Ladd Haven

by Dianne Venetta

  “It’ll be okay,” Cal said quietly, as though reading her thoughts. Cupping a hand over hers, he squeezed. “We’ll find her.”

  Annie didn’t dare look at him. She merely latched onto to his grasp like the lifeline that it was. Reassuring words aside, she understood the reality. It was possible Casey had met with foul play. Unthinkable, but possible.

  Troy raced out of the lobby headed for the street. Mr. Foster said he’d check the roads and to sit tight. But if Casey was headed here on foot, maybe she’d made it. Maybe she was in sight from the hotel drive. He stared down the two-lane road—no no sign of her. His pounding heart constricted. Casey’s mom said she’d call the diner. If Casey was there, she’d let him know. He glanced toward the hotel, angst mounting. Mr. Ward had not called him back. Translated: Mrs. Foster had not called to tell him she’d found Casey. Turning on his heel, Troy took off running for the trail that led to the stables. It was the last place Casey was supposed to be, but she could have made it there without him seeing her. An unlikely prospect but plausible. She could have gone up while he was in the lobby.

  Running past the history shack that had replaced Old man Ernie’s cabin, Troy noticed a few guests had exited, staring at him curiously. Probably wondering why some guy was running through the property. Troy didn’t care about the stares. He couldn’t waste time walking. If anything happened to Casey, he didn’t know what he’d do. He couldn’t live without her. They’d been through too much. He’d worked too hard to get back to her, and despite all his mistakes, she was giving him a second chance.

  Third, but who was counting?

  It was a chance he wasn’t going to blow. There was too much riding on it.

  Racing through the shaded patch of trees, up the incline, Troy drove himself faster. Boots pounded over clay and gravel, every step reverberating in his chest. A barrage of thought thrashed through his brain, most of it ugly. If someone harmed Casey, he’d kill him. With his bare hands he’d kill anyone who laid a hand on her, on his baby. Absolutely—without hesitation—he’d kill them.

  Slamming a hand to the barn for support, Casey clutched the door frame for support, groaning as another cramp wound through. Her spasms had grown into full blown cramps, bad cramps, the kind that had to be associated with delivery—a delivery that was too soon!

  She might not have ever delivered a baby before, but she knew these cramps were too strong to be casual. Casey lifted her head, sweat dripping into her eyes, stinging. She blinked, wiped them away. She was hot, her bra soaked with perspiration, her legs rubbery weak, but she was here. She stepped inside the barn. She’d made it.

  Felicity walked into the diner, her mind a jumble of confusion. She didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t imagined the meeting with Mrs. Foster to go as it had. She’d been floored by the abrupt shift, the harsh words. She never expected the woman to turn ugly so quickly. One minute she was sweet and gracious, the next she was a hissing snake. Quick to insult, quick to bite back. She’d acted as though Felicity had purposely come to insult her and her son and she was fighting back with everything she had.

  Ashley Fulmer rose from a nearby booth, leaving Fran, Lacy Ward and her daughter Emma Jane. She hurried to Felicity’s side. Dressed in fuchsia from head to toe, Ashley’s blue eyes held brevity that seemed misplaced next to the glittery ornamentation of her blouse. “Darlin’? Are you okay?”

  Felicity nodded. Tear sprang to her eyes. “Fine.”

  Ashley hugged Felicity to her. Her generous figure enveloped her in soft cushiony comfort and heavy perfume. Ashley led Felicity to the table of women, gently guiding her to a seat. “You don’t look fine. Talk to me. What’s the matter? Is it Troy?”

  Fran and Lacy looked at her, their faces mirroring Ashley’s concern. Fran’s brown eyes turned hawkish, sharp and alert against the red of her hair. Lacy’s blue eyes became oceans of upset within the porcelain cream of her complexion. A near twin image to Casey’s mom, Annie, with her shiny straight black hair and slender figure, Lacy held her baby close, rapt with attention. From within Lacy’s arms, Emma Jane smiled open-mouthed and made a squeak as she jabbed a chubby leg into the air.

