Montana Midwife

by Cassie Miles

  She had barely finished talking when the next contraction tensed Misty’s muscles. In spite of her focused breathing, Misty gave a loud yelp.

  During labor, Tab encouraged the mothers to do whatever felt natural. To get into whatever position felt right and to scream if they felt like it. The sound Misty made would lead Bert to them, but they didn’t really have anywhere to hide safely from him.

  After twenty minutes, Misty was nearly ready to push. Where was Aiden? It shouldn’t have taken him this long. Tab tried not to think of the terrible things that might happen. The gun lay on the ground beside her. If she saw Bert, she’d shoot first and ask questions later.

  Aiden poked his head into the shelter. “Do you want the good news or the bad?”

  “Just talk,” Misty snapped. “Don’t be cute.”

  “I’ve heard about this phase of labor,” he said. “It sounds homicidal.”

  “Your news?” Tab prompted.

  “I got water.” He plopped the container into the shelter.

  “That’s good.”

  “There’s no way I’m going to be able to build a fire. The wood is too damp. That’s bad. But here comes the really good news.”

  In the dim light of dusk, she could barely see his grin. Drily, she said, “Knock us out.”

  He flashed a cell phone. “It’s Aspen Jim’s. I found it near the wreckage, and I put through a call. A rescue team is on the way.”

  “Great news,” Tab said. But she doubted the rescuers would get here before the baby arrived.

  The next contraction was powerful. Misty tried to breathe through it but gave up. “I’ve got to push. Now. I have to.”

  Operating more by touch than sight, Tab knew the baby was in position. “Next time,” she said, “push for all you’re worth.”

  She noticed that Aiden had left the shelter and had taken the gun with him. He was standing guard, and that gave her a huge measure of relief as Misty went into the last phase of labor.

  The head crowned. With Tab offering calm encouragement, Misty pushed with every fiber of her strength. The baby was coming. No stopping it now. A miracle was on the way.

  The head was out, then the shoulders and the torso. A fully formed baby boy slipped into Tab’s waiting hands. He was a good, healthy size, at least six pounds.

  Misty gasped. “Is the baby all right?”

  The tiny mouth pursed, and the infant let out a yell.

  “He’s perfect,” Tab said. She swabbed away the mucus and placed the baby, with the umbilical cord still attached, on his mother’s chest.

  Aiden looked in. His head was close to Tab’s, and she could see the wonder in his eyes.

  “You did it,” he said to his sister. “I’m proud of you.”

  “And your nephew,” she said with a giggle. “I’m going to name him after Dad. Matthew Gabriel.”

  He slipped his arm around Tab’s waist. “Thank you.”

  “Misty did all the work.”

  “You’re brilliant, Tabitha. I admire you.”

  His praise delighted her, and she would have liked nothing more than to sit back and let him tell her over and over that she was terrific. But there were other things to do before the rescue team arrived.

  * * *

  OUTSIDE THE SHELTER, Aiden took a position higher on the hill to watch over his girls and the new infant. Powerful emotions churned inside him. He was ready for a baby of his own, ready to settle down, ready to start the next part of his life. And he wanted to share that life with his beautiful Tabitha.

  He didn’t usually make huge decisions so quickly, but he’d never been more certain of anything in his life. She was the right woman for him.

  He’d put through another call to the rescue team. They’d seen the plume of smoke and knew the location. They needed a chopper. Since Aiden was out of commission, the closest other rescue service was a good forty minutes away. He checked his wristwatch. Less than fifteen minutes were left. Everything had turned out right.

  He heard movement behind him and ducked just in time to avoid the knife that slashed through the air. Pivoting, Aiden faced off with Bert Welling. In one gloved hand, he held a knife. In the other, a pistol.

  Aiden couldn’t believe he’d let down his guard. His own gun was tucked into the waistband of his jeans, accessible but not in his hand.

  “Answer one question for me,” Aiden said. “What made you hook up with a fool like Aspen Jim?”

  “The ladies liked him. They trotted along with him like lambs to the slaughter.”

  Hoping to buy time, Aiden kept talking. “Did you ever use a different partner? Maybe David?”

  “That boy was worthless. After everything I did for him, he was fixing to betray me. Over what? He thought Misty gave a damn about him. The boy was too dumb to live.”

  “You know, Bert, if you leave right now, I won’t tell anybody you were here.”

  “How about this, Aiden. First, I’m going to kill you. Next, I’ll slice up that pretty Crow girl you’ve been hanging around with. She’ll be my main course. For dessert, I’ll kill Misty and her bastard.”

  In the moonlight, Aiden saw Bert’s lip curl into a grin of pure evil. He was enjoying his fantasy. It would be the last thought he ever had.

  Diving to the right, Aiden pulled his gun. As soon as he hit the ground, he fired. Not fast enough. Bert had gotten off two shots of his own.

  A burning pain paralyzed Aiden’s left arm. He aimed with the right and fired three shots into the center of Bert Welling’s chest. The old man was dead.

