One Night Standoff by Delores Fossen Page B

priority.
    “If you don’t mind me asking,” Stella continued, “how long have
Clayton and you been together?”
    Lenora nearly choked on the bite of lasagna she’d just taken.
She looked at Clayton, trying to figure out what or what not to say.
    “We’re not actually together,” Clayton answered.
    “The baby wasn’t planned,” Lenora added.
    “But he or she is still very much wanted,” Clayton added, as
well.
    That caused the others to glance around. If there’d been a
picture of awkward in the dictionary, this would have been it.
    “A grandbaby,” Kirby said, his voice a weak whisper. “Always
wanted one of those.”
    Stella nodded. “Well, if you’d asked me which of Kirby’s boys
would be the first to be a daddy, I wouldn’t have said Clayton or Slade. Wyatt,
for sure.”
    Wyatt didn’t say a thing.
    Clayton scraped his fork over the cheesy top of the lasagna but
didn’t eat it. In fact, he was eating less than Lenora was. “You don’t think I’m
father material?” he asked Stella.
    “Didn’t say that. I think you’ll make a fine one, but before
Kirby brought you here to the ranch, none of you boys exactly had good role
models for daddies.”
    Lenora remembered the discussion with the Ranger investigating
Webb’s murder. And there were also the notes she’d read about Clayton’s
childhood. It’d been miserable. But then, so had hers.
    “I didn’t know my dad,” Lenora said without thinking. It
definitely wasn’t something she volunteered often, but somehow it seemed less
awkward than discussing her own pregnancy or Clayton’s qualifications as a
father. “My parents never married, and my mom never even told me my dad’s name
until after he’d died.”
    Clayton looked at her from the corner of his eye. Frowned and
mumbled, “I’m sorry.”
    Yes. So was she, and unfortunately her mother’s actions had
affected Lenora’s own. Sometimes for the good. Others, not so much. She’d gone
through life needing her father, and she had learned his identity too late.
    “I’m hiring a surrogate,” Wyatt said out of the blue.
    It was suddenly so quiet, Lenora could hear her own heart
beating. Judging from everyone’s expression, this was unexpected news. But at
least the attention was off her for the time being.
    “Before Ann died, we’d planned on having kids,” Wyatt went on.
His gaze swung to Lenora’s. “Ann was my wife, and she passed away years ago from
a rare blood disorder.”
    “I’m sorry.” And she was. She didn’t know Wyatt well, but she
could see the pain still in his eyes.
    “I’ve always wanted a kid,” Wyatt added. Not defensively. He
had a smoothness about him. Not just in his voice but his expression. “I figured
I might never find another woman like Ann. In fact, I’ve decided I want to quit
looking, so I’m hiring a surrogate.”
    “You think the timing is wise?” Harlan asked. “We’re all pretty
much suspects as an accessory to Jonah Webb’s murder. And unless his wife comes
out of a coma and clears our names, we’re likely to stay suspects.”
    With everything else going on, Lenora hadn’t given that
investigation much thought, but it was clearly a dark cloud hanging over all of
them.
    “The Rangers could be investigating Webb’s death for years,”
Wyatt argued. “After that, it could be something else. The job, the ranch, you
name it. I figure there’s no perfect time to be a father, and I don’t want to
put my life on hold.” He paused. “Besides, next week would have been Ann’s
thirty-second birthday, and that’s when we’d planned to start our family.”
    Stella made a sound of agreement, but that was the only
response for several moments.
    “How many embryos did Ann and you store before her treatments
started?” Kirby asked.
    Now Wyatt looked uncomfortable. “Only one was viable.”
    Lenora guessed that one viable embryo might not be enough to
assure a pregnancy. She felt for Wyatt, but her level of discomfort went up