the baby was wet and probably hungry.
A large green-and-yellow bag sat on the seat beside the infant. She needed two hands to unzip the bag. That caused blood to flow alarmingly down her arm. She bit down on her lip again to keep from crying out and forced her attention to the bag. Inside was everything a new mother might need. A package of six, already prepared bottles, a can of extra formula, a box of newborn diapers, even a couple of tiny outfits.
Jayne didn’t bother investigating the entire contents. It was enough to know she had the basics. Carefully, she pried her blouse away from her injured shoulder so she could inspect her injury. Blood flowed freely from an ugly raw wound that made her sick to look at. The bullet had torn away flesh as it skimmed across the top of her shoulder. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was bone she glimpsed.
She tried not to be ill. “It’s okay baby. The blood’s not pumping or spurting like it would if the bullet had struck an artery.” The brave words were of little consolation to her or the child. She was bleeding badly enough to be thoroughly frightened.
Using one of the diapers as a makeshift bandage, she covered the wound as best she could, applying pressure for a few minutes in an effort to slow the bleeding. But she couldn’t just stand out here exposed. The baby-nappers would be searching for her. She needed to put distance between her and the silver car.
Pulling the car seat out was pure agony. She was tempted to leave the heavy plastic seat, but it would offer the baby some protection when she had to set the infant down so she could rest. Heck, she already felt woozy and who knew how far she would have to walk before she found help.
She finally got the baby and the car seat out of the car and removed the diaper bag. It struck her then, that it might be a good idea to hide the flame-red car as well. The color stood out like a beacon which would make it easy for the silver car’s driver to spot.
She walked around to peer over the edge of the road. The drainage ditch was deep. Not deep enough to hide the car, but maybe deep enough that it wouldn’t be noticed right away. After all, it would be dark in a few hours.
“Worth a shot,” she muttered aloud.
There was enough gas left to get the engine started one more time. She put the car in neutral and aimed the tires at the ditch. A hard shove against the trunk was all that was required. The engine sputtered and died, but the car rolled far enough to slip over the edge. It made a satisfying crash as it tumbled down and flipped on its side.
The baby had begun crying in earnest. Jayne fought against adding her own cries. “I know you need to be changed and fed, but it’s going to have to wait, okay? We’re too exposed here.”
She lifted the diaper bag, surprised by the weight. No way could she carry this on her wounded shoulder, but what choice did she have? She slipped the strap over her head so it would rest on her good shoulder and run across her chest. She bit back a moan when she moved her left arm to get it through the strap, but she managed. Then she lifted the carrier and set off down the road.
Every few yards she had to stop and rest. She was starting to think having the man in the silver car find her was preferable to this form of slow torture when she came across a side road that was slightly wider and better paved. Praying it led somewhere, she turned and started following the road.
Each step jarred her shoulder until all she could do was concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Jayne prayed for someone to find her because she wasn’t sure how much farther she could go.
At some point, the infant stopped crying. She wanted to check on the baby, but was afraid to stop moving for fear she wouldn’t be able to start again. She felt weak and sick to her stomach. Sweat beaded her forehead.
A sound up ahead made her lift her head. Her heart began racing. A gas station sign loomed like a beacon. A town! With renewed energy, she kept moving. Several small buildings squatted on the edge of the road leading into a small town. A combination feed-and-general store sat right beside the gas station. That meant people and telephones.
“We’re going to make it, baby. Just hang on a little longer.”
The baby didn’t make a sound.
Jayne stumbled toward the nearest building which was the gas station. But as she drew close enough to call out, fear paralyzed her vocal cords. A car sat near one of the pumps. A silver car. The same silver car that had chased her from the shopping center.
Jayne came to a stop, swaying in the late-afternoon sun. Beside the car was a public phone. A man speaking into the instrument stood with his back to her.
There was nowhere to run, even if she had been capable of such a feat. A few yards away, a good-looking man was loading supplies into the back of a battered black pickup truck. Tall and lean, the rugged-looking cowboy lifted the heavy feed bags and slung them into the truck as if they weighed nothing at all. He shoved back the hat that sat low on his head and a lock of dark hair fell over his forehead.
She was tempted to call out to him, but fear kept her silent. The odds were too high that the man from the silver car would kill them both and then take off with the baby.
Without once looking in her direction, the cowboy pulled the tarp down over the last bag of feed. He didn’t secure the load. Instead, he wheeled the long cart back inside the feed store.
Jayne called on the last bit of her strength. She skirted the gas station and headed for the pickup truck. Setting down the baby carrier, she tore the diaper bag over her head and thrust it into the bed of the truck as far back as she could manage. Ignoring the screaming pain that traveled up her neck and down her arm, as well as the fresh blood trickling past the makeshift bandage, she lifted the baby from the car seat and set her on a bag of feed. Awkwardly, she tossed the carrier under the tarp. The baby immediately awakened and began to whimper.
“Shh. Don’t cry, baby. Not now.”
Jayne climbed painfully into the back of the pickup truck. Every second she expected to hear a shout or feel a bullet in her back.
She pushed the carrier and the baby bag farther under the tarp toward the cab of the truck. Grabbing the crying infant, she slithered beneath the tarp with the child.
The truck bed was close to full, but she managed to make a place for herself and the baby up near the cab between two heavy bags of feed. If the man got off the phone and started in this direction, the crying would draw attention. Frantically, she opened the baby bag and withdrew a bottle of formula. Terrified they would be discovered at any moment, it seemed to take forever before she got the bottle ready and into the infant’s wailing mouth.
The baby immediately stopped crying and began to suck avidly. Jayne sank back, totally drained, the infant cradled against her bad side.
Moments later, a man’s low curse choked her with dread. The truck’s owner threw back the edge of the tarp.
Her terror escalated as she waited for him to discover her. But instead, he continued cursing as he pitched several more items inside and drew the tarp back down.
“Afternoon,” another man’s voice called out near her head.
The cowboy grunted and began tying off his tarp.
“I was wondering if you’ve seen a woman and a baby in a red sedan,” the voice asked.
The man from the silver car was practically next to the
