by Kat Brookes
* * *
“Thanks for calling to let me know,” Garrett said, relieved to hear that Justin had been able to help his mare deliver her foal safely into the world. Now he just prayed Hannah would be able to do the same with her baby.
“Keep me updated on Miss Sanders,” Justin said. “In the meantime, I’ll see to it the road to the washed-out bridge is closed.”
“I will,” Garrett said, ending the call. Then he turned and started back across the porch, shoving his cell back into the pocket of his jeans.
“You’re going to pace a hole right through my porch floor,” Jackson grumbled as Garrett passed by the rustic wooden chair in which his brother was seated.
Tucker nodded in agreement from where he sat stretched out in the matching high-back bench. “If he paces any faster, the floorboards are likely to spark into a trail of flames.”
How could his brothers just sit there, sipping at their coffee and making jests as if it were just another ordinary day? It wasn’t. Truth was, riding bulls and climbing atop broncs during his rodeo days had been less nerve-racking then this. “Do either of you realize how serious this situation is?” Garrett demanded as he continued pacing. “It’s not time for her baby to come.” He looked toward the door. “I should be in there with her.”
“She’s in good hands,” Tucker said soberly.
“Best thing you can do for her right now is pray,” Jackson suggested.
“And what if those prayers go unanswered?” he asked, as they hadn’t been with Grace. “Hannah’s too young to die.”
“Hannah isn’t going to die,” Jackson said firmly. “She’s young and healthy.”
“She’s been in labor for nearly three hours.”
“Babies come out when they’re good and ready,” Tucker replied, “If God planned to call Hannah home, He wouldn’t have seen to it that you were there to save her and the child she’s carrying from those flood waters.”
He prayed his brother was right. Yet, despite his brother’s reassuring words, Garrett couldn’t quell the restless energy that filled him. So, he continued pacing the length of the porch which ran all the way across the front of the cedar-sided ranch house.
The front screen door creaked open, bringing Garrett’s steps to a halt and drawing all three men’s gazes that direction. Autumn stepped out onto the porch and Garrett swallowed hard. It had only been forty-five minutes since he’d left Hannah in his mother’s and Autumn’s safekeeping, minutes filled with searching glances toward the distant road for an ambulance that had yet to arrive, minutes filled with anxious pacing and fervent prayers. Why wasn’t his sister-in-law still inside helping his mother? Unless...
Garrett’s heart thudded as he zeroed in on Autumn’s face. Hannah had said herself that it was too soon for her baby to be born. Not that babies didn’t arrive early all the time, but usually they were delivered in a hospital with medical equipment readily available to care for a premature baby. His fears were laid to rest the moment he realized that his sister-in-law was smiling.
“Hannah?” Garrett asked, the word coming out of a raspy croak.
“Tired, but doing well.”
Jackson sat upright and pushed to his feet. “And the baby?”
“He’s tiny,” she said, and then seeing Garrett’s worried frown, added, “but that’s to be expected seeing as how he came early. And he’s breathing on his own.”
“Thank the Lord,” all three men muttered in unison.
“No sign of the ambulance?” she asked.
“Not yet,” Tucker answered with a shake of his head.
A slight frown pulled at her lips at hearing that.
“I’ll call and see if I can find anything out,” Jackson offered.
“That would be good,” she said with a nod. Then she looked to Garrett. “Hannah’s asking for you.”
“She is?” he said, feeling a surge of something he couldn’t explain move through him. And then, without waiting for a reply, he hurried into the house. Long strides carried him down the hallway to his brother’s guest room. He needed to see for himself that Hannah was all right. That her baby was all right.
His mother looked up from where she sat watching over Hannah when he stepped into the room. “Perfect timing,” she said with a smile as she rose from the chair. “I’m parched. While you sit with Hannah and her little one, I’m going to go fix Autumn and myself a cup of tea and call your father.”
