True Heart. Peggy Nicholson

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      Richard stood not listening to her but staring off at the far wall. “You said you took tetracycline…. A drug—a powerful drug, Kaley. Did you happen to ask your gynecologist about side effects?”

      She closed her eyes for a moment. Oh, no. Please, please, don’t go there. “I…w-what do you mean?”

      “You were on it at conception. What’s tetracycline do to a developing fetus? Did you ask him that?”

      Yes, they’d gone over that. She swallowed around the jagged lump in her throat, clasped her hands before her and said huskily, “He said that the odds were g-good—much better than good—that our baby is developing normally. That no…no permanent damage had been done.”

      “Ah!” Richard’s finger came up to jab the air between them. “That’s what he said, no damage? But will he guarantee it? No? No, of course he won’t! He’s not entirely a fool. He knows that if anything went wrong, I’d sue him for everything but the fillings in his back teeth—and he knows I’d win.”

      “Richard, please.” Her knees were trembling; she was trembling all over. Kaley pulled out a chair from the table and sat. “Nobody could ever guarantee that—”

      “Well, if he won’t guarantee a healthy baby, ask Dr. No Problem if he’ll agree to support it for the rest of its life if it’s hopelessly retarded.” He leaned down to look into her brimming eyes. “No? He won’t do that, either? Then why should I—should we—risk it, babe, if he won’t?”

      “Because it’s ours!” Kaley cried.

      CHAPTER ONE

      One month later

      FEARFUL OF FALLING ASLEEP at the wheel, Kaley opened the car window to the cold rushing air. Now she stretched her gritty eyes wide and said softly, “Kaley Cotter.”

      No. That sounded apologetic, and she owed apologies to no man. “Kaley Cotter,” she proclaimed, lifting her chin. The night wind sucked her name through the open window, sent it spinning and tumbling across the desert behind her humming wheels.

      “Cotter, Cotter, Cotter,” she chanted, squinting into the headlights of an oncoming truck, the first vehicle she’d encountered for twenty miles or more. “My name is Kaley Cotter.” Again. After eight years as Kaley Bosworth. It would take practice before it sounded right. Her car shuddered in the truck’s slipstream, then surged on through the dark.

      Roughly two hours to go. She’d reach Four Corners, where the southwest border of Colorado touched the borders of three other states, by dawn. “Then home before eight,” she comforted herself. She could make it. “Kaley Cotter’s coming home.”

      Where she should have stayed all along.

      “Kaley Cotter and daughter are coming home,” she amended, one hand slipping off the wheel to cup her flat—still utterly flat—belly.

      Or possibly Cotter and son.

      But something told her this baby would be a girl. “Love you either way,” she murmured, lashes drifting lower. Boy or girl, healthy or damaged, her baby would be welcome.

      As she would be welcome at the Cotter family ranch. “Home,” she half whispered, stroking her stomach, “is where, when you’ve got no place else to go, they have to take you in.”

      Suddenly, her head dropped forward with a sickening jolt. She gasped and jerked upright just as the off wheel bit into the roadside gravel. The car swerved wildly, then straightened to the road.

      “Whew!” Kaley shuddered, rubbed a hand along a thigh roughened with goose bumps, and shook her head to clear it. That had been closer than close! If there had been an oncoming car… “Not good.” Las Vegas, where she’d obtained her quickie divorce this afternoon, was five hundred miles behind her. She should have stopped in Page for the night, but like a wounded rabbit intent on reaching its own burrow, she’d found that no intermediate bolt-hole had looked safe enough. She’d sped past every possible motel until there was nothing left but rock and sand and stars and the pale road beckoning her eastward, home to Trueheart, then the ranch in the foothills above it.

      KALEY MADE IT into Four Corners without further mishap, and pulled in at a truck stop for a cup of coffee to go.

      Coffee. She frowned down at her stomach as she turned away from the cash register. She’d sworn that no matter how she craved it, she wouldn’t drink another cup for eight months. Her baby had taken enough abuse already in the first four weeks of life, without having to put up with her mother’s caffeine habit.

      On the other hand, any sensible baby would agree that sharing one last cup of stale brew beat running off the road at seventy miles an hour any day. Last one, I promise you. Let’s just limp on home, then I swear I’ll never touch another—

      “Um, excuse me?” A woman loomed at Kaley’s elbow as she stiff-armed the exit door. She was tall and blond, with a rueful smile. “I saw you pull in and I noticed you seem to be heading east and I was wondering if…”

      THE BLONDE’S NAME was Michelle Something; Kaley hadn’t caught the last half. Her car radiator had sprung a leak, she’d explained, forty miles back down the reservation road, and rather than stop in the middle of nowhere, she’d crept on to the truck stop, pausing to let it cool off each time the needle on her temperature gauge kissed red. She didn’t dare push on to Trueheart, but she had a restaurant there, customers who’d be expecting their breakfast, so if Kaley would be so kind? She could send somebody back to collect her car once the morning rush was over.

      Kaley was glad for the company. “I’ve been driving on snooze control for the past hour. Just talk to me and it’s you who’ll be doing the favor.”

      “Where are you headed,” Michelle asked as they swung out onto the highway. “Durango?”

      “No, Trueheart. At least, that’s where I turn north. The Cotter ranch.” It warmed Kaley just to say the words. Four generations of Cotters had held that patch of upland valley and now her baby would make the fifth. Heading home. Once she was home, she could face anything. Let go of the protective numbness that had carried her this far, and collapse.

      “You’re a friend of Jim Cotter’s?” Michelle turned to prop one elbow on the dash.

      “His sister,” Kaley admitted. “So you know him?”

      “Two eggs over easy with a double order of hash browns, half a bottle of ketchup, and if I were a cradle robber…”

      Kaley stole a glance at her smiling passenger. Elegant rather than cowgirl-pretty like Jim’s usual sweethearts, the blonde was perhaps five years older than his twenty-seven. But there was a certain level of…sophistication? Experience? Whatever, the cool, wry confidence beneath Michelle’s surface warmth made her seem half a generation older than Kaley’s younger brother.

      “You’re a teacher over in Phoenix, I think he told me. Married to—um—a lawyer?” Michelle continued.

      Kaley winced. “Was…” Might as well say it. There was no keeping your life private in a small town like Trueheart. Still, she hadn’t expected to have to fess up so soon, or to a stranger; had yet to shape her explanation or polish her delivery. Gray as the fading night, a wave of desolation washed over СКАЧАТЬ