Hot-Shot Doc, Secret Dad (Cowboys, Doctors...Daddies)

by Lynne Marshall

  He might as well have been a cowboy in a white hat riding a horse to save the day with the swell of gladness she had over seeing him.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” he asked, low-key, steady as a rock.

  Knowing he was here for a professional reason, and his question was about Anita’s labor, she tried to sound cheery, though her heart ached and her head was on fire with panic over the situation with her son. “I think the new kid on the block—Chloe—will be showing up within the hour,” Julie said, trying her best to look happy for her patient, above all being professional.

  Anita smiled with expectation, but soon that smile changed to impending pain. Another contraction.

  “I’m taking over now, Anita. Julie needs to go find our son. He’s run away from school,” he said while washing his hands in the bathroom sink. Julie handed him a sterile towel and pair of gloves, amazed by what he’d just said.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Anita bore the look of a woman who understood how frightening it would be to have a child missing.

  “We had a baby to deliver.” She patted Anita’s shoulder, and the woman looked up with a grateful expression just before biting her lips.

  “Take off now. Head over to the police station for an update. Let me know what you find out,” he said, stepping in on this contraction.

  “I’ll call the instant I find out anything,” Julie said, already rushing for the front door.

  “Good luck!” Anita called out, but the second word turned into a yell as she’d obviously gone into another massive transitional contraction.

  Once in the car, Julie decided to go straight home first, hoping beyond hope her boy might be there. But how in the world would he have gotten there? In her desperateness, she felt compelled to check.

  Panic and fear swirled through her mind like thorny vines. She couldn’t let anything keep her from focusing on finding her son. Worry wouldn’t help a bit.

  As she drove she thought about Trevor back at the Rivers’s house nobly taking over so she could get to the police station, and she realized, again, that he’d told the police chief and their patient that the missing child was his son. Their son. She wondered how soon Monty would have his hunch verified, and even though it was the craziest time in her life—her son had gone missing—she smiled as a calming feeling took hold. Things would work out. They’d find her son. They had to. This part of Wyoming wasn’t anything like LA; her kid would be safe. She told herself that story over and over, praying it was true.

  Again, Trevor popped into her head—he’d be with her as soon as he could for the search.

  And after today, everyone in town would know that Trevor Montgomery was a father.

  But that feeling didn’t last long as horrible thoughts about everything that could happen to James barged back into her mind.

  She pulled into her driveway, parked at a weird angle, because she didn’t care, then rushed into the house. “James!” she called over and over as she checked each and every room, including the basement, hope and anxiety mounting in equal measure. But he wasn’t there.

  She called the school for an update and was heartbrokenly disappointed with no news as she clutched one of James’s T-shirts to her chest. She went back to his room, the one he’d yet to sleep overnight in, and cried. Where are you, James? Please come home.

  It wouldn’t do any good to melt down, so she wiped her eyes with shaky hands, drank a glass of water and drove to the police station in the center of town.

  “Is Chief Jorgensen here?” she asked at the front desk. The tiny office felt cluttered and closed in on her, or was that panic taking hold again?

  An older silver-haired man appeared at an office door. He still looked good in his uniform, without the usual paunch of middle age, though his face was mapped with lines and fissures. “Julie Sterling?” he said. “I remember your parents.”

  Oh, yes, of course, he was the person who’d called her after her parents’ fatal accident.

  With a caring smile, he gestured for her to come. “Let’s go into my office.”

  She followed him inside, but, unable to sit down, paced. “Any word? Anything?”

  He solemnly shook his head. “Nothing yet. But I’ve pulled three units and put them exclusively on this task, and asked another handful of officers to work overtime so we can comb our county from one end to the other. Trevor provided me with a picture. He texted it to me—”

  Wait, Trevor had a picture of James on his cell phone?

  “May I see it? Uh, to make sure it’s recent?”

