Page 1 of The Cowboy's Miracle Baby

Prologue

December scuttled alongthe streets of Marietta with a flurry of snowflakes that melted quickly on the girl’s eyelashes and cheeks as she hurried alone toward the bus depot at the outskirts of town. Her thin coat wasn’t warm enough, but she pulled it tight around her face and throat. Her argyle beanie had seen better days, too, having been plucked from a lost and found bin at her friend’s school. But beggars can’t be choosers, so they say.

She did her best to ignore the Christmas lights strung up everywhere with two weeks left until the big day. Giant lit-up snowflakes dangled across Main Street and there was even a flying Santa in his sleigh stretching across the road somewhere back there, too. She didn’t want to think about Santa Claus, or Christmas—especially Christmas—or… or anything else right now. Because it wouldn’t change anything. It would only remind her that she’d done the unforgiveable.

She brushed away the moisture on her cheeks and lowered her head. The streets were busy with shoppers, but not one of them noticed her.

Invisible. That was her.

Better that way.

In fact, if she could simply drop down in a hole and disappear that would be the absolute best thing for everyone. Not that anyone would notice.

Well, maybe one person would.

She clapped a cold, bare hand over her mouth and sank her teeth into the skin of her palm until the pain chased back tears that threatened.

It was for the best. It was all for the best.

Ahead, she saw the blinking florescent sign for the Greyhound bus station and the heavy grinding of a bus engine as one pulled away from the overhang.

Pushing through the glass doors, she welcomed the heat inside and sucked in a deep breath. The place was mostly empty. Only a few losers like her, huddling inside, probably for the warmth. She ignored them and stepped up to the counter where a middle-aged man with a trim gray beard sat scribbling on some kind of clipboard. His nametag read NICK.

He looked up at her and smiled. “Merry Christmas, young lady! How can I help you?”

She was taken aback by the kindness in his voice. “I… I need a ticket.”

“All righty.” He squinted at her and seemed to be taking in her blotchy, red face. He didn’t say a word about the way she looked, but his smile did lose some of its sparkle. “Where to, my friend?”

Undecided, she looked up at the board posted behind him and the schedule of buses leaving tonight. Buses to faraway places she’d never been. And probably never would. She pushed her fingernail into her palm as she pulled her money out of her other pocket and pushed it toward the man. It wasn’t much. Fifty-four dollars and a handful of change. Everything she’d managed to cobble together since…

“How far will this get me?”

Nick frowned. “Well, now. Let’s see, young lady.” He took his clipboard and studied it. “I guess it would help if you had a destination in mind.”

“Somewhere… somewhere warm?”

“Ah. I see. Marietta winters are not for the faint of heart, that’s for sure. Warm. Well, I’m afraid this won’t get you too far. Boise? Missoula? That’s quite a bit warmer than here. Less bitter wind. Neither of ’em is Miami-warm, but…”

“Boise,” she said. “I’ll take Boise. Please.”

He stared up at her with warm brown eyes. She looked away, unable to bear kindness now. Or ever again probably. She willed him not to say anything more. To not ask any questions or wonder if she had any family there or friends. She didn’t. But it was none of his business. People who worked in a place like this already knew that. Their job was not to wonder.

“Boise.” He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Well, now.” Checking his clipboard again, he nodded. “Thatisa coincidence. Somebody just called and canceled their Boise ticket tonight. But since it was nonrefundable, it’s just going to go to waste. I don’t suppose anyone would mind if you took that seat instead.”

He pushed her money back across the counter to her.

She stared at him in shock. “You mean…free?”

“Let’s call itprepaid. Your name?”

She blinked at him for a long heartbeat. “Ta—” She caught herself. “Smith. Mary Smith.”

He nodded, typing in a few things on his computer. A ticket popped up through the little slot on the counter and on the backside, he scribbled something before he handed it to her. “Bus leaves in thirty minutes. Through that door there. You take care now, Mary Smith. And Merry Christmas to you.”

Stuffing her money back in her coat pocket, she looked in the direction he was pointing and swallowed thickly. “Thank you,” she squeaked in a voice she wasn’t sure he’d heard. “Thank you,” she said, clearing her throat.

“You’re most welcome.”

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