The Cowboy Seal's Christmas Baby. Laura Marie Altom

an intimidating reminder that she hailed from hearty stock. She was no quitter and had apparently been taught from a young age that nothing good came without plenty of hard work.

      “Hey...”

      Jane glanced up to find Gideon now in front of her.

      “You don’t look so hot.” He reached out, almost as if he’d intended to touch her arm, but then changed his mind. “Are you tired? Or did you remember something?”

      “I’m not sure. Maybe both.” She trudged a few feet farther to a flat boulder, backing onto it.

      “Tell me what’s going on.” He removed both of his loads, then sat beside her. After digging through the nearest pack for a canteen, he unscrewed the lid, offering it to her.

      “Thanks.” She drank deeply, resisting the urge to lean against him for physical and emotional support. He was a stranger, yet at this moment, she knew him better than she knew herself. “I just had the strangest sensation—not really a memory, but a gut-deep feeling that someone in my life wouldn’t approve of me taking a break.”

      “Your husband?”

      She glanced at her ring-free left hand. “I-I don’t think so. Maybe my father?” She passed Gideon the canteen.

      “If you feel I’m pushing you too hard, we can stop here for the night. I was hoping to make it farther—to a creek where we can replenish our water supplies. But if—”

      “I’m okay,” she promised. “Just needed to catch my breath.”

      “How’s the little guy?” He nodded toward the baby. He’d again started to reach out, but as earlier, she got the impression that Gideon didn’t want to touch. Why? Was he afraid of overstepping personal boundaries? Or getting too close? Given the fact that in a day or two they’d never see each other again, it was unlikely they’d ever be more than casual acquaintances. A good thing, considering her tenuous grasp on reality.

      “He’s great. Sleeps a lot. But I guess that’s to be expected?”

      “No clue.” Gideon toyed with the canteen lid. “Babies aren’t my thing.”

      “What do you do? I’ve been so caught up in my own mystery that I hardly know anything about you.”

      “Not much to know.” He took another swig of water, then offered it to her.

      “Tell me about the horse that ran off. Do you think he’s all warm and cozy back in your barn?” She drank deeply. It felt odd—the intimacy of their lips touching the same vessel.

      “Hard to say. And he is a she.” Gideon shared the horse’s heartbreaking story.

      After hearing about what the poor creature had been through, Jane said, “We have to find her.”

      “Let’s get you and the baby to a hospital first. Odds are, she is back at my place. If not, I’ll come back out as soon as you two are safe.”

      “But—”

      “Not up for debate.” When Jane again tried speaking, he held out his hand to stop her. The gesture royally ticked her off. As if another man in her life had a nasty habit of shushing her.

      “Don’t do that again.”

      “Do what?” He was rummaging through his pack.

      “Shut me up. I’ll say my mind whenever I see fit.” Her raised voice woke the baby.

      Her son showed his displeasure with a series of fitful cries.

      “Don’t blame me for that.” Eyeing the infant, Gideon raised his hands in the universal sign of not guilty. “All I was trying to do was impress upon you the urgency of getting you and your son back to civilization. This time of year, snowfalls are epic, and we’re way past due for a big one. Hopefully, the horse can fend for herself.”

      Jane jiggled her son, but that only made him cry louder. “Do you think he’s hungry?”

      “How would I know?”

      “You seem to know everything else,” she snapped.

      He sighed. “I’ll give you privacy. Why don’t you...” He gestured toward her chest.

      “Feed my son? With my breasts? Are you twelve?”

      “What happened to perky Jane? I liked her way better than snarky Jane.”

      Jane rolled her gaze skyward. “I liked you better before you were so bossy.”

      The baby wailed.

      “I’m out of here to look for signs of the horse, but I’ll stay within earshot. Holler when you’re done and we’ll go together to the stream, then set up camp for the night.”

      “Aye-aye, Captain Bossy.”

      When he turned his back, Jane stuck out her tongue.

      While she was by no means an expert on infant care, thankfully, breastfeeding was coming naturally to her and her sweet little Chip.

      With him feeding, Jane arched her neck back, drinking in warm sun. All of this was so strange. Part of her felt wholly at ease in the forest. Another part warred with the notion that beyond a few hunches about who she was, and what sort of lifestyle she preferred, the truth was that where her memories should be now yawned a frightening black hole.

      She knew she preferred Gideon’s sweeter side as opposed to this new grouch. And she also knew that given her aversion to his demanding tone, she was now apprehensive about what secrets her former life may hold. Could she have been on the run from someone abusive? Or just a bad breakup from her baby’s father?

      She may not know much, but she somehow knew she didn’t love Chip’s dad.

      But what if I’m still married to him?

      As much as she wanted to fill in the missing pieces of her life, another part of her was afraid. What if she didn’t like the woman she turned out to be?

      The question made her pulse race uncomfortably fast.

      So much so that the logical choice for her immediate future seemed to be remaining with a grumpy cowboy. What was that old saying about it being better to be with the devil you knew? Not that Gideon was in any way mean or cruel, but given his current frame of mind he could hardly be considered warm and fuzzy.

      Tears stung her eyes, but she swiped them away.

      She needed to be strong.

      Not just for the baby, but herself. This was no time for a breakdown. Whatever had led her to run into this forest, she feared she’d need all her strength to face it.

      A twig snapped.

      She darted her gaze in that general direction. “What was that?” she asked her son. “Probably a squirrel, right?”

      He stared up at her with enormous baby blues.

      “But it sounded bigger. What do you think?”

      There was another twig snap. A low huff.

      Jane froze. “Maybe it’s Gideon’s missing horse?” Standing, holding her son close while he finished brunch, she called, “Jelly Bean, sweetie? Is that you?”

      A low growl came from the camp’s edge.

      Not thinking, just doing, Jane screamed, “Gideon!”

      * * *

      GIDEON HEARD JANE’S cry and abandoned the track he’d been following to run toward her and the baby.

      “Jane?” he called. “Hang tight! I’m coming!”

      After damn near breaking his neck while charging through thick underbrush, Gideon finally reached the trail, then poured on extra speed to reach the boulder where he’d left her.

      Pebbles skittered after him on a steep