
She thought about the bag of cheese curls and the diet soda she'd been eating in her car right before everything went crazy. Her stomach tightened alarmingly.
"I'm not hungry."
"I'll fix us something while you rest."
"The baby—"
"Will be just fine. She's still sleeping. What's her name?"
Name? Of course he'd expect her to have a name. He thought this was her baby.
"Heather. I call her Heather." Her mother's name was the first one to pop into her head.
"Yeah?"
She squinted carefully and found him scrutinizing the sleeping infant.
"I guess I can see that. It's soft. Sort of pretty."
"My mother will be glad you approve."
Cade glanced at her. "Why? Did she name the kid?"
"No. It's her name."
"Oh. Are you cold?"
"What gave it away, the shivering or the chattering of my teeth?"
He shook his head and walked over to the table. "Her
e." He came back with two blankets which he spread over her. But when his hand reached out to brush the hair from her forehead she tried to draw back.
"What are you doing?"
"Hold still, I want to see if your head is warm. We don't want you getting a fever."
"And just how are you going to prevent that?"
He didn't bother to respond. His hand was large and rough. The hand of a workingman. Yet his touch was somehow reassuring against her skin. She didn't want to be drawn to this surly cowboy, but she was. At the moment, he represented safety and security.
"Well?" she asked as he pulled back.
"Can't tell."
"That's helpful."
He tried to mask his irritation by turning away. "Rest while I get the supplies organized and make us something to eat."
She didn't bother arguing with him. The way her stomach felt at the moment, food was the last thing it wanted to deal with. She had a bad feeling those cheese curls were looking for a quick way out.
She tried to focus on Cade, but she found watching him unnerving. Especially after he took off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. He moved like a feral cat, she decided. Muscles rippled beneath the denim work shirt. There were no wasted motions other than the toothpick he chewed on. She wanted to ask him if he'd just given up smoking or something, but any more conversation seemed like an awful lot of effort.
She was cold despite the blankets. Much too cold considering the air temperature. She probably was running a slight fever, but she was too tired to tell him so. Why did her shoulder have to hurt so badly? She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, content to listen to him moving about the room.
Unbelievably, she fell into a light doze, waking partially when she heard the baby crying. She should get up and change the little thing, but she couldn't quite force her eyes open. Her shoulder was on fire and her head throbbed like anything. She wanted nothing more than to cry right along with the baby.
The cries grew louder, more demanding.
Cade's voice began to speak. The baby quieted at the sound. Jayne didn't blame her. Cade had a fabulous voice. Deep. Soothing.
Someone's Baby Page 4