The Rancher's Miracle Baby. April Arrington

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СКАЧАТЬ hold on his wrist eased, and her face flooded with color. “Th-thank you.”

      She took the rag from him and pressed it to her head, wincing at the initial contact, then drew her knees tightly to her chest. He studied her for a moment and touched his other palm to the floor, noting the way she kept eyeing his hands.

      “I’m sorry that rag’s not clean,” he said. “I get pretty sweaty outside during the day.” He remained still. “I’m Alex. Alex Weston.”

      “Tammy Jenkins.” She held the rag up briefly. “And thank you again. For everything.”

      “You’ve thanked me enough.” Cringing at the gruff sound of his voice, he stood slowly and stepped back, his boots crunching over shards of glass. “We better get outside. I need to check the damage to the house before I can be sure it’s safe to be in here.”

      “The house across the road,” she said softly, peering up at him. “Did someone live there?”

      “Did someone live...” His heart stalled. Dean Kent, his best friend and business partner, lived there. Along with his wife, Gloria, and their eleven-month-old son. “Why? What’d you see?”

      “I think it hit that house, too,” she said, dodging his eyes and shoving to her feet. “I can’t be sure how bad, but it looked like...”

      Her voice faded as his boots pounded across the floor, over the porch and down the front steps. The heavy humidity clogged his nose and mouth, making it difficult to breathe, and the frantic sprint made his lungs ache. He jumped over several small piles of debris, registering wood planks, buckets and tree limbs.

      He stopped at a twisted pile of metal and absorbed the damage around him. Trees were down everywhere. Some were split in half, the remaining jagged halves stabbing into the air. His stable was in shambles, but, thankfully, the main house seemed somewhat sturdy.

      It appeared as though the twister had only sideswiped his house. But Tammy’s tone had suggested Dean’s house had been hit head-on.

      Alex darted toward his truck, but the massive tree lying over the tailgate would take time to move. Precious time he didn’t have.

      Tammy, breathless, jogged up behind him. “Alex—”

      “Do you have your keys?”

      She patted her front pocket absently, her wide eyes focused over his left shoulder. “Yes. But they won’t do you any good.”

      He spun and stifled a curse at the sight of her truck and trailer overturned in the mud. Though the worst of the storm had passed, dark clouds still cloaked the sky, and several large drops of rain hit his cheeks and forehead. Another storm approached.

      Alex gripped a thick tree limb and hefted himself over the trunk, scrambling over broken branches and shards of glass. He ran as fast as his legs would allow, his boots pounding into puddles of water and mud splashing up his jeans.

      A power line was down and crisscrossed the road in a snakelike pattern. He jerked to a halt and stiffened at the sound of feet sloshing over wet ground behind him.

      “Wait.” He threw out his arm and glanced over his shoulder.

      Tammy skittered to a stop, her boots slipping over the mud. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as she surveyed the downed power line.

      Alex stood still, each heavy thump of his heart marking the seconds ticking by. To hell with it. Dean and Gloria were on the other side. He stepped carefully over each curve of the tangled line until he reached the opposite side of the road.

      To his surprise, Tammy followed, her boots taking the same path as his. He waited for her to reach him safely, then they ran the rest of the way to Dean’s house.

      “Dear God...” His voice left him, and his frantic steps slowed.

      There was no longer a two-story house. Just a foundation filled with fragmented brick walls, massive piles of wood, shredded insulation and broken glass. There were no movements and no voices. Only the distant rumble of thunder and random plop of raindrops striking the wreckage filled the silence.

      “Dean?” Alex winced. His shaky voice barely rose above the rasp of the wind. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Dean!”

      No answer. He took a hesitant step forward, then another until he reached the highest pile of rubble, visually sifting through splintered doors, broken window frames and loose bricks. Dread seeped into his veins and weakened his limbs. He began walking the perimeter, struggling to stay upright and fighting the urge to collapse on the wet ground.

      Maybe they weren’t home. He nodded and kept moving. They might have driven the twenty miles to town to get groceries and could still be there. He rounded what used to be the back of the house and scanned the heaps.

      That was what it was—they weren’t home. Thank God.

      “They weren’t here,” he called out, turning and starting back toward Tammy. “They—”

      He froze. The toe of a purple shoe stuck out beneath a toppled, broken brick wall.

      Those dang shoes of yours are gonna blind me one day, Gloria.

      Alex began to shake. How many times had he heard Dean tease his wife about her purple shoes? The bright ones she liked to run in every morning after they’d fed and turned out the horses?

      It’s not my shoes that are blinding you, baby, she would chide Dean. It’s my beauty.

      “Gloria?” Alex hit his knees and touched the laces with trembling fingers. He could still hear her laugh in his head. Joyful and energetic. “Gloria.”

      There was no answer. He gripped the edge of the bricks and heaved, barely registering Tammy dropping to his side and lifting with him. They wrestled with the weight of the brick wall, and he counted off, directing Tammy to shove with him in tandem until they managed to shift it. Huge chunks crumbled away, and the largest section broke off to the side, revealing Dean and Gloria underneath.

      Lifeless.

      “No.” Alex shook his head, tuning out Tammy’s soft sobs. “This is the wrong one. This is the wrong damned house.” He shot to his feet, choked back the bile rising in his throat, then threw his head back to shout up at the dark sky. “You got the wrong one, you son of a bitch!”

      The storm should’ve taken his house. It was an empty shell. A pathetic structure that would never shelter children or a married couple—his infertility had seen to the former and his ex-wife had ensured the latter. He wasn’t a father or a husband. Hell, he wasn’t even a man in the real sense of the word. And there was no bright future to look forward to in his life.

      “It should’ve been me, you bastard,” he yelled, his voice hoarse and his throat raw.

      Not Gloria. Not Dean. And not...Brody. His stomach heaved. Not that beautiful boy who’d just learned to walk. The son Dean had been so proud of and whom Gloria had smothered with affection.

      “Alex?”

      He doubled over, clamping a hand over his mouth and trying not to gag.

      Tammy СКАЧАТЬ