The Rancher's Baby Surprise and The Cowboy's Unexpected Baby
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Kat Brookes
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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.”
With a nod, he reached for it and then handed it over to her. “I’ll be around to get you.” Drawing the poncho up over his head, he slipped back out into the storm.
Hannah looked out into the darkness, the flashlight still gripped tightly in her hand. Its beam still directed downward. She watched through the pouring rain outside as her rescuer made his way around the front of her car.
Thank You, Lord, for sending this man to help us. She placed a hand against her stomach, feeling the life stir beneath it. “We’re going to be all right, little one.” While she didn’t know this cowboy who had rescued them, Hannah knew in her heart that he would keep them safe.
Her rescuer stepped up to the driver’s side door and eased it open. He had the poncho draped over his head, one long arm holding the outer edge of it over the Civic’s roof to help shield her from the rain when she slid out.
Clutching her purse in one hand and the weighty flashlight in her other, Hannah turned, easing a foot out the open door.
“Let me get that,” he said, taking the flashlight from her. “Now, careful you don’t lose your footing,” her said, his words nearly drowned out by the loud pulse of rain hitting the poncho he held extended over them.
Nodding, she pushed to her feet. Only it wasn’t the water under her shoes that had her going down. It was her trembling legs which promptly gave way beneath her. The next thing Hannah knew, she was being swept up into a pair of strong arms and carried away from her car and the raging creek beyond.
“I c-can walk,” she protested.
“I can see that,” came his reply, concern lacing his words. “But I’m not taking any chances. Not when you’re having abdominal pains.”
“I’m not having them now,” she told him, closing her eyes, too exhausted to say any more. When they reached his truck, she expected Garrett to set her on her feet, but he held her securely against him as he opened the passenger door and placed her, as if she weighed nothing at all, up into the spacious bucket seat.
“Don’t take the poncho off until I close the door,” he told her. “I’ve got to go unhook the towrope from the truck and then we’ll get going.”
As soon as the heavy door slammed shut beside her, Hannah worked her way out from under the poncho, her gaze searching the curtain of rain coming down outside for the man God had sent in answer to her prayers. She latched on to his shadowy outline, this kindhearted cowboy who had become her lifeline when she’d thought all was lost. By the time he’d climbed into the driver’s seat, Garrett was soaked from his wide-brimmed cowboy hat to his muddied boots. Beneath the fading glow of the truck’s dome light, she could see the beads of water dripping from the damp tips of his wet, wavy hair.
“I’m so s-sorry you had to get out in this storm,” she said as he reached between them to place his wet cowboy hat onto the floor behind her seat.
“Given the alternative outcome, I thank the good Lord above for putting me in the right place at the right time,” he replied as he reached back between the seats to grab a thick woolen blanket. Handing it over to her, he said, “Shove that wet poncho to the floor and wrap up in this. I can hear your teeth chattering from over here.”
Nodding, she draped the blanket over herself, relishing the warmth it provided. “I c-can’t thank you enough for coming to my rescue.” Her hand moved to her swollen belly. “Our rescue.”
His gaze dropped to the rounded, blanket-draped mound and then back up to her face. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to take you to my brother’s place, where you can warm yourself by the fireplace,” he said as he threw the truck into gear. “It’s closer than mine. We’ll hole up there until the storm lets up. You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m alive,” she replied with a grateful smile. “I’d say that’s far better than all right.”
He nodded.
“Do you think your brother will mind?” she asked, the chattering of her teeth easing somewhat as the blanket, along with the heat blasting up from the truck’s floor heater, began to ease the chill from her body.
“Jackson?” Garrett said, glancing her way. “Not a chance. The man is a social butterfly. He always welcomes company.” He turned the vehicle around and started back along the rain-soaked road.
The warmth filling the truck’s cab cocooned her as they drove through the storm. The farther away from the flooding creek they got, the more relaxed she felt. And tired. So very tired. She needed to stay awake. That was her first thought. But, as her eyelids grew heavier, she knew she was fighting a losing battle. While Garrett Wade was little more than a stranger to her, Hannah knew he’d been guided to that washed-out bridge by the Lord in answer to her prayers. He would keep her and the baby she carried inside her safe from the storm outside. Comforted by that knowledge, she closed her eyes and gave in to the exhaustion.
