BUCKED: The Mountain Man's Babies

by Frankie Love

  Buck’s eyes are wild, his easygoing nature instantly transformed.

  “Happen to me?” He rests his hands on my shoulders, the doorbell rings again. “Are you fucking crazy, woman? You and that baby are the only goddamn thing that matters. I won’t let anyone touch you. Ever. Understood?” He growls, driving his point home, and tears fill my eyes at the intensity that came out of nowhere.

  I wipe my eyes, stunned.

  “No, Rosie. You don’t get to act shocked. It just seems to me like you don’t understand what I mean when I say you are my woman. I’ll fight for you. Now and forever.”

  The doorbell rings a third time, and Buck’s gaze is heavy on me.

  “Do you understand, Rosie?”

  I nod, because I have never in my life had a man stand up for me. A man fight for me. Vow to be there for me.

  The fact that these babies have a man like this for a father? It floors me.

  “Besides,” Buck stay, kissing the top of my head. “No way in hell is that your uncle.”

  “No?”

  “Hell no. You think some gangster is going to ring my fucking doorbell?”

  I bite back a sob, which turns to a laugh, comforted by the fact he doesn’t think I should be scared. “Go get dressed, and take a moment to breathe. I forgot Jax and Harper were coming by this morning to pick up the custom piece they commissioned last month.”

  The doorbell rings a fourth time and now there is yelling.

  “You lazy sack of shit,” the guys yells. “I see your truck here, your lights are on. Stop jacking off to your long lost Rosie and come open the fucking door before my babies freeze to death out here.”

  My eyes go wide. Babies?

  Didn’t Buck just stay this guy and his woman had been together a few years?

  As I slip in the bedroom, I cover my mouth, even more shocked at the fact that guy Jaxon was hollering about Buck getting off to me.

  Did he really think of me enough to tell his friends about me?

  Maybe Buck is entirely right.

  Maybe it isn’t a mistake.

  Maybe it is destiny.

  Our destiny.

  I hear them come inside, a baby squawking, too. I slip on my panties, my leggings, my bra. Pull on my sweater, and walk to the en suite bathroom, running my fingers through my messy hair.

  My babies are moving, kicking my bladder and I sit on the toilet, needing to pee. As I stand, I realize I must have passed something, I peer into the toilet and realize it was the mucus plug, which I remember reading about in a pregnancy book.

  I shake my head, not wanting to believe that the delivery could be happening anytime soon.

  I need more time. Besides, my water would need to break for the babies to come. I haven’t had any contractions, Braxton or otherwise. I’m fine.

  I wash my hands, run my hand over my belly, looking at myself in the mirror, telling myself that every thing is going to be okay.

  Buck’s bathroom is tidy, clean. His entire house feels like a home. Better than some Russian asshole I could have married. And much better than whatever scraps I’d be given after my daughters were ripped from my arms.

  But Buck deserves more than a woman who wants him for what he can provide. And after a few encounters with him – not even equaling a day – can he really say I love him, that I want to marry him?

  Deep in my belly I know my answer. Know what I want to give in to, over to. What I want to accept as my own.

  But I also know that I am saddling Buck with a lifetime of responsibilities he never asked for.

  I dry my hands on the towel, willing these babies to stay put until all my questions can be laid to rest.

  Stepping out in the living room, I’m greeted by a tattooed, dark haired, bearded man; dark where Buck is light. And the woman with him is tiny, big doe eyes, blonde hair, and a curvy little body. In her arms a fussing baby.

  And in Jaxon’s arms is another squirrelly boy.

  And in Buck’s there is a third.

  My eyes go round as saucers.

  “That’s a lot of babies,” I say, piecing the scene all together. Jaxon and Harper have triplets ... and I thought I had big, terrifying news.

  “Yeah,” Harper says, offering her hand. I shake it, and she smiles warmly. “They’re a handful, but we’re pretty lucky, I think.” She looks over at her husband, and a warmth that is palpable passes between them.

  “Heard you are pretty lucky yourself, Rosie,” Jaxon says. “Buck, here, told us how you came to be here this morning. Sounds like you’ve had quite the trip from Spokane.”

