“A colt’s a male horse under the age of four,” he told her patiently.
Some of her energy had to be returning because she could feel her back going up. Heroic endeavors or not, Laredo was talking down to her again, Cassidy thought, annoyed.
“I know what a colt is,” she snapped, or thought she did. Afraid of scaring the baby again, she lowered her voice. “I just didn’t know you had one.”
“It’s a horse ranch,” he reminded her, referring to the property that his father had left to him—something she was aware of since she was in Olivia Santiago’s office when he’d been called in and told about his father’s will. The fact that his father had left it to him had rendered Will speechless. She’d almost felt sorry for him—almost. “What else am I going to have?”
“Debts.”
The answer came out before Cassidy could censor herself. It was Laredo’s fault. He had that sort of effect on her. The next moment, remorse set in. He was the bane of her existence, but he didn’t deserve that.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Sure you did.” Instead of being annoyed, he let her words pass. “Because it’s true,” he admitted matter-of-factly.
Everyone in town knew that his father had had money troubles. They’d only gotten worse over time. There was no reason to believe that anything had changed just before he died. Jake Laredo had sought refuge in the bottom of a bottle, drinking to the point of numbness, after which he’d pass out. Subsequently, the ranch had fallen into disrepair and ruin. When he’d gotten the letter from Olivia about his father’s death, he’d returned only to put the old man into the ground. He’d been surprised that the ranch was still standing and that there were a couple of horses—rather emaciated at that—still in the stable.
Will saw it as a challenge.
“It’s probably why he left the place to me,” Will was saying, more to himself than to her. “It was his final way of sticking it to me.”
Still lying on the bank, Cassidy turned her head toward him. She decided it had to be what she’d just gone through. The experience had to have rattled her brain to some degree because she was actually feeling sorry for Laredo—a little, she quickly qualified. But the feeling was there nonetheless.
“Someone else would just walk away,” she pointed out to him.
“Someone else isn’t me,” he told Cassidy. “Besides, I can’t walk away. If I did, that old man would have the last laugh.”
The last laugh would have meant that he couldn’t do the honorable thing, couldn’t pay off his father’s debts, couldn’t make a go of the ranch. In effect, it would have made him no better than Jake Laredo had been. Or at least that was the way Will saw it.
“I don’t think he’s laughing much where he is now,” Cassidy said quietly.
Meaning hell, Will thought. He almost laughed at that but checked himself in time. “Well, I see you haven’t lost it.”
Her eyebrows drew together in a puzzled look. She was actually trying to be nice to the man. Served her right. What the hell was he talking about?
“Lost what?” she asked.
“That knack of saying the first thing that comes into your head without filtering it,” he told her.
Cassidy had to admit that she felt more comfortable sparring with the cocky so-and-so, receiving stinging barbs and giving back in kind.
She could feel the adrenaline starting to rush through her veins again. She was definitely coming around, Cassidy thought.
“Hey,” she cried, bolting upright as the realization suddenly hit her. “It’s stopped raining.”
“And that baby’s stopped crying,” Will added. “It’s like Nature’s taking a break.”
The moment he said it, Cassidy’s head snapped back around. What had struck her subconsciously now hit her head-on. Laredo was right; the baby in the tub was no longer crying.
Was that because...?
Her heart froze as she looked down at the infant in the tub again. And then she exhaled the breath she’d just sucked in and held a second ago.
Wonder of wonders, the baby was sleeping. For a moment, she’d thought the worst.
“I guess all that crying took everything out of him—or her,” Cassidy added as an afterthought.
“Him or her? You don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl?” he asked her incredulously.
Rather than answer him directly, she said, “Well, it was crying so hard I couldn’t think, so it’s probably a male,” she speculated.
He was trying to nail Cassidy down, something that had never been easy to do. “Then you’ve never seen this baby before?” he questioned.
“Well, I haven’t been to the new-baby store recently, so no, I’ve never seen this baby before. Not until I saw it floating by in that flash flood that used to be a creek,” Cassidy added.
Laredo looked at her skeptically, which indicated that he didn’t believe her. But then, she supposed that just this once she couldn’t really fault him. If she were in his place, she wouldn’t have believed him, either.
“No, seriously, I’ve never seen this baby before.” She looked at the sleeping infant and shook her head. The whole thing seemed almost macabre as well as incredible. “Who sticks a baby into a plastic tub?” she asked.
“Someone trying to save its life would be my guess,” Will said, speculating. “Maybe it was someone who’s new to the area. They were driving through and got caught up in the flash flood—this could have been their last-ditch attempt to save the baby.”
She had a question for him. “Who drives around with a plastic tub in their car?”
“Someone who had no place to live,” he guessed. The expression on her face told him that she thought he was stretching it. “Hey, I don’t have all the answers, but it’s a possibility.”
“It’s also a possibility that the kid’s mother or father is looking for him or her right at this very minute,” Cassidy said, thinking how she would feel in that person’s place.
Scared out of her mind.
The baby began to stir. Any second it was going to wake up and start crying again, she thought, looking at the infant intently.
And then it was no longer a speculation.
The baby they had rescued was awake again. The next moment, it began to cry.
Will recalled something he’d overheard a young mother saying. “At this age, they only cry for a reason. It’s either hungry or wet,” he told her, getting up.
“Or maybe it just doesn’t like being crammed in a little plastic tub.” Speculation aside, she lifted the infant out of the confining tub. And as she did so, she also quickly drew back a section of the diaper and took a peek. “He’s also wet,” she pronounced, although that could have been the result of being caught up in the flood.
“He?” Will echoed as he stood up.
“He,” Cassidy repeated. “It’s a boy.” Holding the baby to her chest, she started to get up only to have Will reach down for the infant. She tightened her hold. “What are you doing?”
“You