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Chapter Twenty-Three
Luke looked up at the sound of barking. Down on the other side of the gate, Slate had stopped fiddling with the pins as well.
Axle took off, barking in return, and Slate laughed at his dog. “Stupid thing. Ursula’s probably found that rabbit hole, and she’ll growl Axle out of getting any.”
Luke smiled and focused back on the board he’d been trying to get loose. The wind had taken the gate and twisted it in several different directions. In his opinion, it would’ve been easier to remove this one and rebuild a whole new one. He’d suggested as much to Ginger, but apparently, this gate had sentimental value, and she wanted to salvage as much of it as she could.
Axle’s barking continued, fading for a moment and then coming closer again. He circled Slate, barking at him in a way Luke had never seen before.
“What’s going on?” Slate asked, looking out toward the stables and barns. Axle paced toward it, looked over his shoulder, and came back to circle Slate.
Over and over, until Luke said, “He wants you to go with him.”
“Ursula is still barking too.” Slate wore a specific worry on his face then, and Luke remembered the last time the two dogs had been worked up like this.
A trespasser had come to Hope Eternal Ranch.
They both abandoned the gate at the same time, and they both strode toward the sound of Ursula barking.
Though it was November, and Nick was working on keeping the grasses mowed down, he hadn’t done it along this stretch of road. Most people used the one that ran from the back of the homestead toward the barns and stables, and only tourists used this road when they came for summer camps, the wild boar hunt, or to stay in the cabins out in the wetlands.
Luke caught sight of Ursula, though she wasn’t moving. She held very still, in fact, her bark continuous and very loud now that he and Slate were closer.
“There’s someone on the ground,” Luke said, breaking into a jog. “Do you see that?”
“No,” Slate said, catching up to him. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know.” Luke’s heart pounded in his chest. Could it be someone from the ranch? Or someone who’d stumbled onto the ranch and needed help?
A few more strides, and everything inside Luke screamed. “Dear Lord,” he said. “It’s Hannah.” He sprinted now, moving as fast as he could. His wife. His dear, pregnant wife was lying on the ground, two dogs around her now, barking for everything they were worth.
“Hannah,” he yelled. “Slate, call nine-one-one.” Luke slid as if he was trying to get to second base before the ball and nearly ran into Hannah’s body. “Hannah.” He panted, his lungs working overtime to get the air he needed. “Angel, open your eyes.”
He tried to see what was wrong with her, scanning down her face, across her neck, shoulders, and down to her hands. She didn’t appear to be bleeding, but her body jerked as if someone had hooked her to a bolt of electricity.
He rested her head in his lap, tears dangerously close. Nearby, Slate’s voice said something, and Luke seized onto it.
“Hannah,” he said, inhaling some reason into his mind. “Baby, can you wake up?” He put his hand on her belly where she was carrying their baby, and that was when he noticed the blood stains on her pants.
Terror gripped him, but he still somehow knew what to do. “She’s gone into labor,” he called to Slate. “How far away are they?” He stood and bent to lift his wife into his arms. The hospital was only fifteen minutes from here. If the paramedics wouldn’t be here that fast, he could get her to the hospital.
“They’ve sent an ambulance,” Slate said. “Eleven minutes.” He held Luke’s gaze as he settled Hannah’s head against his shoulder. “No, she’s not awake…yes, she’s bleeding.” He swallowed and looked at Hannah’s legs.
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll do that. I’ll stay on the line until we can get her back to the house.”
“The house?” Luke asked, near panic. “What are they saying?”
“They want us to get her into a bed or the back of a car. Somewhere she can lie down but potentially have the baby.”
“Have the baby?” Luke shook his head, his steps heavy as he started back toward the gate. His truck was parked there, and it was the closest to the ambulance he could get. “Tell them to hurry. She’s not having the baby here at the ranch.”
She would kill him if he let that happen. He looked down at her face, noting how white it was. He hated that she wouldn’t open her eyes. “I’m not going to let that happen, angel, okay? You’re not having our son here.”
* * *
Slate followed Luke closely,ready to jump forward and brace him if he should start to fall. Hannah was eight months pregnant, but Slate wasn’t surprised Luke could lift her. He’d always been so strong, and he could do anything when it came to Hannah.
Slate needed to call Jill, and Ginger, and everyone. They’d all come running, because that was what they did for each other around here. He saw someone moving up ahead to his left, and he put his fingers in his mouth and whistled.