  I swallow, overwhelmed with so many people.

  Running my hand over my belly, I look at Buck.

  “Harper, Jaxon, this is Rosie,” he says, stepping up for me. The mother of my child.”

  My mouth opens. I need to tell him. Clearly a bunch of babies aren’t off-putting. Truth be told, he looks the most relaxed out of the bunch. Granted, he was just fucked up and down by me – compared to possibly sleep-deprived parents of triplet boys.

  “And these guys are Cedar, Alder, and Spruce,” Harper says. “And looks like you, my dear, are about to pop one out yourself.”

  “Right. Pop.” I wince, suddenly freaking out about what I’ve gotten myself into.

  “You okay?” Harper asks. When I nod, she continues, “You know, the day after you two met, Buck came over for dinner, and this boy was a goner.” She smiles, looking between Buck and me. “You must be a good woman to have captured Buck’s heart. He may look like a softy, but there is something special about a man who grew up going on family camping trips, who bought our boys their first fishing poles for their first birthdays.”

  She shakes her head, saying, “Granted, they’re going to need to master walking first,” she says, laughing, waving her free hand. “What I mean is, Buck is ready, and looks like you’re too.” She looks at my belly, her face bright. “Is it terribly awkward if I rub your belly?” she asks, setting her son down on the hardwood floor.

  I nod, not knowing what else to say to this sweetheart.

  “Jesus Christ, woman,” Jax laughs. “I know you, honey, and the moment you feel the baby kick you’re gonna be begging for another.”

  “Another?” Her mouth drops open as she pats my belly. “I think three is plenty for me, for now.”

  And in that moment I feel like Harper and I could be friends. Maybe because she is so freaking genuine, gentle. Good in the way Buck is good.

  Jaxon though, he looks rough, his arms lined in tattoos, his eyes darker. I can see that Harper is the light in his world.

  I wonder if Buck can be that for me.

  Take away all the horrible memories of my past – a lonely childhood, a family that never treated me like family. No one ever willing to take me under their wings.

  Harper’s hand is still on my belly, and her hand turns to my side, her brow furrows.

  “Is something wrong?” Buck asks, immediately detecting Harper’s discovery.

  “Not wrong, but Rosie, have you been to the doctor?” she asks me.

  I swallow, feeling hot all of a sudden. Very. Hot.

  “Yes, I mean, I regularly saw a family doctor.”

  “And there was nothing irregular that was ever brought up at those visits?”

  “Irregular?” Buck asks.

  “Um.” I shake my head.

  “What is it, Harper, you’re scaring the girl,” Jaxon says, stepping closer to pull his wife away.

  She shakes her head though, and I look around the room again, counting three babies, and realizing they were all in her belly not so long ago.

  Buck may not know the difference between one baby or two or three.

  But Harper does.

  “Rosie,” she says, covering her mouth. “I’m pretty sure there’s more than one baby in there.”

  Buck’s eyes meet mine, and I grimace, wishing I’d told him myself.

  “Surprise,” I say. “We’re having twins.”

  Before h
e can answer, before anyone can ask any questions, a gush of water spills across the floor.

  15

  I blink back my shock.

  Twins?

  Holy fuck.

  I wish she’d told me.

  But right now, I can’t concern myself with that.

  Right now, I need to get my woman to the hospital.

  Harper jumps into action as a stunned Rosie just stands there.

  “Jaxon, you need to get the babies in the car. And Buck, you need to get Rosie in the car. We’ve got to get her to the hospital.”

  But Rosie starts screaming, “No, no, I can’t go anywhere. I think ... oh, my god. I think. I. Buuuuuck.” She reaches for my hands and she squeezes them tighter than fuck.

  “She’s having contractions. We need to get her to the hospital. Now. Jax, call the ambulance.”

  “I can’t move ... I ....” She’s hunched over now. “Buck, I’m scared,” she whimpers, lowering herself to the ground.

  “Oh, no, sweetie,” Harper says, falling to her knees beside Rosie. “If you lie down there’s no way you’ll get back up.”

