CHAPTER ONE
The pains began the moment her plane touched down at the Cheyenne, Wyoming, airport. By the time she got into the back of the cab to carry her to the Connor ranch, the pains shot through her with a regularity that terrified her.
“Lady, are you okay?” The driver frowned at her in his rearview mirror. “You ain’t gonna have that baby right here in my cab, are you?”
“I certainly hope not.” She rubbed her protruding stomach and drew in a deep breath. “How much farther to the Connor ranch?”
“Not far, just over the next hill.” As if sensing her imminent delivery, the driver stepped on the gas, encouraging the old car to go faster.
She leaned her head against the seat, willing herself to try to relax, drawing air deep into her lungs. The pain battled with fear, the fear that had ridden her like a demon since that morning she’d awakened in a hotel room in Las Vegas.
Shivering, she remembered that moment when sleep had fallen away and she’d sat up in the bed, not knowing where she was or how she had gotten there.More frightening was the realization that she had no idea who she was, only that she was very pregnant and had no memory of anything beyond that moment in time.
A purse lying on the end of the bed had held the answer to who she was. The driver’s license inside had displayed a photo of her with the name of Colette Connor. Unfortunately, the license hadn’t answered many other questions, like how she had come to be in the hotel room and whose baby she carried.
A suitcase had yielded clothes, an envelope of money and letters written to her and mailed from a ranch in Wyoming. The ranch was the same address as the one on her driver’s license. Not knowing what else to do, Colette had hopped a plane to Cheyenne, hoping she would find welcome and answers at the Connor ranch.
As the driver turned off onto a dirt road, Colette grabbed her stomach and swallowed a moan as another pain ripped through her. Tears blurred her vision as she rode the wave of pain, vaguely aware of the taxi driver’s frantic muttered curse from the front seat.
“Hang tight, missy,” the driver exclaimed, pulling her back to the present. “The Connor ranch is just ahead.”
Colette sat up straighter, hoping the landscape would jog her errant memory. A flat plain of scrub grass stretched out seemingly endless. The only break in the monotony was buttes of rock jutting upward and the distant foothills of a mountain range.
Nothing. No sudden flash of insight, no burst of released memories. Nothing. Dammit, what had happened to her to steal her memories? Why couldn’t shetear aside the black curtain that obscured her own identity?
The driver turned onto another dirt road, then crested a hill. “There it is,” he said, pointing to the ranch spread out in the valley just at the foot of the hills.
Was this home? Colette wondered, fighting against another contraction, this one stealing her breath away. Would she find family here? Somebody who could fill in all the blank spaces in her mind? Would she find a man waiting for her, frantic with worry? She wore no wedding or engagement ring but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a special someone in her life. So where was he now? Why was she alone?
They crossed beneath a wooden sign announcing Welcome and the driver passed a number of outbuildings and corrals before pulling to a stop in front of a sprawling ranch house.
The driver, obviously eager to be rid of her, hurried from his seat and unloaded her suitcase from the trunk. Colette didn’t move. Despite the viselike contraction that squeezed her, the physical pain couldn’t touch the fear that riveted through her as she stared at the unfamiliar house. What if she wasn’t welcome here? Maybe her family had disowned her, thrown her from the house months before. What if there was nobody here who would help her?
She jumped as a tall blond woman walked out of the house, a smile of welcome on her lips as she approached the taxi. Colette’s heart beat rapidly as an odd familiarity whispered through her. She opened the door and with an effort stepped out. Leaningagainst the cab, she wrapped her arms around her burgeoning stomach as another pain stabbed through her.
The smile of welcome fell from the woman’s lips, replaced by shocked recognition. “Colette? Oh, my God.” She raced to Colette’s side and placed an arm around her. With a single glance she assessed the situation. “Cody,” she yelled to the little boy lingering on the porch, “run and get Doctor Washburn. Tell him Aunt Colette is home and it appears she’s about to deliver a baby.” Without hesitation he took off running toward one of the outbuildings.
“Please…help me,” Colette whispered weakly.
“Shh, of course we’re going to help you.” The woman’s arms offered additional feelings of familiarity, and Colette knew whoever she was, she was somebody important in Colette’s life. “Bulldog,” the woman yelled. A tall, thickset young man rounded the side of the house, his moon-shaped face unlined save a vacant smile.
“Abby, can I help?” The deep masculine voice came from one side of Colette. She turned her head to see a tall, raven-haired cowboy. A faint coating of dust and dark stubble covered well-defined features. Somehow Colette knew with a certainty that beneath his five o’clock shadow hid a dimple in his chin. A black wide-brimmed hat obscured his eyes, but as he reached out a hand and touched the swell of her belly, she hissed inwardly.
Her breath caught in her throat and for just a moment she felt as though she’d run right into the arms of danger—she hadn’t escaped. The thought was alien, nonsensical and quickly swallowed by anothercrashing wave of contraction that nearly bent her double.
“I think we can handle it,” Abby said to the cowboy. “Bulldog, please carry Colette up to her room. And, Bulldog…be gentle.”
“Yes, ma’am, Ms. Abby.” With the ease of Hercules, the round-faced man called Bulldog swept Colette up into his arms. As he carried her to the front door, she was vaguely aware of Abby paying the cabdriver and sending him on his way.
She looked over Bulldog’s shoulder, seeking the cowboy who’d startled her, but he was nowhere to be found, making her wonder if he’d been a figment of her pain-crazed mind.
The names—Abby, Cody, Bulldog—all rang distant chords of memory, and Colette felt if she could just have a moment without the pains she could pull it all together, remember everything. But the pain was constant, feeling as if it would rip her apart, tear her asunder.
As Bulldog gently placed her on the bed in a small bedroom, she felt all rational thought dissipate beneath the overriding torment of giving birth.
Her body was beyond her control, as was her mind, and she gave herself up to the primal instinct of survival.
It didn’t take her long to lose track of time. The pains came one after another and despite the fact that Dr. Washburn kept assuring her she was doing fine, she feared she would die. The thought of dying without knowing who she was, who the baby’s father was, why she couldn’t remember, caused her to hold tight to Abby’s hand. Through her moans, she tried to tellAbby about her confusion, but knew she wasn’t making sense.
