Lonestar Angel by Colleen Coble Page A

was correct. He smoothed out the wadded document and scanned it before handing it back to her. “This just says you are filing for custody of Madeline. It doesn’t say the custody is granted.” Poor woman. He knew the pain of having a child being taken away.
    “She is my daughter. You have no right to keep her from me.” The woman attempted to brush past him.
    He blocked her path. “I’m sorry. I can’t allow you to see her. You don’t have any visitation rights.”
    Large tears pooled in her eyes. “Just for a minute,” she begged. “She needs to know her mama loves her. I am fighting for her. Those people put me in jail and are trying to turn her against me.”
    Was that how she saw it? No way should this woman be out on her own. She couldn’t take care of herself, let alone Madeline. Was there someone he could call about this? He’d have to ask Rick or Allie. And as he stared at her, he considered her age. Madeline was five. This woman was at least fifty, unless something other than years had aged her.
    “I’m afraid you’ll have to talk to the judge about this. You don’t want to scare Madeline, do you?”
    “Why would her own mother frighten her? She wants to see me. I know she does.”
    He might have to call the sheriff. Agitation came off the woman in waves. Her pupils were dilated too, and he wondered if she was on any kind of medication for her condition. “Not today,” he said in a soothing murmur. “She’s eating right now. Talk to the judge and come back when he says it’s okay.”
    Her shoulders slumped and she turned back toward her car. She rummaged inside a moment. “I have something for you.” She emerged and wheeled toward him.
    A blade glittered in her hand, and her face twisted in a snarl. She leaped toward him with the knife raised over her head. The moment seemed poised in time, almost surreal, as the woman’s blond hair flew out behind her and the knife arced toward his chest.
    Almost too late, he gathered his wits and dodged to the left. The blade barely missed his shoulder, and he felt the wind of its passing. He twisted back toward her and seized her wrist. She fought back ferociously, baring her teeth and trying to bite his arm. He blocked her and forced the knife from her fingers. The anger drained from her face, and she went limp. He eased her to the ground and yelled for Rick.
    While the other man called for the sheriff, Clay watched her, but she never raised her head from her knees as she sat curled in a ball.

    Surreptitiously, Eden glanced at the time, then watched Lacie pick up first one shoe then the other. The child had been patient when Eden stopped at another store to buy pajamas that covered her more than the lace teddy she’d been sleeping in. Lacie’s eyes had brightened when they stepped into the small shoe store.
    “Where do you usually buy shoes?” Eden asked.
    Lacie stopped with her hand poised above a pink sneaker. “My foster mom brings them home from Walmart.”
    “You don’t try them on?”
    The little girl shook her head. “She measures me. She says she won’t take me to the store because all the kids ask for things. That’s not fair, though. I’ve never asked for anything.”
    Lacie had an odd kind of maturity. Even her syntax seemed advanced to Eden. “Let’s try these on,” she said, picking up a pair of pink Nikes.
    Lacie’s eyes widened. “They have the swoosh on them. They cost too much.”
    “I can afford them.” She resolved not to submit the bill to the ranch. “Sit there.”
    As Lacie clambered onto a nearby bench, Eden’s cell phone played “The Voice” by Celtic Woman, which meant the caller wasn’t in her contacts list. She clawed the phone from her purse, but it had already rung four times by the time she swiped it on and saw Unknown on the screen. For a moment she was tempted not to answer, but what if the caller was Clay and he had his number screened?
    She touched Answer Call on the screen and put it to her ear.