Baby Love Page 5

  Maggie’s posterior nearly parted company with the floor when she heard footsteps outside the boxcar. The next instant, Kendrick appeared in the doorway, winter sunshine glancing off his black Stetson and tangled hair. He cast wary glances up and down the track, checking to be sure no one had seen him, a reminder that they both could be arrested if they were caught on this train.

  A sick feeling settled in her stomach. Until now, she’d tried to be a model citizen, working hard, paying her bills, and never breaking the law, not even to cheat on her taxes. Now, here she was, miles from home, keeping company with a tramp and well on the way to looking like one herself.

  As he braced a palm on the floor to vault inside, she couldn’t fail to notice the play of muscle under the loose fit of his chambray shirt. He landed on both feet and straightened to his full height with a fluid strength. Maggie could easily picture him scaling a pasture fence with the same ease, grabbing hold of a post and leaping over as if no barrier existed. He was a tall man, and if the hardened bulges that padded his long frame were an indication, his body had been toned by years of physical labor. Though he’d evidently lost a lot of weight, the thick overlays of lean muscle still gave him impressive bulk.

  For the second time since meeting him, she wondered what on earth had happened to make him choose this way of life. Was he wanted by the authorities? For reasons beyond her, he didn’t strike her as the criminal type. But then, the same had been said by many people about the notorious Ted Bundy. Her throat tightened as he strode toward her. His every footfall rocked the boxcar and created a plodding tattoo that echoed all around her. His gunmetal gaze held hers, the visual contact making her feel stripped bare despite the sheepskin that enfolded her. With that heavy growth of black beard, he looked ruthless and determined; his strong jaw was set as if he found this situation almost as distasteful as she did. That made no sense at all. If he found their bargain disgusting, he wouldn’t be here with the items she requested.

  Tucked under one arm, he carried a paper sack, the top folded over so the contents wouldn’t spill. Judging by the large dimensions of the package, he’d purchased more than a baby bottle and formula.

  A tremor of sheer dread coursed through her, for she knew she’d pay dearly for every dime he had spent. She wanted to huddle around Jaimie, let her head fall to her knees, and sob. But no. She’d struck this bargain with him, and she wouldn’t let herself blubber and complain now that it was time to pay up.

  “Do you feel like you can walk a couple of blocks?”

  “Why?”

  He arched one black eyebrow. She’d always envied people who could do that. “I’m taking you to a motel where you and Jaimie will be warm and can rest. Maybe get you something to eat. How long since you had a decent meal?”

  Maggie had grabbed a piece of toast yesterday morning before she left the house with Jaimie. From that point on, everything had turned nightmarish. She was sort of hungry now—in an empty, nauseated way. But, oh, God, she didn’t want this man to buy her anything to eat.

  “Buying me a meal and renting a room wasn’t part of our deal,” she reminded him. “All I care about is feeding Jaimie.”

  He looked momentarily nonplussed. Then his eyes cleared and took on an amused glint, his firm mouth slanting into a grin that looked raffish. “Maybe I think you’re worth more than a baby bottle and a can of formula.” As he spoke, he bent to grasp her elbow. “Up you come. When a man wants to pay more than the asking price, a smart woman doesn’t argue the point.”

  Oh, yes, she did. She was already in too deep. You got nothing for free, especially from a man. “I don’t want to get into some big, drawn-out thing,” she protested, even as he led her to the doorway. “I just want the bottle and formula for my baby, nothing more. If you’re hoping for an all-nighter, forget it.”

  He released his hold on her arm and jumped from the boxcar with the same powerful grace he’d exhibited earlier, which did little to ease her mind. A motel? What did he have planned? A sexual marathon? Oh, God. Her legs felt as if they might buckle, and now that she was standing up, she had an awful, burning need to use the bathroom. It was also impossible for her to stand erect. The pain across her lower back became excruciating when she tried.

  “Did you hear me?” she pressed. “I don’t want to go to a motel.”

