Bethany heard a whimper coming from inside the wicker basket.
To her utter amazement, a small pink fist flailed in the air. The whimper swelled to a cry, and when Bethany bent over to look, she saw a tiny baby wrapped in a print blanket.
It was crying, its face screwed up and its legs kicking emphatically under the blanket. Bethany dissolved into total bewilderment, half thinking this must be some practical joke, yet knowing in her heart that it couldnât be.
Bethany reached down and unpinned an envelope from the babyâs blanket. The outside of the envelope was blank, so she opened it and unfolded the note inside.
COLT, it said in printed block letters. PLEASE TAKE CARE OF ALYSSA FOR ME. IâLL BE BACK.
It seemed that her new ranch hand, Colt McClure, had some explaining to do.
COLT MCCLURE PEGGED THE gal at the Banner-B Ranch for a babe as soon as he spotted her. But it was the promise of the ice-cold beer heâd insulated and stowed in his saddlebag that made him urge his horse into a hellzapoppinâ gallop down the long curving driveway.
The hot Texas wind flung a handful of grit into the five daysâ growth of beard bristling from his face, but Colt didnât care. He didnât care about anything now except finding a place to work and a place to live. Oh, yeahâand that beer.
Instantly alert at the hammer of hoofbeats on parched earth, the gal lifted one hand to shade narrowed eyes against the orange sun sinking its way toward the horizon. The other hand rested on a neatly rounded hipbone.
He reined his horse to a stop at the edge of a patch of dry dusty grass in front of the two-story house. As he swung down from his mount, he realized that the womanâs eyes were a cool aquamarine, the shade of the sea where there was no bottom. Or at least what he thought the sea would look likeâheâd never seen the ocean. And he never wanted to after having a gander at those eyes. He could drown in them if heâd let himself.
The air shimmered with heat in the space between them. âBethany Burke?â he said.
Long golden hair fell in loose curls around her face and tumbled over her shoulders. The way she nodded her head in confirmation and the resulting ripple of that incredible hair jolted Colt with the kind of emotion he hadnât felt in a long, long time.
Or maybe it wasnât emotion. Maybe heâd been too long away from women. Well, he planned to work on that, and from the look of things, Gompers, Texas, could be the place to do it.
âIâm the mail-order cowboy,â he said into the silence.
Her skin was nut-brown from spending long hours in the sun. Her eyes startled him again with their beauty. She had a soft-looking mouth, the lips full and berry-red without the aid of makeup. It formed itself into a perfect O.
âYou wrote. You said you needed a ranch hand.â His voice was gruff and rusty with disuse. He hadnât done much talking in prison.
âI did. I do. I didnât expect you to justâarrive,â she said.
âI rode over from town. Managed to cadge a ride down from Oklahoma for both me and Buckaroo with some folks who had extra room in their horse trailer.â
She was a little thing, although well-worn boots added a couple more inches to her five-two or so, and she was clearly all woman under that plaid shirt. A manâs shirt, too big for her, but it had been washed so many times that the well-worn cotton clung tightly to her fully rounded breasts.
No bra. He reckoned he knew such things. Sheâd left the top buttons unfastened to reveal a deep cleavage, shadowy and pretty near fascinating.
She toyed nervously with the front of her shirt, then realized he was watching. Her hand fell away. A roughly callused hand, but daintily made.
âWhere do I bunk?â he said. He saw no point in wasting words. The ranch was a shambles; fences sagging, bunkhouse falling apart, who knew what else. There was work for him here.
She gestured with a thumb. âYouâllâyouâll find an apartment over the barn. I would have cleaned it out if Iâd known you were coming.â She didnât have the local accent, which had a tendency to twang like out-of-tune banjo strings.
âNo matter if itâs clean or not. Itâll do. Iâll start in the morning.â He nodded his head curtly and began to lead his horse away.