Garrett looked to the bed where Hannah lay, her face blessedly pain-free. She looked tired—understandably, after all she had been through—but there was a glow about her that hadn’t been there before. Her long hair, now dry with the exception of a few sweat-dampened spirals, fell about her face and down over her shoulders. It was the most vibrant shade of copper-red he’d ever seen, reminding Garrett of a fall sunset. Something he hadn’t picked up on in the dark of the storm.
His gaze fell to the towel-wrapped bundle Hannah held in her arms as she lay there and the tiny face peeking out of it. So very tiny.
“He doesn’t bite,” Hannah said with a sleepy smile as she looked down at the babe in her arms. “You can come closer.”
“He’s perfect,” Garrett said in awe as he moved to settle into the straight-backed chair his mother had just vacated. Despite his slightly wrinkled, blotchy red skin and scrawny little limbs, her son was perfect. The baby had a dusting of strawberry blonde hair on his head and big, slate blue eyes.
“He’s so small,” Hannah said with a worried frown as she looked down at her son. Then her gaze lifted to meet Garrett’s. “But he’s here. Without you, he might have...” Tears filled her eyes. “We might have...”
“But you didn’t,” he said, not wanting her to dwell on what could have happened. It hadn’t. “And I think the Lord played more a part in it than I did,” he added with a warm smile.
“That might be the case,” she agreed. “But you were the one He sent to save us. The man who risked his own life to save ours. The man who helped to calm me, finding us shelter during the storm. I can never thank you enough for what you did for us.”
“Seeing that you’re both all right is enough for me,” he said, noting that she could barely keep her eyes open.
“I should leave you to rest,” he said.
“I’m so tired,” she admitted with a soft sigh.
“Then close your eyes and get some sleep,” he told her.
Worry creased her brows. “I don’t dare. Not while I’m holding him. He could fall from my arms if I relaxed in sleep.”
“I could hold him for you,” he heard himself offering before he thought things out thoroughly.
“If you don’t mind,” she agreed with a sleepy yawn. “I know he’ll be safe with you, and I’ll only close my eyes for a short while.”
She was trusting the most precious thing in the world to her into his safekeeping. Garrett’s gaze came to rest on the sweet face of her newborn son. He was so small. Hardly bigger than his own outstretched hand, he thought with a surge of panic. Not that he hadn’t handled other small newborns before, but those had been in the form of bunnies and puppies and kittens. This was a baby, and he would never have one of his own.
“Garrett?”
He looked up at Hannah. “I’ve never held a baby before. I’m not sure I would even know how to go about it.”
“That’s how I felt when your mother laid him in my arms. But it’s much easier than you think,” she said with a reassuring smile. “But you’ll need to wash your hands first.”
Of course. He knew that. He should have done so before ever coming into the room, but he’d been so eager to see for himself that Hannah and the baby were all right. “Be right back,” he said, hurrying off to the washroom.
When he returned, Hannah smiled up at him. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
“Okay, now hold out your
arms and I’ll hand him over to you.”
He did as she said, feeling an overwhelming sense of awe as she settled the babe into his outstretched arms. So, this is what becoming someone’s father would have felt like.
“Now bring him to your chest,” Hannah coached softly. “It will help to keep him warm. Just make sure his face isn’t covered. He doesn’t have as much body fat on him as a full-term baby would have had.”
As he settled the towel-swaddled infant against his chest, Garrett felt his heart swell.
“I’d like to name him after you,” Hannah said, her eyes drifting shut.
Garrett’s gaze snapped up, her words taking him by surprise.
“That is, if it’s all right with you,” she mumbled sleepily.
“I’d be honored,” he said. Truth was he couldn’t have been more honored. This child she’d given birth to was all she had left of her sister and he was going to carry Garrett’s first name. And it wasn’t as if he’d ever have children of his own to pass his name down to. His heart had died with Grace that day, along with his dreams of having a family of his own.
“What’s your middle name?”
“Austin,” he replied, his attention centered on the tiny face before him.
