Longwalker's Child Read online

  "Pretty, pretty, please? With sugar on top?"

  Sarah's big gray eyes mocked Lauren, reminding her of the man poised to shatter both their lives.

  Lauren tamped down the sudden urge to grab the little girl and run as far away as possible—maybe even back to Chicago. But Lauren knew that her life was here now, and Thatcher was the only home Sarah had ever known. And she had made that promise. She had to trust Sharon's reasons, though she had not expounded upon them in depth, for not wanting the child to be raised by her father. If he was half as bad as the people in this town insinuated, he had no business raising a child.

  Whatever happened the next few weeks, Lauren had to act as if everything were normal until the problem of Gray Longwalker could be resolved. Hard as it might prove to be, she would keep a happy face in place for Sarah's sake. Her daughter was particularly adept at picking up on Lauren's feelings.

  Lauren forced her usual disciplinary expression, which was not nearly effective enough, and said, "You know better than to ask, Sarah, it's only four-thirty. You've had your after-school snack already." She gestured toward the television. "Watch cartoons. Dinner will be ready in a little while."

  Sarah groaned and pulled her knees up under her chin. She shifted her doleful gaze back to the animated antics on the television screen. In a matter of seconds she had forgotten the denied request and was giggling at Bugs Bunny.

  A long curtain of silky black hair slid around her thin little shoulders. Other than her skin being a shade or so lighter, the child looked exactly like her father. Lauren shivered at the memory of that haunting gaze of Gray Longwalker's.

  Exactly.

  Lauren's chest felt unbearably heavy. She couldn't lose this child—not now, not after she had fallen head over heels in love with her and made Sarah her own. Her breath caught at the memory that Lauren had at first refused Sharon's deathbed request to take the child. After losing the only man she had ever loved four years ago, Lauren had resigned herself about never having children. She couldn't possibly ever love another man; the risk of losing was too great. Thus, there would be no children. She had turned off those emotions. Though she loved children, she had simply disassociated herself with the concept of ever having any of her own. The thought of a child without marriage first had never entered her mind.

  She closed her eyes and allowed the memories she would just as soon forget to flood her mind. She and Kevin were both ambitious and career oriented. They planned to marry and someday in the distant future they would have had children. They had been happy. Until the accident. And then he was gone. Lauren opened her eyes and clenched her jaw. It was bad enough that she lost the man she loved that dark, rainy night, but fate had also thrown her one final blow—the headaches. Life-altering headaches. Headaches that kept her from participating in life as she once had. That sent her scurrying away from the stress and noise of big-city living. That kept her working from a home office to reduce her stress even further. She'd even had to hire an assistant to help her do a job she had once accomplished by herself without thought.

  Lauren sighed wearily and shuffled back to the hall. But she had survived, moved to Thatcher and made two very good friends, Rosemary and Sharon. Just over one year later, and at Sharon's perpetual insistence, Lauren had started spending large chunks of time with Sarah. The knowledge that the little girl would very soon be completely alone in the world had worn away at Lauren's resolve not to grow attached to her. Slowly but surely, the child had stolen Lauren's heart. And now Sarah belonged to her in every sense of the word. Nothing, not even Gray Longwalker was going to change that. He would not take her away, Lauren would see to that if it was the last thing she ever did.

  She took one final peek out the window before going to the kitchen. Don was a good attorney. If anyone could prevent Longwalker from breezing back into town and taking Sarah, Don could. Lauren had to trust that, otherwise she would have a heck of a time maintaining her sanity.

  A pleasant aroma met Lauren when she entered the kitchen. The roast she had planned for dinner simmered in the oven. Lauren smiled and double-checked the temperature setting. She loved to cook, even if it was only for the two of them. When she had remodeled this old ranch house, Lauren had designed a large, gourmet-style kitchen. Though she rarely entertained guests, she had wanted this big, airy kitchen and she had gotten it, guests or no.