  “I went to see Victoria Foster,” Felicity told them. “I thought if I talked to her, she’d understand that supporting Jack against Troy wasn’t the right thing to do. That maybe she could get my father help for his drinking problem instead of supporting him in his charges against Troy.”

  Ashley’s thickly-mascaraed eyes rounded. There was no cheer in her gaze. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

  “I don’t get it. Why is she so blinded?”

  Ashley looked to Fran. Both were solemn, both silent, as though they shared a secret.

  “Troy could go to jail for something he didn’t do. It will ruin his life.” Fear returned in a rush, echoed in the quiet of Ashley’s razor-sharp expression.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know, darlin’, a history that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with Victoria. She’s not a happy woman, not when it comes to the Wilkins family, anyway.”

  Felicity clung to Ashley’s every word. She spoke with a calm certainty leading Felicity to believe she held the answers. Fran sat mum, her face a billboard of support. “But why?”

  “She and your grandmother share a past.”

  “They knew each other?”

  “In so many words, yes. More they knew of each other. They shared a common tie to Gerald.”

  “To Gerald? What kind of tie?”

  “The stranglin’ kind.”

  Troy tore into the stables, searching up and down corridors. Pumped from the run, he peered in and around stalls. “Casey?”

  Horse ears perked and twitched as animals turned toward him as he strode through. Was she here? Had anyone seen her? Stopping suddenly, he ran back to the office. Lights out, it was empty. Miss Delaney had gone for the day, but that didn’t mean the stables were empty. He knew for a fact some of the staff stayed late. At the moment he saw no one.

  Troy ran outside, checked the perimeter of the building. Again there was no one. He dashed back inside, forcing his mind to think. Pressing hands to the sides of his head, he willed an answer to appear. Casey—where are you?

  His head shot up. The barn. Casey might think he was in the barn. That’s where she found him the last time he was here. Troy sprinted from the stables.

  Shuffling farther into the barn, each and every step was more delicate than the previous. Through the opposite end of the building, Casey could see the stables. White wood was washed with yellow, the metal rooftop gleaming in soft silver. A beautiful sight to behold. Doubling over in pain, Casey gripped the underbelly of her stomach as another cramp wrenched through her midsection. Wetness warmed between her thighs. “Oh, no!” Casey cried out. “This can’t be happening!”

  Fear dribbled down into her spine as warm liquid streamed between her thighs. She clutched her crotch, overwhelmed by a dull pressure. Totally soaked. This was bad. This was really, really bad. It felt like the baby was pushing.

  She had to get help—now. Easing down onto a bale of hay, one of a pile stacked in the corner, she reached a shaky hand into her dress pocket and seized the square metal of her phone. Hair lay matted against her forehead, her arms and legs slick with sweat A few pieces of hay stuck to her legs as she pressed the number for her mother. Jabbing phone to her ear, she heard it ringing. A cramp cut through her. “Ooww!”

  “Casey!” Her mother screamed into the phone. “Where are you? What’s happening? Are you okay?”

  Too many questions. “I’m in the barn, at the hotel.” Tears swamped her lids, blurring her vision. “I think the baby is coming!”

  “What?”

  As expected, her mother’s voice was frantic, but Casey was feeling the same. She was worried. It was time to panic. “The baby—I think I’m going into labor. I’m having really painful cramps and they’re coming all the time.” Another warm surge moistened her underwear. She pulled her hand away to see it tinged
with red. “I’m bleeding!”

  “Stay where you are. We’ll be right there.”

  “Okay,” she stammered, clamping a hand back between her legs. A shiver rocked her body. She wasn’t cold. She was scared.

  “Is Troy with you?”

  “No. I don’t know where he is,” she murmured, the seriousness of her condition sinking in.

  “Okay. We’re on our way. Stay on the phone with me.”

  Casey nodded but couldn’t speak. Plunking her gaze to the hay-covered cement floor, she envisioned having a baby in the midst of dirt and dust and hay. She cringed, groaned as a sharp pain knifed across her lower belly folding her in two. Deep and severe, it continued for several long seconds while she clutched her stomach with both hands. Pressure to push mounted, like the baby wanted out right now!

  This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening!

