The Cowboy and the New Year's Baby (3 page)

Hardy started at her assumption. “I’m not the father,” he informed her quickly. “I don’t even know the woman.”

The nurse didn’t seem to believe him. She regarded him with amused skepticism that suggested she recognized him and that she’d heard tales about Hardy Jones. Since he’d dated quite a few people on staff at the hospital, it was entirely possible she had.

“Really,” he insisted. “I found her by the side of the road. Her car had skidded into a snowdrift.”

“Whatever you say.”

“No, really. I’d never seen her before tonight.”

She grinned. “Young man, you don’t have to convince me. I believe you.” She winked. “Of course, I also believe in the tooth fairy and Santa Claus.”

Hardy sighed. Word of this was going to spread like wildfire. He could just imagine what the rumors would be like by morning. He’d never live it down.

“I have some paperwork here,” the nurse said. “If you’d just fill out these forms for me, I’d appreciate it.”

His frustration mounted at her refusal to take his word for the fact that he didn’t know the woman in the back room. “I can’t help you. I don’t know her. I don’t even know her name. I don’t know where she’s from. I don’t know what sort of insurance she has. Ask her.”

“She’s pretty well wiped out,” the nurse said.

“Then look in her purse. She probably has ID in there, an insurance card, whatever you need.”

“I can’t go through her purse,” the nurse retorted with a touch of indignation. “I just thought, given your relationship, that you could provide the necessary information.”

“There is no relationship,” Hardy said tightly. “None. What about that word don’t you understand?”

The nurse withdrew the papers with a heavy sigh. “They’re not going to like this in the billing office.”

Hardy whipped his checkbook out of his back pocket. “How much?”

The nurse blinked. “What?”

“I asked you how much. I’ll write a check for it.”

“I don’t know the charges, not yet. She’ll be here overnight at least. There will be routine tests for the baby.”

“Then give me something to sign and send me the bill.”

“You said you don’t know her.”

“I don’t, but I wouldn’t want your precious paperwork messed up. Just send me the bill, okay?”

The bright patches of color on the nurse’s cheeks suggested embarrassment, but she popped some papers in front of him, anyway. Hardy signed them all. He knew, even as he scrawled his signature in half a dozen places, that he was dooming himself. After all, what kind of fool would pay for the hospitalization of a woman he didn’t even know? Obviously everyone was going to jump to a far different conclusion.

Well, so be it, he thought as he jammed his checkbook back in his pocket and headed for the exit. What was it they said? No good deed goes unpunished. Between his reputation and his bank account, it looked as if he were going to take a real hit.

Then he thought of the baby and the sassy woman who’d been forced to trust him with their lives. What if they did cost him a few bucks? What if he took a little ribbing for a few weeks? It would pass soon enough.

And in the meantime he could remember forever that he’d been part of a miracle, the kind of unexpected miracle that a bachelor was unlikely to experience, the kind of miracle that assured a man of God’s presence. What price could he put on that?

T
he last thing Trish remembered was falling asleep, her baby in her arms, as the stranger rushed her to the hospital. She’d been exhausted, but she had never before felt such contentment, such an incredible sense of accomplishment.

She woke up to bright lights and chaos as three people swept her from the truck, wheeled her into the emergency room, then took her baby from her arms and clucked over her bravery. Once she was inside, there was no further sign of her reluctant hero. He vanished just as quickly as he’d appeared earlier. She hadn’t even had time to thank him properly, to apologize for the grief she’d given him.

No one seemed to stay still long enough for her to ask a single question. Finally she latched on to
the sleeve of a pretty, dark-haired woman whose bedside manner had been gentle, cheerful and briskly efficient. She read the name printed on her tag: Lizzy Adams-Robbins, M.D.

“Doctor, is my baby all right?” she asked. “She was a couple of weeks early, and I was in the middle of nowhere when she decided to come. The man who helped was wonderful, but he wasn’t a doctor…” She realized she was babbling but she couldn’t seem to stop.

“Your baby is perfectly healthy,” the woman assured her. “She weighed in at a respectable seven pounds, three ounces. Terrific lung power. Despite the circumstances of her untimely arrival, I’d say everything turned out just fine.”

Trish remembered the baby’s wails and couldn’t help smiling. “She already has a lot to say for herself, doesn’t she? No wonder she was so anxious to get here.”

The doctor grinned, then patted her hand sympathetically. “Right this second you may find that charming, but take it from me, you won’t feel that way a week from now when she’s been waking you out of a sound sleep a couple of times a night. By the way, have you decided on a name for her?”

Trish hadn’t given the matter of naming the baby a lot of thought. Despite the increasing size of her belly, the routine of prenatal visits and regular kicks from an active baby, she had somehow gotten the idea that she had forever before she had to decide on anything as important as a name. She’d been too busy trying to plan her escape and steer clear of her
father, who was dead set on having her marry the baby’s father.

Even now with the baby a reality and the future uncertain, she still knew with absolute certainty that she wouldn’t marry Jack Grainger if he were the last man on earth. On the same day she’d found out she was pregnant, she had also discovered that he’d been seeing at least two other women—intimately—while he was supposedly engaged to her.

