blame thing. Only, I know what to do with a rattlesnake.” He shuffled over to the couch and peered down at the screaming infant. “Whose is it?”
“For the time being, he’s mine.”
Cookie plopped down on the couch beside the crying infant and began to laugh. The sound rumbled like a passing train. “One of them lady friends of yours finally got you, didn’t she? You gave her a baby, and she gave him back to you. I knew it. I knew it. I told you that wild living would come home to roost some day, and it sure enough did. Here it is in the flesh.”
Cole was dumbstruck. “You think this is my baby?”
“Ain’t it?”
“No!”
“You sure?”
Of course he was sure. He hadn’t done any “wild living” in years. Well, months, maybe. And the few times he’d been with someone he’d been very, very careful. He and his brother Jett had long ago made a pact to remain footloose and fancy-free. They were cowboys who loved their freedom and their wide-open spaces. No women or kids could tie them down. No sirree, not the Garret brothers.
The baby’s cries had turned to shrieks. The tiny face was a wrinkled, purple mess.
“Do something, Cookie.”
“Me?” The older man shook his head, setting the blackjack sprouts aquiver. “It’s your baby.”
“What do you suppose he wants?” Side by side, the men stared down at the infant.
Cookie, who thought food was the answer to every problem, hit upon the perfect solution. “Maybe it’s hungry. You suppose there’s a bottle or something in one of them bags?”
Colt hadn’t even noticed the three bags leaning against the wall just inside the front door. He hurried to them, searching for something—anything—to make this little fella hush up. An array of plastic diapers, blankets and tiny clothes were stuffed into the bags. One by one he threw them out, scattering baby items all over the thick, brown carpet.
“Aha!” he cried. Delirious with relief, he withdrew a filled baby bottle and carried it back to the couch. The baby lay in his padded carrier thrashing his arms and squirming like the rattlesnake Cookie had likened him to. Colt pushed the bottle into the infant’s open mouth. Instantly the baby quieted.
“Just like feeding a motherless calf,” Cookie commented as the child latched on to the nipple and sucked greedily.
“This is a lot more serious than a calf, Cookie. Babies need attention all the time, not just morning and evening. We’ve got to find this baby’s mama and send him home.”
“Cute little feller, ain’t he?” Cookie stroked one fat finger along the baby’s cheek. The child turned his head toward the finger, a pair of brown eyes searching Cookie’s face. “How could any mama worth her salt dump him on a stranger’s doorstep like this?”
“According to the letter, the mother doesn’t consider me a stranger. That’s the odd part of all this. I don’t remember ever meeting any Natosha Parker, but this paper says I’m the only person she trusts to take good care of little Evan.” He looked up and grinned. “I guess his name is Evan.”
“Don’t make no sense, boss. If you don’t know her, how can she trust you?”
“I don’t know.” Thoughtfully Colt rubbed at his whiskers. “Maybe I should call the sheriff and turn the baby over to him.”
“And have him wind up in one of them homes somewhere? We can’t do that to this little feller.”
Never one to shun responsibility, Colt knew Cookie was right. The papers looked legal and in order, granting him complete and total custody of Evan Lane Parker, two-month-old son of Natosha Parker. He’d handled enough of his own stock contracts to know airtight legal work when he saw it.
“That’s the answer, Cookie.” He slapped the papers against his knee. Once more the baby jerked his hands into the air. “These are legal papers. Some lawyer drew them up for this Natosha Parker woman. I’ll call Jace Bristow and have him take a look. He can trace the mother through these papers.”
Jace Bristow had been Colt’s attorney since the two graduated from Texas A & M. He was a great attorney and an even better friend. If anyone could trace this baby’s mother, Jace could do it. Colt breathed a tentative sigh of relief.
Cookie, however, looked doubtful. “What do we do with him in the meantime?”
Colt hunkered down beside the couch, his eyes on the baby. The little critter didn’t look half so scary with his mouth closed. Fact of the business, he was downright cute sucking on that bottle with such heartrending desperation. He wasn’t bald like most babies Colt had seen. He had a smooth cap of dark hair above a round face, a tiny bit of a nose and a pair of big brown eyes that followed every move Colt made. Someone had lovingly dressed him in blue overalls, a soft red shirt and a floppy cotton sailor hat that had fallen off during his fit of crying.
Who are you, little man? And where did you come from? Colt wondered, as he stroked a finger over the velvety soft hand. Evan responded by wrapping his own tiny fingers around the much larger one. At the unexpected rush of emotion, Colt gently withdrew his hand and straightened. He was a responsible man, a decent man, but he was not daddy material. Never would be. He sure as blazes couldn’t go getting attached to somebody else’s baby. And he had a real bad feeling that would be mighty easy to do.
“I’ve got a ranch to run. You’ll have to look out for him.”
“I didn’t hire on to take care of no babies,” Cookie protested. “I feel sorry for the little feller, but I’ll quit if you try to turn me into a nursemaid.”
“Come on, Cookie, you spent twenty years in the navy. Surely, you can handle a baby for a few days.”
“Weren’t no babies in the navy. I got my hands full cooking and cleaning for you and that bunch of ranch hands. I ain’t doin’ it. You’ll have to hire a baby-sitter.”
Suddenly an unpleasant odor emanated from the couch. Colt wrinkled his nose and looked from Cookie to the straining, red-faced infant. Cookie roared like a mad bull and beat a fast retreat to the kitchen. Totally defeated, Colt stared after his cook and then down at the gurgling baby. That was the moment he knew that his life would never be the same.
“So,” he said wearily to the prospective nanny, motioning to the baby in her arms. “That’s all I know about Evan’s mother.”
He didn’t bother to tell her the rest. That live-in help was next to impossible to find because of the ranch’s isolated location in the middle of miles and miles of cattle range. Nor did he mention his less-than-stellar bachelor reputation. No use telling Miss Kati Winslow all that, or she’d up and run out the door and leave him with this unhappy baby.
“Trouble is, I don’t know what I’m doing and he senses it. He cries all the time. Never sleeps.” Colt’s shoulders sagged. “I think he hates me.”
With each word, Kati’s foolish heart lifted a few inches. He really was desperate. She just might be able to pull this off. “Have you considered turning him over to Social Services?”
Colt
