Fugitive Fiancée (12 page)

Harper sat up. “This is good.”

“It gets even better. The small-time punk they collared is playing the cooperation game in hopes of reducing his sentence. According to the cops, he's more than willing to answer any and all questions.”

“So you want me to pay him a visit?”

“I think that would be an excellent idea. The police mentioned he was out on bond. But they gave me his name. Gordon Snyder.”

Harper jotted in his notepad, then flipped it shut. “I hope Mr. Snyder can tell me exactly where he came upon Mimi's car. For his sake.”

“We're close, Harper. Very close. I can feel it.”

“Close enough to let Rupert in on the news?”

“Not yet.” Paul steepled his fingers. “I'll wait until we actually locate his daughter. Then he can't blame me if this lead doesn't pan out.”

Harper stared at him. “Are you concerned at all about your fiancée? Despite that postcard, she could possibly be the victim of a kidnapping.”

“There's been no ransom note,” Paul said, dismissing the idea with a flick of his hand. “And no sign of foul play. No, I think Mimi's just holed up somewhere.”

“You're probably right,” Harper said with a shrug. “But what if she doesn't want to be found?”

“Then I'll just have to find a way to flush her out.”

 

G
ARRETT LOOKED OUT
the kitchen window into the dark night as thunder rumbled in the distance. A flash of lightning illuminated the path to the barn, but he didn't see any sign of Mimi.

“Where the hell is she?” he muttered as another crack of lightning made the kitchen light flicker. He couldn't remember when it had rained so much. It was an unusual calving season—in more ways than one.

He glanced at his watch and muttered an oath under his breath. He and Mimi had been taking turns checking the cattle at night, and she'd already been gone for almost two hours. Looking out the window once again, Garrett debated whether he should go out there and find her.

The only thing stopping him was Mimi herself. She was so damn proud of herself for handling the duties of a ranch hand. Checking up on her would only convince her he didn't trust her to do the job.

He peered into the darkness, perturbed to see that lightning had shorted out the mercury light near the barn. It was pitch black out there, except for the occasional flashes of lightning. He checked his watch again. If she wasn't back in ten minutes, he was going after her.

Nine and a half minutes later, the back door finally opened. Mimi walked inside, stomping the rainwater off her boots. It sluiced off her yellow slicker and made small puddles on the vinyl floor of the mud porch.

“I've got a small problem here,” she called. “Can you give me a hand?”

Garrett hurried to the mud porch, hoping she hadn't met up with another scorpion. “What's wrong?”

“Help me take my slicker off and I'll show you what I found.”

He pulled the wet slicker over her head, then stared at the tiny newborn calf cradled in her arms. “Where did he come from?”

“That dappled heifer finally had her baby.” She moved past him into the kitchen. “And the poor thing is soaked to the skin. It looked half-dead by the time I found it.”

He watched her lay it on the rag rug in front of the sink. “Why didn't you take him to the barn?”

“I did, at first,” she said, brushing the wet tendrils of hair off her forehead. “But after I unsaddled Pooh I got an idea.”

“What kind of idea?”

“You'll see,” she replied, and rushed out of the kitchen. Before long she was back, armed with his hair dryer.

Garrett folded his arms across his chest. “Do you really think that's going to work?”

“I don't know why not.” She plugged the dryer in the outlet, then flipped the switch. The small calf didn't move at the sudden noise or at the burst of hot air against its hide. It lay completely still, its brown head stretched out on the rug and its eyes closed.

Garrett knelt beside Mimi. “Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, they don't make it.”

“This one is going to make it,” she said over the blast of the blow dryer.

He watched her ruffle her fingers through the calf's wet pelt, impressed by her determination. Despite his best efforts, he lost a small number of calves every season. It only took a glance at this one to see it was a goner.

But thirty minutes later, Garrett wasn't so sure of his prognosis. The calf opened its big brown eyes and blinked at him, although it still hadn't lifted its head.

“Should we call a vet?” Mimi asked, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

“Let's try something first.” Garrett moved to the cupboard and pulled out an oversize baby bottle. He filled half of it with warm water, then added a glucose solution he kept for bovine emergencies.

The calf balked at the bottle at first, but Garrett pried its mouth open and stuck the rubber nipple inside. Mimi held the calf's head on her lap, gently running her hand over its dry pelt and crooning encouraging words in its ear.

At last the calf began to suck. Awkwardly at first, then with increasing gusto.

Mimi grinned at Garrett. “I think he's going to make it!”

He nodded. “I think you're right.”

After the calf had emptied the bottle, she bent and planted a kiss on top of its fuzzy head. It let out a loud, plaintive cry.

“He wants his mama,” Mimi said as the calf struggled to stand up.

Garrett reached out and pulled the gangly calf into his arms. “I'll take him out to the barn and bed him down in some fresh straw. Then I'll bring his mama in and pen her up with him.”

Mimi rose slowly to her feet. “Will she accept him now that he's been gone so long?” Despite her short apprenticeship as a ranch hand, she'd already learned that separating a newborn calf from its mother could result in the cow not recognizing the scent of her own offspring and thus rejecting it.

“If she doesn't, we're going to be washing a lot of baby bottles.” He set the calf down briefly in the mud porch while he donned a slicker and his cowboy hat. “Don't worry, I won't leave him alone with her until I know for sure. And don't wait up for me, either. It may take all night.”

