mutilated toothpick into a thicket of brush and started to undo the tarp. A small mewing sound of distress made him pause. A kitten? What would a kitten be doing way out here? He looked around, hoping he hadn’t hit some animal when he pulled in.
Nothing moved anywhere nearby. Cade cocked his head, listening closely. The sound seemed to be coming from inside the bed of his truck.
He hurriedly unlashed the tarp and started pulling it back. Blood stained the nearest sack. Some poor little critter had obviously hurt itself and climbed in the back of his truck to nurse its wounds. And from the trail of bloodstains, the wound was probably going to prove fatal on a small animal. With a new sense of urgency, he yanked back the tarp, snagging it on something. Cade barely noticed.
There was no kitten in the back of his truck. Instead, shock held him still when he revealed a woman’s dainty foot, half in and half out of a small, badly scuffed loafer. A length of shapely leg was also revealed due to a rucked-up pant leg. Several nasty scratches ran along that leg, but nothing serious enough to account for the blood on the feed sacks. He ignored the pounding of his heart, unhooked the snagged tarp and stripped it all the way back.
The body and the face that went with the leg were definitely worth a second look. But from the blood that had soaked one side of her sheer blouse, the woman could be dead already.
For a moment, cold panic swept him. Clutched protectively against her chest was a tiny infant, its red face screwed up in distress. Its tragic cries sounded a bit like a kitten in distress.
He reached over the woman to lift the infant. Cade had never in his life held a live human baby this small, though he’d helped bring plenty of animals into the world. This little guy couldn’t be more than a couple of days old at most, he guessed. He checked it over quickly, looking for the source of the blood. There was no outward sign of injury and based on the amount of blood, there would have been. The blood must have come from the mother.
Cade swore under his breath. The woman never moved.
Instantly, his mind pictured the jerk outside the feed store. The man had said he was worried about his wife. Cradling the crying infant in one arm, he studied the woman. More of a girl, really, with a long spill of blond hair that partly covered her face. She didn’t move. With a sense of fatality, he reached out to feel for a pulse.
She had one! A fairly steady one at that. She was still very much alive.
One hand holding the baby, he gently, carefully, rolled the woman on her back to look for the source of the blood. Under her blouse something bulky lay against her shoulder. He worked the top two buttons of her blouse free and pulled out one of the baby’s disposable diapers.
“I’m afraid she may do something foolish and hurt herself,” the man had said. But Cade knew a bullet wound when he saw one. The bullet had chewed a path right across the top of her shoulder, tearing away the material of her blouse.
He couldn’t think of a single person who’d ever tried to commit suicide by shooting himself there. He examined the ugly raw wound. Unless he missed his guess, she’d been shot from the back, not the front.
Even if he was mistaken, an accidental shooting victim wouldn’t climb in the back of a stranger’s truck to hide. The bastard had shot her!
Cade growled, torn by conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he could understand all too well the anger a woman could raise in a man. On the other, there was no valid excuse for violence against a woman. Especially one who had to be half the bastard’s size—and age, judging by appearances. How could the bastard shoot her when there was an innocent little baby involved?
Cade muttered a curse. The last thing he wanted was to become embroiled in someone’s domestic problems. The woman had left him no choice. He’d become involved the moment she’d climbed into the back of his pickup truck and sought refuge.
He’d lose hours turning the truck around and taking her back to Darwin Crossing. Besides, it was a trip she might or might not survive, given her condition. When he thought of the jolting ride she must have endured back here under the hot tarp, he winced. No wonder she was unconscious.
The blood had stopped flowing, but she definitely needed medical attention. Only, the nearest doctor was almost an hour away. No doubt her jerk husband had discovered the doctor’s location as well. He’d probably be there waiting for her to show up.
The baby began to wail in earnest. A movement in the truck drew his gaze back to the woman. Even unconscious, she reached blindly for her child. Something inside Cade loosened at that sign of protective love.
A small bottle lay beside her. She’d obviously been trying to feed the tyke before she passed out. He frowned over the fact that she wasn’t nursing, but maybe she couldn’t. It probably wasn’t safe for her to do so with that bastard coming after her.
He reached for the bottle and stuck the nipple in the little guy’s mouth. Greedily, the baby began to suckle. Dark-blue eyes opened and gazed up at him with such trust that Cade knew he was lost. A child needed its mother. He knew that better than most.
And in this case, the mother needed a protector. Looking at the tiny infant he knew he’d just been elected. There was no way he was driving them back into harm’s way until he knew what the situation really was.
Since she was breathing okay on her own, and not bleeding anymore, he decided to deal with the infant first. The crying had been more than he could stand. He wanted to make absolutely sure the baby wasn’t hurt.
His medical skills were limited, but any good rancher knew enough first aid to deal with emergencies. What Cade didn’t know was what to do with a human infant. Give him a cow or a horse or even some poor kitten—no problem. But God help him, he’d never even contemplated changing a diaper before. Yet the kid was soaked. It couldn’t be good for the little guy. Holding the baby and bottle awkwardly in one hand, he reached for a large, soft bag that had become jammed between the cab of the truck and some sort of baby carrier.
The yellow-and-green bag hadn’t been there when he first began loading the truck so he guessed it was hers. There were blood smears on it, as well. No doubt he’d need both the contents of the bag and the carrier that doubled as a seat.
The dark, dusty interior of the unpainted building was less than welcoming. Cade frowned. It was a line shack, for crying out loud. There was one window and one door. This was a place where a couple of men could throw down their gear and sack out on the bunk beds, protected from inclement weather. He took mental inventory. It housed a cookstove, a few dishes, some implements, the bunk beds, a wobbly table and four chairs. There was a lean-to out back with a couple of stalls for horses and some oil lanterns for light. And thankfully, a pump to provide water. Beyond that, there were no amenities.
Well, it was what it was. The shack would do until he could determine how badly she was hurt.
Awkwardly, he set down the carrier and placed the baby inside. The minute he removed the nipple, the infant screwed up its face and began to wail.
“Okay, look. Just hold on for a minute. I’ve got to see to your mother. You can finish eating in a second.”
The baby was in no mood to be placated by mere words. He was hungry and he was letting Cade know it. He howled at the top of his tiny lungs.
“Certainly can’t be anything seriously wrong with you if you can scream like that.” Cade wasted a few minutes grabbing his kit from the front seat of the truck and spreading his sleeping bag over the
