by Sandy James
Her water had broken.
No.
No, no, no.
When she tried to push up on her elbow, the first contraction hit, making her curl to her right side and pant with the pain. Her head throbbed, as did her back, while her womb squeezed tight enough to make her cry out. Blackness threatened to claim her, but Sara fought against it. She had to get help. Now.
The labor pain eased, and her thoughts became fragmented and scattered like snowflakes in the winter breeze. She fought hard to stay awake, but she was rapidly losing the battle.
Sara’s last thought before darkness claimed her was crystal clear.
Dear God, please save our baby.
***
Caleb hefted the last sack of grain into the back of his wagon before a yawn shook his whole body. Once he got home, he’d grab Sara and head straight to bed. Being as she napped often now, he could coax her to snuggle up against him while he finally caught some shut-eye. He slept better when he could hold her close.
The foal had been a difficult delivery, but with his help, the little brown colt and his mama had survived. A satisfying outcome, even if it had cost Caleb a night’s rest. An easy price to pay.
“Caleb!” Ty’s shout came from down the road.
“Over here!” Waving his arms, he tried to get Ty’s attention.
Ty waved back, and before too long, he was throwing himself from the saddle and marching at Caleb with a hot scowl plastered on his face.
“Is there a problem?” Caleb asked when Ty reached his side.
Instead of replying, Ty gave him a good head-to-toe appraisal, as though searching for something amiss. Then his tension eased. “We need to get back home.”
Panic hit like a blow to the midsection. “Is Sara in trouble?”
“You could say that.”
“Speak plain, man! Is it the baby?”
“Sara’s healthy, if that’s what you’re talkin’ about. She needs you, though.”
Ty had always seemed a bit stiff and reserved, but now he was acting downright agitated. Although Caleb had no idea what had Ty so restless, he would oblige him since his errands were done. “I’m fixing to head home right now. Okay?”
“I’ll follow you.” Ty grabbed his horse’s reins.
“Why?”
“Told you,” Ty said, climbing onto his saddle. “Sara needs you.”
“What in the devil’s gotten into you?”
“Hurry, Caleb.” Then a word slipped from Ty’s lips that Caleb had never heard the man utter before. “Please.”
A cold chill ran the length of Caleb’s spine, and he rapidly untied his horses and got into the wagon.
Hurry, Caleb. Please.
This time the words filling his mind were spoken in Sara’s sweet voice.
“Follow me,” Caleb called to Ty before slapping the reins against the horses’ rumps. “We’ll get there right quick.”
***
“Princess?” A cold hand stroked Sara’s forehead. “Wake up, Princess.”
The voice was familiar, calling from a distance. Sara struggled to open her eyes.
The moment light seeped through her eyelids, pain sliced through her head. She groaned and threw an arm over her face only a moment before her womb painfully contracted.
Everything came rushing back as the agony gripped her. With the labor pain came a rush of more hot wetness between her thighs. All she could do was pant through the contraction and try to keep the blackness from encroaching again. As the pain peaked and then eased, she raised a trembling hand to the sore spot on the back of her head.
A hand seized her wrist. “Don’t. It’s bleeding. We need to clean and maybe stitch the wound.”
Sara finally opened her eyes to the haunting voice.
Drake. Drake had found her.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I fell. The baby... Oh, God. The baby!”
When she struggled to rise, Drake gripped her shoulders. “Don’t move. You’re bleedin’.”
“So you said.”
“No, darlin’. Not your head. The baby...”
The sticky moisture wasn’t just her water. The baby was in danger. “Please God, no.”
“I need to get you inside.” He stood and then scooped her into his arms as though she weighed nothing. With surprising ease, he went up the porch stairs and opened the door. “Which way’s the bedroom?”
Sara was about to tell him when another contraction seized her. As she groaned, she pointed, hoping he’d understand.
“Hold on, Princess. Just hold on.”
Chapter Twenty
Caleb knew something was wrong the moment he saw the strange Palomino. The horse waited patiently for whoever owned it, but the rider must’ve been in a hurry. He hadn’t bothered to tether the animal.
After Caleb stopped his pair of horses, he jumped out of the wagon. “See to the horses?” he asked Ty as he headed toward the house.
“I got ’em.” Ty climbed out of his saddle and tied up his Bay.
With a nod, Caleb marched toward the porch. His spade was lying next to the flowerbed Sara wanted to plant come spring, and it looked as though she’d been trying to dig it up. He’d have to scold her for overdoing just as soon as he found her.
Who did the damned Palomino belong to?
Something caught his gaze. A pink puddle of water not far from where she’d dropped the spade. His breath froze in his lungs. A moment later a frightened bellow spilled from his lips. “Sara!”
Sprinting up the porch steps, Caleb headed right through the front door, which was ajar. He jerked his gun from his holster. There were sounds coming from the bedroom, so he ran toward it. All sorts of scenes were rapidly playing through his thoughts. Rape. Murder. He kicked the door open to find his wife lying on the bed with a blond man leaning over her, his hands in her hair.
Caleb took aim, but Ty’s hand came down hard on his arm. “Don’t.”
The blond glanced their way, and fear was plain in his eyes. “She’s hurt.”
