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Ooh Baby, Baby
Diana Whitney
As a devastating summer storm hits Grand Springs, Colorado, the next thirty-six hours will change the town and its residents forever…
In the midst of a blackout and flooded roads, cowboy Travis Stockwell delivers Peggy Saxon’s two precious babies in the back of his cab. To Travis’s own surprise, the determined single mother’s desire to provide a better life for her children restores his belief in family.
Travis becomes determined to do what’s best for Peggy and the twins even as he falls in love with them. But what if the best thing for them is the stable life he can’t provide? Now the footloose cowboy has to make a choice—one that could change his life forever.
Book 3 of the 36 Hours series. Don’t miss Book 4: A woman has visions of murder—but who will believe her in For Her Eyes Only by New York Times bestselling author Sharon Sala.
Ooh Baby, Baby
Diana K. Whitney
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Chapter One (#u6ea45027-f1ce-5768-b9b7-a836ac85a4a3)
Chapter Two (#uaae08a9c-6be4-5015-99bd-6d9e1e12ce59)
Chapter Three (#u3195065e-9584-5705-833b-3c2695f613c1)
Chapter Four (#uda8152a3-51dd-5463-962e-03f57d26a1e3)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Blackness gripped her like a fist. Outside, the wind howled, and rain pummeled the thin windowpanes. Thunder rumbled. Lightning cracked.
Inside, the silence of her heart was deafening. Terrifying. And so very, very lonely.
Peggy Saxon shifted on the worn sofa to massage the small of her back. It didn’t help. The nagging throb simply wouldn’t go away. She heaved her pregnant bulk sideways, seeking a semicomfortable position. The threadbare sofa arm poked her ribs.
Muttering, Peggy used a strategically tucked throw pillow to pad the exposed wood, then grabbed the tiny battery-powered radio from a nearby table. She needed something to drown out the roaring storm, the inner silence of desolation. She needed music. Voices. Even crackling white noise would be a distraction from desperate sadness, from secret fear.
On the radio, a tight male voice announced new road closures due to mud slides. Phone lines were hit and miss, but the power company, having been flooded out by a massive surge of murky goo, still had no estimate as to when electricity would be restored. A state of emergency had been declared.
It was five o’clock in the morning. There was no light. No heat. The lovely mountain hamlet of Grand Springs, Colorado, was under siege. And Peggy Saxon was alone.
* * *
“Dispatch to unit six. Travis…are you there?”
Travis Stockwell ducked into the cab, knocked his hat off on the door frame and swore as his prized Stetson landed in the mud. He scooped it up, muttered and wiped the brim with a paisley handkerchief.
The raspy female voice boomed with familiar agitation. “Unit six, respond. Respond, dadgummit, or I’ll be tossing out those fancy boots of yours and renting your room to the highest bidder.”
“Aw, for crying out loud.” Travis tossed the wet Stetson on the cab’s front passenger seat, poked the soiled handkerchief back into his pocket, which was already crammed with a soggy pack of pumpkin seeds, and snatched up the microphone. “All right, already. This is unit six, soaking wet, so hungry I could chew cardboard, and so danged tired I don’t give a fat flying fig what you do with that flea-bitten flophouse.”
A long-suffering sigh crackled over the line. “Where’n Sam Hill are you?”
Travis squinted through the splattered windshield toward a weary group of guardsmen hoisting the gear he’d just unloaded. “Near as I can figure, about a half mile from the cutoff road to Mountain Meadows campground. I just dropped off the evacuation troop.”
“What’s your ETA?”
“I dunno. Thirty minutes, maybe sooner if the traffic lights are back on line.”
“They’re not. The whole town is blacked out. Oh, and don’t take Orchard Road back into town.”
“Mud slide?”
“Big one. Looks like it might have taken a couple cars.”
Travis swore, slapped the steering wheel. “Maybe I should head that way to see if I can help.”
The microphone crackled. “Jimmy’s already en route with a group of volunteers and a trunk full of shovels. I need you back in town. Every emergency vehicle in the area is tied up. City hall is scrambling for rescue transport.”
“On my way,” Travis said, and flipped the ignition with his free hand. “Unit six out.”
“Travis, keep this radio on. Cell service is going in and out, so this is the only way I can always reach you”
“Yeah, okay.”
“You be careful, hear?”
“I will, sis.” With that, he dropped the mike, shifted into gear and drove into the blinding rain.
* * *
Light blasted away blackness. The dingy duplex shuddered through thunder, screeched as if in pain.
Peggy gasped, suddenly awake, clutched her distended belly and struggled to her feet. An eerie energy crawled up her arms, lifting the fine hairs. Another flash, another roar. She covered her ears, bit her lip, may have cried out, but the sound was swallowed by a deafening crack and the reverberating crash of splintered lumber. Her scalp tingled, felt singed.
Peggy couldn’t hear the scream but felt it explode from her parched throat. She wrapped her arms over her head, curled forward to protect the precious life in her womb. The house was collapsing around her. She knew it. She felt it. She heard the agonized shriek of fractured wood, of ripped nails. The floor rumbled beneath her feet.
Then the rumbling softened into silence.
She heard a thin sob, then realized it had come from her. Opening her eyes, she blinked into the darkness, seeing nothing but familiar shadows of doorways and lumpy furniture. Now, all she heard was the rain. The pounding, incessant rain.
Shaking violently, Peggy felt around the sofa cushions until her fingers brushed smooth metal, the flashlight that had been beside her throughout the long, black night. Her hand quivered around it, her thumb spasmed against the protruding switch. A beam of brilliant reassurance bounced from a wall.