  Aiden closed his eyes and touched his upper arm where blood was already seeping through his jacket sleeve. When he looked up, he saw Tabitha leaning over him with the baby in her arms.

  “Sorry,” he said as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. “I’m going to be okay.”

  “Damn right, you are.” Her voice was determined. “I’m not going to let you go. Not ever.”

  Epilogue

  On Christmas morning, Tab awakened with a jolt. Today would be baby Matthew’s first Christmas, and she still hadn’t figured out how to wrap his rocking horse. Matter of fact, she hadn’t wrapped any presents. Funding for the new women’s clinic had been guaranteed, and Tab had been busy—crazy busy. She never could have handled all the paperwork if it hadn’t been for Misty pitching in to help.

  Rolling onto her side, she reached for Aiden and felt nothing but empty space in the king-size bed that had once been his and now was theirs. He was already up? She could hardly believe it.

  Though nobody would ever call him a slouch, he’d been taking advantage of his broken upper arm to slow down. And she thoroughly approved. Super-responsible Aiden deserved a break after ending the serial killer threat, not to mention losing his beloved Bell Long Ranger helicopter.

  She hadn’t planned to move in with him, and he hadn’t actually invited her. While nursing him back to health from the broken arm and a second bullet that grazed his rib cage, she’d found herself spending a lot of time at his cabin. Without thinking about it, her clothing had taken up residence in his closet. Her music was on his sound system. Her food occupied most of the space in his refrigerator. And here she was, living in his house.

  The only thing lacking was a commitment.

  Even her grandma was staying at the Gabriel ranch for a few months to help out with the baby. Her property was being taken care of by good old Wally the Buffalo Man, even though Shua was here at the ranch.

  Fully dressed in jeans and a black sweater, Aiden came into the bedroom and leaned over her for a long, lingering kiss. “Merry Christmas, Tabitha.”

  “Same to you.”

  Though he was no longer wearing a cast, just a brace, the use of his left arm was somewhat restricted. Lucky for her, his injuries hadn’t slowed him down in the bedroom. Making love every night was more wonderful than she imagined. She’d taken advantage of his limited mobility to insist she should be on top.

  “There are a bunch of presents in the cl
oset downstairs,” he said. “I think they need wrapping.”

  “I’d better get busy.” The only gift she didn’t need to wrap was the check for two thousand dollars that she and Aiden were contributing to Clinton’s college fund. Misty still hadn’t agreed to marry him, but he was planning their life together. After missing the birth of his son while he was hiding out near Maria Spotted Bear’s cabin hoping to catch Tab when she returned for her horse, Clinton had vowed never to be apart from Misty or his child again. Next year, they would both be in college in Missoula. He would major in veterinary science, and she’d be pre-law.

  “I suppose I can help,” he said.

  “I suppose you will.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and gave him a smile. “Do you want your present right now?”

  With his right hand, he unfastened the top button on her red satin pajamas—sleepwear that was sexier than anything she’d ever owned before. “I’d like to unwrap you.”

  “I’m not the gift.”

  She bounced from the bed and went to the bedroom closet. Tucked into a back corner was a square box. With great care, she’d wrapped it in silver paper with white stars and a delicate silver bow.

  In five seconds flat, he demolished her pretty wrapping and tore open the box, revealing a perfect model of his old helicopter. “It’s great,” he said.

  “You taught me how to fly.” She kissed him on the forehead. “And how to touch the stars.”

  “Now it’s time for your present.” He took her hand and escorted her from the bedroom. “There’s a tradition taking root in this family, and I’d like to break the mold.”

  She had no idea what he was talking about. “Okay.”

  “First, there was my mom and Blake. Now, it’s Misty and Clinton.” He went down the staircase before her. “It seems like we’re turning into a family of people who are scared to get married.”

  He seated her in a chair at the dining room table. She noticed his effort to create a mood with a fragrant bouquet of roses and soft music from a classical guitar. Outside the windows, she saw a fresh layer of snow on the ground. It was a white Christmas.

  Aiden went down on one knee before her. “I’m not afraid of commitment, Tabitha. I want to spend my life with you. Marry me.”

  He opened a small black velvet box. A diamond engagement ring winked up at her.

  When she looked into his dreamy gray eyes, she didn’t see a bit of hesitation or tension. He was sure of himself. And he should be. He was the only man she had ever loved.

  “Yes, Aiden.”

  They would be together. Forever.

  * * * * *

  Don’t miss USA TODAY bestselling author

  Cassie Miles’s next gripping romantic suspense

  when HOSTAGE MIDWIFE

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  Chapter One

  The scream woke Deputy Mason Ryland.

  His eyes flew open, and Mason stumbled from the sofa in his office where he’d fallen asleep. He reached for his shirt but couldn’t find it. He had better luck with the Smith & Wesson handgun that he’d left on his desk.

  He threw open his office door and caught the scent of something he darn sure didn’t want to smell on the grounds of his family’s ranch.

  Smoke.

  The wispy gray streaks coiled around him, quickly followed by a second scream and a loud cry for help.

