The Cowboy And The Baby. Marie Ferrarella

       Prologue

      Cody McCullough didn’t like being late.

      Ever.

      It was a work ethic his big brother Connor had instilled in all of them. Connor had insisted on it that first time he had gathered them all together to tell them that, despite the recent death of their father, they were still going to be a family, still go on living under one roof. Connor had just turned eighteen at the time. That ultimately meant that, as the oldest, Connor was willing to give up his dreams of going away to college in order to become their guardian.

      There was no one else to turn to and, besides, Connor had never been one to believe in buck-passing.

      Taking care of three younger siblings and a modest cattle ranch was a hell of a responsibility to take on for an eighteen-year-old, so the rest of them—Cody, Cole and Cassidy—figured that the least they could do was not give Connor a hard time about anything, including the rules he saw fit to set down and enforce.

      Connor’s Code, they had all come to agree, was there for their own good. If they were to survive in a world that could—all too easily—be rough and cruel, they had to pull together.

      And in exchange for not giving Connor any grief, their older brother returned the favor. He backed them whenever he could and never made them feel as if they were victims of a cold fate. He taught them that they were the masters of their own destinies. They just had to fight a little harder to forge them.

      Even so, when Cody had decided to do something different with his life—change his career path to become a deputy—he was certain that Connor would voice his objections, or at least display a degree of displeasure with his choice.

      Instead, Connor had heard him out when he made his case. At the end, he had nodded, saying, “If that’s what you want to do, do it. You change your mind, the ranch is always going to be here for you. But if you’re going to be a deputy, I want you to be the best damn deputy you can be. I don’t want to hear anyone telling me that the sheriff regrets the day he took you on as Alma’s replacement.”

      And Cody had promised to give the job nothing less than his best—which had turned out to be a challenge.

      Alma Rodriguez Tyler might have been a small woman, as well as the first female deputy that Forever, Texas, had ever had, but Cody would have been the first one to say that she had left some pretty big boots to fill.

      Even so, he had taken to the job like the proverbial duck to water. Cody discovered that he really loved it. Loved putting on the uniform, the badge. Loved being a deputy the way he hadn’t ever really loved being a rancher.

      The only part of ranching that was near and dear to his heart was the horses. He loved riding, loved becoming one with the animal beneath him. While his other siblings gradually shifted over to getting around in the family truck or the second-hand Jeep they had all chipped in to buy, Cody loved riding. He had ever since he’d been a toddler and his late father, Josh, had picked him up and put him on the back of his first horse, a sleepy-eyed old mare named Libby.

      Still, like any young man of twenty-five, Cody had given in to conformity and saved up to buy his own Jeep in the interest of the image he knew he had to project as one of Sheriff Rick Santiago’s deputies.

      Not that there was all that much for the sheriff’s department to do. It wasn’t as if Forever, population of a little over five hundred people these days, was exactly a hotbed of either criminal activity or underhanded dealings. There was the occasional argument that escalated to trading blows, and of course there was Miss Elizabeth, an eighty-nine-year-old widow who, from time to time, would be found wandering the streets of Forever, sleepwalking in her nightgown.

      For the most part, theirs was a quiet little town. He and the two deputies, Joe Lone Wolf and Gabe Rodriguez, were seen more as friends than as lawmen.

      But a man’s word was his bond and Cody believed in being at his desk at the beginning of each workday because he was supposed to, not because he was waiting for some minor crime wave to break out so he could jump into action.

      As fate would have it, his spirit might have been more than willing to arrive on time, but his Jeep’s was not. For some reason, the vehicle had simply refused to turn over when he put his key in the ignition, despite the fact that the town’s sole mechanic—thought to be a veritable wizard when it came to machinery—had overhauled it and pronounced it good as new.

      Cody knew everything there was to know about horses and absolutely nothing when it came to car engines. After one more futile attempt to rouse the engine, he’d pocketed his key and thrown a saddle on Flint, a golden palomino he had raised from a colt.

      A couple of minutes later, he was headed toward Forever at a quick gallop.

      Entirely focused on not being late, Cody had almost missed seeing the beat-up pickup truck. The truck, which had definitely seen better days, was pulled over to the far side of the road. And even if he had seen it, it was in such poor condition, he would have just assumed it was abandoned.

      Cody had already ridden past it when he thought he heard a scream.

      Pulling up Flint’s reins, he paused, cocked his head and listened again.

      Nothing.

      He was just about to chalk it up to either his imagination or the summer wind, which could, at times, make a mournful sound. Cody was on the verge of lightly kicking the palomino’s flanks and resuming his journey when he heard it again.

      This time there was no doubt in his mind. What he’d heard was definitely a scream. It was loud, full-bodied and strong enough to not just make his blond hair stand on end, but to send a hard shiver down his spine, as well.

      Automatically putting his hand over his holster to assure himself that he had remembered to strap on his weapon before heading out, Cody turned his horse around and galloped right back toward the clearly not abandoned pickup truck. Excitement coursed through his body.

      Someone was in trouble.