  Well, there had been those few dinners with Buck. Lauren shook her head. How could she ever have believed that she would be happy with him? She couldn't love him, she was too gun-shy to give her heart away again. Lauren threaded her fingers through her hair. Lack of confidence in herself in her new role as mother and plain old fear of the unknown had made her vulnerable to Buck's relentless pursuit. After Sharon's death, Lauren had somehow gotten it into her head that Sarah needed a father figure in her life. And, she admitted ruefully, she had been desperate to ensure she raised the little girl properly. After all, what did she know about raising children? She was an only child.

  Thankfully, Lauren had realized in time that she didn't need Buck or anyone else to help her love and care for Sarah. Lauren was plenty capable of doing so on her own. Buck hadn't given up completely, though. He still called her from time to time. In fact, now that she thought about it, his efforts seemed to have increased lately.

  Just what she needed, Lauren mused, another man disrupting her life. She shivered. Gray Longwalker looked man enough for two lifetimes. That strange awareness pricked Lauren at the thought of just how much man Longwalker was. So very tall, dark and…dangerous. And it wasn't just his rumored reputation, either. There was something about him…something Lauren couldn't quite label that made her uneasy, restless even.

  She shook off the ridiculous feeling and turned her attention to the bread rising on the counter near the sink. She did not need anyone except Sarah to make her life complete. They were a family. And Lauren's parents were thrilled about having a grandchild. Both college professors, they would be coming for a visit at spring break. Lauren smiled when she suddenly remembered Sarah's glee at seeing snow in Chicago this past Christmas.

  A wave of dizziness broadsided Lauren. She clutched the counter to steady herself, belatedly realizing she hadn't eaten since breakfast. The dizziness passed, but the deep, heavy ache that settled on the right side of her head didn't.

  "Geez, you know better than this, Whitmore," she grumbled. Lauren reached for the medication she kept by the sink. She hoped she hadn't waited too late for the drug to be effective. Everything around her had spun out of control, the last thing she needed to do was let this monster rear its ugly head.

  A loud knock at the front door startled Lauren. She jumped, and a few of the pills scattered across the counter. She hastily scooped up the runaway pills and dropped all but one back into the bottle.

  She blew out a breath and willed herself to calm. She was letting her imagination run away with her. Lauren popped the single pill into her mouth and washed it down with the last sip of cold coffee left in her favorite mug. She grimaced at the bitter dregs, set the mug that said I Love You, Mommy down and headed into the hall to answer the door. Lord, there was nothing in the world that tasted worse than cold coffee.

  She prayed it wasn't Longwalker. Don had mentioned calling this evening, maybe he had decided to drop by instead. Lauren could use a little more of his reassuring to shore up her waning resolve. She had spent the entire afternoon pacing the floor and worrying about the situation.

  "Pull yourself together, Lauren," she chided aloud.

  "Falling apart isn't going to help." Another knock echoed down the long hall.

  "I'll get it!" Sarah squealed.

  "No!" Lauren shouted as she bolted for the door. She caught Sarah just before she opened it. "I'll get the door. You go right back into the living room and play or watch cartoons."

  "Mom-mee," Sarah whined. Her big eyes darkened with disappointment. As they had so few callers, the child loved answering the door when the occasion presented itself.


  "Do as I say, young lady," Lauren told her firmly. The little girl dropped her chin to her chest and trudged back into the living room. Not wanting Sarah to overhear any conversation regarding the present situation, Lauren closed the French doors behind her.

  She chastised herself for being so hard on the child. They usually played games after school or watched Sarah's favorite cartoons together, but today had been different, and Gray Longwalker was to blame. None of this was Sarah's fault, yet the effects were already filtering down, changing Sarah's routine. No matter how things turned out in the long run, Lauren knew that Sarah would be the one to suffer and not understand why.

  The pounding came at the door again, louder this time, more insistent.

  Lauren exhaled and braced herself for the worst. Surely Longwalker wouldn't show up again today. Don had told him that all contact with her was to be made through him. But she knew deep in her heart that it was most likely him. Don wouldn't pound on her door like that. Outside of calling the sheriff, who would be a good twenty minutes responding, she felt she had no choice but to answer the door. If it was Longwalker, she doubted he would simply go away if she didn't answer.