  The chief riffled through the piles of papers on his desk. “Here it is.” He showed her the picture, which must have been taken just last weekend. It was a great picture of James smiling in the full-on Wyoming sun, an expansive range scattered with cows as a backdrop. “I’ve sent out a BOLO to our neighboring precincts, since we can’t be sure that this should be an AMBER alert or not. Yet.”

  The thought of an AMBER alert—a child abduction alert—made Julie need to sit on the nearest chair. “What’s a BOLO?” She hardly had enough breath to ask.

  “Sorry. Be-on-lookout. It’s usually used for suspects, but I justified it in this case, being your missing boy and all. And his most likely wanting to get to Cattleman Bluff.” He stopped shuffling papers and looked directly at her. “We are covering every main road, as well as back roads and trails in this area. And we are working in coordination with the Laramie PD, which is doing the same, and the Wyoming highway patrol.”

  “In other words, you’re doing everything you can to find my son.”

  “Yes, ma’am, we are.”

  She believed him, but until she had her son in her arms there was no way she’d rest. “What can I do?”

  “If he has a cell phone, call him. Let him know how worried you are. We’ve been calling, but it goes directly to voice mail.”

  Hoping they hadn’t inundated James with calls that would fill up his voice-message storage, she dug into her purse and found her phone, immediately speed-dialing. Her brain had blanked out when the school had notified her. Since then her thoughts had been skipping everywhere, riding the waves of panic and full-out fear. Not thinking straight. Otherwise she would have thought of this earlier. Her call went straight to voice mail, so she texted.

  Where are you? Please call me. I need to know you’re okay. Please call. Love, Mom.

  After several moments without response she texted again.

  I’m worried sick, please reply.

  She couldn’t give in to the dark feelings flitting through her mind; she had to remain hopeful that her son was okay. If he ran away from school, once they found him and she hugged him, she’d throttle him for putting everyone through this horrible mess. She bit her lip to keep from crying. Someone entered the room behind her.

  Soon large, strong hands rested on her shoulders, lightly massaging. It was Trevor, and his presence brought welcome support.

  “Chief Jorgensen, any news about our son?”

  “I was just filling Julie in on everything we’re doing. Rest assured we’re doing all we can. We’ll find your boy. My suggestion is that you both go home and get some rest, because there’s nothing for you to do here. We’ve got your cell-phone numbers and I’ll personally call the instant I hear anything. Keep trying to make contact on his phone.”

  Julie checked her phone screen hoping James had replied, and somehow she hadn’t heard it come in. No luck.

  “We understand, and appreciate your help. Julie, let’s go home.” Trevor took her hand and led her out of the office. How could he look so calm? Why wasn’t he freaking out like her?

  “Thank you,” she remembered to say on her way out. Then halfway to the parked cars another question came to mind. “Who’s with Anita and Chloe?”

  “Once I did the initial pediatric assessment and the baby was fine, I asked Charlotte to come be with her until Anita’s husband got home. I’ve made arrangements for the county visiting nurses to follow up with both mot
hers and babies tomorrow.”

  *

  “I’ll be fine, Trevor,” Julie said, sticking out her chin with faux bravery. “I want to stay here in case James shows up.”

  Worry had etched into her brow so deep, Trevor thought she might never be able to smile again. If they didn’t find the boy, he wouldn’t either. He’d been fighting back his worries since the instant he’d heard the news; he could only imagine how Julie felt. “I don’t think you should be alone. Let me stay with you.”

  “Please. Go home.” She clutched her cell phone in her hand. “It’s been a long day. You delivered two babies. Let Gretchen feed you some dinner.”

  “What about you?”

  “I couldn’t eat if I tried.”

  Not until James showed up. Trevor got it. He was beginning to understand exactly how she felt. It wasn’t because her panic had worn off on him; no, this fear belonged to him and him alone. He loved his son. Barely knew the kid, but he knew love when he felt it. If this was what parenting felt like, how had Julie made it through nearly thirteen years alone?