  He turned, set the package on the floor near her feet, and reached up for Jaimie. “I heard you, angel face,” he said, still grinning slightly. “And I promise you, an ‘all-nighter’ would be far too taxing for an old guy like me.”

  She burned to tell him where he could stuff it. But she’d been on the receiving end of a man’s anger enough times to know better than to ask for it. Besides, she still didn’t have the baby bottle or formula in her possession. He might throw that sack in the next trash can he saw if she refused to cooperate.

  For a moment, she stood there, clinging to Jaimie and glaring at him, but in the end, her physical condition forced her to relinquish her hold on the child. If he was absolutely bent on going to a motel, she had little choice but to go along with the idea. He who had the money called the shots.

  After taking Jaimie, Rafe tucked him in the crook of one arm and reached up to take her hand. Pressing her other palm on her ribs, Maggie tensed to jump. The next instant, he gave a sharp tug, pulling her off balance. As she fell forward, he released her hand and caught her with his empty arm, clasping her firmly to his broad chest and sweeping her smoothly to the ground. The impact of her body against his made her throb from head to toe, and for an awful minute, she was afraid she might pass out.

  “I’m sorry. I know that hurt, but you’re so weak I was afraid you might fall, and it’s quite a drop to the ground.”

  He held her against his hard length until she gained her feet, making her horribly aware of his greater strength. Then he collected the sack from the boxcar, his gaze lingering on her as he jostled the child and package to get a comfortable hold on both.

  Glancing around the train yard, he asked, “Can you make it two blocks without help?”

  Maggie shivered inside the coat, her attention darting to the bundled baby in his arms. “Yes,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “Let me carry Jaimie, though. Either that, or you wear the coat so he won’t get cold.”

  He glanced down at the sleeping baby. “He’s fine with the jacket and sweatshirt around him. In five minutes, we’ll be in the room.”

  He struck off, leaving Maggie to follow. Given the fact that he had her baby, he might as well have had her on a leash. She clamped a hand over her ribs and walked as swiftly as she could to keep up.

  He set a brisk pace until they were out of the train yard. Once on the sidewalk, he paused to wait for her, his expression unreadable. “Sorry about the footrace. Coming and going in a railroad yard, it pays not to let any grass grow.”

  Maggie understood the need for caution. Huffing for breath and covering the remaining distance between them on legs that threatened to fold, she said, “No problem. I don’t want to get tossed in jail any more than you do.”

  “I doubt we’d get arrested. Most times, the law looks the other way unless somebody causes trouble. Railroad employees are a slightly different ball game, though, and it’s a lot less hassle if you can avoid them.” His gaze searched hers. Maggie tried to slow her breathing, but her lungs didn’t seem to be inflating to full capacity. “You okay?” he asked.

  By way of response, all she could manage was a nod.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I’d carry you if I could.”

  Coming to a stop, she yearned to lean against him and rest for a moment. Then she remembered where they were going and thought better of it. A motel? “I—I really haven’t the time for this,” she tried again, hoping he might have a change of heart. “I’ve got to get where I’m headed and find a job.”

  He thrust the sack into her hands. It was surprisingly heavy, and not expecting the weight, Maggie nearly dropped it. While she grappled to get a better h
old, he looped his arm around her back and drew her against his side. “Lean into me. Maybe that’ll help. It’s only two blocks. If we take it slow, maybe you can make it that far.” He bent his head and craned his neck to see her face. “Is my arm hurting you?”

  With the thick coat to provide cushion, the pressure on her bruises was painful but not unbearably so. His support also helped to ease the ache across her lower back. Shaking her head, she said, “Did you hear me? I have to find a job so I can send for my little sister. Will another train leave here this morning?”

  Without offering a reply, he set off, keeping a slower pace this time and supporting her weight against him. Finally he said, “You can leave tomorrow morning.” As he spoke, he drew her inexorably along the sidewalk. Maggie felt like a condemned prisoner being dragged to the execution chamber. “At the motel, you can eat a little something and get some sleep. Right now, you couldn’t work to save your soul, and you know it. What do you do, anyway?”