  Allowing her gaze to glaze over, Casey could hear muted shrieks from her phone, but had no energy to respond. Every ounce she had was overwhelmed by the baby inside her body, the pain.

  The pain was incredible. Excruciating. The phone tumbled from her grasp.

  Is this what all women went through? It was horrible to think having a baby meant this much pain—why would a woman ever do it twice?

  Baby. Casey seized on the thought. She was having a baby. More fluid collected beneath her, soaking into the bale of hay beneath her. A fresh wave of fear flowed through her and she began to cry. This wasn’t good. She glanced around the barn. This wasn’t good at all!

  Troy entered the barn and whipped his gaze around the interior. Tractor, tools, hay bales, there was no one here. With several long strides, he called out, “Casey? Casey, are you here?”

  Pausing, he thought he heard something. Slowing his breath, he listened. His gaze narrowed. It sounded like whimpering. His heart belted out several beats in rapid succession. Taking a few steps, he surveyed the vicinity. Partially hidden behind the mountain of bales, he thought he saw a dark head of hair. Adrenaline kicked. “Casey?”

  Over a lower bale, her face emerged. Anxious blue eyes pleaded for him to come. Adrenaline charged him forward. Warning flares fired in his chest, his skull as he ran toward her. “Casey!”

  “Troy,” she cried, her voice shaky and weak. “I think I’m having the baby.”

  Blood on her dress. Alarm ripped a hole in his chest. Questions fired through him. When did she get here? How had he missed her? As he reached her side, all questions evaporated. He dropped to a knee. “Does it hurt?”

  She nodded. “It hurts a lot.”

  “Okay. It’s okay,” he said, brushing damp hair from her eyes. His mind raced through options. Towels. Water. He needed something to clean her up. He needed something to clean a baby. “Hold on a second.”

  “Troy?”

  Her panicky tone split his gut, but if he was going to help her, he needed supplies and he needed them quick. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

  Grabbing a stack of white towels from a cleaning closet, he dashed to the wall and plucked an empty bucket from a stack by the garbage cans. Next, he ran to a hose bib and filled the bucket with water, all the while keeping an eye on Casey. “One second,” he called out to her, controlled panic streaming through his veins. “I’ll be there in one second.” Wrenching the valve closed, he jumped to his feet, a sheet of water drenching his jeans.

  Eyeing the bucket and towels as he neared, she asked, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m delivering a baby, what do you think?”

  She recoiled. “What—you can’t do that!”

  “I sure can. If I can deliver a foal I darn sure can deliver a human.”

  “Troy,” she sputtered. “My mom is coming. I need to go to the hospital.”

  Troy zapped her with a dark-eyed gaze and Casey stilled. “Casey, you don’t have time to go to the hospital. This baby is coming now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod.”

  “Shhh,” Troy hushed. “It’s gonna be okay.” Breaking a nearby bale in half, he scattered chunks of hay across the floor to make it more comfortable for her. Taking her gently by the arms, he asked, “Can you move?” She nodded. “I think it’ll be easier if you lie down.” He didn’t know why, but it seemed more natural, like the mare who delivered Vegas. And didn’t women lie down at the hospital?

  They did. Casey needed to lie down, he decided and he eased her to the ground.

  Blue eyes became saucers. “Troy, I’m scared.”

  Troy felt the same. He was scared—for her, for the baby—but he wasn’t about to let on. Casey needed him to be calm. “It’s gonna be okay.”

  “But it’s too early!”

  Troy shook his head. “Don’t matter. When a baby’s ready to come into the world, nothin’s’ gonna stop her.” Her. His little girl. Swallowing hard, he gently lifted Casey’s dress and winced at the sight of her blood-soaked panties. “I need to remove your underwear, okay?”

  Propped up on her elbows, she nodded, her gaze intent on his. Troy lifted her hips, spread a towel beneath her and removed her panties as delicately as he could. His heart pitched at the sight of a dark hair poking out from between Casey’s legs. The baby was coming all right—this minute! With a wary eye to Casey, he said, “I need you to breathe.” He moistened another towel with water and wiped his hands clean, forcing his pulse to settle. “Push and breathe and go real easy, okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  “Atta girl. We can do this,” Troy said almost as much for his benefit as for hers. He reached for Casey’s hand and kissed it. “The baby will work her way out and we’ll take it from there, okay?”

