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He knew how and when horses developed vision, but he’d never bothered to think about the same growth and development in humans.
He sat on the bench next to the door and pulled on his boots. “Come on.” He picked up the car seat. “Oof, you’ve got some heft. Good for you.” Slinging the diaper bag over his shoulder, he picked up his keys. “The police will know what to do with you.”
Tucking the diaper bag behind the front passenger seat, he wrestled the car seat into place in the back, securing it with the seat belt. He didn’t think he had it quite right, but it should do for the short, careful drive into town.
The baby was quiet on the ride and seemed happy enough when Fox carried him, seat and all, into the police department looking for his cousin, Sheriff Trey Colton. If this was a prank, someone was about to get busted.
“Is Trey around?” he asked the officer manning the front desk.
“Come on back, Fox.” Trey waved him into his office, then did a double take when he saw what his cousin was carrying. “Whoa. Who’s this?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Fox set the carrier on the sheriff’s desk and the diaper bag in the chair. “I found him on my porch.”
“When?”
“Less than half an hour ago. I loaded him up and came straight here.”
“Why?”
Why? Fox gawked at Trey. His cousin was clearly overtired if he couldn’t come to his own conclusions on that score. “So you could handle it. Bringing him here seemed better than calling you out to the ranch.”
Eyes trained on the baby, Trey rocked the baby seat. “No one’s reported a missing child.”
“Well, let me be the first,” Fox muttered, planting his hands on his hips. “He isn’t mine.”
The sheriff arched an eyebrow and pinned his cousin with a hard stare. “Why else would he be on your porch?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he retorted. “I haven’t been with anyone.” He could feel his cheeks burning with the admission. “Not in a time frame that would have this result.”
He should’ve just had that vasectomy a few years ago after his sister had gotten pregnant. Sure she was happy now, but all her talk of cousins and playdates had terrified him. He was not father material. Fox didn’t expect her to remember that part of their childhood. Better if she didn’t. If only he’d followed through then, he wouldn’t have to endure the judgment on Trey’s face now.
“It’s not my kid,” he insisted.
“He’s a cute little guy.” With a put-upon sigh, Trey unbuckled the baby and lifted him from the seat. “Look for a note,” he told Fox.
Why hadn’t he thought of that? “No note here.”
“Check the diaper bag,” Trey said patiently, cuddling the baby like a pro. That too was empty of anything as helpful as identification or a note. “Was there anything else with him?”
“No.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a real mystery on your hands,” the sheriff said.
“No.” Fox stepped back. “You do. He isn’t my kid. I can’t keep him.” Just the thought of having a child in his care made his palms sweat. “I can’t keep him,” he repeated.
The baby wriggled in Trey’s arms, making happy gurgling sounds that made the sheriff smile. “Your front doorstep isn’t exactly well-known or easy to get to,” he said.
“Oh, my.” Deputy Sheriff Daria Bloom walked in. “What a sweet face.”
Was everyone on the graveyard shift tonight? With her athletic grace, striking features and golden-brown eyes framed by a cap of short dark hair, she always struck Fox as more of a model than a law enforcement officer. Of course, her real career choice was more than evident since she’d taken the lead on the Avalanche Killer case.
She stepped closer to the baby. “You’re a cutie, aren’t you?” she crooned.
The baby smiled at her and his pacifier fell out of his mouth to the floor. She picked it up. “What’s his name?”
“I wish I knew,” Fox said.
“What are you talking about?” Daria frowned, but the expression melted into a smile when the baby reached for her. She let him catch her finger in his tiny hand.
“Fox found him on his doorstep and is certain he isn’t the father.”
“Your house isn’t exactly easy access,” Daria replied.
“I said the same thing,” the sheriff murmured. The baby’s attention went to the star on his navy blue uniform shirt. “Someone went out of their way for you to have him, Fox.”
“But he cannot possibly be mine,” Fox insisted. “Isn’t there someone you call when this happens?”
Daria backed toward the door, the pacifier clutched in her hand. “I’ll go wash this.”
“I can call child services,” Trey offered. “If you’re sure that’s the route you want to go.”
Child services. “Foster care?” Fox rolled his shoulders, trying to release the sudden pinch between his shoulder blades. “Is that the only option?”
“No note, no identification, no reported lost baby.” Trey shrugged as he nestled the baby back into the car seat. “I’m afraid that’s the best I can do,” he said. “It’s standard procedure.”
Fox stared at the baby. Standard procedure would have landed him and his sister in foster care after their parents died. At that time, his family had stepped up and his aunt and uncle adopted them, given them family roots and the Colton name.
He rubbed at his forehead. “No.” The sheriff was right, his house wasn’t easily accessible, which meant someone had gone to some trouble to leave the baby with him. And been careful enough not to be seen.
“No what?” Trey asked.