“Are you sure she’s only sleeping?”
“She’s been through a traumatic experience,” a vaguely familiar voice replied. “That sort of thing would wear anyone down.”
Hannah struggled to push away the haze of sleep as arms moved beneath her, lifting her. “Garrett?” she said sleepily, trying not to wince as her abdomen suddenly constricted, the pain slightly more intense than it had been before.
“I’ve got you,” he replied.
“You need me to take her?”
“I’ve got her,” Garrett said as he pivoted away from the truck. “Can you see to the door?”
“She doesn’t look to weigh much more than a bale of hay. I think my bum leg could have handled it.”
“Maybe so, but I promised to see her safely to your place and I intend to do just that.”
The passenger door slammed shut behind them as Garrett carried her toward what she assumed was his brother’s house, rousing Hannah more fully. She forced her eyes open, her gaze first settling on Garrett and then drifting over to the man keeping pace beside her rescuer. He was holding a large umbrella up over her and Garrett, heedless of the rain soaking into his flannel shirt.
As they neared the house, light from the porch spilled out across the man’s face. A face very like the man who held her in his arms. “You must be the butterfly,” Hannah said, trying not to show the worry she felt as the possibility that she might truly be in labor settled in.
He looked down at her in confusion and then cast a worried glance in his brother’s direction as they ascended the wide porch steps. “Are you sure she didn’t hit her head on the steering wheel or something when the bridge dropped out from under her car?”
Garrett hesitated, glancing down at her. “I don’t think so.”
“I didn’t,” Hannah replied with a slight shake of her head.
“But you heard what she just called me, right?” the younger man insisted. “Butterfly.”
“Oh, that,” Garrett said as they stepped beneath the protective covering of the porch roof. “She got that from me,” he explained as they crossed the porch. “I said you were a social butterfly,” Garrett added in clarification and then added impatiently, “Can you get the door?”
His brother yanked the screen door open and then stepped aside, holding it in place until Garrett had her safely inside the house. Then he followed with a frown. “You couldn’t have compared me to something else, like a wolf, for instance?”
Ignoring his brother’s muttered complaint, Garrett carried her into one of the rooms off the entryway, where he lowered her onto a large brown overstuffed sofa. Then he kneeled to slide the rain-soaked sneakers from her feet. “Best get these wet shoes off you.” He glanced back over his shoulder at his brother. “Got a thick pair of socks she could borrow?”
“Be right back,” his brother said.
“I don’t need...” she began, but he was already moving through the entryway in long-legged strides, his gait somewhat off.
“Yes, you do,” Garrett said firmly as he set her wet shoes aside and then adjusted the bottom of the blanket to cover her stockinged feet. Then he stood and took a step back. “You can’t afford to catch a chill.”
Too tired to argue, she said, “No, I suppose not.”
His brother hurried back into the room, a thick pair of wool socks in hand. “These might be a little big on you, but they’ll be plenty warm.”
She reached for them. “Thank you.”
“If you haven’t already figured it out,” Garrett said as she removed her socks and pulled on the pair she’d been given, “this lanky cowboy beside me is my brother Jackson Wade. Jackson—” his introduction was cut off as Hannah let out a soft gasp. His worried gaze shot to her face. “Hannah?”
She sank back into the sofa, a hand pressed to her swollen belly. “It’s okay,” she said shakily. At least, she prayed it was.
“Another pain?” he asked with a frown.
Jackson’s gaze dropped to the blanket covering the rounded swell of her stomach and his thick brows shot upward, clearly noticing her condition for the first time since she’d been carried in. “Is that... I mean is she...?”
“Pregnant?” Garrett finished for him. “Yes. And, despite her reassurance otherwise, I think she might be in labor.” He looked down at her. “Hannah? Should I call 911?”
His brother’s eyes snapped up, some of the color leaving his tanned face. “Labor? As in, having her baby right now?”
Dear Lord, I hope not. Hannah shook her head, refusing to believe that was the case. “I don’t think there’s any need to do that. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. And then getting caught up in that flood, well, I’m sure they’re just false labor pains. I’m not even close to my due date yet.”
Jackson looked relieved. Garrett, on the other hand, didn’t appear to be as accepting of her reply.