“Garrett Austin,” Hannah said with a sigh. Her soft, even breathing told him she had finally fallen into an exhausted slumber.
Garrett looked down at the precious bundle he held in his arms and smiled. “Welcome to the world, Garrett Austin Sanders.”
He sat holding the infant for nearly half an hour, his mother and Autumn popping in and out to check on Hannah who was still sound asleep. Both had offered to take the baby, but he’d refused to part with the sleeping infant. While holding something so small—a living, breathing little something—terrified him, Hannah had entrusted him with her baby’s safekeeping. He would keep her son cradled in his arms until she awakened.
That determined thought had no sooner passed through his mind when the sound of the baby’s breathing changed. Not significantly. If he hadn’t been holding the bundled infant against his chest, he might not have even noticed. But it had definitely quickened, the urgent little breaths enough to stir unease in his gut.
He crossed the room and stepped out into the hallway. “Mom,” he called out softly, not wanting to startle the baby.
A second later, she was in the hall, moving toward him. “Honey? Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” he answered with a worried frown as he looked down at the baby. “His breathing seems a little off. I wanted to see what you thought before overreacting.” Preemies might have issues with underdeveloped lungs, but that wasn’t always the case.
Concern lit her features as she leaned in to check on Hannah’s son. That concern remained as she lifted her gaze back up to his. “His coloring doesn’t look good. We need to get him some immediate medical care.”
Care that Garrett couldn’t provide. “Take the baby and have Autumn get Hannah ready to leave.” He started for the front door.
“What are you going to do?” she called after him.
“Whatever it takes,” he answered as he let himself outside.
Minutes later, Hannah was lying across the backseat of his truck, her newborn son held securely in her arms as they drove across the range, along the fence line that ran parallel to the temporarily impassable road. He hated that they didn’t have a car seat for her son, but there was no time to wait for the ambulance to be able to get through. Jackson and Tucker had gone on ahead of them to take down a section of the fence for them to drive through in order to safely access the road beyond the downed wires.
“Garrett,” Hannah said, “I’m scared.”
That made two of them, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “We’ll be at the hospital before you know it. Tucker’s calling to let them know we’re on our way.” He followed his words of assurance up with a silent prayer. One for the baby and one for himself, because he was going to have to step through those dreaded hospital doors.
They were met by hospital personnel with a wheelchair for Hannah at the emergency room pull up. Her son, now laboring for breath, was quickly whisked away ahead of them. Hannah looked up at him, tears in her eyes.
He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “It’s going to be all right.”
As soon as she was settled, the hospital attendant wheeled her in through the automatic sliding doors.
Garrett, heart pounding, nausea roiling in his stomach, stood staring at those same doors as they slid shut behind the departing wheelchair. Hannah needed him. But so had Grace. Please, Lord, let us have gotten here in time.
Gathering his courage, more courage than he’d ever needed back when he was riding bulls and broncs professionally, Garrett followed them inside.
Chapter Three
Fighting a yawn, Garrett pulled out his cell phone to check the time—9:37 a.m. He wondered if Hannah had awakened yet. The previous day’s events had clearly left her spent, and understandably so. And what about her son? Lord, he prayed the infant that he’d held in his arms shortly after his birth was faring well. The emergency room personnel had taken him straight to the neonatal intensive care unit as soon as they’d arrived at the hospital and he hadn’t gotten to see the baby again before he’d left to head home.
Hannah hadn’t been the only one under emotional stress when they’d arrived at the hospital the day before. Garrett hadn’t stepped foot inside the place since the day Grace had taken her last breath there. Truth was, he dreaded ever having to return there again, but none of that had mattered when Hannah’s son’s life was at stake.
