The Rancher's Baby Surprise. Kat Brookes

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