pulling his camper behind his pickup. Now he had nothing to live for, not really. Injured, he couldn’t ride, and if he couldn’t ride, he couldn’t win. Injured, he was nothing, his standings slipping with every rodeo he missed.
He’d retreated to his family’s ranch to recuperate and lick his wounds. Luckily, due to Slim George, the ranch foreman who’d been in charge since Theo’d been a small boy, the place ran smoothly.
Which was great, since Theo wouldn’t have been much help. After his head injury had left him unconscious—they’d used the word coma—for weeks, he’d had a long, slow recuperation. Not just his head, but he’d come within a hair of being paralyzed and the discs in his back were fragile enough that he’d have to be careful the rest of his life.
The doctors had said he’d never ride again, never mind compete. He’d told them all to go to hell and checked himself out of the hospital in Cheyenne as soon as he could, despite his broken ribs and bum knee. Flint had picked him up, sharing some grim news. One of Theo’s competitors, a cowboy named Hal Diggins who’d had a cold streak for several months, had injected the bronc with some kind of amphetamine to make it go crazy. Hal had been arrested, and, despite Theo’s protests, Flint had moved back to Dead River to help take care of Theo while he recuperated. Later, Theo had learned Flint had wanted to get out of Cheyenne and heal his own wounds. Despite Theo asking, Flint refused to elaborate on what they might be.
A good and honest cop, Flint had quickly risen through the ranks in the small Dead River Police Department, becoming chief of police and replacing Harry Peters, who’d left to take care of his terminally ill mother in Denver.
It also helped that their sister, Gemma, was a nurse at the clinic. She’d kept Theo on the straight and narrow, made sure he did his physical therapy exercises and took his supplements.
To all outward appearances, Theo had made a full recovery. He could walk and talk, but not ride. No one knew that a huge chunk of him had gone missing, stomped in the sawdust under that last bronc’s hooves. His ribs and knee had healed, as had his concussion. But his back would forever be damaged, and he couldn’t take a chance hurting it.
Since he had no choice but to try to make the best of it, he threw himself into helping out around the ranch. Only to learn that he sure as hell wasn’t needed around here. The place ran like clockwork without him. Any time he tried to get involved in one of the operations, he pretty much just got in the way. Slim George had taken pity on Theo and asked him to take over the hiring, especially since the ranch cook had quit and they needed to find a new one as soon as possible.
Theo had done so gladly, setting up multiple interviews and planning to find a new cook within days. The instant he saw Ellie, with her innocent eyes and her sensual mouth, he’d known he’d like having her around. Hell, maybe in more ways than one.
As long as she understood he couldn’t be serious. He enjoyed women’s bodies, and dedicated himself to pleasuring them with as much zeal as he applied to the rodeo.
Women he spent time with knew up front what they were getting. A few laughs and a damn good time. They always left satisfied. No one ever got hurt, at least as far as he knew.
The situation with Mimi Rand had come as a complete shock. Theo had known she still shared intimacy with her ex-husband, Dr. Rand. She’d sought Theo out after a particularly spectacular win in Cheyenne. They’d had a couple of drinks and a night of fun.
In the morning when he’d woken, she was already gone.
He had to confess he hadn’t paid much attention to what she did after that. Instead he’d done what he always did, focus on the rodeo.
And then he’d been hurt, come home to recuperate, and bam—Mimi showed up at his door with an infant, claiming he was the father. He’d been flabbergasted, asked her point-blank how she knew and instead of answering, she’d gotten a funny look on her face and collapsed.
Leaving him with a newborn and no idea what to do.
Now she was dead. And he figured since her ex had an equal chance of being the baby’s father, Dr. Lucas Rand needed an equal opportunity to care for Amelia.
Back in his own room, Theo clicked off the light and tried to sleep. But, just as it once had the night before a big rodeo, his mind kept whirring.
Somehow he must have fallen asleep. He woke to the ringing of his phone. Judging from the wealth of sunlight streaming in from behind his window blinds, it was probably mid to late morning. He squinted, trying to read the caller ID, then gave up and answered.
“Hello,” he rasped.
“Theo, you need to call Gemma. She’s at work at the clinic. She’s been there all night, ever since Mimi Rand died.” The urgency in Flint’s low voice had Theo sitting up straight. His brother was normally the most nondramatic person he knew.
“Why? What’s going on? Is she all right?”
“Yes.” Flint exhaled. “But more people are ill. And it’s not the flu. The CDC is involved. It’s some kind of virus, a strain no one recognizes.” He started to say something more, but someone else spoke to Flint, interrupting him. “I’ve got to go,” he said to Theo. “Call Gemma. She can fill you in.”
Immediately after hanging up, Theo dialed his sister’s cell. Sounding harried and stressed, she answered, clearly keeping her voice pitched low and speaking quietly so no one else could hear.
“Is this a bad time?” he asked.
“Right now any time is a bad time. We’ve got old Mr. Thomas here, sick with the same type of thing that Mimi Rand had. His family is freaking out, worried he’s going to die. And two children just came in.” She took a deep breath. “The waiting room is packed and the phones have been ringing off the hook. People are getting paranoid. It’s bad, Theo. Really bad.”
“Flint said something about the CDC.”
“Yes. Dr. Rand is working with them right now, despite being pretty broken up about losing his ex-wife. I think he still cared for her.”
“Yeah.” Theo scratched his chin. “I need to talk to him about that. You know she claims this baby is mine.”
“So I’ve heard. Theo, everyone in town was talking about that before people started getting sick. Apparently she told more than one person.”
“I barely knew her,” he began.
Gemma cut him off. “I don’t have time right now,” she said. “You and anyone who came in contact with Mimi Rand need to get checked out. And you especially need to get that baby examined. Something like this would be deadly to an infant.”
“I will,” he said, but she’d already ended the call.
Pushing himself up out of bed, he felt a flutter of worry in his chest. But he’d never been one to look for problems before they arose. Damned if he’d start now.
Twenty minutes later, having showered and dressed, he made his way down the hall toward Ellie’s room. Halfway there, he heard the sound of the baby—Amelia, he reminded himself—wailing.
He increased his speed. Two steps in and the sound stopped. Did babies do that? Frowning, he pushed the bedroom door open, only to see Ellie gently rocking Amelia back and forth.
“Morning.”
