surge of reassurance. And something more.
Once upon a time—four and a half years ago—she’d held CJ like this, and she’d made the vows she found were forming again in her heart right now. She’d loved CJ’s daddy so much. Cal had taught her what loving could be, and she’d pass that loving on to CJ.
And even though Cal no longer came into it—even though Cal was no part of her life and had nothing to do with this baby—she found herself voicing those same vows. She’d protect this baby, come what may.
What mother could have left him here? she wondered. How much trouble must a woman be suffering to drag herself away from her newborn child?
She thought of how distressed she’d been when CJ had been born—how much she’d longed for Cal and how impossible it had seemed that she raise her son without him. But the bond to her tiny scrap of a son had been unbreakable, regardless.
He’d been her link to Cal.
She’d thought of Cal so much as her son had been born, and suddenly, achingly, she thought of him now.
But it was crazy. She couldn’t think of Cal. Neither could she think about the coach growing further away by the minute. Her ticket out of here—away from Cal for ever—was gone.
She needed to find help.
‘Come on, CJ. There must be someone still around.’ She cradled the baby with one hand, took CJ’s hand with the other and went to find out.
The rodeo had been held in a natural arena where a ring of hills formed a natural showground. There was scrub and bushland on the hills but the rodeo ground was a huge, dusty area that now looked barren and deserted.
But not everyone had gone. As Gina and CJ crossed the parking lot back into the rodeo grounds, they found one solitary person—an elderly, native Australian. Gina had seen him before, working on the sidelines during the rodeo. Was he some sort of ground manager? He must be. He was staring around at the piles of litter and scratching his head in disgust. As he saw Gina and CJ, he shoved back his hat and smiled, obviously pleased to be distracted from the mess.
‘G’day. Come to help me clean up?’
‘We’ve found a baby,’ Gina told him.
He stared. His smile faded.
‘Um…say again?’
‘Someone has abandoned a baby in the bush. I have him here.’ She motioned to the bulge beneath her stained T-shirt. ‘We need medical help. Fast.’
‘You’ll be kidding me.’
‘I’m not joking.’ She outlined what had happened and the man’s jaw dropped almost to his ankles.
‘You’re saying some woman just dropped her bundle behind the rocks—and left it for dead?’
‘She may have thought he was dead already,’ Gina told him. ‘I had trouble getting him to breathe.’
The man cast an uneasy glance at the bulge under her shirt. He took a step back, as if maybe he was facing a lunatic. ‘So he’s under there? A baby.’
‘He’s under there. Can you take us to the nearest hospital?’
The man stared at her for a moment longer, took another step backward and then motioned uncertainly to an ancient truck parked nearby.
‘There’s no other way of getting out of here than that. How did you get here?’
‘Coach.’
‘The coach has left.’
‘Yes,’ Gina said, trying to hold her impatience in check. ‘Will you take us to the hospital? We need help.’
‘Nearest clinic’s at Gunyamurra, twenty miles from here,’ he told her, still really doubtful. ‘But there’s no one there now. The Wetherbys and the Gunnings—the two families that live near there and the workers on their stations—they were all here today so there won’t be a clinic operating. Maybe you need a doctor.’
‘Yes, please.’ To tell him she was a doctor herself would only confuse matters.
He cast another glance at her bulge. His mouth tightened as if he was becoming sure of his lunatic theory.
‘How can I contact medical help?’ she snapped, and he blinked.
‘We had the Remote Rescue Service on call during the rodeo,’ he told her, totally bemused. ‘They flew Joseph Long out with a broken leg an hour or so back. That was near the end with only the novelty events left, so they didn’t come back. Word is that they’re short a couple of doctors back at base.’
‘I need a doctor now,’ Gina told him. She was still holding CJ’s hand tight and using her other hand to cradle the baby. But the baby didn’t seem to be moving. He was so limp.
He couldn’t die. He mustn’t.
‘I s’pose I could call them back.’ There was another doubtful look at her bloodstained T-shirt—a look that said he accepted there was blood and maybe there had been a baby but he wasn’t too sure that he mightn’t be dealing with an axe murderer. ‘You sure it really is a baby? A live baby?’
She released CJ and held up the T-shirt—just for a moment, just so he could see.
They all looked at the bulge.
At the windcheater-wrapped baby.
He was surely real. He was surely a baby. He was incredibly tiny—more, he was incredibly beautiful. His crumpled little face was now becoming the flushed crimson of most newborns. His eyes were wide, dazed and unfocussed.
And he moved. It was a slight movement, but he definitely moved. He whimpered a little and a hand—a hand the size of a man’s fingernail—broke free from his makeshift blanket.
Gina didn’t say anything. She tucked the little hand back into the warmth of her windcheater, and she waited for this man to make his decision. She needed his help so much.
And it seemed that she had it. The man stared down and his face twisted into an expression she could scarcely read,
‘Will you look at that?’ he whispered. ‘He’s just like mine were at that age.’ He stared down at the baby for a moment longer and then he looked up at Gina. His old eyes met hers and held.
‘You really found him?’
‘We found him. We’re tourists on the coach but we found him just as the coach was leaving. I’ve been trying to get him to breathe. So far, so good, but if he’s to live we need your help. We need outside help. Fast.’
‘I’m moving,’ he told her, and he turned and started to stride swiftly across the dusty arena to his truck.
He took three long strides—and then he started to run.
‘Mommy,’ CJ said, in the tone of a patient man whose patience was being tested to the limit.
‘Yes?’
