The Cowboy Seal's Christmas Baby. Laura Marie Altom

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СКАЧАТЬ it. Not with all your fancy gear.” Finished with his meal, he chucked the waste in a plastic trash bag.

      “Was that sarcasm, cowboy?”

      “Not at all. But think about it. From your tent to your backpack to your bowl and fork—all REI or some other big-name sporting goods chain. Camping gear like that doesn’t come cheap. At the very least, we know you had a comfortable amount of disposable income.”

      Her smile faded. “But what does that mean?”

      He shrugged before using his shirtsleeve as a hot pad to take an old-fashioned percolator from the fire. Morning coffee usually smelled and tasted better on the trail, but today, Gideon feared no amount of caffeine or ambience would help his suddenly sour mood.

      “You were the one who said it.”

      “It was an observation. Nothing more.” After setting the coffee atop a stump remaining from turn-of-the-century timber cuts, he ducked into the tent, rummaging through his saddlebags for sugar. Some guys liked their beer. Others enjoyed smoking or myriad other vices. Gideon didn’t just like sugar, he needed it. And since he had plenty of friends with worse habits, he didn’t even try abstaining.

      “Guessing you’ve got a sweet tooth?” Jane said after he’d removed the grounds from the percolator, flinging them into the weeds, then dumped a good portion of his sugar into the remaining black liquid.

      Ignoring her, he found a stick to use for a stirring spoon.

      “I’m just messing with you. No need to turn grumpy.”

      “You sure are perky for a woman who’s lost.”

      “But see? Since you found me, I’m not really lost at all.” Her words proved braver than the unshed tears shimmering in her gaze.

      “Never mind. Sorry I brought it up.”

      “It is a valid observation.” Her tone turned low and introspective. “Maybe we can use it to find a clue about who I am?”

      “I’ll play along.” Gideon sipped more coffee.

      “Hmm...” Her smile returned. “What kinds of jobs require a perky demeanor?”

      “Kindergarten teacher?”

      “Yes—but if I were a teacher, how would I have had time for a leisurely hike in the middle of a school day? Today is Thursday, right?”

      “Wait—how can you know the day of the week, but not your own name?”

      “Great question. I suppose I could have been on maternity leave?”

      “True. But even if that were the case, I still don’t get why any pregnant woman would have been out for a strenuous hike in less than ideal conditions. It doesn’t make sense.”

      “I know, right?” Her shoulders slumped, as if too many of her own questions left her deflated.

      If he’d had a heart, he would have felt sorry for her. But honestly? Most days he had no emotions at all. He finished the coffee, then wiped the pot and its workings dry with a shop rag he kept stashed in his bags.

      Once he’d finished, and she hadn’t budged from her spot on a log, Gideon cleared his throat. “You mentioned yesterday that you’d need a day of rest before we head back to civilization. But earlier, you looked like you’re getting around okay to me. How about we pack up and at least try going a few miles?” When she didn’t answer, he found himself blabbering on. “If you do—get tired—we can always stop and make camp. I just figure it would probably be best if...” If I were no longer around you and your baby.

      The two reminded him too much of all he’d lost—correction, all his ex had thrown away.

      “Sure. I’ll help pack.”

      “Thanks, but I’d feel better if you and the baby stay by the fire.”

      “I don’t mind.”

      I do. After five minutes of bickering, Gideon finally convinced Jane that her energy would be best utilized on the hike out. He spent the better part of the next hour packing. In a perfect world, he’d have let the collapsed tent air-dry before folding and then rolling it, but there was no time.

      As soon as they reached his cabin, he’d drive her and her son into town, drop them at the hospital, then he’d never see either again. Maybe he’d get lucky and catch a cell signal in that high mountain meadow where he’d once picked up an Arizona Cardinals game. Then he could call for help and let authorities sort out Jane’s mess.

      Yes—that was by far the better option.

      As his ex had so thoughtfully reminded him, he wasn’t fit to be around women or children.

       Chapter Four

      Jane.

      She somehow knew she’d never been a fan of the name.

      She had almost as hard a time thinking of herself by that moniker as she was traversing the steep trail while keeping a safe hold on her son. Her cowboy companion had offered to hold her baby, but she’d politely declined. In a brain and heart filled with fog, the one thing she did know was that she fiercely loved her newborn and wasn’t letting him go.

      Gideon had called the baby John—as in John Doe, but that was no good, either. She held him snug against her chest and while pausing to catch her breath, Jane sneaked a peek beneath the sweatshirt she’d wrapped him in. Chip. Because he looked sweet enough to be a chocolate chip. The name as well as the reasoning would probably be silly to anyone else. But to her? It worked.

      She paused, dragging in gallons of sweet-smelling mountain air. As nasty as the previous day had been, this day was sunny and while not exactly warm, at least above freezing. Birdsong came as a welcome change from the sound of clattering sleet.

      “You okay?” the cowboy called from a good thirty feet up the trail. He not only carried her large-framed hiking pack, but his saddle bags. The exertion didn’t seem to affect him.

      “Sort of?” She managed a faint, breathless smile.

      “Do we need to rest?”

      “Would you mind?”

      “Not at all.” He glanced forward on the trail, then back to her. They’d only been hiking a couple hours, yet her body felt as if she’d run a marathon.

      You did give birth twenty-four hours ago.

      The same voice justifying her exhaustion left an underlying wave of not really fear, but a vague sense of unease. As if laziness wasn’t approved—regardless of the excuse.

      Excuses are for wimps.

      This new voice served as an intimidating reminder that she hailed from hearty stock. She was no quitter and had apparently been taught from a young age that nothing good came without plenty of hard work.

      “Hey...”

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