Native Cowboy (24 page)

For a moment fear darkened Mason’s eyes, but he did as she said, and a second later, the sound of her baby’s cry rang out.

It was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.

Then Mason wiped off the baby, wrapped him in the blanket and placed him in her arms.

Cara kissed her son on the forehead, tears of joy blurring her eyes as Mason moved up beside her.

“I’m going to name him Maska,” Cara said as she looked up at him. “It means that he’s strong.”

Mason tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, touched that she’d chosen a Native American name. “Strong like his mama.” Then he pressed a kiss to the baby’s head and cradled them both in his arms.

Cara curled up against him, grateful they had all survived.

* * *

M
ASON WAS SO MOVED
by the sight of his baby in Cara’s arms that he couldn’t speak. He wanted to promise her that he’d love her and his son and take care of them forever.

But reality interceded when he heard Nacona chanting in their Native language. “I’m going to call an ambulance and the sheriff,” Mason said.

Cara caught his arm as if she didn’t want him to leave. But he had to.

Nacona had to be arrested and she needed an ambulance.

She nestled the baby to her breast and Mason swallowed, the image moving something inside him that he’d never felt before. An unbelievably strong bond and protective instinct that would never die.

Memorizing the moment in his mind, he stepped outside, and made the call.

But anxiety tugged at him as he waited on the ambulance and sheriff. He and Cara still hadn’t discussed their situation.

In fact, he had no idea where his place would be in her life or his son’s.

He only knew that he wanted to be with them.

But how could he be a family man and do his job?

Even if he figured out a way to make it work, could Cara forgive him for not believing in them in the first place?

* * *

C
ARA HAD NEVER FELT
so emotional in her life. Between the terrifying ordeal with Nacona, her hormones, and finally holding her little son in her arms, tears flooded her eyes. Her little boy was perfect, not just ten fingers and ten toes, but he had the dark coloring, high cheekbones and black hair of his father.

She wanted him to grow up to be just like him.

The wail of a siren rent the night, then the ambulance arrived.

Disappointment ballooned in Cara’s chest when Mason chose to oversee Nacona’s arrest instead of riding with her to the hospital.

Was he pulling away already? Trying to remind her that his work would always come before her and their son?

Chapter Twenty-Three

It took forever for the sheriff to arrive and for them to transport Nacona. The sick man had lapsed into a sullen silence, content in his twisted logic that what he’d done was warranted by his vision quest.

Mason wanted him out of his sight. Every time he thought about the fact that he’d almost killed Cara, he wanted to rip out his throat with his bare hands.

By the time he arrived at the hospital, Cara and the baby were settled into a room. He cracked the door open a notch and peeked inside, but Cara was sleeping and so was the baby. He watched them for several minutes, soaking in the sight of her and his son.

But the fact that they hadn’t discussed his relationship—or
their
relationship—made him hesitate to go inside.

Cara and the baby were a family. But where did he fit in their lives?

Maybe they would be better without him. His work would only bring danger and uncertainty to them.

Yet the fact that his own father had abandoned him haunted him. How could he allow his son to grow up and think that he hadn’t wanted him?

* * *

E
ARLY THE NEXT MORNING
, Cara woke to the sound of her baby crying. A smile softened her mouth as she reached for her little boy and put him to her breast. He latched on immediately, and she stroked his soft dark hair, amazed that he was actually in her arms.

She had never felt such happiness and love.

Yet a sliver of sadness dampened her joy. She wanted Mason to be with her. For them to be a family.

But he hadn’t shown up the night before, and he wasn’t here this morning.

She understood his job and his need the night before to make sure Nacona was locked away.

But that had been hours ago, and he hadn’t even called. Had he decided he didn’t want a ready-made family?

That he didn’t love her?

She traced a finger over her baby’s cheek and blinked back tears. “I love you, little Maska.”

And if Mason didn’t want them, her love would have to be enough.

* * *

M
ASON STUDIED THE
faces of the boys around the camp, grateful they had enjoyed the lesson he’d taught them that morning. For a group of rambunctious preadolescents, they’d eagerly listened to his take on tracking and had enjoyed the hike through the deserted terrain where he’d had them practice skills.

But as they disbanded, he thought of his own son. Just a tiny baby now, but he needed guidance.

A man’s guidance.

His
father’s
guidance.

Dammit, what was wrong with him? Why was he here volunteering to help other people’s kids when he should be with his own today?

Cara’s beautiful, strong, brave face flashed in his mind. She had faced down a sadistic killer and given birth to his son, and what had he done?

Abandoned her again like a coward?

And why? Because he was too afraid to admit that he loved her? That he needed her?

Because he
did
love her more than he loved life itself.

More than he loved his job.

Calling himself all kinds of a fool, he climbed on his horse, rode back to his cabin, and cleaned up. He had a couple of stops to make, then he was going to tell Cara how he felt.

He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

* * *

C
ARA HAD JUST FINISHED
nursing the baby when a knock sounded at the door. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her heart sputtering as Mason poked his head inside.

“Can I come in?”

Hope mingled with worry as she nodded.