Even if those two pieces of news hadn’t collided headfirst, she would have wriggled out of the engagement. She’d discovered that Jack bored her to tears, maybe because he was so busy with his other women that he hadn’t had time for her. She suspected he hadn’t been any more overjoyed by the prospect of marriage than she had been. He’d just been too much in awe of her father—or her father’s fortune, more likely—not to go along with Bryce’s plans for the two of them.

Very methodically she had gone about quietly selling her business to a friend who’d expressed interest in it. She’d put her furniture in storage and slipped out of Houston. She’d been heading west to start the new year and a new life…someplace, when she’d gone into labor. The fact that her daughter had arrived early did not alter her determination to move ahead with her plans, and they definitely did not include Jack or any of the Delacourts.

The baby was her responsibility, and she was going to do right by her. That started with giving her a name she could be proud of, honoring someone who deserved it. Certainly not Jack. Certainly not
anyone in her own family, since they’d all been far more concerned about convention than about her well-being or the baby’s. Assuming that the marriage was a foregone conclusion, her mother had pleaded with her more than once to rush the wedding so that her pregnancy wouldn’t show. When Trish had made it plain that there was to be no wedding despite her father’s wishes, her mother had been appalled.

“What will we tell people?” she had demanded.

“That your daughter had better sense than to marry a man she didn’t love.”

“What does love have to do with it?” her mother had asked, genuinely perplexed. “I thought the two of you got along well enough. Jack is suitable. You’ve known him for years now. He has a place in your father’s company, the promise of a vice presidency after the wedding.”

That, of course, had been Jack’s incentive. She’d had none, not any longer. “I’ve only known the side of him he wanted me—wanted us—to see. I certainly didn’t know about the other women.”

Ironically, her mother hadn’t seemed nearly as surprised or dismayed about that as Trish had been. “You knew, didn’t you?” Trish had charged, stunned that her mother would keep something like that from her.

“There were rumors,” her mother admitted, then waved them off as unimportant. “You know how it is. A handsome man will always have women chasing after him. It’s something you get used to, something you just accept.”

“True,” Trish agreed. “The difference is an honorable man, a man who actually cares about his fiancée, doesn’t let them catch him.”

“You’re being too hard on him, don’t you think? He was just having a little premarital fling.”

“Or two,” Trish said, wondering for the first time whether her father’s behavior was responsible for her mother’s jaded view of marriage. As far as she’d known, her father had never strayed, but maybe she’d been blind to it.

“Never mind,” Trish had said finally. “It’s clear we don’t see eye-to-eye on this. Bottom line, hell will freeze over before I marry Jack. I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to get used to the disgrace of it, Mother.”

Of course she hadn’t. Straight through until Christmas Day, with Trish’s due date just around the corner, Helen Delacourt had remained fiercely dedicated to seeing Trish and Jack married. Without informing Trish, she had even included him on the guest list for the family’s holiday dinner. When he’d arrived, Trish had promptly developed a throbbing headache and excused herself. Even as she went to her room, she could hear her mother apologizing for her. If she hadn’t already been planning to leave town, overhearing her mother’s pitiful attempts to placate the louse would have spurred her to take off.

“Hey, where’d you go?” the doctor asked gently.

Back to a place she hoped never to set foot in again, Trish thought to herself. “Sorry. I guess my mind wandered for a minute. What were we talking about?”

“Naming your baby.”

“Of course.” She thought of the man who’d helped her. He might have been caught off guard. He might not have wanted any part of the crisis she had thrust him into, but he’d pulled through for her. She and her baby were fine, thanks to him. “Do you happen to know the man who brought me in?” she asked the doctor.

“Sure. He works at my father’s ranch.” She chuckled. “I’ve got to tell you I’ve never seen a man so relieved to get to a hospital in my life.”

“What’s his name?”

“Hardy Jones. I’m not sure where the nickname comes from. I’ve heard Daddy say it has to be short for hardheaded because he’s resisted every single attempt that’s been made to get him married off. You’d have to know my father to understand how annoying he finds that. He’s not happy unless he’s matchmaking and he’s not ecstatic unless it’s paying off.”

“Well, I certainly can’t name the baby that,” Trish said, disappointed. “Do I have to decide right now?”

“No, indeed. We’ll need it before you leave the hospital, but it can wait. You take your time and think it over. Get some rest now. I’ll be back to check on you later, and the nurses will bring the baby in soon so you can feed her.”

Trish lay back against the pillows and let her eyes drift shut. The image that came to mind wasn’t of her baby, but of the cowboy who’d delivered her.

“Hardy,” she murmured on a sigh. A strong man
with a gentle touch. She could still feel the caress of his work-roughened hands as he’d helped her in one of the most terrifying, extraordinary, wondrous moments of her life. No matter what happened in all the years that stretched ahead, she would never forget him, never forget the miracle they’d shared.

“Hey, Hardy, I hear you’re a gen-u-ine hero,” one of the men taunted at the bunkhouse the next morning. Hardy grimaced and concentrated on spooning his oatmeal into his mouth.

