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“Don’t try to move.”
He knelt on the hay beside her. “Wait till help arrives. Your baby is right here. See? Safe.”
She reached out and touched the baby’s head. “Melody,” the woman whispered. “I can’t help her right now. Please don’t hurt her. She’s so little.”
Nathan sat back on his heels wondering why this odd woman kept demanding that he not hurt them. What kind of monster would hurt a new mother and her child?
“Her name is Melody?” he asked, trying to make small talk and sound calm. “How old is she?”
“Two weeks yesterday.”
“What’s your name?”
The woman groaned and pursed her lips. Apparently that was one question she didn’t want to answer.
What the hell did he have on his hands? Who was she and where had she come from? That she was running away from something seemed fairly obvious.
Dear Reader,
I must’ve been sitting under my lucky star when I was chosen to write one of the books in the PERFECT, WYOMING continuity. Sometimes you just luck out, you know?
What a series this is! Perfect, Wyoming is a nickname for Cold Plains, a town that has been taken over by a cult. The town is now populated with glassy-eyed, beautiful people who are devoted to a charismatic leader. But an evil presence pervades the small town. Children are missing and beautiful women are dying.
Chilling.
The best part for me of writing one of the books in the series is the terrific group of authors who wrote the rest of the books. How could we miss with wonderful authors Marie Ferrarella, Kimberly Van Meter, Jennifer Morey, Loreth Anne White and Carla Cassidy in the line-up?
My book, Rancher’s Perfect Baby Rescue, is book no.2 in the six-book series. It tells the story of a rancher with demons and his call to rescue a single mother on the run. Come along on Nathan and Susannah’s thrilling adventure.
Happy reading!
Linda Conrad
About the Author
When asked about her favourite things, LINDA CONRAD lists a longtime love affair with her husband, her sweetheart of a dog named KiKi and a sunny afternoon with nothing to do but read a good book. Inspired by generations of storytellers in her family and pleased to have many happy readers’ comments, Linda continues creating her own sensuous and suspenseful stories about compelling characters finding love.
A bestselling author of more than twenty-five books, Linda has received numerous industry awards, among them the National Reader’s Choice Award, the Maggie, the Write Touch Readers’ Award and the RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award. To contact Linda, to read more about her books or to sign up for her newsletter and/or contests, go to her website, www.lindaconrad.com.
Rancher’s
Perfect Baby
Rescue
Linda Conrad
To Patience Bloom and Shana Smith with my thanks
for making this book the best it could be.
Chapter 1
“Shush, baby. Please. They mustn’t hear us.”
Susannah Paul ducked through the cold darkness, dodging tree limbs and praying that her two-week-old little girl would not cry out. Howling winds rustled through the black-as-night woods, sending her scurrying.
Away. If she could fly, high above the rocky, tangled terrain, the two of them would be hundreds of miles away from the town of Cold Plains and its potential dangers. It seemed as if she and the baby had been on the run for hours. Day had become night, and it was harder than ever trying to make her way through the dense forest.
She had no idea how long it had been since she’d bid goodbye to her friend May Frommer and dashed into the woods in broad daylight, but she couldn’t stop now—not until she was sure they would not be found.
The baby in the carrier at her breast whimpered low, her cries so pitiful and weak that Susannah’s heart winced. We’ll stop soon, my darling Melody. Mommy will find safety, I promise. I know you’re hungry.
Frustrated to the point of blindness by not being able to slow her steps long enough to feed her child, Susannah barged into a gully and practically tripped over fallen tree limbs in her way. Breathing heavily, she scolded herself for not paying closer attention. It would never do for her to fall. She couldn’t while carrying her baby and with the heavy pack of their meager belongings on her back.
At the far side of the gully, the moon broke through heavy foliage and lit her surroundings just enough for her to get her bearings. It was infinitely harder to find her way in the pitch darkness than earlier that morning when she’d gotten directions.
She needed to stop for a moment. They both required water, a little breather.
Leaning against the thick trunk of a tall pine, she pulled a baby bottle from her coat pocket and placed it against her child’s lips. “Please drink, sweetheart,” she whispered.
Baby Melody seemed drugged and had little interest in the bottle she hadn’t learned to use even in the best of surroundings. “I know. You want Mama’s milk. But we can’t stop that long right now.”
Susannah placed a couple of drops of the liquid against the child’s mouth, hoping some would spill inside, then she pulled off the nipple and drank a couple of swallows herself. Stale. She didn’t blame her child for not being interested in water that tasted old, but her baby needed liquid. It had been several hours since she’d halted their escape long enough to breast-feed.
Did she dare try it now? While they were stopped for the moment, Susannah quieted her breathing and listened for any sign that their pursuers were closing in. She heard leaves rustling in the wind but nothing that sounded like men crashing through the forest after them.
How had she gotten into this position in the first place? Everything that had once been so clean and good had suddenly turned so rotten and dangerous. It didn’t seem fair.
But most of her life hadn’t been fair, either, she realized. She’d been hoping that the new circumstances and pleasant people she’d found in Cold Plains would do the trick and change her life around—for Melody’s sake, if not for hers.
The baby didn’t deserve to start out her life this way. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Susannah refused to allow this kind of prejudice against her child. Melody was not going to suffer the fate she had.
A single tear rolled from the edge of her eye, but Susannah couldn’t cry. She couldn’t afford to waste the bodily fluids. Biting her cheek to make the tears stop, she tried thinking back to how happy she’d been on the day Melody was born.
That morning she’d walked twelve blocks to the other edge of town, already in labor but determined to reach her new friend’s cottage before the birth. May Frommer was one of the kindest people Susannah had ever met—well, next to Samuel Grayson, that was. And May had been waiting with open arms.
Lately Samuel had been too busy selling his health-giving waters and with his duties as leader of the Devotees to spend much time with her. On the other hand, May was the town’s midwife, not one of the Devotees but someone who’d lived in Cold Plains all her life.
May had been secretly helping with her pregnancy for months. To be