The Rancher's Baby Surprise. Kat Brookes
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doors. Then she would have to pray she didn’t lose her footing on the wet, muddied ground.
The vehicle shifted again beneath her, making Hannah gasp. By the grace of God, it remained where it sat, precariously suspended on the side of the bank. Whatever she was going to do, she needed to do it now. If her car were to dislodge and be taken away by the rushing water, her life would end, right along with that of the innocent baby tucked so trustingly in her womb.
Heart pounding, she moved to unlatch her seat belt. With trembling fingers, she jabbed at the button, but it refused to release. She tried again to no avail. “No,” she gasped, a deeper panic setting in. She tried to push free of the strap, but her protruding abdomen made that impossible. Nausea roiled in her gut. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm down. She needed to think.
Another pain, this one sharper than the previous ones had been, caused her stomach to clench. A hazy darkness began to skirt the outer edges of her vision. Hannah’s thoughts went to her sister and the babe that should have carried on his parents’ legacy. She thought of her widower father back in Steamboat Springs, who would be utterly devastated to lose yet another daughter, another grandchild.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed softly. Then, letting her fear go, she turned herself over to the Lord’s safekeeping as the darkness claimed her.
“I’ve driven in storms before,” Garrett Wade muttered into the phone as he pulled away from his ranch house.
“I’d rather lose a horse than a friend,” Sheriff Justin Dawson said worriedly from the other end of the line. Justin, the best friend of Garrett’s younger brother Jackson, had property that bordered the Triple W Rodeo Ranch, which Garrett and his brothers shared with their parents. Shortly after the storm had begun, he’d called to ask Garrett for advice regarding one of his mares that was having birthing complications. While he could have possibly talked Justin through the birthing, Garrett felt better seeing to it himself. After all, as a veterinarian, that’s what he’d devoted his life to—caring for animals, horses in particular. He’d delivered dozens of foals over the years, and it appeared he’d be adding another to his list that dark and stormy afternoon.
The storm worsened, slowing his travel to what felt like a mere crawl. Rain deluged the windshield of his truck, making it almost impossible to see more than one or two cars lengths ahead. He rounded the curve that cut through one of the smaller wooded hillsides on the property, wondering if he might be better off turning around at the bridge just beyond and help Justin with the delivery of the foal via the phone.
He knew far too well how helpless one could feel when a life hung in the balance. Even if the life in jeopardy that afternoon belonged to a horse. He was still driven to do whatever he could to make certain Justin’s mare and its foal survived whatever complications had arisen. As he hadn’t been able to with Grace. Not that there was any comparison to the loss of a human life. But if he had the ability to make a difference where he hadn’t been able to in Grace’s case he would. Be it animal or human.
Grace. It had been a stormy afternoon very much like this one when he’d lost the other half of his heart. His high school sweetheart. No, not lost. She’d been taken from him—by cancer. Seventeen years old, with so much life ahead of her, a life she was meant to spend with him, she had slipped away with him holding her hand.
Pulled abruptly from the painful thoughts of his past, Garrett stepped hard on the brake as he eyed the road ahead. He sent a prayer of thanks heavenward as he took in the sight before him. Had he been traveling any faster, he might not have noticed the bridge had been washed out until it was too late.
The bridge had been old and in need of replacing anyway, but its loss had effectively cut off his family’s fastest route into town. Shifting the car into Reverse, he started to back away, preparing to turn his Ford F-450 around and head back to the ranch. However, something protruding from the space where the bridge had once been caught his eye as his truck’s headlights passed over it.
Leaning forward, Garrett squinted, trying to make out what that something was through the heavy rain. Part of the bridge, perhaps? He slowly drove toward the creek until the blurred outline became clearer. The moment he realized the back end of a car was jutting up from the sloping hillside, Garrett threw his Ford into Park and jumped out into the rain. Had the vehicle’s passenger, possibly even passengers, managed to escape before the car settled so precariously over the rapidly rising creek? Or were they trapped inside, on the verge of being swept away by the swirling water? Heart pounding, he raced toward the collapsed bridge.
“Hello?” he hollered. “Is anyone in there?”
When he received no response, he ran toward the upended vehicle, stopping just far enough away from the creek’s edge not to accidentally slip into it. Water was halfway up the front doors, but by some Providence the car’s rear held fast against the muddied hillside. Thunder and lightning crashing around him as he pulled his cell from the front pocket of his jeans and switched the flashlight app on. It wasn’t as good as having the real thing, but at that moment it cast enough light into the vehicle to see that the Honda wasn’t empty. The shadowy outline of a slight female form lay limp against the taut harness of the driver’s side seatbelt. He couldn’t see her face, as the woman’s head faced the opposite direction, but she appeared to be unconscious.
The vehicle creaked and groaned as the rushing water threatened to tear the car free of whatever it was that held it to the bank. His gaze shifted immediately toward the rushing water below as it crested over the car’s hood. There was no time to waste. Garrett broke into a run for his truck, heedless of the stinging rain. Dear Lord, please don’t let me have arrived too late.
He grabbed a heavy-duty flashlight along with the recovery towrope he kept in his truck in case one of their horse trailers got stuck in mud and secured the rope to the front of the F-450. Then he hurried back to where the Honda hung precariously atop the hillside and kneeled on the ground where the back end teetered. Shining the light under the car’s carriage, he found a secure place to latch the towrope.
He ran back to his truck. Throwing the oversize vehicle into Reverse, he eased backward until the rope grew taut. Then he gave it a little more gas and began pulling the smaller car back up the bank. It caught for a moment, refusing to budge, which sent Garrett into another round of fervent prayers. Then, as if in answer, it let loose, sliding in the slick mud as it ascended the remainder of the way up the side of the flooding creek.
It wasn’t until he’d gotten the car safely away from Bent Creek’s rising water that Garrett realized he’d been holding his breath. Exhaling his relief, he grabbed once more for the flashlight and then went to check on the driver inside the other vehicle.
When he reached the car, he pulled on the front door handle, only to find it locked. Aiming the beam of the flashlight directly inside, he saw the unconscious woman now lying back against the seat. A surge of urgency filled him. He pounded on the window as the driving rain beat down on him.
The woman shifted slightly and then her eyes fluttered open. Light green eyes, the color of peridot, looked up at him. The expression on the young woman’s face, one of both fear and relief, had him wishing there wasn’t a solid metal door separating them. He wanted to tell her she was all right. Needed to know that she truly was all right. Needed his pounding heart to settle back into its normal rhythm.
“You’re safe!” he hollered over the storm.
Wide-eyed, the woman looked up at him pleadingly, but she made no move to open the door. Was she suffering from shock? It was understandable if she was. A slender hand rose to flatten against the window in a silent plea and then dropped away as an expression of pain moved across her face. Had she been injured when the car had gone down over the bank?
“Unlock the door!” he instructed, motioning toward the door beside her.
She moved then, just enough to reach for the manual lock button. Then the door clicked.
“Thatta girl,” he muttered as he eased the door open. Rain spilled off the brim of his cowboy hat as he leaned in, keeping the beam of the flashlight averted as not to blind her with it.