A flash of lightning greeted him as he opened the back door. He picked the calf up in his arms, covering most of it with his slicker, then headed outside. The calf looked mournfully at him as raindrops pelted them both.

“Don't look at me like that,” Garrett muttered. “You're the one she kissed.”

Hubert barked at his heels as Garrett raced toward the barn, slipping and sliding on the muddy path. But
he managed to get them both inside while they were still fairly dry.

He flipped on the overhead light, then prepared a stall as the calf attempted his first wobbly steps. It took Garrett another twenty minutes to locate the calf's mother and herd her inside the barn. By this time both he and his horse were thoroughly soaked. He unsaddled Brutus, then gave him an extra measure of oats for his trouble.

He'd just emptied the bucket into the trough when lightning flashed again, and the overhead light went out. He swore softly under his breath, then looked out the barn window toward the house. No lights burned in the windows, which meant the entire ranch had lost electricity.

Feeling his way through the darkness, Garrett finally reached the tack room. He kept a battery-operated lantern hanging by the door for just such an emergency. Storms were few and far between in the hill country, but they could be ferocious.

“Want some company?”

Garrett turned, and the glow of the lantern illuminated Mimi standing just inside the barn door. She held a big yellow bowl in her hands and had his battered thermos tucked under one arm.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I thought we should celebrate Sunbeam's survival.”

“Sunbeam?” he echoed, unable to stop the smile that rose to his lips. “What kind of name is that for a calf? And a bull calf, at that.”

“It's the brand name of the blow dryer.” She
grinned at him. “I thought we should give the manufacturer a little of the credit.”

Mimi set down the bowl and thermos, then walked to the new calf's pen. Garrett joined her there, and they silently watched the mama cow sniff suspiciously at the calf. Sunbeam wobbled on his four spindly legs, but he didn't fall down.

“She's not convinced it's her calf,” Garrett said softly. “The combination of the rain, blow dryer and our hands gave him a scent that's unfamiliar to her.”

“Has he tried to milk yet?”

He shook his head. “She won't let him.”

Mimi looked at him, a worried frown creasing her brow. “What should we do?”

“Wait.” He nodded toward the cow. “She's still trying to make up her mind.” Then he looked at the bowl. “Do I smell popcorn?”

“That's right. I've got hot chocolate, too. If you can find us a clean blanket, we'll be all set for a midnight picnic.”

Garrett grabbed a couple of old saddle blankets out of the tack room, then laid them out in the center aisle. Mimi knelt on one blanket, then handed the thermos to Garrett. “I can't get this open.”

He applied a little pressure until the lid loosened, then inhaled the comforting aroma of hot chocolate. “Did you bring some cups?”

“No, we'll have to share.” She pried the lid off the bowl of popcorn. “I'm just lucky I got this made before the electricity went out.”

He sat beside her. “I've never been to a midnight picnic before. What exactly are we supposed to do?”

“Have fun.” She held the bowl out to him, and he
scooped up a handful of popcorn. “My mother let me have a midnight picnic for my twelfth birthday. She even stayed up with me, since my father was still at the office.”

Garrett munched contentedly on his buttery popcorn, unable to take his gaze from her face. She had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. “Sounds like he was a workaholic.”

Mimi munched quietly for a moment. “It only got worse after my mother died when I was fourteen.”

“That must have been rough.”

When she finally spoke, he could hear the heartache in her words. “I still miss her.”

He wanted to hold her in his arms. Instead, he reached for the thermos. “We better drink this before it gets cold.”

“Good idea,” she said, holding out the plastic thermos lid.

“You don't talk much about your family,” he said as he carefully poured hot chocolate into the cup. Then he recapped the thermos.

Mimi leaned back against a wooden post and blew gently on the steaming chocolate. “Neither do you.”

“I've told you about my adopted parents and my sisters and Michael. You've already met Lana.”

“But you haven't told me why you're so determined to find your birth mother.”

He scooped up another handful of popcorn, suddenly wishing he'd never brought up the subject of family. “She owes us some answers.”

“Owes you? Wasn't it enough that she made certain you found a good home?”

“No.” His reply was sharper than he intended. He
took a deep breath and tried to put his tangled feelings into words. “She dumped us on a doorstep with nothing more than a note and name tags. The least she could have done was stick around long enough to make certain someone found us.”

Mimi took a sip of the hot chocolate, then handed the cup to him. “How do you know she didn't?”

“What?”

“How do you know she didn't watch over all of you from a distance until she was certain you were in Megan Maitland's safekeeping?”

He took a quick gulp of the hot chocolate, scalding his tongue. “There's no reason to believe she did.”

“And no reason to believe she didn't.”

He looked at Mimi. “Why are you so eager to defend her?”

“I'm not. I just…” She let her words trail off with a small shrug. “This is no way to conduct a party. And it's certainly not what I had in mind for our picnic.”

Garrett was more than happy to change the subject. He leaned back against a straw bale, listening to the rain patter on the barn roof and enjoying the way the lamplight silhouetted Mimi's luscious body. “So what exactly did you have in mind?”

She smiled. “How about a little romance?”

His pulse picked up a notch. “Now you've got my attention.”

“Good.” She pulled a familiar red leather book from underneath her slicker. “Because we're about to read the continuing saga of Katherine MacGuire.”

He groaned, more than a little disappointed. “Not more love behind the hog shed.”

She scooted closer to him, adjusting the lantern so that the light spilled onto the open pages of the journal. “Just listen.”