“No foster care,” he said, making the decision as the words left his mouth. “There’s been a mistake, clearly.” This was not his child. “But I’ll take care of him until I can track down the person he belongs to.” Maybe one of the hands at the Crooked C was the father and whoever had dropped off the baby chose Fox’s porch in an effort to be discreet. His red barn was certainly easier to find in the dark and fewer people would be around.
“We’ll keep an eye out here, too,” the sheriff promised.
Daria returned with the pacifier. “All clean. You should get one of those leash thingies for it. And maybe call a pediatrician in the morning. Just to make sure he’s okay.”
He figured there were a lot of “shoulds” in his immediate future. Fox would ask his sister about the pacifier leash and all the rest. He almost swore. Those questions would have to wait until Sloane and her family returned. For now, the internet would have to suffice.
“I’ll check into it,” he said, trying not to snap. The deputy sheriff was only trying to help. He started to leave and stopped short. “Can someone check the car seat thing? I may not have it installed right. I was in a hurry.”
“On it,” Daria volunteered. At the truck, she made the proper adjustments to the base and got the baby seat locked in for the ride back home. “It occurs to me you may have another problem, Fox.”
Super. “What’s that?”
She gently closed the door. “I admit the Avalanche Killer is foremost on my mind.”
As she was lead on the case, that made perfect sense to Fox. He knew what it was like to get lost in solving a problem, in the lab or on the ranch. Another reason not to add a baby to his list of responsibilities.
“Playing a dangerous ‘what if’ game here,” she began. “But if the baby’s mother has been taken, the killer might have dropped the baby on the nearest doorstep.”
Great. Like he didn’t have enough to worry about. “You’re welcome to come out and take a look around. I heard a car on the gravel and a squeak on my porch step.”
“That’s all?”
Her disappointment didn’t come close to matching his frustration.
“The driver drove off without lights. I didn’t hear a crash or see anything on my way into town, but that’s a hard road to navigate in the dark.”
“I’ll come by tomorrow.”
With a nod, Fox climbed into the driver’s seat and headed for home, with a baby. How on earth had this happened? Though his first run at fatherhood was definitely temporary, he found it utterly terrifying.
With sunset painting the horizon in vivid golds and deep indigo, Kelsey Lauder paused at the end of the gravel drive that led to the big red barn. Finally, she’d reached the offices of Foxworth Colton. Two hours late, but she was here.
Being late embarrassed her—so unprofessional—but showing up with her cheeks on fire would make it worse. Everyone who’d learned to drive understood car trouble was never convenient. She’d done all she could to keep Mr. Colton informed with a call to his office that went straight to voice mail and sending a quick email reiterating that she would arrive as soon as possible.
Leaving her car on the side of the road, hazard lights flashing, she’d taken only her purse, eager to move quickly, still hopeful she might be close to on time for her interview. A rideshare service wasn’t an option and although she’d caught a ride with a trucker heading into Roaring Springs with a load of produce, she’d had to hike the last couple of miles to the ranch.
Having made a practice of looking for life’s silver linings, she found the first hopeful glimmer in that sunset and the second in the long hike that led farther away from the town and main roads. She appreciated distance and privacy, having had so little of it in labs and dorms.
Her extended, up-close look at the southern acreage of the Crooked C ranch was even better than she’d expected. Kelsey had done her research online and been thoroughly impressed by the articles and professional pictures, but in person, the property was far more than photogenic spin. She soaked up layer after layer of beautiful views, gorgeous horses, fenced pastures, well-kept barns and buildings and wide-open fields framed by the rugged mountains.
For years she’d been on a quest to achieve her top personal goals of peace and safety. Those warm feelings enveloped her almost from her first step onto the property, as if the ranch itself was gladly accepting her, buffering her from anything untoward. Small fantasies like that buoyed her spirit from one endeavor to the next as she searched for the place where she could sink deep roots.
Would it be here in Roaring Springs breeding quarter horses at the renowned Crooked C? She was about to knock on her idol’s door and find out.
Her nerves jumping, Kelsey pressed her hand to her belly. She paused under the shade of a big tree and pulled out her hair tie. She brushed out her long strawberry-blond hair until the strands were tangle-free again, then she wound it back into a bun to keep it out of her face. She might be late, but she would nail this interview.
Since graduating from college and defending her master’s thesis in equine genetics, she’d been bumping along from one internship or short-term study to the next. Not a bad system and it had given her time to figure out which facets of her degrees she wanted to put to use. She enjoyed lab work, but missed the hands-on, day-to-day interaction with the horses. It had been years since she’d been present for foaling. With a little luck and some quick talking, she’d be assisting Mr. Colton with that very thing come springtime.
As ready as ever, she marched toward the big barn and up onto the porch, under the sign with the Crooked C Quarter Horses logo. Drawing in a deep breath, she rang the doorbell. Waited several long moments. There was no answer. He could be out, working directly with his mares or just tending to the needs of a forty-acre ranch. Horses didn’t keep the same cushy hours as those of the labs she’d been working in.