  The knock rattled the hinges this time. Lauren muttered an unladylike curse. What was she so worried about? Don was convinced that Longwalker couldn't possibly really want Sarah. Once he'd had a chance to think the whole thing over, he'd surely realize that fighting over a child he didn't even know would be far more trouble than he wanted. Once his indignation cooled, he would likely be on his way.

  He was a drifter, what would he do with a child?

  Feeling a boost in her confidence, Lauren pulled the door open and looked up into the very face she did not want to see. Gray Longwalker stared down at her with equal measures of wariness and impatience. She tried without success to blink away the black spots that suddenly floated before her eyes. A bolt of pain shot through her head, and she almost winced.

  "Is my daughter here?" Gray asked quietly, his gaze steady from beneath the wide, black brim of his hat.

  "Mr. Longwalker, this is my home, you have no right to be here." Lauren kept her voice low so as not to draw Sarah's attention. "I didn't extend an invitation, so please leave." She took several slow, deep breaths to counter the intense pain sizzling around the edges of her consciousness. She had waited too long before taking her medicine and now she would pay the price. She blocked the doorway with her weakening body. Please God, she prayed, let him leave before—

  "I only want to see her," he persisted. "You can't keep her from me."

  "You can't just show up like this," she argued with the last of her waning strength. Nausea rose in the back of her throat. She needed to lie down. Her body trembled. "Please go away. Talk to my attorney."

  That silvery gaze settled fully onto hers, the weight almost buckling her knees. "I can't do that."

  Lauren opened her mouth to protest, but a blinding flash of light obscured his image. Her knees gave way beneath her.

  No, she willed silently, not now. This can't happen now.

  Lauren struggled to hang on to consciousness. Darkness swallowed her as the pain exploded inside her head.

  As if from some place far away, Lauren heard Sarah's cry…Mommy.

  Chapter Three

  Gray caught Lauren Whitmore just before she hit the floor. He held her limp body in his arms and dropped down to his knees.

  God in Heaven, what am I supposed to do now?

  "Mommy!" a shrill voice screamed.

  Gray jerked his head up at the terrified sound. What he saw sucked the air right out of his lungs.

  A little girl stood stock-still in the middle of the entrance hall. The terror in her eyes far exceeded what he had heard in her voice. Big, tear-filled eyes stared back at him…gray eyes. Black hair draped her trembling shoulders and fell all the way to her waist. Hair so black it looked blue wherever the light reflected against it.

  The drumming of Gray's heart blocked all other sound. An emotion so foreign he couldn't possibly hope to identify it rushed through him.

  This was his child.

  Gray didn't need a test. He couldn't have denied this child even if he had wanted to. This was why Lauren Whitmore's eyes had widened so when he had first appeared at her door this morning. Gray had assumed she had recognized him by old photographs Sharon had left behind, but that wasn't the case at all.

  Lauren Whitmore had seen Sarah in him.

  "What's wrong with my mommy?"

  The question jerked Gray from his intense reverie. He looked from the frightened child to the woman in his arms and relaxed the overtight hold he'd only just realized he had on Lauren. She was out cold.

  "I don't know," he said, and then lifted his gaze back to the child's. She watched him with a wary but expectant gaze. "We were talking and she passed out."

  The little girl sniffed and eased closer. "Mommy says if nobody's home 'cept me when she gets sick, I should call 911 like she showed me." She gave him another wary look as she took one more small step closer.

  Gray exhaled heavily. He looked down at Lauren Whitmore, who still hadn't moved a muscle. He checked her pulse at the side of her throat. "Well, she's breathing and her pulse is strong and steady." He looked back at the child, hoping to appease her. "I don't think we need to call 911, Sarah."

  The child's eyes grew wide at his use of her name. "How'd you know my name? You're a stranger."

  Holding Lauren against his chest, he stuck out his free hand. "Gray Longwalker."

  Sarah stared at his outstretched hand, her dark eyebrows knit in worry. "Are you a friend of my mommy's?"