  Mason went in the direction of both the smoke and the voice, racing out into the chilly October night air. He wasn’t the only one who’d been alerted. A handful of his ranch hands were running toward the cabin-style guesthouse about a hundred yards away. It was on fire, the orangey flames licking their way up the sides and roof. And the place wasn’t empty.

  His newly hired horse trainer, Abbie Baker, was staying there.

  That got Mason running even harder. So did another shout for help. Oh, yeah, that shout was coming from the guesthouse all right.

  “Call the fire department,” he yelled to one of the ranch hands.

  Mason also shouted out for someone to call his brothers as well even though they would soon know anyway. All five of them, their wives and their children lived in the family home or on the grounds of the ranch.

  Mason made it to the guesthouse ahead of the others, and he tried to pick through the smoke and the embers flicking through the night air. He hurried to the sound of his trainer’s pleas for help.

  And he cursed when he saw her.

  Abbie was in the doorway, her body half in and half out of the house, and what was left of the door was on her back, anchoring her in place.

  The smoke was thick and black, and the area was already hot from the flames, but Mason fought his way through just as one of the ranch hands caught up with him. Rusty Burke. Together, they latched on to the door and started to drag it off Abbie. Not easily. It was heavy and bulky, and it didn’t help that the flames were snapping at them.

  Mason didn’t usually think in terms of worst-case scenarios, but he had a split-second thought that his new trainer might burn to death. The possibility gave him a much-needed jolt of adrenaline, and Rusty and he threw the door off her. In the same motion, Mason latched on to her arm and dragged her away from the guesthouse.

  “I couldn’t get out,” she said, her voice clogged with smoke and fear.

  “You’re out now,” he let her know.

  Out but not necessarily safe. The ranch hands were already there with the hoses, but he doubted the house would stand much longer. If it collapsed, Abbie could still be burned or hurt from the flying debris.

  “Are the horses okay?” she asked. Mason was more than a little surprised that she’d think of the animals at a time like this.

  “They’re fine.” At least he was pretty sure of that. “This is the only building on fire.”

  Mason scooped her up, and she looked at him. It was pitch-dark, probably two or three in the morning, but thanks to the flames and the hunter’s moon, he saw her eyes widen. A single word left her mouth.

  “No.”

  Mason didn’t have time to question that no before she started struggling. She wasn’t a large woman, five-five at the most and on the lean side, but she managed to pack a punch when she rammed her elbow against his bare chest. He cursed and put her in a death grip so she couldn’t fight her way out of his arms.

  “I’m trying to save you,” he reminded her, and he added more profanity when she didn’t stop fighting.

  Abbie was probably still caught up in the fear and the adrenaline, but Mason was finding it a little hard to be sympathetic with the cold rocky ground biting into his bare feet and with her arms and legs waggling around.

  “We have to get away from the fire,” he snarled.

  Those wide frightened eyes looked at the flames, and she stopped struggling just long enough for Mason to get a better grip on her.

  He started running toward the ranch office where lately he’d been spending most of his days and nights because of the heavy workload. He could deposit Abbie there and hurry back to see if the guesthouse could be saved. He wasn’t hopeful, especially because the ranch wasn’t exactly in city limits. It would take the fire department a good twenty minutes
to reach them.

  The door to his office and quarters was still open, and he hurried inside, flipped on the lights with his elbow and placed her on the sofa. Mason looked down at her, to make sure she wasn’t injured.

  She didn’t appear to be.

  Visibly shaken, yes. Trembling, too. Pale and breathing way too fast. All normal responses under the circumstances.

  Her eyes met his again, and Mason saw the fear that was still there. And maybe something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  “Did you try to kill me?” she asked.

  That single question seemed to be all she could muster because she groaned, closed her eyes, and the back of her head dropped against the sofa.

  Mason huffed. That definitely wasn’t something he expected to hear her say. He’d been a deputy for fifteen years, and his employee no doubt knew it. Even though most people were leery of him because…well, because he wasn’t a friendly sort, they didn’t usually accuse him of arson or attempted murder.

  “Why would I set this fire?” he demanded.

  Abbie opened her mouth, closed it and shook her head. She also dodged his gaze. “I’m not sure what I’m saying right now. I thought I was going to die.”

  Mason guessed that was a normal response, but he was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. “How did the fire start?”

  Abbie shook her head again. “I’m not sure. I woke up, and there was smoke all around me. I tried to get to the door, but I started coughing and couldn’t see.” She paused, shivered. “When I got to the door and opened it, it fell on me.” Another pause. “Or something.”

  “Or something?” he pushed.

  Oh, man. The bad feeling was getting worse, and Mason blamed it on that stupid question. Was there a nonstupid reason that she thought someone had tried to kill her, or was this the ramblings of a woman whose mind had been clouded with fear and adrenaline?

  “Or something,” she repeated.

  Abbie pushed her light brown hair from her face. Long hair, he noticed. Something he hadn’t realized because she always wore it tucked beneath a baseball cap. In fact, he’d thought of her as tomboyish, but there wasn’t anything boyish or tom about the person lying on his sofa. In that paper-thin pale blue gown, she looked like a woman.