Rancher's Baby

Gingerly, he sat up, testing the state of his head as he pushed himself into a vertical position. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes but the blinding pain was gone. Mentally he thumbed his nose at the doctor from the emergency room. See? Told you I was fine. Growing up on a ranch makes a man tough. Got to be dead before I can be hospitalized.

Still, it wasn’t wise to push it too far, he thought. Prudently, he stuffed his toe into the top of one boot and dragged it toward him so that he could stomp into it without bending over. Then he repeated the process. Feeling pretty pleased with himself, he carefully rose, waiting for a mild wave of dizziness to pass before he walked out of the bedroom and headed for the staircase he dimly remembered coming up a few hours earlier.

What was Dulcie doing now? Recalling her behavior earlier, he realized that his chances of regaining her friendship—or anything else—were slim at this point. The idea didn’t set well. Only, of course, because he hated to be at odds with his friends.

He started down the hallway toward the steps he’d come up a few hours ago, intending to hunt her down and make her talk to him. A sound from the far end of the hallway caught his attention and he paused at the top step. Somewhere back there a woman was humming. And it sounded enough like Dulcie’s voice that he turned and retraced his steps, going past his bedroom and on down the hallway to the last door on the left.

The door was slightly ajar and the humming came from within. It was definitely Dulcie’s voice. He’d heard her hum while she’d made a meal for him one evening in Albuquerque. Elated at the opportunity to speak privately with her so soon, he put a hand against the door and pushed lightly.

The door swung open.

Dulcie sat in a rocking chair, gazing down at the baby in her arms. Her blouse hung open and the infant was suckling greedily at her exposed breast.

Shock tore through him. The child was hers!

He must have made some sound, because Dulcie’s head jerked up. A startled gasp escaped her, and her dark eyes widened to panicked proportions when she saw him standing there.

He couldn’t move. Wild thoughts were chasing through his brain faster than he could examine them all. Observations battered at his senses: the barely visible crown of the baby’s head covered in a down of dark hair…Dulcie’s arm tenderly cradling the tiny child…one little hand kneading his mother’s warm flesh as he suckled…

Finally, knowing he had questions that had to be answered, Tye took a deep breath and strode forward into the room where Dulcie and her baby sat.

His movement seemed to release her from stasis, as if she’d been frozen until then. She whipped a small blanket from the back of the rocking chair and draped it over her shoulder, arranging it to cover the nursing infant and her bare breast.

“What are you doing sneaking around like that?” Her face was as angry as her voice.

Dulcie’s harsh demand seemed to frighten the baby; Tye saw its little legs jerk spasmodically, and then the child began to cry. Immediately, Dulcie’s attention shifted. She drew the baby from beneath the blanket and cradled him in her arms, murmuring to him in low tones and gently patting his tiny back until gradually the infant quieted. After a moment, she placed him back under the blanket, frowning in concentration as she guided him to her breast.

The ease with which she handled the baby hammered home the truth that he was trying to deny, despite the clear evidence he’d seen. This baby really was Dulcie’s.

Tye was stunned. His head had begun to throb again. Who was this child’s father? At some point during those first days of getting to know each other in Albuquerque, he’d learned that Dulcie was separated from her husband, awaiting a divorce. At the time, Tye had thought Lyle Meadows must have been a blind man and a stupid one to boot.

But if the baby wasn’t Lyle’s…Despite the pain, his mind engaged in some rapid calculations. It had been almost exactly ten months ago that he and Dulcie had made love the first and only night they’d spent together. The same night that she’d discovered her husband’s infidelity. If she had conceived then, and if she’d carried the child to term, the baby should be somewhere around a month old.

Cautiously, he cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his dismay. “How old is he?”

Dulcie raised her chin and traded him stare for stare.

He’d remembered her as a quiet woman, soft and soothing, easily managed. There was nothing of those qualities in her now. He held her gaze, silently willing her to drop hers first.

She continued to look straight into his eyes. “My son is three weeks old.”

Three weeks old. The room swam around him again for a moment, but this time it wasn’t because his head hurt. Dismay and shock combined in a force that was nearly a physical sensation, sucking the breath from his chest. This was all his fault.

