by Dana Mentink
Both Shannon and Jack moved toward Tiffany. Keegan dropped back, and Shannon knew he would try to circle around for a surprise attack. There was not much time. Tiffany gripped the baby so tightly, her knuckles shone white.
“She’s my sister,” Hank growled. “And you don’t get to tell me what to do. Ever.”
“I’ve tried everything to save you.” Tiffany’s eyes were wide and crazed in the light of the streetlamp. “When I saw the hospital number on your phone while you were sleeping, I knew it must be from her. I erased the message. Paid some people there to keep tabs on her for me. Soon as I heard a rumor she was in town, I tried to keep her away. I stole her phone, tipped off the Tide whenever I could.”
“Why?” Hank demanded.
“Because I knew you’d go running after her, after a Tide woman.” Her tone was laced with disgust. “When I found out she was making her way here, I knew I had to stop her, because you’d fall for her sob story. Poor, sad Dina. But she wouldn’t give up, just kept on trying to find you. You’ll look weak, don’t you see, if you take her in?”
His brows drew together. “So, you made a little deal with Cruiser to get your hands on her? What were you gonna do, Tiff? What were you gonna do to my sis?”
“Kill her,” Tiffany said. “Because you’re too weak to do the right thing yourself.”
Jack took another step forward. “Just give me the baby,” he said. “Then you can sort it all out with Pinball.”
Shannon’s heart was thundering as the moments spooled on. Was Annabell getting any oxygen with her face pressed hard into Tiffany’s chest?
“Don’t you get it?” Tiffany shrieked, with tears sparkling. “I did this for you, so you wouldn’t get your hands dirty. If Dina dies, she’ll be rightly punished for consorting with the Tide. Those are the rules for everyone.”
“Not for my sister,” Hank said. He pulled his gun.
“No,” Shannon yelled. “You’ll hit the baby.”
Jack lunged forward. Dina bit Tiffany hard on the wrist. She howled, and Jack threw himself on the gun hand. Shannon had only one mission: to catch the baby before she hit the ground.
She threw her body forward and managed to skid to a stop, just in time to absorb Annabell’s fall. Keegan sprinted up and helped Jack subdue the thrashing Tiffany. Barrett and Tom emerged from the bushes to help secure the situation.
“They’re my family,” Jack shouted to Hank. “Don’t touch them.”
Shannon moved the baby out of range of the tussle.
Dina was sobbing now. Hank’s beefy arm was around her.
“I’m sorry, sis. I never would have thought she’d do something like that.”
“I did it for you,” Tiffany shrieked. “I did it all for you, Pinball.”
Her hollering turned to wails as he shook his head in disgust.
Jack pulled out his phone and called the police, while Shannon examined the baby with shaking fingers.
“We’ll take care of Tiffany,” Hank said with a hate-filled stare at Tiffany. “She’s one of our own.”
“No way,” Jack said. “She belongs to the cops now, not to you.”
“Jack,” Shannon screamed, and her own voice cut through the night like a missile.
He jerked toward her.
“The baby isn’t breathing,” she said. “Call an ambulance.”
* * *
Jack dropped to his knees next to her.
“Tell me what to do.”
“Put a jacket under her, something.”
He stripped off his jacket. She lifted the limp body and placed it on the fabric.
“Oh, no, no, no,” Dina wailed.
“Quiet,” Shannon snapped. “Move her from here, please.”
Hank dragged Dina a few paces away. Keegan was on the phone. “Five minutes.” He grabbed an umbrella from the van and held it over Shannon and Jack as they knelt in front of the baby.
Five minutes. Jack knew that was far too long to wait. Shannon unsnapped the tiny outfit and put two fingers on the baby’s breastbone and pushed quickly in succession.
“Count,” she commanded.
“To what?”
“Thirty.”
He did, numbering off the compressions, his own heart slamming into his ribs with brutal force. It was as if time spiraled into slow motion and there was nothing but counting and the ice-cold fear in his gut. At the end of thirty compressions, Shannon tipped Annabell’s chin back and laid a palm gently on her forehead. Then she breathed into her mouth for two breaths. He watched her tiny rib cage rise and fall.
And the cycle continued, endlessly, rhythmically, until he pushed Shannon away from Annabell’s head. “I got it. I’ll do the breaths.”
She scooted over, and he took a position. Annabell’s skull was between his palms, cold and fragile as an eggshell. Shannon took over the counting, face outwardly calm, except for the flare of her nostrils, the intense concentration.
Thirty compressions.
Then he breathed softly into Annabell’s nose and mouth. Come on, Little Bit. Live. Dina’s sobs echoed over the rainfall. He did not dare risk a look at her, did not want to see the sheer terror of a mother watching her child teeter on the razor edge between life and death.
Another series of compressions, and Shannon stopped, bent low over the baby and felt the inside of her outthrust arm for a pulse.
Expression stark, she moved into position to resume compressions, when Annabell jerked, mouth open, eyes wide, body stiff and thrashing. Shannon put her cheek close.
“She’s breathing on her own.”
He wanted her to say it again, to make him believe that the still, small form had crossed the boundary from death back to life again.
