Читать книгу The Cowboy Seal's Christmas Baby - Laura Altom Marie - Страница 10

Chapter Two

“Sorry.” The man set the cast-iron pot alongside her, then headed back into the storm. “But I’ve got to find the horse. You’re too weak to walk out of here, and—”

“Go. I’m fine. No need to explain.” And there wasn’t. She might not be able to remember her name, but she knew enough to realize Mother Nature wasn’t doing them any favors. The faster the man found their ride, the better.

Once he’d gone, leaving her alone again with her panic, minutes seemed stretched into hours.

What if he was hurt, and she was on her own again? Instinct told her she was a strong woman. If she’d survived giving birth in a tent, she’d somehow make her way back to civilization. But it would sure be a whole lot easier with a friend—not that she and the cowboy could be called friends.

She didn’t even know his name.

But she wanted to.

She eyed the pot he’d set beside her and lifted the lid. Beneath a thin layer of water were two nylon strings and a mean-looking knife. Everything needed for her to cut her son’s cord herself. Once they were separated, she could bundle him, then help her new friend find his horse.

Her backpack was within reach, so she tugged it closer, taking a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer from the front pocket. How could she have known it was there, yet not know her name or who’d fathered her child?

None of this made sense.

Her runaway pulse made her breaths choppy.

Lightning stabbed the earth with enough force to make her jump. Where was the cowboy? He shouldn’t be out in this weather.

Operating with newfound urgency, she exposed her son’s tummy, then enough of her own abdomen as low as she could comfortably reach. She squirted hand sanitizer into her palms, rubbed them together, then tied one nylon string roughly two inches from her baby’s navel. She recalled reading about this procedure and knew there were no nerves in the cord, which is why cutting it didn’t hurt. Doctors clamped it to prevent bleeding. The string would serve essentially the same purpose. She made quick work of tying the second string as low as physically possible, then took the knife from the pot, careful to touch only the bone handle.

Drawing her lower lip into her mouth, she clamped down with her teeth, then made the first cut. The knife was sharp, easily cutting the cord. The second cut was completed as smoothly and while she might have expected to feel a certain melancholy, her current drive to save the stranger who had saved her overrode sentimentality.

Before her son’s delivery, she’d had the forethought to make a pallet of clothes. Those were blood-soaked and ruined. She’d covered herself and the baby with more clothes.

Now she rose, eyeing the stranger’s saddlebags that he’d left inside the tent.

Darkness was falling too fast, making the lightning flashes all the more disturbing.

She swaddled the thankfully still-sleeping baby in a dry sweatshirt, then used the pot’s remaining warm water to wash herself. There were clean undergarments and a jogging suit in her backpack, so after bathing, she hurried to dress before her teeth chattered out of her head. Her long hair was a nuisance. Hands trembling from the cold, she finger-combed the tangles and leaves, then braided it, fastening it with a ponytail holder she’d instinctively known was in her backpack.

The tent floor resembled a crime scene.

After drinking more water and eating a protein bar, she rolled the entire mess into the floor tarp she’d spread, wadded it into a ball, then flung it outside.

She next unrolled her down sleeping bag and tucked the baby inside.

From the stranger’s saddlebags, she borrowed a red long-sleeved flannel shirt. Teeth still chattering, she lost no time in pulling it on.

She found a ball cap in her pack, as well as a plastic pouch containing a foul-weather poncho. Dizzy from the energy she’d expended, she ate a second protein bar, drank a bottled sports drink, then forced a deep breath before ducking out into the storm.

* * *

“JELLY BEAN!” GIDEON climbed onto a boulder, only to slide back down. “I swear to God once I find you, you’re headed straight for the glue factory.” Of course, that would never happen, but in the heat of the moment, the notion deserved consideration.

Thankfully, the sleet had eased up.

The thunder and lightning moved on.

In this part of the country if you didn’t like the weather, all you had to do was stick around ten minutes and it would most likely change. In the higher elevations, snow had already set in, closing the trails and passes.

He spent another thirty minutes circling the camp’s perimeter, but felt obligated not to venture too much farther. With luck, Jelly Bean would return on her own. Without luck? She’d either show up back at the barn or become bear or mountain lion bait. The grim fact forced him to increase his pace.

“Jelly! Where the hell are you, girl?”

