A little laugh slipped from her, partly from fear and partly from joy. She was going to have her baby.
Our baby, a voice corrected as a face swam in her mind’s eye, gray eyes shining above high, hard cheekbones.
Cat shook away the image, blocking it out as she had done hundreds of times in the last months. “My baby. This is my son.” Her hand moved protectively over her stomach, asserting possession.
She didn’t know how long she stood there, mentally adjusting to the idea that the baby was coming now, not next week. She felt no compunction to hurry, to sound the alarm, confident she had plenty of time and more concerned that she appear calm and poised when she faced the others, especially the ranch hands.
She thought through the steps she needed to take—send Tucker out to the herd to inform her father, drive back to the house and pick up her bag, phone Dr. Dan—and the second pain stabbed through her, impossibly stronger than the last, drawing an involuntary cry of surprise and agony from her before Cat could bite it off.
This was too soon. There was supposed to be more time between contractions. Even as some rational part of her mind registered those thoughts, she felt the wet gush of her water breaking. Dear God, the baby was coming now!
Still caught in the throes of the contraction and struggling to breathe through it, she heard hoofbeats pound out the familiar cadence of a trotting horse. Someone called her name, but she couldn’t respond, not with this knife blade brutally twisting inside her womb.
She clutched at the side of the trailer, half-doubled over with the pain, teeth clenched, grinding. An uncertain hand touched her.
Through half-closed eyes, Cat saw a pair of worn and dusty boots, then her uncle’s thin and worried face peering at her from beneath his hat brim.
“Cat, what’s wrong? Is it—” He broke off the question, a kind of panic and frozen helplessness in his eyes.
She nodded, the pain beginning to dull now, at last allowing her to focus on something else. “Get Jessy,” she said, panting, aware it was no longer her father she needed; it was a woman. “Quick!”
White-faced, Culley needed no second urging. He bolted from her and sprang into the saddle, sawing at the reins to wheel his horse away from the trailer before sinking in the spurs. The startled gelding leaped into a gallop. Continually jabbed by spurs and lashed by the reins, the horse never slackened its headlong place.
Heads turned as Culley charged the herd, but he took no notice, his eyes frantically searching and locating the distinctive tawny yellow of Jessy’s hair. He rode straight to her, mindless of the cattle scattering before him and the curses of the riders trying to hold them.
“Culley, what the hell are you doing—” Jessy took one look at his white and wild face and her anger vanished. She knew. “It’s Cat.”
His head jerked in a nod, his horse wheeling and turning beneath him. “The baby’s coming. You got to help her.”
Although Jessy didn’t share his degree of alarm, she did recognize that action needed to be taken. Standing in her stirrups, she waved and shouted to her father-in-law, “It’s Cat. She’s started.”
He lifted a hand in acknowledgment. She saw Ty was with him. As one, the two men turned their horses toward the noon camp. Jessy did the same, letting her mount break into a gallop to keep up with O’Rourke.
All four riders converged on the camp about the same time. Culley led them behind the stock trailer where he had left Cat. She was sitting on the ground, half-propped against a tire, her body arching in agony, a fist jammed in her mouth to choke back a scream, her legs spraddled, and her face contorted with pain, sweat plastering loose strands of hair to her face.
Jessy peeled out of the saddle and threw the reins at Culley. “Take the horses and get them out of here.” She hurried to Cat’s side, kneeling down and taking hold of her hand, wincing a little a
s Cat’s fingers instantly dug into it. “Easy now,” she murmured. “Remember to breathe.”
Cat threw her a grateful look, a glimmer of fear mixing with the pain in her green eyes. Chase saw it as he awkwardly knelt beside her, overriding the protest of his stiffened joints.
“Damn it. Cat, why didn’t you listen to me? I told you a roundup was no place for you.” Irritation and concern warred as he watched the look of pain slowly diminish and her teeth loosen their grip on the fist in her mouth, her muscles relaxing.
“That was a dandy.” Cat blew out a breath and gave him a weak smile.
Chase was unimpressed by her show of bravery. “Come on. Let’s get you in the truck and to the hospital. Ty, give me a hand.” He tunneled an arm under her to help her to her feet.
“It’s no use.” Cat shook her head, a smile still edging the corners of her mouth. “Your grandson isn’t going to wait for a hospital.”
“Are you sure?” Jessy studied her closely.
“Oh, I am very sure,” Cat said with a decisive nod of her chin. “The contractions are coming much too fast. This little guy is in a big hurry.” She stroked a hand over her stomach.
“Then we’ll get you to the house,” Chase replied, not to be put off.
“We won’t make it, Dad. And I’m not going to have my son born in the cab of a pickup somewhere between here and there.” On that, Cat was adamant.
“I’ll be damned if he’s going to be born out here,” he snapped.