  She blinked, wishing the air weren’t so cold. It hurt to breathe. She cast another worried glance at her baby. “Is Jaimie’s face covered?”

  “He’s bundled up like an Express Mail package.”

  He drew to a stop on a curb, puffs of vapor forming with his breath as he glanced up and down the empty street. The building fronts were a blur to Maggie, but even so, she noted the absence of automobiles at the parking meters that lined the sidewalks. “Where is everyone?”

  “When I walked into town earlier, I saw a sign that says the population inside the city limits is only a little over four thousand, and if that clock inside the bank is right, it’s only nine-forty, which is still pretty early. This is largely a ranching community, and ranchers don’t usually come to town until they’ve finished morning chores.”

  What bank? Maggie blinked again, feeling oddly separated from reality. “Do you do secretarial or assembly-line work?” he asked as he guided her across the icy asphalt to the opposite curb. “Prior’s not that big a town. I can’t imagine its being a hub of opportunity.”

  “Waitress,” she managed to reply.

  “Ah.” He sounded none too impressed.

  Maggie tried to straighten away from him, but the circle of his arm around her was as unyielding as forged steel. “I know it’s a dead-end job, but I make—really good tips. A better monthly take-home than any secretary, that’s for sure. Prestige takes a second seat when you have a family to feed and bills to pay.”

  He glanced down at her, the shadow cast by his hat brim concealing the expression in his eyes. “A family to feed, huh? Does that mean you’re married and have other kids besides Jaimie?”

  “No, I—” Maggie caught herself before she said too much. She angled him a look. “Fishing for information, Mr. Kendrick?”

  He smiled. “And getting nowhere fast. Unfortunately for you, mysterious women have always fascinated me. So…you make good tips?” He nodded. “I can believe it.”

  She wondered what he meant by that, but she was too weary to pursue it. The sidewalk ahead of her seemed to stretch for a thousand miles. Her legs felt heavy and rubbery. “How much farther is it, anyhow?”

  “Not very far.” He drew to a stop, cradling her against him. “We’ll just rest here a minute. There’s no fire, right?”

  His broad chest was there, offering a perfect spot to lay her cheek. Maggie tried to resist, but she couldn’t. With numb arms, she hugged the package and nestled in beside Jaimie to lean against him. As if he understood how weak and woozy she felt, he supported nearly all her weight. “I’m sorry,” she grated out. “I’m afraid you struck a poor bargain. I feel sort of sick.”

  “Sick?” he repeated sharply. “Where?”

  “All over. Like I’ve been run over by a truck, and I’m kind of nauseated.”

  She felt the steamy warmth of his breath on the crown of her head. “If the pain in those ribs doesn’t ease up, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “No.” Maggie tried to push away from him, only to be foiled by his hold on her. “I told you, I can’t go around a bunch of people. Besides, I can’t afford a hospital. Do you know how expensive emergency-room treatment can be?”

  “Calm down. It was just a thought.”

  “As bruised up as I am, I’m bound to be sore. I don’t need a doctor.”

  “All right, all right,” he said in a soothing tone. “Forget I suggested it. Maybe you’ll feel better once you eat and get some rest.”

  With him footing the bill for both the food and the room? She wouldn’t feel better until she saw the last of him. Oh, how she wanted to refuse his generosity, but her baby needed to be fed, and she couldn’t gather her thoughts enough to think of an alternative. She just wanted to lean against him and keep her eyes closed forever.

  He nudged her erect. “It’s not much farther. You game? Or do you want me to get Jaimie settled in the room and come back for you? With nothing to carry, I can pack you the rest of the way if it’s too hard to walk on your own.”

  Maggie wasn’t about to let her baby out of her sight. “I can walk,” she insisted, and somehow she managed to do just that, planting one foot in front of the other until he finally said, “Here we are. You wait here for me, all right? I’ll only be a minute.”

