And Baby Makes Five (7 page)

Were men really the way they believed them to be?

Lilly had always secretly wished they were wrong. She wanted to believe in heroes.

Were there any heroes out there?

C
ort stared through the windshield at the tree blocking his path. He’d made it only halfway to Lilly’s house, and it had taken him nearly thirty minutes. The note in the purse had been scribbled hurriedly and simply said, “Baby coming—help.”

“Some cavalry we make,” he growled at Loser, who cocked his head and barked once. “I guess we walk from here on in.” It was Loser who growled at that. He didn’t like the idea at all and showed it by scrambling to the far side of the truck. Squinting his hairy eyes, he glowered at Cort.

“Don’t look at me like that. I had to bring you.” Not certain when he’d make it back home, he’d snatched up Loser and hurried to the truck.

Now, reaching for the dog again, he wasn’t pleased when Loser crouched against the door to avoid being snagged and drawn into the cold. His toenails scratched the seat as he tried to cling, and had Cort not been so worried about his neighbor he might have laughed. Instead he stretched, clasped Loser about the middle and lifted him from the stranded vehicle.

He’d just started creeping down the slippery road, wondering how he would ever be able to help Lilly, when out of the darkness came Samantha, hauling her little fat body as fast as Cort had ever seen a burro move.

And she wasn’t happy to see him standing there.

Cort couldn’t blame her. He’d left Samantha at his place, not taking the time to lead her back home after he found the phone lines were dead and the electricity was off. However, he hadn’t counted on the storm having toppled trees over the roads. And he’d never dreamed the burro would make better progress than he would. Poor Lilly. If she needed help fast, she was in trouble.

Samantha must have come to the same conclusion, because she took one look at Cort, stuck her nose in the air and clomped past him and Loser. The dog yelped, snapped at her heel and was promptly rewarded with a bump on the snout from Samantha’s leg as she stopped suddenly to study the fallen tree.

Cort headed toward the ditch just as Samantha stuck her nose down and plowed past him into the lead. Cort continued on, following her, with Loser snarling all the way.

This was the burro’s territory, and the best way to help Lilly was to get there by the fastest route. If that meant tailgating a burro—a very smart burro—then he’d do it.

In the next five minutes Cort slipped and slid on the ice more times than he cared to count. The night was so thick with billowing sleet and snow flurries that he couldn’t see four feet in front of him. Finally for Lilly’s sake he gave in, threw his leg over Samantha’s back and settled in for the rest of the trip. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and he thought that if any of his buddies from the show circuit saw him riding this hairy bag of lard his reputation as a serious breeder and trainer was history.

And that was before Loser got excited and nipped Samantha on the rump.

Lilly lifted her eyelids and screamed.

Not only did it feel as if she was giving birth to Attila the Hun, ice monsters were invading her home! She must be hallucinating, she thought, from the pain or too much oxygen hitting her brain from the useless breathing exercises she’d been attempting to master for the past hour and a half.

“Lilly, don’t scream. It’s me, Cort. I’ve come to help.”

Lilly stared as another contraction grabbed her. “What happened to you?” she gasped, then started he-he-he-ing and puff-puff-puffing. She felt like a Saint Bernard panting on a sizzling day without any shade. She was so tired, but had caught a slight second wind somewhere along the way of total delusion and despair.

Cort wiped his ice-encrusted face, ran a hand through his mussed hair and frowned. “Samantha happened to me. The question is what’s happened to you? Don’t you know better than to have this baby out here in the middle of nowhere?”

The contraction peaked and held. Exhausted, but relieved that she wasn’t alone anymore, Lilly squeezed her eyes shut. She clawed at the blanket and nearly wept when Cort’s steady hand wrapped around hers and held on. Lilly had never been so happy to see a man in her life.

A calm, take-charge kind of man.

