Cowboy at the Crossroads. Linda Warren

to reach the Talbert family without success, Rose insisted Emily give up the baby for adoption. Emily fought it, resisted, to no avail. Rose and Owen had their own child on the way and couldn’t help her. Besides, all her life Emily had planned to be a doctor, and Rose wasn’t letting anything interfere with that. In the end, Emily did what her parents wanted. After graduation, Owen took Emily to San Antonio, where the adoption had been arranged.

      At the same time, Rose gave birth to a baby girl, who died after a few weeks. In a depressed and disturbed state of mind, Rose cancelled Emily’s adoption, and when Emily’s baby was born, Rose took her home and raised Rebecca as her own. Emily never knew. She went to college, then to medical school, never knowing the truth. Everyone thought Becca was Rose’s—even Emily.

      For years, Emily had nightmares about giving her baby away, and when Jackson came back into her life, she told him about the pregnancy. He was angry at first, and then they set out to find their daughter—neither of them dreaming that she was so close.

      Becca took a sip of coffee as she relived the heartache of that time. She’d felt so angry when she found out what Rose had done. She’d been furious with everyone, including Emily. Especially Emily. The mother who’d let her go. But eventually they had gotten through all the pain, and Emily and Jackson were more deeply in love than ever. Now they had Scotty, too. Rose and Owen still lived in Rockport, and Becca saw them as often as she could.

      Forgiving was easy, but forgetting was sometimes hard.

      Someone had once asked her what you do when you discover you’re not really who you thought you were. The answer was that you fall apart, then you pick yourself up and get on with your life. Now Becca was wondering if she should be making bigger changes in that orderly life of hers and—

      The ringing of the phone stopped her thoughts. She put her cup down and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

      “Dr. Becca Talbert?”

      Becca recognized that voice. For the past year and at the oddest times she’d seen his face and the sadness in his eyes.

      “Yes,” she answered readily.

      “This is Cord Prescott.”

      Becca already knew that. But why was he calling her after a whole year without a word? Why was he calling when they were practically strangers?

      “You may not remember me,” he said, “but I’m Colton’s brother.”

      “Yes, I remember you, Cord, and your little girl. How are you?” Over the past year, she’d often asked Colton about Cord and his daughter. He always said they were “trying to adjust.”

      “Not good,” he answered. “Colton said you’re a pediatrician and I thought you might be able to help me.”

      “With Nicki, you mean?”

      “Yes,” he replied. “I know you’re busy, but I’m not sure what to do anymore.”

      Becca curled her feet beneath her, settling more comfortably into the chair. “Tell me about Nicki.”

      “I’ve taken her to several doctors, even a child psychologist, but she won’t talk to them. She just clings to me, and if I leave the room she screams and cries.”

      “Then she hasn’t adjusted to her mother’s death?”

      “Not at all,” he said. “She insists on staying in her room and she’s hardly eating. She’s lost so much weight I can hardly stand it. She used to love the outdoors, but she won’t even ride her horse. She won’t talk about her mother, and I’m at my wits’ end. I think she’s making herself physically ill with grief. I’d really like to get your professional opinion.”

      “Of course. I’d be glad to help any way I can,” Becca said instantly, her heart heavy at the thought of what Cord was going through.

      “Thanks, Becca. I’d appreciate it.”

      “But I’m not seeing patients until July.”

      “Oh.”

      There was a long pause. “Nicki doesn’t do well in an office environment. I was hoping I could persuade you to come out to the ranch and see her.”

      This time Becca was the one who was startled, but it didn’t take her long to decide. “I can do that. As a matter of fact, I have the afternoon free. Why don’t I drive out there today.”

      “Thank you so much,” he said earnestly. “Do you remember where we are?”

      “Yes. But Cord…you have to understand that I treat the body. Nicki may need a psychologist. I’ve had courses, but it’s not my specialty.”

      “Just see her, that’s all I ask. Colton says you’re a very good doctor—and I trust his judgment.”

      “Fine. I’ll be there around four o’clock.”

      As Becca hung up the phone, she wondered what else Colton had told him about her. She shook her head. What did that matter? Nicki Prescott needed help, and she had to do everything she could.

      CORD REPLACED THE RECEIVER with a long sigh. He remembered how comforting Becca had been the day of the funeral. He’d been so overwhelmed by anger, disillusionment and pain that he didn’t remember much, but he remembered Becca. And she would help his baby. She had to.

      He hurried down the hall to the kitchen. Della, the housekeeper, was sitting on a stool, peeling potatoes. At sixty-five, Della was a high-strung woman who never seemed to tire or lose energy. She’d been with the Prescott family since Cord was a young boy. Her hair was now gray and her blue eyes not as sharp, but in other ways she was unchanged.

      “What are we having for supper?” he asked.

      “Roast. Why?” She didn’t look up, just kept on peeling potatoes.

      “Because Dr. Talbert’s coming to see Nicki, and I’m going to invite her to eat with us.”

      “Dr. Talbert?” Della raised her head, frowning. “Isn’t that Colton’s…friend? Becca, right?”

      “Yes.”

      “Does Colton know she’s coming?”

      “No, and what difference does it make?” There was a note of exasperation in his voice that he couldn’t hide. He hadn’t called Colton because he didn’t want a lot of people around. He wanted to keep this as private as possible, for Nicki’s sake.

      “None whatsoever,” Della replied, returning to her potatoes.

      “Becca will be here to see Nicki, that’s all.”

      “It’s time someone helped that child. She can’t go on like this much longer.”

      “I know. That’s why I want this evening to be special—calm and quiet—so Becca can interact with Nicki.”

      “Does the queen of the house know you’re having a guest for supper?”

      “I don’t give a damn what Blanche thinks.”

      “Your mother doesn’t like it when things are done without her knowledge.”

      “You can tell Blanche—” He stopped and took a breath. “Never mind, I’ll handle Blanche. Just prepare an extra-special meal.”

      Della glanced at him. “You’re very excited about this.”

      “I am. My daughter’s life depends on it.”

      AS BECCA WAS TRYING TO DECIDE what to wear, she thought about Nicki. The child should have adjusted to her mother’s death by now, but it was hard to judge with children. Trauma affected them differently. Becca could still hear her saying in that pitiful little voice, “I can’t find my mommy.” Death was so hard to explain to children, and Becca wasn’t convinced she could help Nicki. However, she’d certainly try.

      She dressed