  Against his better judgment about leaving her by herself, and only because she was adamant about it, he’d do as she wished. “Okay, but you call me if you need me, and I’ll check in every hour.” Trevor took Julie into his arms and squeezed her close, loving the feel of her, thinking how precious she was as he kissed the top of her head. No words could describe how heartsick he was that something bad could have happened to their son. Their son. He cursed himself for not telling James who he was when he’d had the opportunity, and vowed to fix that as soon as he had the chance.

  “I’ll be fine, go,” she whispered, just before she bussed his lips. He didn’t believe her for one instant. She’d be a wreck until they found James.

  “You need to know something first.” He waited until he had her undivided attention. Would it be fair to tell her he loved her in the middle of chaos? Would she hear him? Nope, now wasn’t ideal even though he’d mean it with every single fiber. He’d realized it last week when all he could think about was Julie, and how he couldn’t wait to be with her every night. How easily they’d slipped into being comfortable together, how great they were in the sack. She’d reminded him why people needed to be open to love, because missing out was such a waste. It had been way too long since Kimberley. All the standins since then had never measured up. Not until Julie. No, she wasn’t ready to hear that, but there was something she needed to know right now that might, just might, give her hope. “I love our son.”

  Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at him with a grateful smile. “I believe you.”

  There was no way he wanted to leave, hell, they’d just had a major breakthrough, yet she pushed him toward the door, obviously wanting to be alone. The least a guy could do for the woman he loved was follow her wishes.

  He glanced at his watch as he walked to his car; it was almost four-thirty. Soon it would be dark and the odds of finding James would be that much less. They’d first noticed him missing before seven this morning, but there was no telling when he’d taken off, or where on earth he could be by now. Could James be desperate enough to try to get back to California? What if Trevor never saw him again? A sick feeling balled up inside as he got into his car and headed for the ranch.

  Halfway home, a text came in from Jack.

  Your old man says to get home quick.

  He pressed on the gas, worrying that his father might be having another stroke—what more could happen today?—and nearly fishtailed around the first curve, driving like a madman to get to his dad.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ONCE OFF THE HIGHWAY, heading for the Circle M Ranch, Trevor grabbed his cell and speed-dialed Jack, who answered on the first ring. “What’s up with Dad? Is he okay?”

  Instead of replying, Trevor heard the phone being shoved toward something. “I’m fine,” the gravelly and irritated-sounding voice of his father said after fumbling with the device for a second or two. “When were you going to tell me you had a son?”

  Thankful his father’s health wasn’t the issue, Trevor still needed to take a deep breath to tackle the topic of his son. So Chief Jorgensen had been in touch, had he? “Not before I told James. I figured he deserved to be the first to know when I had my coming-out party.” He gritted his teeth. “Not sure I’ll get the chance now. Any word?” He made a quick, one-handed maneuver to avoid a large rock in the road, and swerved.

  “Hell, there’s been all kinds of sightings reported. Old man McGilvary evidently picked up a kid outside of Thistle Gardens, gave him a ride on his flatbed for twenty-five miles or so. Someone else saw a kid riding a skateboard on the road, downhill, going at a pretty damn good pace, too.”

  “And no one thought something was wrong about that?”

  “Plenty of folks thought something was wrong, just assumed it was some kid playing hooky from school, but no one thought enough about it to report it until later when word got out. And to my mind, the bigger question is how the hell did a kid get all the way to Thistle Gardens on a skateboard?”

  The wonder of that feat had just occurred to Trevor, too.

  “Look,” his father said, “I think we’ve got a problem with a trespasser right now, and I think you need to check the stable when you get here. Zebulon just might have company.”

  Trevor’s pulse jumped at the hint. “You saw him?”

  “Let’s say, I didn’t investigate. I figure that’s your job.”

  “Thanks, but do not let him take off again.”

  “You think I was born yesterday? We’ve got the stables under surveillance, but that kid has proved pretty damn nimble footed to make it all this way.”

