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Authors: Valerie Hansen
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the hospital and the triplets are still in the neonatal unit up in Manhattan.”
“Well, at least they’re safe.”
He was sorry he’d spoken so glibly when Maya frowned, shook her head and answered, “Only if this same storm didn’t hit up there, too.”
Chapter Six
A lthough Maya knew that her boss was doing his best to allay her worries about her brother, there was really nothing either of them could do for the present. They’d tried using cell phones repeatedly, with no result, so she figured they’d just have to wait for service to be restored. Even then, that was no guarantee her brother’s ranch would have any phone service.
Wading through puddles and avoiding piles of weeds and soggy refuse, they called for the missing dog as they wandered among the abandoned cabins that sat beneath a grove of ancient cottonwoods. Tufts of their feathery seeds drifted on the wind that still blew slightly, almost making it seem as if it were snowing. Right then, Maya would have gladly traded the sultry heat for a touch of winter.
“Watch for nails in these loose boards,” her companion said, indicating some warped, faded, grayish siding that lay on the ground. “They may not have come from this last storm but they’re still dangerous.”
“Yes, sir.” She stifled a giggle. She didn’t know why she seemed so prone to inane laughter, except that perhaps she was simply so overwrought that her senses were skewed.
“You don’t have to salute, okay?” he teased.
“I didn’t. But it is a good idea. You’ve been acting a lot like a drill sergeant.”
“I have not.”
“Okay. Have it your…” Startled, she broke off in mid-sentence and grabbed his forearm. “Shush. Quiet. Did you hear that?”
“What? Charlie?”
“No. I don’t think it was a dog.”
“Then what?”
“It almost sounded like a baby crying.”
“That’s impossible. Michael said there were only two people missing and they’re both adults.”
“Still, I thought…There. Hear it?”
“Maybe.” He started forward slowly and Maya followed, taking care to make as little noise as possible.
She froze. “Stop. Over that way. To the right of that last cottage—the one with the lopsided front steps. I think I see something moving through those trees.”
Though he turned and followed her directions, she could tell that he thought she was imaginingthings. Maybe she was. Or maybe she’d been hearing the wind whistling through cracks in the old wooden buildings and had mistaken the sound for a human cry.
Maya bit her lower lip, mulling over that possibility. No. She was a mother. She knew what she was hearing. It was a little one in distress. It had to be.
Passing her boss and taking the lead, she hurried through the trees toward the source of the intermittent noise. She had to pause several times to listen, to get her bearings again, before she drew close enough to see a bit of pink knit cloth in the deeper shadows.
Afraid of what she might find, Maya tiptoed closer. As soon as she realized exactly what she was seeing, she called out, “Greg! Over here. It’s a little girl!”
Hurrying closer, Maya fell to her knees directly in front of the unsteady, weeping toddler and reached out to gently take her arm, to cup her muddy cheek. “Oh, sweetie.”
He was beside Maya in a heartbeat. “Is she okay?”
Gently brushing loose debris from a tiny, reddened face, Maya said, “I think so.” Sticky mud clung to the child’s eyes, apparently making it painful or difficult for her to open them, and she was rubbing them roughly with tight little fists.
Responding to Maya’s gentle touch, the toddler began to whimper and reach out to her, clasping one of Maya’s fingers and hanging on with surprising strength.
“Let’s get her out of the woods into better light and see for sure that she’s okay,” he said.
“We don’t have any water to wash her. We won’t be able to tell much until we get rid of all this dirt.”
“The
“Well, at least they’re safe.”
He was sorry he’d spoken so glibly when Maya frowned, shook her head and answered, “Only if this same storm didn’t hit up there, too.”
Chapter Six
A lthough Maya knew that her boss was doing his best to allay her worries about her brother, there was really nothing either of them could do for the present. They’d tried using cell phones repeatedly, with no result, so she figured they’d just have to wait for service to be restored. Even then, that was no guarantee her brother’s ranch would have any phone service.
Wading through puddles and avoiding piles of weeds and soggy refuse, they called for the missing dog as they wandered among the abandoned cabins that sat beneath a grove of ancient cottonwoods. Tufts of their feathery seeds drifted on the wind that still blew slightly, almost making it seem as if it were snowing. Right then, Maya would have gladly traded the sultry heat for a touch of winter.
“Watch for nails in these loose boards,” her companion said, indicating some warped, faded, grayish siding that lay on the ground. “They may not have come from this last storm but they’re still dangerous.”
“Yes, sir.” She stifled a giggle. She didn’t know why she seemed so prone to inane laughter, except that perhaps she was simply so overwrought that her senses were skewed.
“You don’t have to salute, okay?” he teased.
“I didn’t. But it is a good idea. You’ve been acting a lot like a drill sergeant.”
“I have not.”
“Okay. Have it your…” Startled, she broke off in mid-sentence and grabbed his forearm. “Shush. Quiet. Did you hear that?”
“What? Charlie?”
“No. I don’t think it was a dog.”
“Then what?”
“It almost sounded like a baby crying.”
“That’s impossible. Michael said there were only two people missing and they’re both adults.”
“Still, I thought…There. Hear it?”
“Maybe.” He started forward slowly and Maya followed, taking care to make as little noise as possible.
She froze. “Stop. Over that way. To the right of that last cottage—the one with the lopsided front steps. I think I see something moving through those trees.”
Though he turned and followed her directions, she could tell that he thought she was imaginingthings. Maybe she was. Or maybe she’d been hearing the wind whistling through cracks in the old wooden buildings and had mistaken the sound for a human cry.
Maya bit her lower lip, mulling over that possibility. No. She was a mother. She knew what she was hearing. It was a little one in distress. It had to be.
Passing her boss and taking the lead, she hurried through the trees toward the source of the intermittent noise. She had to pause several times to listen, to get her bearings again, before she drew close enough to see a bit of pink knit cloth in the deeper shadows.
Afraid of what she might find, Maya tiptoed closer. As soon as she realized exactly what she was seeing, she called out, “Greg! Over here. It’s a little girl!”
Hurrying closer, Maya fell to her knees directly in front of the unsteady, weeping toddler and reached out to gently take her arm, to cup her muddy cheek. “Oh, sweetie.”
He was beside Maya in a heartbeat. “Is she okay?”
Gently brushing loose debris from a tiny, reddened face, Maya said, “I think so.” Sticky mud clung to the child’s eyes, apparently making it painful or difficult for her to open them, and she was rubbing them roughly with tight little fists.
Responding to Maya’s gentle touch, the toddler began to whimper and reach out to her, clasping one of Maya’s fingers and hanging on with surprising strength.
“Let’s get her out of the woods into better light and see for sure that she’s okay,” he said.
“We don’t have any water to wash her. We won’t be able to tell much until we get rid of all this dirt.”
“The
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