The type of man who would have the grannies rolling over in their graves if they knew she’d been lying here praying for Cort Wells’s intervention in the birthing of her baby. It was true—she’d been trying to practice walking by faith, and somewhere along the way it hit her that she had to trust that God was going to get her through this. That no matter what happened He was in control, that for some reason Cort was just down the road at the time when she needed him and that with God’s hand guiding her, Samantha was going to accomplish the task that Lilly had sent her on.

Faith.

Lilly breathed a sigh and relaxed.

Cort didn’t like what was happening. For Lilly’s sake he forced himself to seem calm. Truth was, he wanted to turn tail, hop on Samantha’s back and ride right on out of there.

He couldn’t deliver this baby!

Sure, all he’d ever wanted was a family to call his own, but that was as far as his interest went. He couldn’t deliver a baby. He had never been able to watch his own horses deliver because of the way he sometimes fainted at the sight of blood.

Babies couldn’t be born without a little blood being shed.

He looked at Lilly. She was sweating in obvious deep pain, but bravely managing to maintain her composure. She was squeezing the blood out of his hand and her eyes were weak with fatigue, but she had spirit. He’d known that in his barn, the moment she first spoke to him. She was as independent as they came and now she was looking at him for help. As if he was a hero.

He swallowed his fear. This was his fault. He was the one who’d lassoed her and thrown her on the ground. He’d probably caused the early labor. He would never forgive himself for that.

“How far apart are your contractions?” he asked, astounded at the calmness in his voice. It brought boundless gratitude to Lilly’s expression, which kicked his courage up a notch.

“I’m not sure. All I know is I’m not enjoying this.” Her brow furrowed and she grimaced.

“Where are the keys to your truck?” He denied the urge to smooth the wrinkle from her forehead.

“In the truck,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Are you up for a ride?” he asked. When she nodded he continued. “I need to get you to the hospital.” Quickly he said a prayer that God would help him get her there before the baby decided to join them. But he had a bad feeling the hospital would be too little too late. “I’ll be right back.” He almost ran from the house. Knowing there was no time to waste, he grabbed Loser on his way out the door.

“Sorry, buddy, but it’s back to the truck.” Outside the wind was howling and the ice was thicker, causing every step to be treacherous. It took some effort to make it to the barn, trying to hold an unhappy dog and not fall flat on his face at the same time. It also took a lot of concentration and prayer, especially since lately it seemed the ground was the place he always ended up. He would have put Loser down, but he didn’t want wet dog all over the cab of Lilly’s truck. The going was rough, and he was thankful once more when Samantha came hurtling around the barn door just as he yanked it open.

He felt sorry for the old girl. She was covered in ice, but he knew she would follow the truck as she had before, and maybe when they went to pick up his truck she would go into his barn to avoid the storm—and eat the rest of his alfalfa cubes. If she didn’t follow them, then Cort would have to lead her there and padlock the stall for her own good.

“It’ll all work out, Samantha. You just follow us. I promise I’ll take care of her.” Reaching out, he scratched between Samantha’s eyes.
I’m talking to a donkey.
Shaking his head at the uncharacteristic act, he climbed into the cab, turned over the ignition and praised the Lord when the ancient truck sputtered to life.

He backed out from the protection of the barn and Loser drew close. He watched Samantha as they passed her, then turned and watched her trotting next to the rear fender. Cort maneuvered the truck close to the porch before hopping out and heading inside to get Lilly.

He wished for a cell phone. His last one had been stomped by a horse the week before when it fell out of his pocket during a training session. The town of Ranger was so far away that he hadn’t had time to go all the way there and pick up a new one. But it might not have done him any good anyway. Spots in Mule Hollow were dead zones when it came to signals. Still, if he had a phone he could at least have tried to call for help.

Lilly met him at the door. She was standing in the kitchen, a coat thrown over her shoulders and a little suitcase at her feet. Her face was pale and her eyes were as big as peaches, but she had a smile plastered on her face even though he could tell by the white knuckles gripping the counter that she was hurting through and through.

“I’m ready, but we better hurry, ’cause the contractions are closer.” Her face contorted with pain at that moment and she would have fallen had Cort not reached her in time.