  Trevor ended the call and tossed his cell phone onto the empty seat next to him. His immediate instinct was to call Julie, but he figured he should make contact with the boy first. He couldn’t bear the thought of giving her false hope, in case nimble toes had moved on. She’d get that call the instant he had James locked in his arms.

  It occurred to him how amazingly well his father had handled the situation. He hadn’t made any accusations or flung any curse words. Hell, he’d even sounded amused by the possibility his grandson had managed to travel a hundred miles in a day with nothing but a skateboard and his wit, and was currently hiding out in the Circle M stables.

  And they said old dogs like his dad couldn’t learn new tricks.

  Amazingly relieved, but still cautious and a tad edgy, Trevor arrived home and parked in his usual spot in the driveway. He took a long stealthy gaze in the direction of the stables, while pretending to adjust his hat, then casually started toward them. The clinch that’d had a hold of his stomach since finding out that James had run away tightened. Trevor could have lost his son before he ever really had him. But the kid had come here. Home.

  He might have missed out on his son’s being born and his first twelve years, but he sure as hell could be there for him from here on out.

  As he entered the stables the scent of hay and horse dung hit him straight on. He thought he saw a shadow near the back of the building, down near Zebulon’s stall. “James?” he said quietly. No answer.

  The horse whinnied quietly, his usual greeting, ears twitching with lips pulled up exposing big old yellow teeth in greeting. His tail switched back and forth because of a couple of pesky flies. Trevor put his hand on Zebulon’s neck, feeling his heat, then moved down to the muscular shoulder. The horse’s nostrils flared and he made a quick exhalation. Yeah, he was trying to tell Trevor something. Evidence of carrot bits were by his front hooves. Trevor had shown James where they kept their fifty-pound-bag carrot stash just last Sunday.

  “James, I know you’re here, so please quit hiding. Your mother and I have been worried sick about you all day.”

  Still no answer.

  “You’re going to give your mom gray hairs, and she’s way too young and pretty for that.” He saw movement in his peripheral vision, and slowly turned to the left. James stepped out from O’Reilly�
��s stall, looking wrung out, filthy and probably wondering how much deep horse manure he’d be in for today’s adventure.

  And he was the most beautiful sight Trevor had seen since Julie first came back to town.

  Trevor didn’t want to overwhelm the boy with emotion, though that was the only thing pumping in his veins right then. He decided to go the old cowboy route, and make light of the God-awful situation—what could make a kid run away a hundred miles?

  “Boy, you look as weary as a tomcat walkin’ in mud.”

  For his effort Trevor received a head shake that said, That was totally lame. But Trevor smiled anyway, finally able to breathe again, and approached James. It was obvious the kid was using everything he had left to hold it together. Trevor recalled several misadventures of his own at that age. That was the problem with half-baked plans—they never turned out the way a kid imagined them.

  He got to James and pulled him into his arms, finally holding his son, his only desire to comfort the boy. He smelled like day-long sweat, even though it had probably never hit seventy degrees today. James didn’t resist, even kind of melted into Trevor’s hold, resting his head on his chest. With Trevor finally having his son in his arms, relief washed over him like spring waterfalls at Medicine Bow Peak. A thought occurred to him—when had the child last been hugged by a man?

  “You realize your momma’s going to kill you after she kisses you to death, right?”

  A muffled, quick laugh emitted from the area of Trevor’s chest. Man, the kid was bony, and he even felt a little shaky right now. “You hungry? Thirsty?”

  James nodded without letting go of his clutch around Trevor’s back.

  “Let me make a call to your mom first, then Gretchen will fix you up with something to eat.” He reached for his phone to call Julie. He’d put it back into his shirt pocket when he’d gotten out of the car. James’s hand shot out to intercept.

  What was that about?

  Everything went still, and Trevor honored James’s hesitation. He glanced downward and found a boy’s version of Julie’s huge hazel eyes staring up at him. “Are you my father?”