Tenderness softened his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Cara said, amazed that she did feel good. But then she was probably on an adrenaline high from holding her son.

“Did you get Nacona secured?”

The glimmer of suppressed rage in his eyes didn’t escape her. “We spent hours interrogating him last night but have all the proof we need. He’s never getting out of prison.”

Cara tried to ignore the flutter of residual fear that the memory of the night before stirred. She wanted to recall the sweet bliss of seeing her little boy for the first time, not the trauma of being held kidnapped by a murderer.

An awkwardness suddenly fell between them, making her wish she hadn’t asked.

“Cara, I’m sorry I hurt you before.” Mason slowly walked over to her, and she noticed the stuffed pony in his hands. “That I didn’t come last night.”

“Why didn’t you?” Cara asked, hoping this wasn’t his way of telling her that a relationship between them wouldn’t work now any more than it would have nearly a year ago.

Mason made a sarcastic sound. “Because I’m a fool. I was scared.”

“Scared of me?” Cara asked.

He chuckled. “Scared of disappointing you.”

He leaned over and brushed his fingers across the baby’s forehead, then placed the pony in the bassinet. “This is for you, little guy. I’m your daddy.”

Cara’s heart swelled at the gruff sound of his voice. “Is that why you’re here?” she asked softly. “You want to be a part of our little boy’s life?”

He turned to her, emotions tingeing his eyes. “Yes.”

She nodded, knowing she had to accept whatever he offered. She loved him too much to do anything else.

Then he moved over beside the bed and shocked her by dropping to one knee. “Mason?’

He lifted his hand and she gaped at the beautiful turquoise ring laying in the palm of his hand.

“Cara, I know I did wrong last year, but we have a baby now and I want us to do things right. Will you marry me?”

Disappointment crowded Cara’s throat. “Mason, you don’t have to marry me to be part of Maska’s life.”

His smile faded slightly. “You don’t want to marry me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Cara said softly. “But I don’t want you to propose because you feel trapped or because we have a baby together.”

Mason suddenly stood, his expression oddly tender and fiercely angry at the same time. He eased down on the side of the bed and cradled her hand in his. “Listen to me, Cara. I was a fool before.” He paused then gently kissed her fingers. “I love you. I didn’t propose because I feel trapped or because I think I should. I want us to be together.”

Love flooded Cara’s heart. “I love you, too, Mason. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

A grin softened the hard ridges and planes of his face. “Then marry me and let’s be a family.”

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to cry. Instead, she smiled and held out her hand, and he slipped the ring on her finger.

* * * * *

Don’t miss the next installment of Rita Herron’s
gripping miniseries
BUCKING BRONC LODGE
.
Look for ULTIMATE COWBOY in February 2013
wherever Harlequin Intrigue books are sold.

Keep reading for an excerpt of
Cowboy Cop
by Rita Herron!

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Chapter One

Three months later

“Dugan is out.”

Miles’s fingers tightened around his cell phone as he wheeled his SUV around and headed toward the station. “What?”

His superior, Lieutenant Hammond, didn’t sound happy. “Based on the Kelly woman’s murder and some technicality with the chain of evidence when they’d searched the man’s place, Dugan’s lawyer got his conviction overturned.”

The past few weeks of tracking down clues and false leads day and night taunted him. He released a string of expletives.

Hammond cleared his throat. “If we’d found evidence connecting Dugan to a partner, maybe things would have gone differently, but...”

Hammond let the sentence trail off, but Miles silently finished for him. If he and Mason had found such evidence, Dugan would still be in a cell. And the world would be a safer place.

But they’d failed.

The day Dugan’s verdict was read flashed back. Dugan’s threat resounded in his head—
you’ll pay.

“Now that he’s back on the streets—”

“I know. He’s going to kill again,” Miles said.
And he’s probably coming after me.

His cell phone chirped, and he glanced at the caller ID. Marie’s number.

Damn, she was probably on his case for working again last night and missing dinner with Timmy. He’d thought he might have found a lead on the copycat, but instead he’d only chased his own tail.

The phone chirped again.

You’ll pay.

Panic suddenly seized him, cutting off his breath. Dammit...what if payback meant coming after his family?

“I have to go, Hammond.” Sweat beaded on his neck as he connected the call. “Hello?”

Husky breathing filled the line, then a scream pierced the receiver.

He clenched the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. He had to clear his throat to speak. “Marie?”
God, tell me you’re there....

But the sudden silence sent a chill up his spine.

“Marie, Timmy?”

More breathing, this time followed by a husky laugh that sounded sinister, threatening...evil.

Dear God, no...

Dugan was at Marie’s house.

He pressed the accelerator, his heart hammering as he sped around traffic and called for backup. The dispatch officer agreed to send a patrol car right away.

A convertible nearly cut him off, and Miles slammed on his horn, nearly skimming a truck as he roared around it. Brush and shrubs sailed past, the wheels grinding on gravel as he hugged the side of the country road.

Images of the dead women from Dugan’s crime scenes flashed in his head, and his stomach churned. No, please, no...Dugan could not be at Marie’s house. He couldn’t kill Marie...not like the other women.