  Maggie was grateful for the overhang post he propped her against. Clutching the bag to her chest, she rested her cheek against the wood and gazed after him. He stepped into a small, glass-fronted motel office. From where she stood, Maggie could see that a plump lady with gray hair manned the registration desk, which was little more than a scarred counter boasting a ratty potted fern and a display of brochures. Holding Jaimie in one arm, Rafe reached into his pants pocket for some money while the woman asked him questions and filled out some sort of form. Minutes later, he emerged holding a black plastic key ring with the number fourteen printed in faded white on its oval surface.

  “I tried to get two beds,” he explained as he helped her across the empty parking lot toward one of the cottages. “But all she has is singles. It’s a queen-size, though. That’s a plus. Right?”

  Maggie focused on the front of the cabin as he unlocked the door. White siding with red trim glared in the morning light, the lower horizontal panels spattered with flecks of mud by runoff from the eaves. Empty red window boxes, in sad need of paint, underscored the windows. The door creaked when he pushed it open. As he drew her into the room, she tripped on the threshold and might have fallen if not for the grip of his hand on her elbow.

  The faint, closed-up smell of mildew blasted her in the face. Maggie stood just inside the door, numbly taking in her surroundings, which consisted of a dated dresser with a filmy mirror, a bed draped in white chenille, and an awful brown shag carpet that was so worn the nap lay flat. A rusty wall heater sat cold beneath a window covered by droopy short drapes that had once been white but were now yellow with age, one of the panels stained by a window leak.

  “Well, it’ll do in a pinch. At least it looks halfway clean.”

  Relieving Maggie of the paper sack, he turned on the heater and stepped around to the opposite side of the wide bed to lay Jaimie on the white chenille. As he drew away the coat and sweatshirt, the baby thrashed his legs and let out a plaintive whimper. “Right on cue for breakfast, hey, partner?” He glanced up at Maggie. “Shed the coat, honey, and lie down. I’ll crack out the formula and bring His Nibs here a bottle in a minute.”

  Maggie tried to peel off the coat, but it was heavy and her arms hung at her sides like lengths of stiff garden hose. The wall heater made a monotonous humming noise that seemed to harmonize with the ringing in her ears. She watched Rafe disappear at the opposite end of the room into what she presumed was a bathroom.

  His deep voice rang out from the enclosure. “Are we stylin’ or what? We even have a coffeemaker.”

  She heard water run and then a squeak as he turned off the tap. Paper rustled as he opened the bag and sorted through his purchases—purchases she had yet to pay him for. During the silence
that followed, she considered grabbing Jaimie and hightailing it out of there. Two things stopped her. The cowboy had the bottle and formula in the bathroom with him, and she could barely walk, let alone run.

  She careened toward the bed, somehow managing to lift her feet enough to avoid falling flat. When the mattress nudged her knees, she sank gratefully onto the soft surface and buried her face in the pillow.

  He’d come back in a minute and be all hot to do his thing. Think, Maggie. Unless she came up with a quick solution, he would expect her to pay him back as per the terms of their bargain. She trailed her fingertips over her bare left wrist, wishing she could offer him her watch in trade, but she’d broken the crystal at work last week, and water had gotten inside the casing.

  Tears prickled behind her eyelids. That left her exactly nothing to barter with now—except her body.

  Oh, how she hoped he really would let her sleep afterward. Then, perhaps, she’d feel better and would be able to leave. She just wouldn’t think about what was in store for her. That was the trick. In fact, she was so tired, maybe she would be able to sleep through the ordeal. He could wake her up when he was done—or, even better, just let her go on sleeping.

  From a long way off, Maggie heard Jaimie crying. She blinked to awareness, relieved that her need to use the bathroom seemed a little less urgent now that she was in a horizontal position. Pushing herself up on one elbow, she saw Rafe standing beside the bed. With the air of a man who’d done so many times, he dribbled formula from the bottle onto the inside of his wrist.

  He glanced up and smiled. “I washed everything as best I could, and I got the chill off the formula by putting the bottle in scalding hot water from the coffeepot. This is premixed so we don’t have to mess around measuring everything.”