that goes on at the Burning Pear. For someone so little, she demands, and gets, a lot of attention.”
“I can see that. She’s a little heart stealer.” Betsy slapped her hands against the tray, then laughed at her own antics.
Langley took the damp cloth and wiped up another smear of baby food. “We don’t know who Betsy’s real parents are,” he continued, turning back to Danielle. “She was brought to us six months ago when she was just a newborn. The woman who delivered her to us believed Betsy was a Randolph. But, as best we can figure, the man who’d told her that had been lying. He was actually scheming to bilk us out of money.”
“Had he kidnapped her?”
“We thought so at first, but the man was killed before we could find out the whole story. At any rate, we’ve never been able to locate Betsy’s real family, so she’s kind of in our care until we do.”
“A mystery baby. One with a secret past. I can identify with that.”
Langley nodded. “I guess you can. But there’s got to be a way to check your past. I made some calls this morning.”
The statement didn’t surprise her. “Whom did you call?”
“Charity Hospital in New Orleans. The New Orleans Police Department. The detective who was handling your case.”
“And what did you discover?”
“The hospital staff is very upset that you walked out without being officially released. And surprisingly enough, I learned the New Orleans cops covered all the bases, checked all the available sources for finding out who you really are. They even checked all the hotels. None of their guests were missing. And there’s been no one who matches your description reported as missing either in Louisiana or anywhere across the country.”
“So, it’s just as I told you last night. Until my memory returns or someone reports me as missing, I’m merely an unidentified victim of a crime, fortunately a live victim.”
“The problem is that without a last name or a social security number, there’s nothing to hang a search on. It’s just too bad Milton isn’t still alive to fill in the details of your past.”
“I know. I was counting on that. I tried phoning him from the hospital the night the nurse brought me the letter, but the phone company reported that the number had been disconnected.”
“Even when your uncle was alive, his number was unlisted. He was not big on socializing. We can call the phone company this morning and have the phone reconnected. You’ll need it if you spend any time at all over there.”
She toyed with her cup, watching the brew swirl, a motion as useless as her coming to Kelman had been. Her uncle was dead. Her past was still floating in some nebulous vacuum.
Langley picked up on her mood shift. “Just because the NOPD hasn’t been able to learn your identity doesn’t mean I’m giving up.”
She met his gaze. “I’ll hold you to that. You said my uncle wasn’t sociable, but he must have had some friends. Maybe he told them about me.”
Langley’s expression grew grim. “I’ve also been on the phone with Joshua Kincaid this morning. He’s the man Milton worked for before he bought the ranch and retired. Actually, it turns out Kincaid gave him the ranch, a bonus for Milton’s loyalty and hard work. At least, that’s the way Kincaid put it.”
“So the Running Deer was originally part of Mr. Kincaid’s ranch?”
“Not part of his main ranch, but Kincaid has several land holdings in the area. He’s always around to help his neighbors when they’re in financial straits. He relieves them of their land at a favorable price—favorable to him.”
“But he must be charitable with his employees. He apparently was with Milton. A ranch is a generous bonus. Was Mr. Kincaid aware that my uncle planned to will the Running Deer to me?”
Langley pushed back from the table and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Kincaid had never heard Milton mention you. In fact, he said Milton had bragged when he first went to work for him that he was one of the world’s few total loners. No family. No ties.”
The all-too-familiar sinking sensation settled in Danielle’s stomach. She’d followed the one lead she had, traveled all the way to south Texas only to reach another dead end.
“Actually, Kincaid was surprised to hear that someone was claiming ownership of the Running Deer,” Langley continued. “He’s had his men taking care of the cattle while he waited to see what was going to happen, but he said he figured the place might go on the auction block. Which is likely the real reason he’s made sure the place was kept up. He’s probably interested in reacquiring it.”
“But surely my uncle left a will,” she said, grasping at straws.
“I have a man checking into that now, but don’t count on it. Like I said earlier, Milton Maccabbe was a loner. He didn’t socialize with any of the townspeople, didn’t even have a local bank account. Lots of people speculated that he was one of those eccentric misers who had a fortune hidden in his mattress, but there’s been no evidence to back that up.”
“Then that might explain the place’s being wrecked. Someone was probably looking for his hidden fortune.”
“I might buy that theory if we hadn’t found that warning on the mirror.”
“But it could be tied together.” She spread her hands on the table. “If someone knows that Milton left the ranch to me, he could be trying to make sure I don’t take over before he has time to search for the millions.”
“Say, who’s supposed to be the cop here?”
“It is possible. You have to admit that.”
“Right now, I have to believe anything’s possible, but if some crackpot expects to find millions lying around the ranch, I think they’re in for a big disappointment. According to Joshua Kincaid, Milton sank everything he had into the Running Deer. The ranch itself was as rundown as the house when he moved onto the place. He fixed all the fences and windmills, bought new equipment and invested thousands of dollars in premium breeding stock.”
“All that when he knew he was about to die? That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does to a cowboy. He gets his kicks riding in wide open spaces. Knows his life is worthwhile when he nurses aching muscles at the end of the day as he watches the sun set over a well-run ranch.”
“Spoken like a true cowboy.”
“And proud of it.”
He smiled, a reaction that lit up his eyes and relaxed the muscles in his rugged face. A welcome warmth crept inside Danielle’s heart. The trip to Texas hadn’t lifted the thick fog of confusion concerning her past, but it had hooked her up with Langley Randolph. At the moment, that seemed a much better omen than anything that had happened in the past two weeks.
She just had to be careful not to grow too dependent on him. And not to let him become attached to her. Her life was already rife with complications, and she didn’t need any more. She filed those words of caution to the back of her mind as footsteps sounded in the hall.
“I don’t know how in the world a family no bigger than this one can create such a stack of—oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know our guest had joined us. She doesn’t want to hear about our dirty laundry.”
The smiling woman strode toward Danielle, wiping her hands on the embroidered apron that circled her plump waist. Her eyes were friendly and bright, her graying hair still shiny.
“So that explains the clean clothes. You really shouldn’t have.”
“Land sakes, girl, one more pair of jeans and a shirt didn’t even make a showing in this pile of laundry.”
“Mom, meet Danielle. Danielle, this is Mary Randolph, better known