He’d taken advantage of her.

Ten months ago, Dulcie Meadows had been vulnerable and alone. She’d come to him for comfort and understanding. Oh, he’d been comforting, all right. And he’d been as understanding as could be. But if he’d been a true gentleman, he would have backed away. He wouldn’t have taken what she offered, would have realized that what she needed was a friend, not a horny fool like him.

Yet if he were completely honest, he was damned glad he wasn’t a gentleman on that single night with Dulcie. The only thing he really regretted was the way they had parted. He’d meant to go after her, to talk to her when she’d calmed down, but the phone call from his uncle had changed everything, and he’d had to rush off to Montana without settling things with Dulcie.

Telling himself that he’d tried to get in touch with her was little consolation. The whole time he’d been taking care of Uncle Ike’s ranch, he’d thought of her. He felt guilty and was determined to apologize.

That, of course, was what he’d made himself believe until now.

Until he’d seen her again.

But this…this wasn’t the way he’d expected their reunion to go.

Rage began to rise, both at himself and at Dulcie. What a fool he’d been. In all these months, he had never considered that there might have been consequences resulting from their night together.

Consequences. What a stupid euphemism. A baby was a darn sight more than a “consequence.” A baby was a huge, permanent obstacle in the simple path his life was following.

Why hadn’t she told him she was pregnant? One thing was clear: she sure hadn’t been thinking of him the way he’d constantly had her on his mind. God, if he hadn’t followed her down here, he still wouldn’t know that they’d created a baby together.

A baby. His baby. All his adult life he’d been careful to assume responsibility for birth control. until Dulcie. He’d vowed he would never have an illegitimate child, would never subject a child of his to the inevitable cruel taunts that would bring. All his life he’d been on the outside looking in at kids who belonged, kids who would never know bow the word “bastard” could slice through a child’s vulnerable heart. For he knew all too well how much that hurt.

And now he had a son who would bear the same stigma.

Dulcie sat frozen in the rocking chair, willing herself not to quail before the fury in Tye’s incredulous gaze.

He swore quietly, viciously, and she flinched despite her best efforts.

Finally, he stopped and just stared at her again. “He’s mine.”

She was supremely conscious of the slurping, grunting sounds her son made as he suckled. Tye must have heard him, too, because his gaze dropped momentarily to the outline of the baby’s body beneath the light throw she’d draped over herself. Superstitiously she crossed her fingers beneath the blanket.

“He’s not yours. He’s Lyle’s.”

“That’s bull and you know it.” Tye’s voice was rough and tight. “A blood test will prove it, too.”

“No!” She forced herself to mute the protest that escaped so that she wouldn’t upset the baby. “I’m telling you this is my husband’s child.”

Tye snorted. “Not likely, darlin’. I seem to recollect you telling me in no uncertain terms that your marriage bed hadn’t been used for anything besides sleep for a long time before I met you.”

Oh, she could just die. She remembered exactly when that conversation had taken place. And from the way Tye’s big body stilled and his nostrils flared, she knew he was recalling the same thing.

“Things happened after you left for Idaho—”

“Montana.” It was a snarl.

“Montana, then. Lyle and I resumed—”

“You’re lying. You expect me to believe you went back to that jerk after walking in on him in bed with another woman? I don’t think so.” The heavy scorn in his voice brought a rush of heat to her cheeks, but before she could formulate a response, he went on. “If it’s true, then I’m sure good ol’ Lyle won’t mind telling me about it. Shall I track him down and give him a call?”

The heat drained from her cheeks as suddenly as it came and left her cold. Freezing. “No.” She wanted to fight, to throw him out of her life, but she could see from the set look on his face that he wouldn’t go. Closing her eyes in defeat, she laid her head against the back of the rocker. “Lyle was killed in an automobile accident shortly after the divorce.”

Silence filled the room. When he didn’t answer, she opened her eyes.

He looked shocked, and for a moment she was meanly pleased to have knocked him off stride. But before she could congratulate herself too much, Tye recovered his voice.