Page 97 of The Cowboy and the Baby

But the distinct tinkle broke through the night when the engine switched low, the ringtone light and cheery against the rumble and roar of awaiting horsepower. Considering Hernandez had a BOLO out and who-knew-might call, I ripped one glove off with my teeth, set it on the gas tank, and swiped the phone to answer it.

“Cade?”

My brow scrunched. “Pastor Mike?”

I had to shout over the noise of the machine, so I cut the engine off. The Montgomery boys who brought the snowmobiles were piling into the old truck Cody warmed up to take them home. He waved, taking off with a belch of sound, snow kicking up behind the old tires. A gust of wind slammed into my cheek at the same moment, and snowflakes danced over my head.

“Sorry, Cade! Is this a bad time?”

Pastor Mike never called outside of business hours, and it was already well toward late on the east coast.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Wyatt stood up on his snowmobile, peering at me. He cut his engine off when I sliced a hand in the air, leaving the two of us in a reverberating, preternatural silence.

“It’s your Mom.”

The words thudded like dull hollows in my chest. Not the words themselves, because he didn’t really say much, but the way he said them. The shape of the words was a hollow, heavy thing. A loaded warning.

“Something happened?”

“She’s in the hospital. She showed up today very . . . sick. I’m not sure I can exactly quantify it, but she was a step beyond loopy. Not drunk. Just . . . something was wrong. She could barely hold herself up. Her eyes were bloodshot. I don’t think it was drugs, I really don’t.”

He blabbered a bit, skating around. I shook my head.

“She’s alive?”

“Yes.”

“And in the hospital?”

“Yes, and not doing well, I don’t think. I’ve left my number with the nurses at the station, and they’re going to let us know if there are any updates. Last time I heard, they were preparing to send her to the ICU.”

“Do you think she’s very sick? Is she on the verge of death?”

He hedged a moment before concluding, “I can’t say exactly, of course, but it’s not good, Cade. I may not be a doctor, but I know that much. If she makes it out, I would be very surprised.”

Another flurry of snowflakes blasted my eyes, grounding me into the current predicament. Lily. Noelle. Custody. Winter. The arithmetic of this problem was about as ugly as it got, particularly because we had no idea where Richard and Ashley went, and if they planned to go home.

But Mom? Mom was in the hospital, potentially dying. Finally within grasp of meeting up with her after years of searching, yet about to slide away forever. Every single thing I wanted to say to her would be trapped in my throat for the rest of my life if she died now. She had called me, showing signs of remembering my name, which is more than I had ever hoped for. The last thing I wanted for her was to die alone, with strangers.

But . . . Lily.

Noelle.

Cripes, I couldn’t handle this. Shot from every side. No end to the unrelenting grind of expectations and requirements.

I exhaled, pressed my cold fingers to my face. I had to choose. The woman who gave me life and love for as long as she could? My mother. My greatest pain. This might be the last opportunity to say what needed to be said before we lost her for good.

Or an unknown future with a woman and child who affected me more deeply than any people I had ever known?

I didn’t have time to waffle.

I knew the answer.

“Thank you, Pastor Mike. I appreciate you reaching out and letting me know.” Resolve hardened my voice. “My little girl was just taken from my house by her maternal grandparents, and they aren’t supposed to have her. They’ve driven into a winter storm that they can’t outlast, and I need to find her.”

“Well, my goodness! Of course you do.”