“Yes, indeed, our boy has delivered himself a baby girl by the side of the road,” another man said. “Is that some new technique of courting that I missed? No wonder I’m still crawling into a cold bed all alone at night.”

“Oh, go to blazes,” Hardy snapped, sensing that there was no let-up to the teasing in sight. He grabbed his coat off the back of the chair and stormed out of the bunkhouse.

It had been like this ever since the word of his good deed had spread at dawn. He’d barely crawled into his bed, when it had been time to crawl out again. Lack of sleep had left him testy. By the time everyone had come back in from their chores for breakfast, he’d been the nonstop subject of their good-natured taunts. Even the untalkative Sweeney had thrown out a sly comment while he’d dished up the oatmeal.

Outside, Hardy drew in a deep breath and tried to clear his lungs of the smoke that permeated the dining room.

“Hardy, could I have a word with you?” Cody Adams called out, poking his head out the door of his office and beckoning for Hardy to come inside.

Hardy walked over and followed his boss into the cluttered office, wondering what his boss wanted to discuss. For the last year or so Cody had let his son, Harlan Patrick, deal with the hands more often than not. Cody ran the business side of things, analyzing the market for beef on his computer, determining the best time to take the cattle to market, tracking down the best new bulls for breeding. Harlan Patrick knew the land and the herd. He knew which men he could rely on and which were capable, but lacked initiative. He and his father had arrived at a division of labor that suited them.

“Congratulations! I hear you delivered a baby girl last night,” Cody said, proving right off that the conversation had nothing to do with ranch business. “Did a right fine job of it from what Lizzy tells us.”

“Lizzy had no business blabbing,” he grumbled. “I just did what had to be done. Dropped mother and child off at the hospital, and that was the end of it.”

“I’m sure that’s how you see it, but the new mama’s mighty grateful. Lizzy phoned a little while ago and said she’d like you to come see her. If you’d like, take the morning off and drive on over to the hospital.”

The very idea of seeing the woman again panicked him. He’d felt too much while he was delivering that baby—powerful, unfamiliar emotions that his bachelor’s instincts for self-preservation recog
nized as way too risky. “I can’t ask the men to take on my chores,” he hedged, grasping at straws. “We’re short, anyway, because a couple of the men aren’t back from their holiday break.”

“I’ll pitch in,” Cody said. “I still have a rough idea of how things work around here. Go on. Let the lady deliver her thanks in person. Get another look at that baby. Wouldn’t mind getting a peek at her myself. Did you ever hear how my brother Luke delivered Jessie’s baby, when she turned up on his doorstep in the middle of a blizzard?”

Oh, he’d heard it, all right. It was the stuff of Adams legends. Every man on the ranch had heard that story. He also knew how it had ended, with Luke and Jessie married. That ending was warning enough to him. He wasn’t about to risk such an outcome by spending a minute more than necessary with the woman whose baby he’d delivered. He ran a finger around his collar, as if he could already feel the marital noose tightening around his neck.

“I’ve heard,” he said tightly.

Cody chuckled at his reaction. “I suppose a bachelor like you would find that scary, seeing how they ended up married. Well, you go on over to the hospital just the same. Take your time. With so little sleep, you won’t be much use around here, anyway. Besides, you deserve a break after what you went through last night.”

No, what he deserved was to have his head examined, he thought as he reluctantly climbed into his truck and headed toward Garden City. He was asking for trouble. He could feel it in his bones.

As if the reaction at the ranch wasn’t bad enough, he was greeted like a hero by the staff in the emergency room, too. The response made him queasy, especially since he’d dated quite a few of the admiring women in there at one time or another. Thanks to that paperwork he’d filled out, he figured half of them were speculating on just how close he was to the new mother. The other half were probably hoping this would make him more susceptible to the idea of marriage. He couldn’t get out of the reception area fast enough.

Rather than going to the mother’s room, though, he detoured to the nursery. An infant—female or not—was a whole lot less risk than a beautiful mama.

That’s where Lizzy Adams found him, peering in at that tiny, incredible little human he’d brought into the world the night before.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” she said, standing beside him to look through the glass. “I never get over it. One minute there’s this anonymous little being inside the mother’s body, and the next he or she is out here in the real world with a whole lifetime spread out before them. It surely is a miracle.”

Hardy nodded, wishing he’d managed an escape before getting caught. “Yes, ma’am, it surely is.”

“Are you here to see Trish? She’s been asking for you. To tell you the truth, grateful as she is about your help last night, she’s mad as spit that you agreed to pay her hospital bill. I thought I ought to warn you.”

“I only agreed because that barracuda of a nurse panicked over the paperwork,” he said defensively.

“Whatever. I’m sure the two of you will work it out.”

“Maybe I’ll wait to go see her, though,” he said, seizing the excuse. “She’s got a right sharp tongue when she’s riled up. I wouldn’t want to upset her.”

Lizzy grinned at him. “Want to hold the baby first?”

Hardy was tempted, more tempted than he’d ever been by anything other than a grown-up and willing female. That was warning enough to have him shaking his head.