The Baby Trail. Karen Rose Smith

much tighter than they used to be. That was a good thing.

      He motioned to the little girl. “She looks healthy, and she’s not in isolation. From what I understand, she’s waiting for a family. Gwen Langworthy told me that. You know, the woman who found her?”

      The woman’s shoulders seemed to relax a bit. “You know Gwen?”

      He nodded.

      “Amy’s doing okay, eating better than she was. She needs a home.”

      “Can you tell me what happened to the clothes she was wearing when she was brought in?”

      “Clothes?” the nurse asked, looking puzzled.

      “Gwen told me she was wearing a playsuit with a sweater and hat.” She had on one of those suits now, but it was pink, not yellow. “I wondered about the sweater and hat and the blanket she was wrapped in.”

      The nurse thought about it. “They might be in one of the storage closets.”

      If he took the case, he’d analyze them. If he took the case, he’d need to know the baby’s blood type and whatever else her medical records could tell him. That would require a trip to the sheriff’s office and legal maneuvering, or help behind the scenes.

      If he took the case.

      Handing Nurse Spagnola his business card, he asked, “Can you give me a call on my cell phone if you find the clothes? I’ll be around town and can stop back.”

      The nurse checked his card and nodded.

      Thanking her, he headed toward the elevator. Good old-fashioned footwork paid off in a town the size of Wild Horse Junction. He’d investigate a little more, then make up his mind.

      Would she ever be a mom? Did she really believe a child needed two loving parents?

      On Sunday morning after church, Gwen drove straight to the hospital to visit Baby Amy. It was simple and complicated at the same time. She considered herself a progressive woman. Yet she was discovering day by day she had very traditional values. On one hand, what if she never married? Why should she deny herself motherhood because a man didn’t fit into her life…or she didn’t fit into his? On the other hand, a picket fence and a partner for life was her deepest dream.

      She’d stopped in to see Amy every day since the baby had been deserted and, in spite of herself, Gwen felt a huge connection to the infant. When she held her and fed her and rocked her, she longed for her own baby as well as an ideal home for this one.

      Today, instead of heading for the nursery, she stopped at the ob-gyn nurses’ desk.

      Dianne Spagnola looked up. “Gwen, do you know a Garrett Maxwell?”

      “I know who he is,” she answered. “Why?”

      “Because he was here asking questions and gave me the impression he was working with the sheriff’s department. After he left, I wondered if I should have told him anything.”

      Working with the sheriff’s department. Her heart sped up with hope that he was going to take her case. “I asked him to help me find Amy’s mother. He’s on the level. How long ago was he here?”

      “About ten minutes.”

      Maybe he was going to make up his mind before this evening. “Do you know which way he was headed?”

      “He wanted me to see if I could find the clothes Amy was wearing when she was brought in. He gave me a card and told me to call his cell phone number. He said he’d be around town and he could stop back if I found them.”

      Around town. Wild Horse Junction wasn’t that big. Maybe she could spot his SUV. It was huge and black and stark. She’d seen it in his driveway. There had been a decal on his side back window, a triangle with a small plane in its center. She’d wondered at the time if he belonged to some kind of club.

      “I think I’m going to try to track him down.” She gave Dianne a smile. “I’ll be back to rock Amy in a little while.”

      “On our breaks, we give her as much attention as we can, but I think she likes you best.”

      After a quick goodbye, Gwen headed for the parking garage.

      In her van, she decided to start with the main road in town, Wild Horse Way. As she drove south, she checked out the parking lots at the grocery store, restaurants and many shops that lined the street, catering to tourists—Flutes and Drums gallery, the Saddle Shop, the Turquoise Emporium. At the edge of town at a gas station combined with a convenience store, she spotted a black SUV. It looked like Garrett Maxwell’s.

      She pulled up beside it and saw the decal on the window. Pay dirt. After she pocketed her keys and picked up her purse, her heart raced faster and she told herself the increase was simply because she was anxious about him taking the case.

      However, when she opened the door to the convenience store and saw him standing at the counter with the cashier, her attraction to him slammed into her full force. She’d always liked tall men, and he was definitely tall. He looked dangerous and sexy and she knew she should run in the other direction. But she needed his professional skill right now and she was going to get it if she could.

      When he saw her, there was no simple “hello.”

      “This isn’t a coincidence, is it?” he asked, brows raised.

      She gave him a quick smile. “No. I went to the hospital.”

      “And?”

      “And Dianne said you were asking questions and would be around town. Are you taking the case?”

      “I’m still deciding.” He turned his attention once again to the cashier. “So you don’t remember a young couple?” he asked the teenager as if the boy had already said he didn’t.

      “Nope,” the boy responded. “Who are you anyway? A cop?”

      Not caring what Garrett Maxwell thought, Gwen interrupted, “Hi, Reuben. We met at the high school at the beginning of the month when I spoke to the senior class. You helped me with the screen in the auditorium.”

      The boy looked at her. “I remember. Ms. Langworthy, right?”

      “Right. Reuben, do you remember a story in the paper about a baby that was found?”

      “I don’t read the paper much but my folks were talking about it.”

      “We’re looking for that baby’s mom.”

      “So you can arrest her?” he asked warily.

      “No, we’re not law enforcement. We want to find her so we can help her.”

      Although the teenager looked unsure for a few moments, he stared at Gwen and seemed to decide that she was sincere. Still he asked, “Help her, how?”

      “We need to know why she left her baby.” More times than Gwen could count she’d wondered about her own real mother. How young had she been? How rich or poor? Had there been no one to help her or had she simply not cared enough to keep a child? Had she shirked responsibility or simply been unable to accept it?

      Shaking off those questions, she went on, “If she wants to give the baby up for adoption, that’s fine. But we want to make sure she has the information she needs to make that decision. And if she really does want to be a mom, but needs help, we need to know that, too.”

      His gaze went to Garrett, then back to her. “Yeah, I guess you do. I don’t know anything for sure.”

      “But you know something?” Gwen asked gently.

      “Maybe. I was working Monday night. I only work Monday, Wednesday and Sunday. Anyway, this guy and his girl came in. The girl, she bought acetaminophen and those…those pads girls wear when they get their period. I remember her because she didn’t look so good, really white, like she was going to pass out or something. When they left, the guy had his