She swept the light around the room, across the ceiling and over the floor, stopping briefly on the wall clock, which read eight o’clock. Everything was as it should be. No giant cracks, no collapsing timbers. The pocket radio had fallen under the coffee table, but the sparsely furnished room was otherwise tidy.
Peggy swept the light toward the front door, then veered left to aim the beam through the window and check the front porch—or rather, what was left of it.
The dilapidated decking had been crushed by an enormous pine that had once shaded the south side of the duplex and was now wedged against her front door. Judging by the angle at which the tree had fallen, she suspected that the other half of the duplex had borne the brunt of the damage. Fortunately, the unit was vacant, which meant her nearest neighbor was a quarter mile away.
Swallowing a sour surge of panic, Peggy told herself the damage probably wasn’t as bad as it looked. Besides, the storm would be over soon. It had to be. The town couldn’t take much more.
Peggy couldn’t take much more.
She wiped her forehead, mildly surprised as a coating of icy fear came away on her fingertips. No shame in that. It was okay to be scared. As long as you didn’t show it, didn’t provide a weakness to target. Fear was a private matter, a respected adversary to be acknowledged, then controlled and ultimately defeated.
Peggy understood the process intimately. She’d fought fear all her life. She’d always won. Always.
Until now.
The grinding pain ripped her belly like a buzz saw, doubling her over. She had no breath to cry out, but her mind screamed for her. Fear surged victorious. She was in labor. She was terrified.
And she was alone.
* * *
Travis jammed the brakes, cursing. The cab fishtailed to a stop. In front of him, an impatient line of vehicles bunched behind an overturned big rig blocking both lanes of traffic. He sighed, tugged his hat down to his eyebrows and reached for the microphone.
“Unit six to dispatch.” When there was no immediate response, he gave the mike button an impatient tap. “Aw, hell, Sue Anne, quit sucking soda and get on the danged radio. I don’t have all day.”
Actually, it appeared that he did have all day. That eighteen-wheeler wasn’t going anywhere on its own, and Travis suspected it would be hours before the emergency team could spring loose the heavy-duty equipment needed to clear the roadway. At least the rain had eased to a dull drizzle, and it was just now becoming light—even though dawn broke hours ago.
The microphone emitted a juicy hiss. “Dang you, Travis, you are such a brat.”
“Caught you, didn’t I? You know, sis, there’s a twelve-step program for people who can’t control their cola. You ought to look into it.” He held the transmission button down so he didn’t have to listen to a sputtered reply, and squinted through the smeared windshield. “The interstate transition is blocked by a semi. I might be able to backtrack toward Virginia Road, but it’ll add a forty-five to my ETA.”
When he finally remembered to release the mike switch, Sue Anne was in midsentence. “About five miles from your location.”
He frowned. “Say again?”
“We have an emergency relay from 911 dispatch. Pickup is at 5662 Rourke Way.”
Travis was familiar with the street, a rutted two-lane cutting a rural swath around the outskirts of town. He jotted the address on a scratch pad affixed to the dash. “I’ll be there in ten.”
He hung a U-turn, stomped the accelerator and sped away.
* * *
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
Short, shallow breaths. Pant like a dog. That’s what the book said, wasn’t it? Or maybe it said to take a deep breath and hold it. Peggy couldn’t remember. It had been more than three hours since her first pain, and suddenly, dear Lord, she couldn’t remember.
If only she’d taken the Lamaze classes her doctor had suggested. But she hadn’t, because the classes were geared for couples and she’d been too embarrassed to go alone. So she’d bought a handbook on childbirth, read it cover to cover and thought she was prepared.
Only now she couldn’t remember what the book said, what she was supposed to do.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Peggy willed herself to be calm and to focus on what she’d learned. Short breaths. Yes, she was sure now. Short breaths during labor, deep breaths during crowning, when it was time to push.
To push.
Oh, God.
The contraction eased, allowing panic to bubble like bad beer. It was too soon, Peggy thought frantically. Too soon. She wasn’t due for three weeks. She wasn’t ready to give birth, not ready at all.
Her heart raced, pumping icy perspiration out of every pore. She licked her lips. They were rough, cracked. Dry as dirt.
The doctor was waiting at the hospital. When she’d phoned a few hours ago, he’d told her that everything would be all right. And she wanted to believe him. She did believe him.
The image of kind blue eyes and a rumpled, grandfatherly smile warmed her heart. Dr. Dowling had been good to her. He understood how difficult things had been since Clyde left, and had gone out of his way to spend extra time during her appointments, time to calm, to soothe her. Peggy longed for that comfort now, for the gentle touch of proficient hands, the resonant, parental voice that made her feel safe and secure.
He was waiting for her. At the hospital. Now.
Where the hell was that cab?
A glance at the front window confirmed that morning had indeed come. Cold, wet. Gray. The fallen tree loomed enormous, its massive trunk blocking all but a bleak sliver of gloomy sky.
The thought occurred to her that there was no way for her to get out through the front door, no way for anyone else to get in. But Peggy couldn’t worry about that now, because a viselike tightness was working its way from the base of her spine to around her belly.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
The pain swelled, twisted, sliced like a dull blade. Tears sprang to her eyes. She curled forward, wanting to scream, but her lungs were in spasm.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
Peggy gritted her teeth, dug her fingers into the sofa cushions and imagined a hundred innovative ways for the ex-husband who’d abandoned her to die ugly.
* * *
