Rancher's Baby. Anne Marie Winston
some rest,” she said, and in her voice he heard the first note of compassion he’d noticed yet. He tried to take her hand, but she placed herself out of reach in a too-casual movement that briefly infuriated him.
“I will,” he said, “and later we’re going to talk.”
She didn’t answer, just slipped from the room and left him alone.
Tye closed his eyes and drifted, finally sleeping for a while. At one point, Angel came in and roused him briefly, checking his pupils and then leaving him to sleep some more.
Sometime later, he awoke again. He started to lever himself upright, but a sharp wave of pain in his hand left him gasping for a moment. When his disorientation had subsided, he remembered where he was—and why. With interest, he looked around the room. For all he knew, Dulcie could have decorated this.
The room was sparsely but attractively furnished, with a large, double-door wardrobe and a comfort-able-looking chair made of pine the only furnishings other than the bed and adjacent table. A tall cactus in a ceramic pot stood in one corner, and painted deerskin pillows were piled on both the bed and the chair. On the bedside table was a stocky candle in a copper holder, and near it was a round clock face set into the carved shape of a buffalo. The clock read 5:12, so he figured he’d been resting for about two and a half hours.
His stomach growled loudly. Dinnertime would be soon and he realized he’d missed lunch completely. He’d probably been in X ray through the noon hour, though he hadn’t been aware of it at the time.
Thinking of the hospital reminded him of his physical state. He raised his hand and inspected the broken finger. Other than looking like a purple hot dog, it was fine. At least it didn’t hurt as much anymore. If he didn’t try to use it for anything.
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