She knocked, determined to reschedule if he didn’t have time to speak with her this evening. In all of the pictures and interviews she’d read, Fox struck her as a decent, kind man. She’d studied recordings of talks he’d given at various program events. The man came across as focused and purposeful, smart as a whip and humble about it. Genuine. If he couldn’t speak with her tonight, surely he could recommend a towing service and repair shop. And maybe, in the way of many communities, the repair shop would point her toward an affordable motel.
Roaring Springs was known for excellent skiing, a summer film festival, the resort atmosphere and the spa that catered to A-list celebrities. Kelsey didn’t have that kind of money to toss around. Not even for one night.
She rang the doorbell one last time, her mind spinning with new plans and possibilities. If Mr. Colton didn’t answer, she’d write a note and tuck it into the door and head down to the nearest barn. Was it better to go in search of someone who could help her or sit here like a lost puppy awaiting his return?
Suddenly, her spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a baby crying. Oh, no. Had all her ringing and knocking woken up the child? One of the first life rules she’d learned was never to wake a sleeping baby.
Way to make a good first impression.
The sounds of wailing increased, as if someone was slowly turning up the volume on a baby monitor. Then the door swung opened and a frazzled cowboy with glazed blue eyes and a miserable baby in his arms stared blankly at her.
Mr. Foxworth Colton. He was taller than she’d anticipated, making her feel shorter than ever. His brown hair, highlighted by hours out in the sun, fell into his eyes and his chambray shirt, half-untucked, was wrinkled and damp in places from the baby’s tears or worse. Either he’d grown a beard since the last photo she’d seen or he hadn’t shaved in several days. Nothing in his bio had mentioned a wife or children. He had several siblings, though he didn’t look anything like a content uncle at the moment.
When her gaze collided with his, she thought the man might burst into tears, too. The baby, a little boy she assumed based on the red airplanes on his sleeper, stared at her with big blue eyes in a wet red face. He hiccupped, then dropped his head to the cowboy’s shoulder and resumed his protest. Sympathy welled up within her for both of them.
“Mr. Colton?” She pitched her voice just loud enough to be heard over the squalling.
“Yes.”
“I don’t mean to interrupt. I’m Kelsey Lauder. We had an interview—”
He closed his eyes. His lips moved, in prayer or curse, she couldn’t know. Shifting the baby to his left arm, he offered her his right hand, but the baby’s displeasure continued. “I forgot all about it.” He winced as the baby arched and screeched louder still.
“I’d invite you in, but the smart move is to come back another day. Can you email me with a few options?”
Technically, yes. “Um...is your wife out?” she asked instead. The idea of hiking back to her car in the dark held zero appeal.
“Not married. This is...” His voice trailed off as he gently rocked the baby in his arm in a fruitless attempt to settle him. “Well, there isn’t an easy explanation.”
She’d come prepared to prove herself an asset to his horse breeding program. How to offer help with the baby without overstepping or offending? “I’ve had some experience with kids.” His dark eyebrows lifted. Skepticism or hope? “Lots of younger siblings,” she explained.
“There were a couple of stints as a nanny on your résumé,” he recalled.
“You’re right.” Babysitting and child care were the jobs she’d been most qualified for during her high school and college years. She moved back and invited him onto the porch. “It’s cooler out here,” she said.
“Aren’t babies supposed to be kept warm?” he asked, stepping out.
The squirming baby had lost a sock and if the blanket was meant to do anything, it was too twisted and bunched between them to be effective. “I think a few minutes in the cooler air might be more help to both of you,” she told him. “May I, Mr. Colton?” she asked, reaching for the baby.
“Call me Fox,” he said, handing her the little boy.
Kelsey crooned to the child as she cradled him in the crook of her elbow. She blotted the tears from his chubby cheeks and let him suck on her knuckle when he turned his head. “Aww. Are you hungry, little man?”
The baby’s cries eased, subsiding to a snuffle and smaller whimpers.
Fox’s eyes were wide. “How’d you do that?”
“Practice.” She laughed as he chomped on her finger. “He might be teething, too. What’s his name?”
“He doesn’t have one.” Fox pushed a hand through his hair, the other holding tightly to the baby’s blanket. He really did need someone to shape up that thick mass of hair. Was he growing the beard for winter, or too distracted to shave? “Well, he probably does, but whoever left him with me didn’t share it.”
She had no idea what he was talking about and she’d learned it was easier to keep a babysitting job when she didn’t ask probing personal questions. “Do you have formula or any supplies?” She could tell by touch that a diaper change was in order once the baby cooled off a little.
“Yes, there was formula in the bag.” He turned toward the open door. “It’s upstairs.”
“Do you think we might talk about the consulting position while he eats?”
“You’d do that?” The relief in his voice nearly made her laugh.
“You’re not the first father I’ve rescued.”
“I’m not the father at all,” he said sharply.
Great, she’d offended him. “Pardon me, I—”
