A Baby in the Bunkhouse. Cathy Thacker Gillen

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      “Because you’re the only one of us who’s had any veterinary training!” Stretch said.

      Veterinary training! Jacey thought.

      Rafferty looked as unimpressed by his education as Jacey. “One semester,” he stated plainly, glaring at the hired hands who circled the bed. “That hardly qualifies me to work as an obstetrician.”

      “Maybe not,” Hoss drawled, “but right now, boss, you’re all we got.”

      Besieged with another contraction, Jacey grabbed the blanket she was lying on with both fists. This was going to be some story. First, she got hopelessly lost, something she never did. Then she drove her car into a ditch, spent the night in a bunkhouse, was unwittingly mistaken for the new cook, whipped up breakfast to great acclaim…and then went into hard, fast labor. Next thing she knew…She moaned out loud as the pain increased unbearably. “I can’t believe I’m talking about having my baby delivered by a vet-school dropout!”

      “Now, now. He’s got to know something,” Curly soothed with a wink.

      “Yeah, he delivers all the horses and cows on the ranch,” Red added helpfully. “The ones that need help birthing anyway.”

      “It’s not the same thing,” Rafferty protested grimly.

      “Not even close,” Jacey agreed in the same humorless tone.

      “Close enough,” the older man countered sagely, stepping in with that cool air of authority once again. “Emergency Medical Services said the docs over at the Summit Hospital E.R. will answer any questions you have and talk you through it until they can get here—just give ’em a call.” He pushed the phone into Rafferty’s hand, then extended his palm to Jacey. “I’m Eli Evans by the way,” he said warmly, reassuring her with a glance that all would be well. “My son and I own this place.”

      Eli seemed like a nice guy. Hospitable and ready to lend a hand, unlike his son, who seemed to be offering aid with as much reluctance as Jacey felt receiving it.

      Another contraction wrapped around her middle. It was all Jacey could do not to whimper as the pain increased. Recalling her labor coach’s advice to relax and distract herself from the discomfort as much as possible during the early stage of labor, Jacey puffed, “Nice to meet you, sir.”

      Her know-it-all sister had been right—Jacey shouldn’t have taken her sweet old time getting to El Paso for the birth.

      Jacey forced a determined smile and kept her attention on Eli. “And thanks for the lodging last night.”

      “You’re welcome.” Eli squeezed her hand reassuringly, before releasing it. “Although, for the record,” he said mildly, “I would have put you up in the ranch house.”

      “My room was fine.” She’d slept well. Which was good, considering what she had ahead of her.

      “You ought to taste the breakfast she cooked us,” Stretch remarked.

      Eli’s craggy brow lifted in surprise. “You cooked?”

      Jacey shrugged as perspiration beaded her entire body. “It seemed a fair trade. Besides, we were all hungry.”

      Unable to help herself as the pain increased to defcon levels, she let out a low, keening moan.

      Every cowboy in the room—except Rafferty—stepped away from the bed she was lying on. As if it would somehow help to give her space.

      And maybe it would, Jacey thought as sweat dampened her hair and heat pushed up her neck into her face. Despite the fact she was now once again diligently doing her Lamaze breathing, she felt as if she would never be able to get enough air.

      Father and son exchanged concerned glances she wished she hadn’t seen. “Let us know if you need anything.” Eli directed the cowboys out, and the door shut behind them.

      Jacey and Rafferty were alone, and Rafferty looked about as happy with the situation as she was.

      He punched in a number, stated he was going to be the one delivering the baby, then listened intently. “This your first baby?” he asked Jacey.

      “Yes.”

      “Then we’re probably going to have plenty of time.”

      Rafferty went back to talking on the phone, absorbed what sounded like a slew of in-case-things-do-get-out-of-hand instructions. Promising to call back if he needed further instructions, he hung up and opened the bedroom door. “Get me a stack of clean towels and something to wrap the baby in!” he called.

      The cowboys milling nervously about jumped to attention. Mere seconds later clean linens were shoved into Rafferty’s arms.

      “Boil a pair of scissors and some string. I want ’em sterile,” he barked before shutting the door and striding back to the narrow twin bed. Despite his lack of experience, he carried himself with a gunslinger’s confidence, which, oddly enough, made her want to kick him in the shin. Perverse as it might be, she wanted him to feel as panicked and out of control as she did. She wanted them to be on a level playing field.

      A glint of humor in his blue eyes, he surveyed her mussed hair and flushed cheeks. “Want a bullet to bite on?”

      “Very funny,” she panted.

      “Whiskey to kill the pain?”

      “You’re a laugh riot.” Tears streamed down her face. “All those wonderful delivery-room drugs would probably help just about now.”

      “I’m sure they’ll give you a shot of whatever as soon as the EMS gets here. Meanwhile—” he dragged the ladderback chair over to the end of the bed “—we’re going to have to get you better situated.” He patted the end of the mattress. “So you’re going to have to scoot down to the end.”

      With her whole body wrapped in a vise? Suddenly, she was trembling from head to toe. “I don’t th-th-think I c-can.”

      “I’ll help you.” Gentle, reassuring now, he put his warm, strong hands beneath her, then shifted her bottom to the end of the mattress. He slipped onto the seat of the chair, positioning her legs so her knees were raised, her feet flat on the mattress. He lifted her again, held her there with one hand and spread two clean towels out beneath her.

      Another wave of intense pressure rocked Jacey’s frame. Was it her imagination or could she literally feel the baby bump moving lower…? “I know it doesn’t seem possible…but I r-r-really think I f-f-f-eel the head.”

      “Only one way to find out.” He was so calm and matter-of-fact they might have been talking about the weather. “We’ll take a look, see how far your cervix is dilated.”

      “Guess those veterinary classes are coming in handy.”

      “Now who’s the smart-ass?”

      Grinning, she had a feeling he’d be a fun guy to spar with. Under other circumstances…She sucked in a breath as another contraction gripped her.

      The look on his face as he checked out the situation confirmed СКАЧАТЬ