He rubbed his left thigh. For the most part, he was one of the lucky ones. His old war wound only reared its ugly head when he overexerted himself or when fronts rolled through. He had friends who’d been to hell and back fighting two wars. One in the Middle East, and another once they got home, battling pills and depression.

A lot of times, Gideon found himself missing the camaraderie of being around his SEAL brothers, but as for the work itself? Never.

“Hello? Sir!”

Gideon frowned.

What was the woman doing out of her tent? He had enough to deal with in rescuing the damned horse. If she went and did something even more stupid than traipsing out into the woods to deliver her baby? Say, like falling and breaking her leg or neck? Then what? He’d be stuck carrying her and the baby home. He rescued. That’s what he did. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Framing his mouth with his hands, he shouted, “Over here!”

In the Navy, his call sign had been Angel. He’d hated it—especially after his injury. Because most days, he felt chased by demons that left him feeling anything but angelic. He was angry. Depressed. Pissed at his ex. None of which he could do anything about, which was why his new life of solitude suited him just fine.

He resented this woman for intruding on his privacy. If it weren’t for her, Jelly Bean might have had a successful test run. On the flip side, better to have found out she still wasn’t at 100 percent now, rather than when she carried an inexperienced rider.

“There you are.”

“Here I am.” He rounded a corner of the trail to find her looking like one of those yellow toy bathtub ducks in her foul-weather gear. “Why aren’t you with your baby?”

“I’m rescuing you.”

He snorted. She’d barely made it fifteen yards from the tent, well within easy earshot to hear if her son made so much as a whimper.

“Any luck finding your horse?”

“Does it look like it?”

“What’s got you so salty?”

“I’m not,” he lied. “I’m just worried about how we’re going to get you out of here.”

“Give me a day to rest up, and we’ll hike.” Her hopeful half smile blinded like staring too long into the sun. He blinked. “I’m not sure how, but I remember feeling most at home outdoors. That must be why I came all the way out here even though I was pregnant. Maybe the fall that conked my head brought on my labor?”

His gaze narrowed. “Wait a minute... If you’re out here without your baby, does that mean you cut his cord?”

She nodded.

“I’m impressed.” He really was. She might be loony, but she had spunk. He admired that in a woman.

She waved off his compliment. “I cleaned that mess in the tent, too, but I’m feeling woozy. Now that I know you’re all right, would you mind if I joined my son in taking a nap?”

“Not at all. Hell, I might grab some shut-eye, too. In my own sleeping bag, of course.”

“Of course.” Her cheeks reddened to an adorable degree. Adorable wasn’t the sort of term he typically bandied about, but for her, it fit.

He held her arm while traversing the last bit of steep trail. He told himself he would have done the same for anyone, but would he? Something about her both annoyed and fascinated him.

“Mind if I ask you something?” she said.

“Depends.” Touchy-feely wasn’t his thing.

“Relax, cowboy.” She covered her mouth while yawning. “I was only going to ask your name.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, then paused to extend his hand. “Gideon Snow.”

“Nice to meet you.” When she pressed her small, cold hand against his, if he hadn’t known better, he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. Stupid. Corny. Inappropriate. “Wish I had a name to call you. For now,” he said, “let’s call you Jane. You know? Like Jane Doe.”

She winced. “That’s not very original.”

“True. But I’m guessing you’ve got family out there missing you. Probably even a husband.”

She’d withdrawn her hand, and now inspected her empty left-hand ring finger. “I don’t feel married.”

Good. Because for some inane, selfish, inexplicable reason, he didn’t want her tied to another man. But then considering what a mess she’d made of Gideon’s day that made no sense. Logically, he should have been thrilled to have her and her baby be someone else’s problem.

The trail widened, and they finished the short walk side by side. The sleet had stopped, but the whole forest sounded as if it were dripping.

A crow’s sharp call rose above the melting sleet’s patter.

“Is it just me,” Jane asked with a shiver, “or is it getting colder?”

“It is,” he said, glad for the distraction from wondering how such a pint-sized woman had found the wherewithal to not only give birth in the forest, but then cut her baby’s umbilical cord before chasing out into the storm.

She was really something.

Not that it mattered.

Gideon wasn’t in the market for female company. That ship had sailed long ago. His contentious divorce guaranteed he’d never again climb aboard the Love Boat.