  Rosie is crying, and Jaxon hands me some pillows for her back. We’re in the fucking foyer, and Rosie is on the ground, her hands on her stomach as if that can stop this force.

  “Jaxon,” Harper directs. “Get the pack and play from the truck. Buck, I need you to call the ambulance, and then get me some towels. Cold rags.”

  I spring into action, calling 911. The operator puts me through to a medic right away. “If she is already having contractions as bad as that, you might be delivering these babies yourself, we’re an hour away.”

  I relay the information to Harper, who grabs the phone from me. “It’s okay,” she tells them. “I helped deliver four of my mother’s babies. I can do this.” I’d forgotten that Harper grew up in a scarily conservative home, they didn’t believe in doctors or medication. If there’s anyone I want to be here for Rosie and my children now, it’s her.

  Harper stays on the phone a little while longer, and then hangs up, as Rosie arches her back, screaming full hilt.

  Jaxon has got the triplets in the pack and play, and hands them an iPad to watch a cartoon. Which is probably good. The scene unfolding could be hella traumatizing.

  Harper tells Jaxon and me to wash our hands with scalding water, as she drapes a sheet over Rosie. Then Harper reaches between Rosie’s legs to assess the situation.

  Her eyes get huge, and she gasps.

  “Is something wrong?” I ask, my heart rate immediately increasing.

  “No,” she says. “Buck, give me your hand.” She grabs it, pressing it to Rosie’s opening. The sheet falls back, and her legs are open, but there is nothing sexual about this scene.

  It is just fucking beautiful. Because my hand is on a head. The head of my child.

  There is no stopping this labor, Rosie is having our babies. Now.

  “Rosie,” I say, knowing she needs to calm down and focus, crying is going to add stress to an already precarious situation. “Listen, darlin’, I’m here, right with you. You are doing amazing.”

  “Buck,” she manages, breathing through her nose as the pain passes, as if knowing a new contraction is going to be arriving any moment. “I am so glad you are with me.”

  “Me too, Rosie. Me too.” I nod, our eyes locked, and I feel more connected than ever to her. Harper is coaching us, telling Rosie to push the next time a contraction comes on, and Rosie nods. Jaxon runs a cool washcloth over her head, and has towels beside us. He hands Harper a bottle of olive oil, which she pours on my hand.

  “I need to push,” Rosie groans, grabbing Harper’s hand and squeezing. “Now.”

  “Good, girl,” Harper says. “You got this. Jaxon, baby, can you hold her thighs?”

  I look at Harper, ready for my job. She just smiles through the shock of it all and says, “Buck, you’re going to deliver your babies.”

  And I do, with laser focus. My hands, slick with oil, ease the baby’s head through Rosie’s expanding cervix. She pushes with all her might and miraculously, a head of bright red hair emerges, after three pushes. The cries fill the cabin, and Rosie is tear-streaked, and so am I.

  The baby’s shoulder pushes through, and then, it is out. A screaming, perfect, little girl.

  My daughter.

  I can’t swallow the tears. There are too many. The joy. Complete and absolute adoration.

  My daughter.

  “Rosie, you did it.”

  I hand her the baby, still tethered to her womb, and Jaxon has carried cushions from the chairs for her back to rest against. She kisses the baby’s head, cradling her in her still shaking arms, as Harper uses towels to soak up the blood between Rosie’s legs.

  But then Rosie starts contracting again. Jaxon takes our baby girl, and Harper grips Rosie’s hands. The second baby is on its way. Fast.

  Rosie. One moment she is screaming bloody murder, her belly hard, sweat rolling down her face – she looks like a painting, so many emotions all at once, more than a photograph could ever capture. Desperation and pain and longing and fulfillment.

  The baby comes, furiously, hair light also, just like mine, her tiny body covered in her mama, they scream the most delightful sound in the world.

  Another daughter.

  Two baby girls, healthy. Kicking and screaming.

  And ours.

  Ours.

  Rosie takes the baby, at some point her sweater came off, but so much of this last half hour was a blur. The babies are in her arms, cradled and naked and against her chest. Harper and Jaxon are helping massage her belly, she still needs to deliver the placenta, but my focus, right now, is on my woman.