Although nothing was what Caleb had expected, he recognized one thing.
Sara needed him.
Handing his gun to Ty, Caleb stripped his coat, dropping it on the floor. The blond smartly moved away from the bed before Caleb could shove him out of the way.
“Caleb. You’re here.” She reached for him, her voice tremulous.
Caleb took one look and wanted to shout his anger. The baby was coming. That much was clear. Her skirts were stained with the same pinkish water he’d seen outside. A large red stain marked the quilt under her. There was more blood than he could’ve imagined—more blood than he thought there should’ve been. “Oh, Sara... What happened?”
She groped for his hand. “Caleb. I’m so sorry. I slipped on the ice... I fell hard. My water broke and then my labor began.”
“She’s got a gash on the back of her head too,” the man added. “I was trying to clean it and see if she needed some stitching up.”
“Get the box, Caleb,” Sara ordered before she frowned. “I–I fear I’ve ruined your mama’s quilt. Please forgive me.”
He let out a rueful chuckle. The woman was in danger and all she could worry about was a blanket. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry, Cal—” Her face contorted as she rolled to her side and pulled up her knees.
“Shh...” I’m here now.” Looking over his shoulder, he barked an order to Ty. “Go get your wife and Grace Morgan. Tell ’em the baby’s coming.” Then he glared at the blond. “Get the box full of linens from the pantry.”
“Where’s the pantry?” the man asked.
“In the goddamn kitchen. Go!”
“It’s too early,” Ty replied.
“You think I don’t know that?” Caleb snapped.
“It hurts, Caleb,” Sara closed her eyes and bit hard on her bottom lip.
“I know, sweetheart.” He gave Ty one more order. “Get a basin of water before you go.”
The
blond came skidding into the room, carrying the wooden box Sara had prepared that was full of linens—sheets, towels, twine, scissors—things she would need for the birth.
Caleb smoothed his hand over Sara’s forehead as he glared at the man. “Who the hell are you?”
Before he could reply, Ty came back with a full basin. He walked so fast, water sloshed over the sides.
“Put it on the nightstand.” Caleb fished a washing cloth from the box. After he dipped it in the water, he folded it and laid it over Sara’s forehead.
She let out a long breath and opened her eyes. “Better now.”
“Good,” Caleb said with a nod. “Now I can see to that goose egg on your head.”
“I hit it on a rock.”
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
Ty grabbed the blond’s arm. “This is Drake, a friend from Denver. I’ll explain later. He’s going with me to fetch the women. We can ride double and get ’em here fast as lightning.”
The blond had cocked his head and was staring at Ty as though the man had gone daft.
There wasn’t time for Caleb to ponder whether Ty was giving him the truth. Right now, the women needed to be dragged back here. Quickly. “Go!”
***
Sara was glad her head didn’t need stitched. Caleb gently cleaned away the blood, pronounced the wound minor, and then helped her braid her hair. He’d also helped her out of her wet skirts and got her into a nightgown. In between, her labor pains came and went. The bleeding had stopped, which she prayed was a good sign. But beneath that hope was icy cold fear because one thing was plain to both of them.
The baby was coming too soon.
There were so many things she needed to tell him. About Drake. About the money. About what she’d been in her other lifetime.
Her time to explain things to him was running out. Surely Ty and Drake would be back with Cassie and Grace soon. She had to say something. Now.
Another contraction came upon her, making her suck in a ragged breath. The strength of each new pain increased, and her body wasn’t in her control any longer. She could no more have stopped herself from straining to push the baby from her belly than she could’ve stopped the sun from setting.
“I don’t think you should push so hard, sweetheart.” Caleb laid the wet cloth over her forehead. “You should wait until Grace and Cassie get here to help.”
She grunted out that she couldn’t help it. Then the strangest sensation appeared in her core. “Oh, God... Caleb. I think...I think the baby’s coming.”
“Shit.” He threw aside the sheet that covered her and laid a hand on her thigh. “I–I need to look down there. Okay?”
While she wanted to scream at him to hurry the hell up, she just groaned out a “yes.”
He gently spread her thighs and gasped. “You’re right, Sara. I can see the head.”
“Too soon,” she ground out between clenched teeth.
“We ain’t got a choice.” Grabbing for a few of the towels from the box, he jerked the sheet completely off the bed and crawled up on the mattress to deliver their child.
The contraction had no sooner ended when another one enveloped her. Sara let out a harsh cry and pushed with all her might. Her secrets would have to wait for another time. She had a job to do that simply couldn’t be postponed.
Caleb saw the crown of dark hair emerging and swallowed hard. He was going to have to deliver this baby. There was no one else.
His hand trembled as he caught the infant’s head when it emerged, cradling the neck as Sara struggled to push the baby’s shoulders through her birth canal. A moment later, she succeeded, and he suddenly wished he had four hands. “It’s a boy!”
The baby was blue, slippery, and his face was covered with thick mucus and membrane, much like a foal’s would be. Caleb scrambled to hold the tiny, slick child while he wiped away anything that could be blocking the nose and mouth. Still, there was no cry of life. The baby was so small—tinier than any he’d ever seen before. He could cradle most of the body in his big calloused hands, and he feared his new son had arrived in the world too early to survive.
