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.”