Shannon did not move from her crouched position. Her fingers were wrapped around Annabell’s arm, checking to be sure her heart continued to beat.
In the distance, a siren wailed. It was closing fast, but the three of them were locked in an intimate tableau, tracking every precious breath and beat, until the paramedics and police arrived almost simultaneously. Annabell was still breathing unassisted when she was whisked into the ambulance by a pair of medics, and Larraby took custody of Tiffany.
Tiffany glared at Dina as she was led to the squad car.
“You ruined everything. Why did you ever come back here?”
Larraby folded her into the back seat.
Dina broke from her brother’s embrace and threw her arms around Shannon. “You saved her,” she sobbed. “You saved us both.”
Dina swayed on her feet as Hank gently guided her to a police officer who promised to take her to the hospital.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Hank said.
Shannon sank back to her knees, on the jacket where she had just saved Annabell’s life.
“Hey,” Keegan said softly as he folded the umbrella. “Rain stopped.”
“Yeah,” Jack said. He went to his knees, one hand on Shannon’s shoulder as she crouched there, staring at the spot where the baby had lain a moment before.
“Shan...”
Keegan stepped back. “I’ll call Mama. She’ll want to know.” He returned to the van.
Jack tried again. “Shannon, let’s get you in the van. You did great work here,” he said. “Amazing work. I’m proud of you.”
She still did not look at him, and he saw she’d begun to shiver. He gripped her hand. “Shan...come with me.”
“Wait,” she whispered. She gripped his fingers and whispered a broken prayer of thanks. He pulled her close to him, and together they thanked God for preserving Baby Annabell’s life.
* * *
Jack could not talk much because of the gratitude that clogged his throat as he helped Dina and Annabell settle into a room at the Gold Nugget Inn. He’d already made mental plans to find reasons to visi
t the old inn regularly and often. Uncle Jack was ready to spoil Annabell rotten. Hazel was positively beaming, gushing about childcare details for the hours when Dina would work in the dining room and help with housekeeping. Mostly, he figured, she was beaming because there would be a baby to fuss over, maybe the closest she’d ever get to a grandchild. That thought followed him back to the ranch as Shannon sat silently in the passenger seat. Back at home, he tried to settle his spirit by tending to his chores, but even the horses could not soothe him as the hour of Shannon’s departure drew closer.
When the time arrived to leave for the airport, he could not find her. She had reportedly gone to lie down, but she was not in the guest room, nor the living room or kitchen. He began to prowl the property.
He finally found her at the fallen tree, the same tree that spanned the creek where she’d caught her first fish and then let it go. She sat there in the mellowing sunlight, her face scratched and pensive. It was the most breathtakingly lovely sight he’d seen in his thirty-two years of living. Her small backpack was on the grass next to her, plane ticket poking out of the outer pocket. The uncertainty on her face broke his heart all over again.
Quietly, he took his place next to her on the log, and she did not seem surprised to see him.
“Decided on some fresh air before I take you to the airport?”
She didn’t answer. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, but he was not sure how she would react, and he figured it would just make everything that much more difficult.
“You okay, Shan?”
Shannon continued to stare at the ground. “I don’t know.”
His fingers itched to reach out. “Talk to me.”
“I’m not sure how to correctly capture it in words.”
“Let the words come out however they want to. You can put them in the right order later.”
Not even a flicker of a smile. Alarm bells began to jangle deep in his gut. Whatever she was about to say was going to change things, and he was not sure he’d like the result. She was leaving; his heart was already cut clean through. What could make it worse?
She got up and began pacing circles in the grass. “Annabell was close to death. Technically, she was dead. Not breathing. No pulse.”
He swallowed, recalling the little form, his fake daughter, rain speckling her face, eyes closed. “You saved her.”
“I didn’t, though.”
He was going to interrupt, but he realized she needed to say it, to give voice to whatever was weighing on her soul.
“I didn’t save her. Yes, I did the compressions and breaths like I was trained, managed her airway, etc., but...but...”
The wind flicked the leaves above them, sending one to the ground, and she picked it up, twirling it in her fingers, and then sat down again. “But whether she lived or died, that was all I could do, just the steps, the training. The life...or the saving of it...was not up to me.”
He cocked his head, mesmerized.
“It was up to God,” she finished. “I think I’ve always known that, but my pride never let me admit it.”
“Yes,” he said, keeping the joy from his tone. “It’s always His decision.”
“And He...” Her eyes widened in wonder. “He decided to give me life.”
He nodded gently. And what a spectacular life He’d created in her.
She gazed up at the trees, a dark curl edging her cheek. He shoved his hands under his thighs to keep from capturing that strand with his fingers.
“And he kept me alive through this whole miserable experience with Cruiser.”
“I’ll always be grateful for that,” he said softly. “Every single moment.”
She did not seem to hear. “So, the life is His, but the living of it, the days and moments are up to me.”
“Yes.”
She looked so fearful then, he could not resist. He took her hands, her fingers cold in his. “What is it, Shan?”