“No... Please.” He kept daubing as much away from the baby’s face as he could, then he pinched the nostrils, squeezing out fluid from each side and then wiping up the mess.
“Caleb... He’s not crying.” Sara let out a weak sob as she struggled to push herself up on her elbows. “He’s not crying. Help him!”
“C’mon, little guy.” Caleb worked frantically, dipping his finger in his son’s mouth to scoop out anything that could obstruct a clean first breath. More and more mucus kept coming out, but no cry came forth in response.
Frustrated to the point tears blurred his vision, Caleb offered up a prayer for help as he tried one last desperate measure. He’d once helped a mare deliver a foal that had refused to breathe. The owner finally blew hard into the colt’s nostrils to try to make the lungs fill and hopefully learn their job. The action must have dislodged whatever had kept that animal from taking its first breath. With the last of his hope, Caleb put his mouth over the boy’s nose and mouth and tried to blow some air into the tiny lungs.
With a loud gasp, the baby sucked in his father’s breath and then let out a wail worthy of a carnival barker.
Sara began to cry in earnest, collapsing back against the pillows. “Thank God. Thank God.” Her words disappeared in gasps and sobs.
“Sara?” Cassie’s voice echoed through the house.
No sound—other than his new son’s cries—could be as sweet. “We’re in here!” Caleb shouted back, making the baby cry louder.
Cassie and Grace came rushing into the bedroom, both in the process of shedding their heavy coats. As the infant kept crying, the women smiled.
“We missed all the fun,” Cassie said.
“Fun?” Caleb had to snort at that. “You got a strange idea of fun, Cassie Bishop.”
Grace picked up one of the flannel blankets, laid it over her arms, and held them out. “Give me the baby, Caleb. Let me get him cleaned up and wrapped tight against the cold.”
The hesitation to give the little boy to Grace was a surprise. This was his son. Caleb had helped his wife bring him into the world, and now his purpose in life was to protect the boy. He seemed to have major difficulty giving him to another’s care.
“Please, Caleb. Sara needs us. So does your son.”
Gently, he laid the baby in Grace’s arms. “Take good care of ’em both.”
“You did well,” she replied. Then she started barking orders at Cassie. “Get the twine and scissors. We’ve got to tie off the cord.”
Coming closer to Sara, Caleb smoothed the damp wisps of hair away from her temples. “You done good, Sara.”
Her eyes were closed, but he knew she’d heard because she smiled at his words.
“You tired?”
This time, she scoffed. “Perhaps a little.” Her eyes opened, and the joy he saw reflected in those blue pools made his heart sing. “A lot.”
“A girl,” he whispered.
“What?”
Caleb pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Next time, we’ll have a girl for you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
His step light, a smile plastered on his face, Caleb grabbed a clean shirt and headed to the bathroom to wash up. His son’s appearance had been messy, but after assisting in the birth of every breed of farm animal, he wasn’t concerned. Birth was dirty business. That’s all there was to it.
After he’d cleaned up and changed, he headed outside to talk to Ty and this Drake character. Caleb’s anger at a stranger coming to his house had dimmed considerably since it was clear the man had helped Sara after she’d fallen. But there was still the mystery of what Drake wanted and why he’d come to the farm in the first place.
Caleb didn’t recognize him, and Sara had been too indisposed to let him know whether she knew the man or not.
Time to find out for myself.
The chill hit him, but he’d
left his heavy coat in the bedroom. He knew the women needed time to help Sara through the equally messy afterbirth chores, so he’d left well enough alone and walked outside in his shirt sleeves.
Drake leaned back against one of the posts, smoking a cheroot, while Ty paced the length of porch and back again. Both stared at Caleb when he cleared his throat loudly.
“How’s Sara?” Ty asked, his voice anxious.
“Your sister’s fine.”
“The baby?”
From the time Caleb had met Ty, there’d been an undeclared war between them over who could better the other. When Ty had won Cassie’s heart, Caleb took a long time getting past the defeat. Then Sara had come into his life, a way of God opening a window when he’d closed a door.
This time, Caleb could do a little nose-rubbing and not feel the worse for it.
“Baby’s fine,” Caleb said proudly. “Where you missed the chance, I was able to put the stem on the apple.”
Ty’s brow furrowed. “What in the hell does that mean?”
Drake was the one to reply. “Means he had a boy. I take it you’ve got a girl, right?” He shook his head and chuckled.
The time for niceties had ended. “Who are you?” Caleb asked.
After he pushed away from the post, Drake walked to the edge of the porch boards and tossed aside the last of his cheroot. It bounced into the frozen flower bed that Sara had been trying to dig up. “Drake Myers.”
“Why did you come to my farm?”
“I was searching for someone,” Drake replied. His gaze caught Caleb’s. “A woman I knew as Princess.”
“Princess?” Caleb snorted. “Damn stupid name if you ask me.” Then the wording of Drake’s statement registered. “Was looking? You found her then?”
“Yep.”
The meaning was clear. “My wife sure as shit ain’t called Princess.”
“She was my Princess.”