He scooped her up in his arms, grabbed the bag, glanced at the fire that still burned in the fireplace and knew he’d have to come back later to put it out and lock things up.

“Hang in there, Lilly. We’re going to get you and your baby to the hospital. I promise.” He’d never meant anything as much as he meant that promise. He would get her to a safe place. As long as the Lord was willing.

When Cort opened the door of the truck and gently placed her on the seat, pain was pounding through Lilly’s abdomen like a jackhammer manned by the Energizer Bunny. She was hurting so much she was about to embarrass herself by screaming when the bushy-browed dog sitting in the center of the seat caught her attention. Focusing on the curious animal, she closed off some of her discomfort and forced herself to concentrate on him. He studied her with a forlorn kind of quizzical anxiety, trembling all over. His appearance actually made Lilly smile. He was such a pathetic little creature, making her want to stop everything, scoop him into her arms and love him until he wiggled with excitement instead of fright.

Reaching out, she was about to touch him when Cort yanked open the driver’s door and climbed in.

“Whew, what a night.” He put the truck in gear and pressed the gas pedal in one fluid motion.

What a night is the understatement of the year! she thought, bracing her hands on the dash as the truck jerked forward. She was startled when Cort shot a hand out and grabbed her elbow.

“Are you all right? This ice is making everything trickier.”

“I’m fine. Go as fast as you think you can and still get us there in one piece.”

Cort was already concentrating on the road, skillfully maneuvering the truck along the gravel road. Lilly was studying him, trying not to think about how close the contractions were getting, when a new one hit her.

“Ohhh!” she gasped. The dog and Cort both swung their heads to stare at her with wide eyes. “Ohhh, ohhh, I think I need to lie down—”

“Move, Loser. Down, boy!” Cort boomed, and the poor dog hopped to the floorboard, then turned and stuck his wet nose in Lilly’s face.

It registered with Lilly as she fell over in the seat that Loser was a bad name for a dog. Really bad. And her pain was really bad.
Really, really bad.

Please, Lord, don’t let my child be born here in this truck!
It was a fervent prayer. She was still praying when Cort stopped. He came around to her side and quickly tugged her into his arms, then stepped out into the bitter cold.

“What are you doing?” she asked, clinging to him. Trusty, surefooted Samantha came trotting up beside him.

“I’m changing trucks. I’m sorry about this, but I’ve got to get us past this fallen tree. My truck is on the other side. There is no time to be careful. Thank goodness Samantha can walk in all of this.”

It registered to Lilly through the pain that Samantha was leading them around a huge fallen tree. Loser was following them with a disgruntled scowl. Lilly couldn’t help it—her tears turned to laughter and she started giggling.

What a sight they made. A fat, bumpy donkey, a grumpy dog and she and Cort—it struck her that she was the bumpy and he was the grumpy of the two of them…or actually right now she could be both the bumpy and grumpy.

Cort shot her a glare as her giggles grew.

“Poor guy.” Lilly hiccupped through the pain and the silly laughter. “Probably wondering what you got into by moving all the way out here.” She rested her head on his shoulder and clutched him tighter. “I think you’re a gift from God.”

Beneath her, she felt him tense.

“I don’t know about that, but I’m glad I was here to help,” he said gruffly. They reached his big four-door truck and he carefully placed her in the back seat. Then he and Loser climbed into the front. Samantha was watching Lilly through the window as Cort started backing the truck down the road toward town. Loser stood on his back legs eyeing her curiously. His chin rested on the back of the seat and his floppy ears bebopped with every bounce of the truck.

Cort swung the big vehicle around in his driveway and then they were heading down the road again. Lilly concentrated on Loser after she lost sight of Samantha trotting behind the truck as fast as her short legs would carry her. Keeping up with the truck this far had been a losing battle and Lilly lost her in the distance. She knew she’d be safe at Cort’s place, but her heart twisted when she heard Samantha’s forlorn cry at being left behind. She loved that little donkey….