“I...I’m supposed to be a doctor, Jack. It’s what I was made for. At first, I think I considered it as a way to make my father love me, to prove I was worthy, but now I feel like it’s something bigger than that. I’m meant for it.”
“I know. Sometimes I wished you weren’t, that you would be happy being a rancher’s wife, but that was selfish. You were meant to be a doctor, born to it.”
She nodded. “This whole experience, though, it’s made me realize that I wasn’t made to do it alone.”
He stared. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She turned tender eyes on him. “Jack, I love you.”
Had she said it? Had he imagined it? He blinked hard. Jack, I love you.
“I’ve loved you since I was a teenager,” she said. “I tried to stop, and it didn’t work.”
He couldn’t answer. He knew what was coming next. The “but I can’t stay married to you” speech. He shook his head and stood. “Shannon, you don’t have to—”
She got to her feet and silenced him with two fingers across his lips. “Just listen.”
If he could just look away from those iridescent eyes, maybe he could get out with his heart intact, but he could not. He had to stare into the face of the woman he loved desperately, foolishly, passionately, and watch her walk away from him for the last time.
She breathed out. “I want us to stay married.”
He jerked. “What?”
“I want us to stay married. I need to finish my residency in Los Angeles, and then I want to find a position close to Gold Bar, close to Dina and Annabell.” She breathed out long and slow. “I want to live here as your wife, Jack. And maybe someday, we can have a baby of our own.”
He gaped, struck completely dumb.
She traced one hand along his cheek, igniting sparkles that trailed through his body. Still, he was waiting for her to say he’d gotten it wrong, that she could not find happiness here with him in Gold Bar. That he’d misheard, misread, misunderstood.
“But...”
She pressed her mouth to his, and still he stood there like a stump, the warmth of her kiss bubbling through him. She was looking at him now, reaching her hand into her pocket. Easing back from him, she pulled out a ring, the wedding ring he’d given her all those years ago, when their future stretched before them like a smooth, easy trail. The one she’d recently stripped off her finger and offered to give back. “I’ve been a fool, and I’ve wasted seven years that I could have spent showing you how much I love you. I’m sorry.”
“Shannon...”
“I love you, Jack Thorn.” She held up the gold band sparkling with diamonds. “Will you put it on me? Will you have me as your wife for real this time?”
His legs almost would not hold him. He sank to his knees, taking the ring with him. Laying his head in her cupped hands, he breathed in the sweet silk of her skin, soaked in the gentle touch that he’d longed for since the day he met Shannon Livingston. Somewhere from the deep well inside, he found the words.
“I love you, Shan. I love you so much. Will you be my wife?”
Tears sparkled in her eyes as she looked down at him. “Yes, Jack. Yes, I will.”
He slipped the ring on her finger, and for a long moment, neither of them moved. Then he stood and wrapped her in a hug so big, it gathered up all the years of pain and struggle. He kissed his wife with enough conviction to send the message loud as springtime thunder.
Forevermore, in sickness and health, for better or worse, every moment of every day, Shannon was his wife.
* * * * *
Look for the other Gold Country Cowboys stories available now:
Cowboy Christmas Guardian
Treacherous Trails
Keep reading for an excerpt from No Place to Hide by Lisa Harris.
Dear Reader,
Oh, boy! My heart did a little two-step as this cowboy series galloped into the third bo
ok. It touched on themes near and dear to my heart: family, loyalty, faith, love and the power of God to sweep away our deepest misconceptions in a brief moment. It seems to me, dear reader, that in all of our efforts and striving, we are searching for perfect love, a way to ease that empty space inside that only God can fill. Shannon believes she can find what she craves through work, in the face of her earthly father’s rejection. It will take many factors to help her see the truth: Jack, her mother, a relentless gang and the perfect innocence of a newborn baby. So come along on this journey with me through Gold Country. I hope the story will touch your heart the way it has mine! As always, I love to hear from my readers. You can find me on all the usual cyberstops: Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Pinterest, as well as my website, danamentink.com, where you can find a physical address, as well. Thank you for riding along with me, dear reader. God bless you!
Sincerely,
Dana Mentink
No Place to Hide
by Lisa Harris
ONE
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Ellie Webb made her way down the steep incline of the favela, where hundreds of homes sat packed together in a sprawling maze of steep streets and unpaved narrow alleys. While the working-class shantytown was home for thousands of lower-middle-class Brazilians, for her the tight-knit community had become the perfect place to disappear during the day while she taught English to local kids hoping for the chance of a better future. And for her, darker skin, along with an ability to speak fluent Portuguese, had allowed her to blend into the community.
Almost.
She caught the incredible view of Sugarloaf Mountain that sat at the mouth of Guanabara Bay and jutted out into the Atlantic as she headed past a family-run restaurant and dozens of other tiny shops and homes. In reality, she’d never completely fit in, just like she would never be able to forget why she was here. Long days at the center offering outreach programs and development opportunities had helped keep her busy enough to numb the pain, but she still missed her job and her friends. Still wondered if her best friend, Maddie, had found another maid of honor for her September wedding, and how Lucy, her miniature golden retriever, was doing.