  Gray hesitated, then nodded. It was a flat-out lie, but he knew the child needed reassuring.

  Sarah didn't take his hand. "Are you gonna help my mommy, mister?"

  "Just call me Gray," he offered, letting his hand drop.

  Sarah didn't respond, she simply stood there and stared at him—clearly fearful of what might happen.

  "How about we lay your mom down somewhere and then I'll call her doctor? She has a doctor, doesn't she?"

  The child nodded and gestured for Gray to follow her down the hall. Gray took off his Stetson, tossing it on the hall table. He adjusted his hold on Lauren and got to his feet. He followed Sarah to the far end of the hall, into a darkened bedroom. She turned on the bedside lamp and climbed onto the bed. Silently she waited while Gray laid Lauren beside her.

  "Dr. Bill's number is by the phone in the kitchen," she said quietly, never taking her eyes from the still form next to her.

  "I'll go call, then."

  Sarah didn't answer or even look up. She caressed Lauren's cheek with small, trembling fingers.

  Gray forced the haunting image from his mind as he retraced his steps down the hall until he found the dining room. He skirted the already-set table and passed through an open doorway into the kitchen. After locating the phone, he punched in the posted number for Dr. Bill Prescott. Gray didn't recognize the name, obviously another newcomer to Thatcher.

  Gray inhaled the mouthwatering aroma that filled the kitchen. His stomach rumbled. How long had it been since he'd had a home-cooked meal? Too long to remember, he thought with uncharacteristic longing.

  While he listened to the receptionist's greeting, Gray turned the oven off. Whatever Lauren Whitmore had on tonight's menu would have to wait. He noticed the open medicine bottle by the sink and picked it up to read the label.

  Gray gave the receptionist a quick summary of what had taken place. After a brief wait on hold, a man answered and identified himself as the doctor.

  "Tell me exactly what happened," Prescott ordered, concern in his voice.

  "One minute we were talking and the next she was out like a light." Gray rotated the bottle in his hand to verify the name when the doctor asked about medication. "Yes, the open bottle was next to the sink, but I have no idea if she took a tablet."

  "This is the first episode Lauren has had in quite some time," Prescott said, and t
hen hesitated as if considering the best course of action. "She'll sleep for several hours. When she wakes up she'll be weak, and the pain will likely come again. Just keep her comfortable and have her call me as soon as she's up and around again. I can come by tonight if she needs me."

  "If you don't mind my asking, what's wrong with her?" Gray ventured, and then quickly added, "I haven't known her very long."

  There was a long pause before Prescott responded. "She has cluster headaches," he finally explained. "They're similar to migraines, but the cluster effect makes them more intense. She doesn't have them often anymore, but when they strike they're debilitating. It's not as bad as it sounds, Mr…. what did you say your name was?"

  "Longwalker. Gray Longwalker."

  "Mr. Longwalker, Lauren's headaches appear to be mainly related to stress. As long as she stays clear of any major stress she doesn't have any problems. I have no idea of your relationship with Lauren, but I sincerely hope you won't let this incident color your opinion of her. Lauren's a terrific young woman. Obviously, though, there's something stressful going on in her life right now."

  Gray assured the doctor he would have Lauren call him. He pushed the off button and placed the cordless receiver back in its cradle. He swallowed hard as he considered Dr. Prescott's words.

  Stress.

  He had done this to Lauren Whitmore. Gray shook off the regret and forced away the guilt. The woman had chosen to come between him and his child. She had, in effect, brought this particular stress upon herself, he rationalized, but it didn't relieve the guilt nagging at him.

  When Gray returned to the bedroom, Sarah sat in the exact same place he had left her, still stroking Lauren's cheek. Gray eased down on the edge of the bed feeling sorely out of place in the role of caretaker to anyone but himself.

  "Is my mommy gonna be okay?" She looked up at Gray with a worried gaze that squeezed his heart.

  "Yes." He smiled and awkwardly patted her shoulder. "She'll sleep for a while, but the doctor says she's going to be fine." He quashed the renewed rush of guilt that crowded his chest.