Page 8 of Rawhide and Ransom

I hope.

It wasn’t as if she or her daughter had any place else to go now that Gilbert Farm had been foreclosed on. They had a distant relative by marriage living on the reservation — Miley’s great-uncle, assuming he was still alive. Even if Miley wasn’t with him when Annalee arrived, maybe he’d be willing to help her find her daughter.

She clamped her bottle of water between her legs as she buckled her seatbelt, closing her eyes to hold back anxious tears.

Hold tight, baby girl. I’m on my way!

Chapter 2: Breakfast for Three

Miley slept like the dead while Hawk tapped away on his computer. He’d be sure to tease her about all the snoring she wasn’t doing when she awakened. The spunk she’d shown so far was impressive. One thing was for sure. She was no crybaby.

Clint drove up about an hour later, but only long enough for Caro to hop out of the passenger seat and bring a wicker basket to Hawk’s front door. The basket was filled with clothing and supplies — female supplies like lotion and shampoo. Apparently, Caro had stopped by Ashley’s and Johnny’s place on the way there to save them a second trip across town.

Hawk hurried down the porch steps, gratefully accepting the basket she pressed into his hands. “Miley’s still asleep.”

“Good. She needs her rest.” Caro gave him a squinty-eyed look. “You sure you can handle a teenager all by yourself? Because we can turn this into a stakeout, if you’d prefer, and take turns pulling shifts.”

Hawk gave the basket of supplies a pointed look, pretty sure that Miley didn’t require round-the-clock monitoring. “I’m not sure there’s enough room in my cabin for one female, let alone two.”

Caro sniffed in disgust as she spun away from him. “And you wonder why you’re single!”

Oh, he was all too aware of why he was single. He simply hadn’t metthe oneyet. “Thanks for the offer, though,” he called after her.

“Yeah, yeah!” She waved without turning around. “Call us if you need anything.”

He wouldn’t, but it was nice of her to offer. He turned around and headed back inside. Moving across the living room, he deposited the basket beside the sofa where Miley was still sleeping. She’d see it first thing when she woke up. Or stumble over it. He used the toe of his boot to nudge it closer to the end table to get it out of tripping distance.

Returning to his favorite leather recliner, he picked up his laptop and resumed his search. He browsed news articles going back a full month in Turkey and the surrounding towns.

One of them jumped out at him. It was about a woman they were calling Jane Doe. She’d been discovered unconscious at the scene of an accident some forty miles away from Turkey. The description loosely fit an older version of Miley. Even more significant was the date of the accident — three weeks ago on the dot.

His heart thumped with elation over the possibility that Miley’s mom was still alive. He wasn’t sure what the odds were that the Jane Doe in question remained at the hospital, or that she was the woman he was looking for. However, it was worth a shot.

He stood and carried his laptop to his bedroom, not wanting to wake Miley by making a phone call in her presence. Pushing his bedroom door shut, he dialed the hospital. They transferred him around from department to department, making him feel like he was getting the run around.

“Listen,” he finally exploded. “Can you just tell me if she’s still there?”

There was a moment of silence. Then the attendant spluttered, “I thought you said you had information that would lead to her whereabouts. All I can really do at this point is give you the tip line for the police.”

It was with a sinking heart that he disconnected the line. He’d confirmed that Annalee Gilbert was no longer at the hospital. Only time would tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Right now, it appeared to be a dead end.

Unfortunately, Hawk’s skill set didn’t extend much beyond pulling guard. Lonestar Security had hired him for his muscles. He could physically protect Miley, but he wasn’t trained in the world of private investigating.

Fortunately, Johnny Cuba was. Hawk shot off a quick email to the guy, updating the P.I. by day and dairy farmer by night on the Jane Doe report.

Johnny rang him a few minutes later. “You’re not gonna believe this, bro.”

Excitement leaped into Hawk’s chest. “Try me.” He hadn’t been expecting to hear back from his friend so quickly.

“Your Jane Doe was in a coma for three weeks after a hit-and-run accident. She woke up and left the hospital the same day.” He paused before adding, “Against doctor’s orders.”

Hawk snorted. “You got a lot further with them on the phone than I did.”

Johnny’s voice grew sly. “I might know someone who works there.”

“That’s convenient.” Johnny had an uncanny way of shaking folks down for information. Hawk envied his cleverness.

“I might’ve also called in a favor with one of their security guys.”

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