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Her pleading voice ebbed away on the wing of pain, but not before the sound hit Dax in the solar plexus. What kind of jerk did she take him for?
Guilt pinched him. Okay, so he’d resented the interruption to his afternoon. He’d wanted to drive right past. The point was he hadn’t. He might be a jerk, but he wasn’t a complete slimeball. Most of the time.
He touched her foot, hoping to reassure her. She was barefoot. A pair of fancy-looking silver shoes, complete with a perky bow, rested on the floor. He had the silliest thought that her feet were pretty. Slim and elegant like one of those ballet dancers.
What the devil was she doing out here alone?
“I need some things from my truck,” he said. “It’s right behind us. Not far at all. I’ll only be a minute.”
He loped to his Ford and dug out any-and everything he could find in the cab that might be of some use. There wasn’t much, but he had an old blanket and plenty of water. A rancher could never be certain when he might be ten miles from the house and need water or a blanket. At least he could wash his hands and wrap the baby when it arrived. A bright-red bandanna on the floorboard caught his eye. Gavin had left it behind. Though the cloth was likely none too clean, he grabbed it anyway and drenched the soft cotton with water.
Back at the car, he leaned in to wipe the wet bandanna over the woman’s damp forehead.
“It’s me again,” he said and then felt stupid for saying it. Who else would it be? The Seventh Cavalry?
The little mama made a small humming noise he took for gratitude. She must have been in between a contraction because her eyes were closed and her expression less tense.
As he straightened, he caught a whiff of some sweet-scented flower. Imagine, smelling like flowers at a time like this. She looked like a nightmare, but she smelled good.
He wondered one final time if he could toss her in the truck and get to the hospital in Saddleback in time.
Just as the thought flitted across his mind, her eyes flew open, distressed. “Oh, no. It’s coming again.”
She grabbed for his hand and squeezed with a grip that would have taken down a sumo wrestler.
“Easy now. Easy,” he said, talking to her the way he would a first-time mare. What else could he do? He was no doctor.
All right, Coleman, he said to himself. You’ve delivered plenty of calves and foals. A baby can’t be much different.
If he believed that he would have gone into the delivery room when Gavin was born.
“You’re doing great. Long, deep breaths. Work with the pain, not against it.” He didn’t know where the advice was coming from, but she seemed to do better when he was talking. “Attagirl. You’re doing good.”
The contraction subsided and she dropped her head back again. Dax shared her relief. This baby-delivering business was hard work. His back ached from bending over the seat and his pulse pounded so hard against his eardrums, he thought he heard tom-toms.
Having long since tossed his hat aside, Dax wiped a sleeve across his forehead. Even with a cool breeze floating through the open door, he was sweating like a pig. But then, so was the little mama.
Drenched in sweat, her hair a wet wad around her face, she reminded Dax of a drowned kitten. Pitiful-looking little thing. Somebody, somewhere was going to be real upset that she was out here alone on the Texas plains having a baby.
He wondered about the baby’s father. About her family. She was young. Though her age was hard to discern at the moment, to an over-the-hill thirty-something like him she looked like a kid. She needed her family at a time like this, not some broken-down old cowboy with a bad attitude, who wanted to be anywhere but here.
She was a brave little thing. He’d give her that. Tough as a pine knot. She had to be scared out of her mind, young as she was, but she hadn’t screamed or fought or carried on the way Reba had. She hadn’t cussed him or the baby, either.
Dax tasted gall as the old humiliating memory thrust itself into his consciousness.
The little mama shifted slightly, emitting a murmur of dread. Another contraction must be on its way.
He gently rubbed her toes. She captured his eyes; a tiny smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Dax felt oddly heartened.
Here they were in about as intimate a situation as he could think of, and he didn’t even know her name. What if something went wrong?
No, he wouldn’t think of that. Even if his life was ruled by Murphy’s Law, he was not going to allow anything bad to happen to this gritty little lady.
“Name’s Dax,” he said. “You feel like telling me yours?”
Something odd flickered behind pain-clouded eyes. She licked dry lips. Then her gaze slid away.
Before Dax could decide if her silence was fatigue or reluctance, the wave of nature took over again. As her shoulders rolled forward, straining, she whispered, “I wanted to be brave, but I’m so scared. Don’t let anything happen to my baby.”