Once Hannah had been examined, she’d been placed in a private room just down the hall from the NICU. Garrett had then done his best to calm her fears, pushing his own aside. Despite the doctor’s reassurance that it was common for a baby born five weeks earlier than expected to need a little help breathing, that his lungs would strengthen in the days and weeks ahead, she’d been beside herself. So much so, that Garrett had ended up staying by Hannah’s bedside until late into the night, talking to her about anything and everything to keep her mind from going into the dark places he knew all too well. Places he’d gone to when Grace had taken a turn for the worse, with all the whys and what-ifs.
Exhaustion threatened to drag him down. He had remained seated at Hannah’s bedside the night before until sleep had finally claimed her. And that hadn’t been until well after midnight.
“Morning,” Garrett muttered as he stopped by the corral on his way to the barn.
“Morning,” Tucker replied. His brother stood in the center of the corral, working with a green mare they’d purchased to use as a saddle horse. Breaking in horses was one of his brother’s specialties. “Didn’t expect you in this early. Not after the late night you put in.”
Garrett raised a brow. “How did you know about that?” He’d been in touch with his family from the hospital to update them, but he hadn’t called anyone when he’d finally headed home. It had been too late.
“Couldn’t sleep,” his brother admitted. “I was sitting on the porch when you drove past. How was Hannah doing when you left?”
“As well as can be expected, under the circumstances.” Garrett glanced around, seeing their other brother’s truck parked beside the far end of the barn. “Where’s Jackson?”
“In the barn,” Tucker replied, his gaze remaining fixed on the young mare. “Just got back from running feed out to the veteran horses.”
Unlike a lot of rodeo stock companies that unloaded their retired stock once the animals’ profitability was gone, the Triple W Rodeo Ranch kept theirs. They had a special section of land fenced off specifically for the older horses where they could live out the remainder of their lives in leisure, being grain-fed daily. They had worked hard during their rodeo years. In his opinion and his brothers’, they deserved no less.
&nbs
p; Garrett nodded, not that his brother had seen him do so. Tucker’s visual focus remained solely on the mare he was coaxing to pick up her pace as she ran around the outer edge of the fenced-in enclosure.
Shoving his phone back into his jeans, he leaned against the fence, watching his little brother at work.
“Didn’t expect to see you here this morning.” Jackson’s familiar voice came from behind him.
Garrett glanced back over his shoulder to see his brother striding toward them. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”
“You having had such a late night and all,” his brother prompted.
Garrett’s gaze shifted back to Tucker.
His youngest brother must have felt his accusing stare, because there was no way Tucker could have seen it with his back to them the way it was. Yet he called back over his shoulder, “I might have mentioned to Jackson that there was a good chance you’d be hitting Snooze on your alarm clock today.”
“Well, I didn’t,” he said in irritation. At thirty-four he could still manage a late night here and there and still get up in time to help his brothers with ranch duties. How was he supposed to sleep in, anyhow, with thoughts of Hannah and her son weighing so heavily on his mind? “I have blood draws to do today.”
Every six months, they needed to draw blood from the rodeo stock to keep their health certificates up-to-date. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to transport the broncs from state to state to the various rodeos. Having an in-house vet on the ranch also saved them money.
Jackson lifted a brow. “Someone’s a little on the touchy side this morning.”
“Maybe a little,” he grumbled. “Lack of sleep, and then receiving some bad news, has a tendency to bring that about.”
Jackson’s head snapped around. “Hannah?”
He shook his head. “No. She and the baby are okay. Or, at least, they were when I left the hospital last night. The bad news is business related.”
That grabbed both of his brothers’ attention.
“Kade called this morning,” he explained. “He had to put Little Thunder down last night.” Kade Owens owned the Breakaway Ranch in Oklahoma where, along with raising beef cattle, he bred and raised bucking bulls. Little Thunder was one of Kade’s top, prize-winning bulls. The Triple W had partnered up with Kade a few years back to allow them, as a joint partnership, to qualify for a PRCA stock contractor card, which required the stock provider to own a minimum of twenty-five bareback horses, twenty-five saddle bronc horses and twenty-five bulls.
