its contents would have been shrouded in a way that might have made it blend in with the bags of trash heaped nearby. He suspected that thump they’d heard had been an accident, not a deliberate attempt to catch their attention. No, this had been a cruel and heartless attempt to leave a child to die. He’d stake his life on that.
“Whoever did this can’t have gotten far,” Sharon Lynn said. “See if there’s any sign of him or her.”
“Him,” Cord said grimly.
“How do you know that?”
“The boot prints. There’s just enough snow on the ground to see the size of the shoe. It’s too big for a woman’s.”
Cord knew there was no point in following the trail. Whoever had done this despicable thing was long gone by now, but he went to the end of the alley just to satisfy Sharon Lynn. The footprints ended at the curb around the corner. A melted patch in the midst of all the snow indicated someone had left an engine running for a few minutes at least. Skid marks in the fresh snow suggested that whoever had driven away had probably heard the store’s back door open and left in a hurry.
By the time Cord got back inside, Sharon Lynn was holding a squalling, wide-awake baby in her arms as naturally as if this were something she did every day. The look of awe and concern on her face was enough to take his breath away. For one wild and improbable second, he imagined that she was his, the baby theirs. In that instant, with a certainty that stunned him, he knew that whatever it took, somehow he would make it happen.
Over the years he had seen too many of life’s most valuable treasures slip through his daddy’s fingers. Hawk Branson had lost his wife—Cord’s mama—to another man. He’d lost a fortune and most of the payments on the family ranch to the bottle. There’d been pitifully little left for Cord, once all the debts had been settled. Watching Hawk’s downfall had made Cord an impatient man.
When he spotted something he wanted, he went after it with a no-holds-barred vengeance. He had come here intending to claim a place for himself at the famed White Pines ranch, vowing to work harder and longer than any other hand.
He could have stayed in Montana and tried to save his daddy’s spread. The local bankers trusted him. They knew he wasn’t anything like his daddy. But there were too many defeats and bad memories associated with the place. He’d wanted a fresh start, not just as a hand at a truly successful ranch where he could learn everything there was to know about running a decent herd of cattle, but someplace where he could earn enough to buy his own land, acre by acre if he had to. Ownership and self-respect were all tied up together in his head.
Instinctively he’d aimed for Texas and its sprawling cattle ranches. He’d hung out in a bar in Fort Worth and asked questions. He’d gone to a couple of cattle auctions and asked more questions. White Pines and its owners had come up time and again, always accompanied by respectful anecdotes.
The last time he’d stopped, about a hundred miles from Los Piños, he’d asked pointedly about the ranch and learned that not only was White Pines taking on new help, but there was a neighboring ranch that might be for sale. The owner had died in a tragic accident and the widow wanted no part of it. The story had piqued his interest. He’d wasted no time in getting to Los Piños.
He’d been prepared to do whatever he had to to get the job he was after and to lay claim to that ranch, if the widow was willing to wait to make a sale. What he hadn’t been prepared for at all was spotting a woman like Sharon Lynn on his first night in town. She was the missing piece of his dream. Gut instinct told him that destiny had brought him into Dolan’s on this icy, miserable night.
He glanced down at her head, which was bent low as she soothed the fussing baby in her arms. The baby’s fat little fist held a thick strand of silken hair and was tugging mightily. Sharon Lynn smiled, even as she tried to disengage that tiny hand. Watching her, Cord felt a swirl of powerful emotions that rocked him on his heels. Just like that, he knew that what