  Casey nodded, then jerked her hand from his, her face twisting in pain. She sucked in a few quick breaths and sank deeper onto her elbows. Troy divided his attention between Casey and the baby. He hated to see Casey in pain. Hated that their baby was being born in a barn, but there was no other way. “Baby’s gonna be fine—”

  She cut him off with a guttural cry, her fingers clawing at the ground.

  “That’s it, keep pushin’.” He spoke over her awful grunting noises, assuring himself this was normal. Everything was normal. Women made all kind of sounds when they were in labor. “You got it. Keep breathing. In and out...”

  Casey shrieked at the top of her lungs, more howl than cry. Troy checked the baby and noticed a dark-haired bubble of a head emerge. “Okay, Casey, we’re gettin’ there.” He reached down and placed his hands beneath the tiny head, forehead skin brighter than a lobster. Casey tried to close her legs but he wedged his body between them. “C’mon, Casey. We’re on the homestretch. You can do this.”

  “I can’t! It hurts!”

  “Keep pushing,” he said. “You’ve got to keep pushing. The baby’s coming out right now.” Casey dropped her head back, moaning and writhing like a dying animal. Thoughts of Vegas’ birth flooded his mind. The foal had been stuck for too long, stopped breathing. Clammy fear clamped down on him. “Push!” Troy urged, afraid for his baby if Casey quit. “You’ve got to push through it!”

  “It hurts.”

  “I know it does, Case, but it’ll stop when the baby is out.” Troy felt her push but it was weak, fatigued. She was dropping off. Giving up. “Do you have a name picked out?” he asked, drawing her focus back to the moment. “You said she was gonna be a girl. Do you know what you want to call her?”

  “Cassidy,” she breathed out. “I always wanted to be a Cassidy.”

  Troy cradled the baby’s head in his fingertips, supporting it as it protruded from Casey’s body. “I like it.” He rallied a grin. “Sounds like a real cowgirl.”

  Casey rewarded him with a faint giggle before her body arched and she wreathed in pain. “Troy, help me!”

  “I’m here. It’s okay.” Perspiration dripped from his nose, salting his lips. Whipping the hair from his face, he concentrated on Casey. “I need you to push—real hard, right now—I need you to
push. Can you do that for me?”

  “Yes.” Casey clutched at clumps of hay on the ground and pushed hard.

  “Atta girl,” he said, relieved the head was emerging. Gingerly supporting the newborn with his finger pads, he could feel a little neck and shoulders. They were like sticks. It was the weirdest feeling to know he was touching a live baby—his baby—as it was being born. Completely different than a foal. It was amazing, staggering. Fragile.

  Mindful of his hold, he focused on Casey. “A few more and we’re done, okay? That’s it. A few more and we’re home free.”

  “Uh-huh.” Panting, Casey’s breathing was audible, strained. She lifted up to her elbows again, like her interest had been re-ignited. Cheeks flushed, she looked him straight in the eyes. “I can do this.”

  Troy grinned. “You can do this.” Closing her eyes, Casey grunted, her face wracked by a grimace. “That’s right, push,” he urged, gently tugging the baby’s body as she did so. Overcome by a rush of adrenaline, Troy knew they were close. Holding the tiny human being as she entered a new world, he was struck by how delicate she appeared. Red and squash-faced, her bony limbs were stuck to her body. Casey pushed again and the baby slid out entirely, her umbilical cord the only thing left to connect her to her momma. “She’s out!” he declared triumphantly.

  Casey’s eyes shone. “She is?”

  “Sure is,” he said, mindful of the cord, the baby’s need to breathe. Should he spank the baby like they did on television? Troy blanked. Cut the cord? What was he supposed to do?

  Troy honed in on baby’s chest, looking for signs of movement. He wiped the fluid from around the baby’s nose and mouth.

  “Can I see the baby?” Casey asked, lifting her body fully.