The Rancher's Baby Surprise. Kat Brookes
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peered down at her through the rain-splattered window.
Before he could respond, she added, “I think I might be in labor.”
Labor? She had that part all wrong. Justin’s mare was in labor. She was recovering from the shock of nearly being swept away by a flash flood. His gaze dropped down to where the shaft of light from the flashlight crossed over her midsection. Her very swollen midsection. Dear Lord.
His calming heart kicked up again. “Are you sure?”
“No,” she answered with a sob. “But I’ve been having pains on and off for the past few hours. It’s got to be false labor. Please tell me it’s false labor,” she pleaded, fear in her eyes.
He didn’t want her to be afraid. Didn’t want her to be in labor, for that matter. Not here. Not now. Memories of that awful, stormy day years before threatened to rush in, but the woman’s soft whimper kept Garrett anchored to the present. “When is your due date?” he asked with another glance down at her protruding abdomen.
“Not for five more weeks,” she replied, biting at her quivering lower lip.
It was at that moment he realized she was shivering. The inside of the vehicle had grown chilled as it hung partway in the water. The cold rain hadn’t helped matters, either, causing that afternoon’s temperatures to drop. “Wait here,” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”
“Please don’t leave me,” she cried out, panic filling her voice.
“I’m going to get my poncho from the truck,” he told her. “You’re already chilled. We don’t need you getting soaked to the bones on top of that.”
She eased back against the seat and nodded slowly, another shudder racking her form.
Garrett raced back to his truck, sending up a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord for placing him there when he had. Collecting the oversize poncho, he hurried back to the frightened young woman. Five more weeks. Please let it be false labor pains and nothing more.
Opening the car door, he called out, “Slide out and I’ll cover you with this.” He shook out the folded rain poncho and held it up over himself and the top of the car.
“I... I can’t.”
His brows drew together. “We’re far enough away from the water. It’s safe for you to leave your car.” But not for a whole lot longer, if Bent Creek kept rising the way it was.
“M-my seat belt is stuck.”
“Sit back,” he told her. “I’ll give it a try.”
“Okay,” she managed with a weak nod.
Leaning into the car, he reached around the rounded mound of her stomach and jabbed at the release button. Just as she had said, it wouldn’t budge. Chilly rain seeped into his clothes as he worked at the latch. Finally, he pulled back with an apologetic frown. “It’s not going to give.”
Fear lit her eyes. “Are you going to have to leave me here?”
“Not a chance,” he said, wanting nothing more than to quell the panic he heard in her voice. “I’m going to cut the seat belt away.”
“C-cut it?” she stuttered, the chill she’d taken on seeming to get worse. “Wouldn’t oiling the latch be better?”
“I don’t have any oil handy,” he told her and then with a regretful frown said, “I know you’d rather I didn’t damage your car, but with the bridge out and other possible flash floods hitting the area, there’s no telling how long it would be before 911 could get anyone out here.”
“After having creek water rush through the hood of my car, I think the worst of the damage has already been done.”
He nodded in agreement.
Suddenly, her expression changed, her breath catching as her hand moved to the pale yellow shirt stretched taut across her stomach.
“The baby?” he inquired worriedly.
“Yes,” she gasped. “Cut the belt,” she blurted out. Then, as if suddenly realizing the forcefulness with which she’d made her request, added, “Please.”
Hearing the urgency in her voice, Garrett reached into the front pocket of his jeans and withdrew his pocketknife. “I’m coming in from the other side,” he said as he stepped back and closed the door, wanting to keep her as dry as possible.
He hurried around and slid into the passenger side, yanking the door closed behind him. Shoving the rain poncho aside, he shifted to face the woman trapped behind the wheel. “Do you think you could hold the flashlight for me? It’s heavier than your average household flashlight.”
“Y-yes.” She reached out to take it from him, holding it firm despite the trembling he’d seen in her hand as she’d done so. With a slight adjustment, she centered the beam on the point where the belt and the latch met. It danced around slightly, but she did her best to steady it.
“Thatta girl,” he cooed again, as if talking to a wounded horse. Turning in the seat as much as his long frame would allow, he unfolded the razor-sharp blade. Seeing her tense, he said calmly, “What’s your name?”
“H-Hannah. Hannah Sanders.”
“Just hold real still for me, Hannah. This should only take a second.”
Her gaze dropped to the blade and she swallowed hard. “Y-you didn’t tell me your name.”
“Garrett Wade,” he replied, noting the fear in her eyes as she looked down at his knife. “No need to worry. I grew up on a ranch.” He worked the tip of the knife gently beneath the stubborn strap. “My father taught all three of his sons at an early age how to handle a knife properly.”
Her gaze lifted. “How old are you now?”
“Thirty-four,” he answered as he focused on the troublesome belt, carefully slicing into it.
She exhaled a sigh of relief. “So you’ve had lots of time to p-perfect your knife skills.”
“Enough,” he agreed, her reply causing a grin to tug at his lips.
A scant few moments later, he had freed Hannah Sanders from her restraints. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes.
Garrett stilled. “You okay?”
Opening her eyes, she met his worried gaze. “Yes. It’s just such a relief to be able to breathe fully again.”
He nodded in understanding, and then he folded and put away his pocketknife as his racing heart slowed. To think of what might have happened if he hadn’t gotten there when he had. “Now we just have to get you somewhere warm and safe.”
“Safe?”
He inclined his head toward the creek. “The water’s still rising. Best to clear out, just in case it spills over and tries to sweep your car away again.”
The look of relief he’d seen on her face faded away with his words.
Garrett silently chided himself for not giving more thought to the words he’d spoken. While they’d been truthful, he supposed he could have kept his concerns to himself. Unlike his brothers, he’d never been any good at saying the right thing when it came to women. Most likely because a majority of his time was spent in the company of animals. Not the best learning ground for social interaction.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said. “And I’m a man of my word. Now just sit tight while I come around to help you out.”
“M-my purse,” she said, shivering. “It fell to the floor.”
Glancing down by his booted feet, he frowned. “I’m afraid I got mud on it.”
“That’s okay,” she assured him with a weak smile. “It’ll wipe