“We should call your husband,” Garrett said. “Let him know you and the baby are safe.”
“I’m not married,” she replied.
“I see,” he said with a quick glance at her rounded abdomen.
Warmth blossomed in her cheeks. “The baby’s not mine.” The second the words left her mouth she realized how untrue they were. The child growing inside her womb was hers now, for as long as the good Lord willed it to be.
The two men exchanged glances. Not that she blamed them. She knew how that last statement had to sound to them.
“The baby was my sister’s,” she explained, tears filling her eyes. “She and her husband had tried for so long to have a child, but she could never carry to term. So, when the doctor suggested they look into finding a gestational surrogate to carry their baby for them, I knew I wanted to do this for her.”
“Was your sister’s?” Garrett replied with a gentle query.
Her hand went protectively to her stomach as she choked out the words, “Heather and Brian died three months ago in a car accident.”
“Hannah,” Garrett groaned. “I’m so sorry.”
She brushed a stray tear from her cheek. “I’ll manage.”
“Alone?”
“Women raise children alone every day.” She ran her hand over her stomach, a knot forming in her throat. “This child is all I have left of my sister. I’ll do whatever it takes to make his life one filled with love and happiness.”
“Is there someone else we could call for you?” Jackson asked.
Her gaze dropped to the floor between them. “No.”
“No one?” Garrett pressed worriedly.
“It’s just my father and me, and he’s been really sick with a virus. Probably brought on by all the stress of dealing with my sister’s recent death,” she said. “It’s been so very hard on him. Especially since we lost my mother a little over a year past. I won’t have him worrying himself even sicker over me when I’m perfectly fine. Just carless.”
Garrett nodded in understanding, yet the worried frown remained fixed on his handsome face. “We’ll see what we can do in the morning about getting your car out of there.”
“If it’s still there,” she said with a shudder.
“Either way,” he agreed, “it’s not going to be drivable. You’ll be needing a rental car to get back to...”
“Steamboat Springs,” she supplied.
“You’re a ways from home,” Jackson said.
Hannah felt another twinge starting. Please, oh, please, make it stop. “There was something I needed to do,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm when she felt the panic washing over her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to freshen up a little bit.” And take a moment alone to collect herself. Stress wasn’t good for the baby and she’d been under so much of it. Was it any wonder she was experiencing premature labor pains?
Jackson motioned toward the doorway. “Take a left down the hall. The bathroom will be the second door on your right. In the meantime, can I offer you something to drink?”
“I think I might have a few packets of tea left in the cupboard,” Jackson replied. “Can I fix you a cup of chamomile tea?”
“It would help to take the chill off,” she said, another sharp pinch squeezing at her abdomen. Maybe she should ask Garrett if he could drive her to the hospital once the rain slowed, just to be sure she wasn’t in true labor. “But I hate to impose on you any more than I have already.”
“You’re not imposing,” he replied. “I like having company. I’m a social butterfly, remember?” he said with a glance in Garrett’s direction, causing his brother’s mouth to quirk in a barely suppressed grin. Then he turned back to Hannah. “That being the case, I just wish we had been able to meet under better circumstances.”
She nodded. “Agreed.” When the viselike grip took hold of her stomach, Hannah fought the urge to groan aloud. Shoving aside the blanket Garrett had lent her in the truck, she made a quick adjustment to the leather strap of her purse, securing it atop her shoulder as she pushed awkwardly to her feet.
Garrett reached out to steady her.
“Thank you.”
“Do you need me to walk you down the hall?”
Shaking her head, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “There’s no need. I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think—” he began, only to be cut off by his brother.
“Why don’t we go fix that tea Hannah said she’d like to help take the chill away?”
“It doesn’t take two of us to make a cup of tea,” Garrett argued with a frown.
His younger brother arched a warning brow.
Reluctantly, Garrett stepped aside, watching worriedly as Hannah made her way past him and out of the room.
“I’ll tell you right now,” she heard him say as she walked away, “The cowboy in me doesn’t like leaving her to fend for herself in her condition. Not one little bit.”
Thank the Lord for cowboys. If not for men like Garrett Wade, she might have lost more than her own life. She would have lost the baby Heather had prayed so long for.