  I cup Rosie’s face with my hands, amazed at her bravery, and her strength. At her beauty.

  “Oh, Rosie,” I say. “You are a mother.”

  Her face crumples, but not in sorrow, in pure, unabashed joy. “And you Buck, are a father.”

  I kiss her softly, then the heads of my daughters.

  And for one magical moment everything in the world feels like it’s okay. Like everything is going to be alright.

  We hear cars pulling up at the house. Doors slamming. I think, thank God, the ambulance is here.

  But Jaxon runs to the door, to let them inside.

  And it isn’t the ambulance.

  It’s the Russian mob.

  16

  One moment I think my life is finally my own.

  And then in a flash, everything changes. Buck and Jaxon open the gun safe in the closet, and Buck hands his friend a gun, holsters one himself. I frantically try to make him stop.

  “Buck stop,” I cry out. And thank God he turns around. He wants to make these men leave, but I know it isn’t as simple as that. “They are going to kill you, Buck. And I can’t lose you. Your daughters can’t.”

  “What would you have me do, Rosie?” His eyes are filled with an intensity I don’t quite know what to do with. He is so willing to lay down his life for me, that amount of passion is overwhelming. He must see me shaking, and he nods, promising me everything with his eyes. “I can’t leave Jaxon to fight them off alone, you understand?”

  I nod back. “Buck,” I whisper, my babies in my arms, my legs covered in blood, Harper using a knife to cut the umbilical cord, our entire life – the one we haven’t even begun to share – flashing before our eyes. “I love you. Completely.”

  “Oh Rosie,” he says. “I love you forever.”

  Time stops. Buck loves me. And I love him.

  And I don’t know how long our forever will be, but right now, his love is mine.

  Then the men are gone, slamming the door shut, and Harper’s triplets are crying now, realizing there is a lot of commotion that no cartoon can hide it. Harper steadily presses a towel between my legs, then takes a baby from my arms, carrying her into the bedroom. She returns a moment later, taking the second babe.

  “Try to stand, I’ll be right here for you to hold onto,” she c
almly states.

  I move to get up, my legs shaking, my body exposed. I manage to get to the bedroom, into the bed. She brings me my babies, and goes to get hers.

  A minute later we’re all in the bedroom, the triplets on the floor, Harper in the bathroom getting wet rags to clean the girls. All the while we’re both in shock, fear. Horror.

  Outside there are screams.

  A gun shot.

  Harper’s eyes meet mine. “Our men are strong, Rosie. They aren’t city boys. They are mountain men. They know how to take care of themselves, but more than that, they know how to protect the ones they love.”

  I hope like hell she is right.

  17

  I don’t know who these motherfuckers think they are, showing up on my property, pulling out their fucking guns. Thinking they can what? Come to my home and take away my woman and my children?

  Oh, hell no.

  “You better back the fuck away,” I yell, coming toward them. “I’ll fight. I’ll fire. I’ll put you in the grave.”

  “Easy now, “Jaxon says, walking beside me. “You come out here guns blazing and these fuckers will shoot first.”

  I nod, knowing he’s right. “What do you want?” I ask. There are three men here, dark hair, dark eyes, three piece suits and trench coats. None of them have a prayer of getting close to Rosie.

  “We’re here for the girl.”

  “No. She’s staying.”

  “Like hell she is. She is my property. My kin. You have no claim over her.”

  “How did you find us here?”

  “She’s a stupid suka, told the starushka she was leaving, and where.” The man smiles smugly. “We killed the starushka for keeping secrets.”

  My jaw tenses. I’m ready to blow up this motherfucker’s face. He is the one that has kept Rosie small. He is the one who taught her that she is weak, when I just witnessed her strength. He is the one who must pay.

  “You’re Rosie’s uncle?”

  “Yes, I am,” he spits out. “And I don’t think you know who you are talking to.”

  “Oh, I know who I’m talking to alright. I’m talking to the son of a bitch who treated Rosie like a piece of property.” I can’t hold back anymore, I charge at him, ready to knock him to the ground.