Читать книгу: «The Rancher's Baby Surprise»

Chapter One

Hannah Sanders eased her foot off the gas pedal as she struggled to make out the winding country road ahead. The overcast day had turned as black as night when she’d driven into the storm. Even her car’s high beams struggled to push through the wall of rain before her. Deepening puddles along the barely visible road pulled at her tires, causing Hannah to tighten her grip on the steering wheel even more.

“Dear Lord,” she prayed, resisting the urge to run a hand over her rounded abdomen, knowing she needed to keep both hands firmly wrapped about the steering wheel, “please don’t let anything happen to this baby.” Her sister’s baby.

The wipers, set on high, pushed water to and fro on the windshield, but the deluge outside rendered them nearly useless. Why hadn’t she turned around when she’d seen the approaching storm? As if in answer to her question, the cramping in her lower back returned, this time wrapping around to her swollen abdomen. She hadn’t turned around because, according to her GPS, Bent Creek, Wyoming was the closest town in any direction to seek shelter from the storm she was driving through.

Hannah clenched her teeth as the cramping sensation, one she still hoped was nothing more than false labor pains, settled low in her abdomen. Tears pooled in her eyes. “This can’t be real labor,” she uttered in denial as she fought to push away the sense of panic threatening to overcome her. It was too soon. The baby, the tiny little blessing her older sister and her husband had entrusted her with, wasn’t due to arrive for five more weeks. A child that, following the multicar pileup that had taken her sister’s and brother-in-law’s lives three months earlier, would be Hannah’s to raise. To love.

And love this baby she would. With all her heart. He was all she had left of Heather, her only sibling. She told herself to stay calm. That stress wasn’t good for the baby, and what she was experiencing was nothing more than false labor pains. But what if they weren’t? She couldn’t give birth to Heather and Brian’s son on the side of some rain-soaked road alone. There could be complications? What if—

A crack of thunder erupted in the looming clouds above just as Hannah started across an old wooden single-lane bridge, yanking her from her fearful thoughts. The Honda Civic shuddered almost violently below her. Then, before she could fully process that the rumble she’d both heard and felt wasn’t thunder, the bridge gave way beneath her car.

A panicked cry escaped her lips. She jammed her foot on the brake, not that it made any difference as the nose of her Civic dipped downward. The creek’s rampant flow immediately crested over the front end of the hood on the driver’s side, mixing with the deluge of rain still coming down around her. Hannah’s stomach dropped, and it had nothing to do with the life growing inside her. It was an instantaneous fear of what might very well be her last few moments on this earth. Was this how her sister had felt in the milliseconds before the deadly crash that took her life?

Guilt rose up, overtaking that fear. Her decision to drive on through the storm instead of pulling off onto the side of the road to wait it out would cost her not only her life, but that of the innocent babe she carried inside her. Thick, hot tears of regret rolled down her cheeks. Just when she thought her car was about to be swept away, the rear of the vehicle caught on something, causing it to hang up on the rain-soaked hillside behind her. The car now hung partially submerged in the rushing water of the creek. Thankfully she hadn’t been going fast enough for the front air bags to deploy. There was no telling what kind of injury that might have caused to the baby this far along in her pregnancy.

However, the seat belt she’d secured herself in with, thanks to the downward slant of the vehicle, now pulled taut against her swollen abdomen. While it kept her from sliding forward into the dashboard, it also made it harder to breathe and nearly impossible to move.

The engine sputtered and died as water pushed through the partially submerged hood of the car, causing the headlights as well as the inside lighting to go out. Fearing that any movement she might make would dislodge her car from the creek’s hillside, Hannah sat perfectly still. If one could call it sitting, with gravity wanting to pull her body downward toward the nose of the car.

Darkness shrouded the world around her as she sat listening to the sweeping rush of the water around her. Rain drummed against the car’s roof, the sound drowning out the furious pounding of her heart as the reality of the situation she suddenly found herself in settled into her panic-stricken mind. She was caught up in a flash flood. She’d seen enough news coverage on them over the years to know what they were capable of. Less than two feet of rushing water could sweep vehicles away as if they were nothing more than weightless toys.

A damp chill began to seep into the car, making Hannah shudder. She had to do something. But what if her movement caused the Civic to break free of whatever it was that had hung it up? The car bobbed against the water’s force and she knew time was running out. With the water rising as quickly as it was, the flooding creek would soon sweep her—them—away. Two more lives gone far too soon.

Her thoughts went to her sister’s child and the life he would never have the chance to live. And what of her father? What would become of him? He was still grieving over the loss of his oldest daughter. She couldn’t do this to him again. Wouldn’t do this to him. Forcing one hand’s iron-banded grip to loosen on the steering wheel, she released it and then eased slightly numb fingers across the center console, searching the front passenger seat for her purse and the cell phone she’d left lying on the seat next to it. She only prayed she would have signal out there in the middle of what felt like nowhere.

Her fingertips danced over the empty passenger seat and Hannah groaned. Her purse must have slid onto the floor when the bridge dropped out from under the front of her Honda. There was no telling where her phone had ended up.

“Dear Lord, please keep us safe until help arrives,” she prayed, determined to cling to her faith despite the gnawing fear that no one would be out in a storm like this. Why would they be?

She turned her head slowly from one side to the other, trying to assess her situation. Through the heavy downpour, she was barely able to make out the hazy outlines of tree trunks along the creek’s bank on either side of her car. Below her, angry whitecaps churned in the rising creek as fallen logs and other debris swirled past.

To think that she’d made the conscious decision to take less-traveled roads on her way back from Idaho to Steamboat Springs, believing the fewer vehicles on the road the safer she and the child she carried inside her would be. She’d been so wrong.

The force of the rising water, surging in a constant push against the side of her Civic, had Hannah’s panicked gaze shifting toward the driver-side window. There would be no leaving out that door, which was taking the brunt of the creek’s rushing flow. She looked frantically to the passenger side, which, much to her dismay, had water lapping up along its side mirror as well. With no power, she couldn’t lower the windows. That left her with only one other option: getting her very pregnant self into the backseat where she might be able to, if the car remained where it was, make her way out onto the bank of the swollen creek through one of the rear 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. Looking down into her tear-stained face, he asked, “Where are you injured?”

“I’m not,” she said shakily.

Maybe she didn’t realize she’d been hurt, because there had been no mistaking the pain he’d seen etched across her face as he’d 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 clean.”