Rancher's Baby. Anne Marie Winston

When Ryan reflexively clasped his hand around his father’s finger, Tye smiled. “Wow. He’s got quite a grip for such a little guy.”

      “He’s not so little,” she said. “He weighed over nine pounds when he was born.”

      His cousin Leslie’s second daughter had been almost that big, and he remembered the horror story her husband told about how difficult the birth had been. He winced at the thought. Dulcie was small and petite, hardly built for delivering a miniature fullback. “Was it hard on you?”

      She shrugged. “After twenty-three hours of labor, they thought I wasn’t going to be able to deliver him. They were prepping me for a cesarean section when his head crowned and the doctor decided to give it one more try. I think it was about two more hours after that before he was delivered.”

      He was appalled. The thought of her suffering through a day of wrenching pain was more than he could bear to think about. “Were you alone?” he asked.

      She shook her head. “Angel was with me.” Then her lips curved into a wry smile. “Although I wish she hadn’t been. That experience could have turned her off pregnancy for life.”

      He didn’t share her mirth. “Dammit, Dulcie, I could have been there. I could have helped you.” His voice reflected the bitterness that rose within him. “But you never gave me the chance. You were going to cut me out of my son’s life without a second thought. Why?”

      Her hand moved restlessly over the baby’s back, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I…we really didn’t know each other that well, Tye. You’re devoted to your work and you’re always traveling. I honestly didn’t think it would matter to you.” Her hand hesitated for a moment, and she looked up at him with an unspoken apology in her dark eyes. “Now I realize that was unfair.”

      “Unfair?” Tye snorted. “That’s an understatement.” He eased his finger from his son’s tiny fist and walked across the room, massaging the back of his neck with one hand.

      “What will you do now?” Behind him, Dulcie’s voice was filled with apprehension.

      He pivoted to face her. “How the hell do I know? I just found out I’m a father five minutes ago. I need some time to think about this.” And just like that, he knew what he needed to do. “You and I have to talk, to make some decisions. I’ll stay here at the ranch for a while until we can sort all this out.”

      Dulcie’s eyes widened. “Here? In this house?”

      “In this house,” he confirmed. Seeing her brows draw together, he added, “And just in case you’re thinking of refusing, let me remind you that I could take this to court if I have to. I have a right to be involved in my son’s life.”

      Dulcie was silent for so long that he wondered what she was thinking. When she finally spoke, it wasn’t the stinging response for which he’d braced himself. “What about your job?” she asked. “Don’t you have to work?”

      Tye thought of the healthy nest egg his free-lance photography had provided, about the way his agent was constantly pestering him to approve limitededition prints from some of his work. “Let me worry about that,” he advised her.

      The ringing of the dinner bell interrupted any more conversation. He waited in the hall until Dulcie rearranged her clothing, then followed her downstairs to the dining room, where the table was prepared for dinner.

      Three cowboys were taking seats as he entered. Dulcie pointed to a seat at the long table and told him, “Sit there.” She placed Ryan in a little cradle next to the far corner of the table and took a seat where she could see the baby. Just then, Angel backed through the door from what he assumed was the kitchen. Behind her was a little girl with glossy, bouncing dark curls carrying a fistful of napkins, which she handed to Dulcie. Angel set a large casserole dish on the table and turned to lift the little girl into a chair. Another cowboy, easily the biggest man in the room, entered through the same door, carrying a huge bowl of baked potatoes, as well as a covered basket from which wafted the fragrant scent of bread. He set them on the table and took the seat at the head of the table, with Angel on his right and the child seated between them.

      Angel placed her hand on the man’s brawny forearm. “Day, we have a visitor this evening. This is Tye Bradshaw.” She turned and smiled at Tye. “Tye, this is my husband, Day Kincaid, Dulcie’s brother.”

      The rancher rose at the same time Tye did. The hand he extended met Tye’s in a grip strong enough to crush bone. Tye returned it in full measure, not easing the pressure until Day grinned and relaxed his palm. “Welcome to the Red Arrow, Tye. What brings you to these parts?”

      As both men resumed their seats, Dulcie rushed into speech before Tye could explain his presence. “Tye was my neighbor in Albuquerque. He’s going to be visiting for a few days.”

      A few days? Tye turned his head and stared at Dulcie until she dropped her gaze to her plate. He had a suspicion it was going to take more than a few days to straighten out everything between them. When he looked at Day Kincaid again, the welcome had faded from Day’s eyes and a guarded speculation had replaced his initial friendliness.

      Angel carried on with the introductions. Tye saw her nudge her husband in the ribs with a surreptitious elbow, clearly a warning to mind his company manners. “Tye was involved in an accident in Deming, and his car is under repair.” Then she turned to Tye again, naming for him the three cowhands who were grouped at the foot of the table. She finished by pointing to the little girl. “And this is our daughter, Beth Ann. She’s a big help with her new cousin Ryan.”

      The child giggled and nodded vigorously. “I sing songs to Ry’n. He loves my songs.”

      Tye couldn’t help grinning. The child reminded him of his two cousins’ little girls. “How old are you, Beth Ann?” he asked.

      She proudly held up four stubby fingers. “Fou’.”

      “Wow!” He feigned amazement. “I have two little nieces the very same age.”

      Beth Ann looked fascinated. “What’s ’ere names?”

      “Melody and Ariel,” he answered. “Melody has a big sister named Pamela and Ariel has two baby sisters called Margaret and Katie.” When he glanced at Dulcie, there was a speculative expression on her face, and he didn’t trust the gleam in her eye.

      “That’s a lot of girls,” she remarked. “I don’t remember hearing about your family before.”

      No one else at the table could have registered the dig but Tye. Hell! He hadn’t purposely concealed anything from Dulcie. When they’d gone out together in Albuquerque, they’d talked only in generalities. Or about her marriage.

      “Technically, they aren’t my nieces, they’re my cousins. I don’t have any sisters or brothers,” he said. No time like the present to start overcoming past mistakes. “Those are the children of the two cousins I was raised with.”

      He could see in her face the desire to question him further, but the rest of the company gathered around the table inhibited her.

      “So you’re from Albuquerque?” Dulcie’s brother addressed him from the end of the table.

      Tye shook his head. “Not originally. And not recently. My family is in Montana. I’m a free-lance photographer, and for a while I had an apartment in Albuquerque.” He inclined his head toward Dulcie. “Which is where Dulcie and I met. But I’ve spent the last year on a Montana cow-calf operation, working for my uncle after he fell and shattered his left leg pretty badly.”

      Day’s eyes lit up. “How many head?”

      The rest of the meal was dominated by ranch talk. Although Tye could tell Day hadn’t forgotten to be suspicious of him, Tye liked Dulcie’s brother. And her sister-in-law, Angel. A beautiful woman. Idly he wondered what there was about human attraction that made him only mildly interested in her undeniable fair beauty, while every cell in his body was alert to Dulcie’s presence when she was in