Cowboy Daddy

“If that were my child—” he repeated and stepped back “—I’m not sure I could forgive you for not telling me. Ask DJ about that.”

Turning on his heel, Wyatt left her without another word. Her heart sank. She knew DJ had struggled to deal with his anger toward Tammie for not telling him about Tyler. But this was different—she had tried to tell Lane. She had. Really.

Weariness wrapped around her. Who was she trying to convince? Damn. She really hated it when Wyatt was right.

* * *

LANE DROVE INTO the yard at his work, the Hawkins Ranch, pulling into his usual parking spot. He climbed out, looked around. He’d expected a half-dozen cowboys to be in the barn, but the place was surprisingly empty for the middle of the afternoon. Even the horses were out and about. He could see Dancer and Prism in the near pasture, bouncing in the grasses, playing and showing off for the fillies. Lady was pointedly ignoring the male posturing.

Wyatt Hawkins’s big ranch house looked just as quiet. Lane headed up the walk, noting again the lack of noise. What the hell was going on? Where was everyone? Had something happened? He’d left Wyatt a message earlier to tell him that he’d be late for work today. Dad had been worse than usual this morning, so there’d been no leaving him.

Finally, Lane saw movement on the horizon. A dust cloud rose as someone headed this way. He turned back, greeting the truck as it turned into the drive. The ranch foreman, Chet, with his wife Juanita in the passenger seat. Where had they gone to in the middle of the day?

“Where is everyone?” Lane asked as the older man climbed out, walking around the battered Chevy to help his diminutive wife hop down from the high seat.

Lane saw a look pass between them—not a good sign. “What happened?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing bad.” Juanita took several long seconds smoothing her faded jeans. Lifting her head, she looked at her husband, then back at Lane. “We go to Dallas for that boy’s birthday party, and end up at the hospital. Thank God, it was for a good reason this time.”

Ah, yes. Tyler Easton’s birthday party. Lane vaguely recalled declining the invitation. “How is a hospital a good reason?” Something about all this felt weird. Very weird.

Juanita laughed. “A baby, silly man.”

“Baby? Whose baby?”

Chet chuckled. “Not ours,” he teased his wife, shaking his head as he closed the truck door and reached in the bed of the truck for the bags of groceries. He handed two to Lane. The heaviest ones, Lane noticed.

“Oh, hush, old man,” Juanita said. “Let’s get these inside before everything defrosts.”

Carrying the groceries behind the older couple, Lane patiently waited. Neither one of them spoke, acting as if he’d never asked a question. What was the big mystery? He recalled Juanita’s earlier words.

“So, who had a baby?” Curious, Lane finally asked again. He could tell Juanita was bursting with the news.

She and her husband looked at each other again. Juanita grinned. “Amanda had her baby today. She’s a bit early, but not too much.” Juanita’s excitement overwhelmed her concerns. “We’re gonna have another little one to spoil around here.” She started unpacking bags. “You pay attention, young man. Start thinking about your own family. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

Juanita never ceased to give advice to the hands around the ranch, playing matchmaker and pseudo-mother on a regular basis. Normally, Lane could ignore her. Today, not so much.

“Amanda Hawkins? Mandy?” he asked.

“You know any other Amandas around here?” Juanita opened the refrigerator to put the milk away.

Amanda? His Amanda? Mandy and baby—they’d used those two words in the same sentence. His brain couldn’t wrap around that concept. Last time he’d seen her...she’d been far from pregnant...in the pickup cab...in the pouring rain.

Without much prompting, his brain did some quick, very disturbing math. She’d come back to town that night, for some mysterious reason, according to Trina. She’d never said what. A bit more simple division and multiplication had his heart racing. That night after her mother died. When they’d found themselves alone...here...

Two grocery bags hit the tile floor. He cursed and stalked to the door. He was halfway to his truck before he turned to yell back at the house, “Which hospital?” Dallas had a few.

Chet appeared in the doorway, frowning. “Dallas General. Why?”

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_5ab59fbe-537d-591a-8383-09359f337bac)

FIVE LONG HOURS on the road nearly derailed Lane’s sanity. He called everyone he had a number for but had only managed to reach voice mail. He left a dozen messages. By the time he hit the outskirts of Dallas, his phone was dead. Which meant that instead of knowing what was happening, his imagination was running wild.

Twice, he’d nearly turned around. This wasn’t his problem. If Amanda had wanted him there she’d have told him, right? But the weight of responsibility kept him driving. Finally, Dallas General loomed on the horizon like a huge bird of prey. He swallowed his apprehension as he parked his truck in visitor parking.

His anger had dissipated, only to be replaced by disappointment and fear. Why hadn’t she told him?

All those what-ifs followed him through the sliding glass doors and halfway down the hall. What if she wouldn’t see him? What if it really wasn’t his kid? What if...?

Stepping off the elevator moments later, Lane came face to face with a giant grinning rabbit plastered to the wall. One huge ear pointed to his left and had the word nursery printed on the pink interior of the floppy ear. The other ear, bent just a bit, pointed the other direction, with room numbers on it. He stood there for a long moment, not sure which ear to follow. Not sure who he wanted to see first.

Who he should see first?

Mandy’s face popped into his mind, and while he wasn’t sure of the reception he’d receive, he headed toward the patient rooms. Surely he could find her.

He’d gone up and down the hallway twice before a nurse stopped him. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah. Uh—” He wasn’t a relative or Mandy’s husband—that notion gave him pause. From all the times he’d taken his dad to the hospital, he knew he wouldn’t get details if he wasn’t. But he didn’t want details, not from the nurse anyway. “Amanda Hawkins?”

“Oh...” The fact that the nurse briefly looked away sent Lane’s stomach shooting to his knees. She recovered quickly, though. “She’s been moved upstairs. Her family is in the waiting room, just down the hall, if you’d like to join them.”

Upstairs? What was upstairs? Without another word, his heart slamming in his chest, Lane stalked toward the doorway the nurse had indicated.

He didn’t see anyone at first, then a movement in the corner caught his eye and he realized the room went around a bend. He recognized Mandy’s sister, Addie, standing at a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.

Wyatt, his boss, was sprawled on a dark faux-leather couch, one big hand rubbing his eyes. Neither of them had seen him, and Lane held back.

More movement, more people. DJ was in another chair, staring out the window, as well. Silent. Pensive. Tara sat beside him, her head on his shoulder. The final brother, Jason, sat farther down, his head bowed, staring at the soft gray carpet.

The pain-filled, worry-soaked silence slammed into Lane. He mentally cursed. How bad was it? All the brothers and sisters were here. He did not want to step into that lion’s den. As an only child, he had no clue how to deal with siblings and he was pretty sure they wouldn’t understand why he was here.

If Wyatt had any idea, Lane was pretty sure he’d have heard about it by now.

“She can’t go home alone, you know that, right?” Addie blurted out, causing everyone to turn and look at her, including Lane.

“You going to tell her that?” Jason asked.

Addie sighed. “The doctor said it could be weeks before she’s back to full strength. She can’t take care of the baby alone. We have to come up with a plan.”

Tara actually laughed. “And that worked so well when we tried to stop DJ from going to find Tammie.” Everyone laughed, including DJ.

“That was different.” Addie turned back to the windows, her back straight and angry.

“How?” DJ stood, pacing slowly, rubbing his stiffened, injured legs, a habit Lane was sure he didn’t even realize he had. “This is still you trying to run the show, Ad.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.” Wyatt stood and put his hands on Addie’s shoulders. “But this time, I agree.” Wyatt glanced back at the others, and in the process, his gaze found Lane. Their eyes met. No longer able to hold back, Lane stepped into the room.