Song of the West (11 page)

Chapter Eleven

The days grew hot and sultry. The skies were improbably blue, rarely softened by clouds.

Long hours in the sun had deepened the honey of Samantha's skin, teasing out the gold in her hair. As long as she was occupied, she had no time for soul searching. She could enjoy the long summer days without thinking of the fall. As Sabrina wilted like a thirsty rose in the searing heat, Samantha confined her own activities to the early-morning hours. In the long, hot haze of the afternoon, Sabrina moved slowly through the house, her body clumsy. Samantha did not dare leave her. The baby was due in two weeks, and Samantha wanted to remain within calling distance of her sister as much as possible.

One particularly humid afternoon, the two women were sitting idly in the living room. Sabrina got up heavily from her chair to look out the window. “Sam,” she said, “before Dan left for town, he said a storm was brewing. From the looks of the sky, I'd say he was right.”

Before Samantha could answer, there was a sudden flash of lightning. A blast of thunder rolled in on the wind, and the rain began to fall in sheets.

“It's coming down fast,” Samantha agreed. “It should cool us off a bit.” She looked sympathetically at her sister's bulky form.

The storm built in power. Jagged flashes of lightning illuminated the room, and an angry wind hurled the rain against the windows. The two women watched in fascination as the storm exhausted itself. Soon rain dripped tentatively from the eaves and the thunder was a mere grumble in the distance.

The sun struggled to reappear, breaking through the gloom with a hazy promise of light.

“That,” Sabrina commented with an enormous sigh, “was a mean one.”

Samantha turned from her place by the window and again slumped into a chair. “Remember when you used to hide in the closet whenever we had a thunderstorm?”

“All too well.” She gave her sister a pained smile. “And you used to stand on the porch, loving every minute of it, until Mom dragged you in, soaking wet. On that note from the past,” Sabrina announced, “I'm going to take a nap, Sam.” She turned at the doorway and studied the woman slouched in the chair, bare legs and feet stretched out in unconscious grace. “I love you.”

With a rather puzzled smile, Samantha watched her walk away.

Wandering out to the porch, Samantha drank in the rain-fresh air. Everything sparkled. Raindrops clung like jewels to blossoms and leaves. Though the flowers had drooped with the weight of the storm, their colors had been washed into brilliant life. A bird, flying by on a shaft of light, trilled above her. She could hear the steady dripping of the rain off the eaves above the whisper of the dying wind. Satisfied, she curled up on a porch rocker and instantly fell asleep.

She had no idea how long she had drifted in the soft twilight world when, with reluctance, she woke at the touch of a hand on her shoulder. She looked up drowsily and yawned. “Oh, Bree, I must have fallen asleep. It's so wonderfully cool out here.”

“Sam, I think the baby's decided to put in an unscheduled appearance.”

“Huh? Oh!” Springing to her feet, she was instantly awake. “Right now? Dan's not here, and it's not time yet. Sit down, sit,” she ordered, running agitated fingers through her hair.

“I think the first thing to do is to calm down,” Sabrina suggested.

“You're right. I'm not going to fall apart, it was just a shock. I wasn't expecting this for another week or two.”

“Neither was I.” Sabrina's smile was half amused, half apologetic.

“All right, how long have you been having contractions, and how far apart are they?”

“Only for an hour or so.”

“That should give us plenty of time.” Samantha patted Sabrina's hand.

“But they've been getting awfully strong, and . . .” Breaking off, she closed her eyes and began to breathe in a deep, methodical rhythm. “And,” she continued, after a final long breath, “awfully close together.”

“How close?” Samantha asked, feeling new tension at the base of her neck.

“Ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes,” Samantha repeated. “I'd better get you to the hospital. I'll bring the car around. Stay put,” she told her sister, and raced to the garage.

Upon reaching Sabrina's compact and sliding behind the wheel, Samantha was horrified to find the engine unresponsive to the turn of the key. The little car sputtered, emitted an apologetic groan and died.

“You can't,” she insisted, and smacked the steering wheel. “We just had you fixed.”

There was no use wasting more time trying to figure out what was wrong with the car. It was clearly not going to start, and Samantha hadn't the first idea of where to look for the problem.

Rushing back to the house, she picked up the phone in the kitchen. At least she could call Dr. Gates. A groan of despair was wrenched from her when she heard the dead silence on the line. Oh, no, the storm must have knocked out the phones!

Forcing herself to appear calm, she returned to the living room where Sabrina was waiting for her.

Reaching her sister again, Samantha knelt down so their eyes were level. “Bree, the car won't start. All the trucks and jeeps are out with the men, and the storm must have knocked down the phone lines.”

“Looks like we've got a few problems.” Sabrina took a deep breath.

“It's going to be all right.” Samantha took her hand in reassurance. “I'll help you get into bed, and then I'll take a horse and ride toward the Double T. If I don't see any of the men on the way, I'll get a truck there and bring it back. Most of them have radios, and I can call ahead to the doctor.”

“Sam, it's going to take time for you to get there, and to get back. I don't think I'll make it in time to get to the hospital after that. You'll have to have the doctor come here.”

“Here?” Samantha repeated. Her throat closed on the word. Sabrina nodded. “All right. Don't worry, I won't be long. I'll be back as soon as I can.” Samantha raced off to the stables, and without wasting the time for a saddle, she leaped on her mare's back.

The familiar landscape was a blur, as she urged more speed out of the powerful horse. The sound of her own breath was masked by the sound of thudding hooves. Every minute she took was a minute longer that Sabrina was alone. She crouched lower on the horse and dug in bare heels.

When Samantha spotted the men on horseback, she spurred the Arabian over the fence in a fluid leap. As her hooves touched earth, she met the horse's sides again. They streaked across the field, scattering annoyed cattle.

When she reached the group, she reined in sharply. The mare reared, nearly unseating her. Her breath came in gasps as she struggled to keep her seat.

“What are you trying to do, break your neck?” Furiously Jake snatched the reins from her hands. “If you're stupid enough not to care about yourself, think of your horse. What do you mean riding like a fool and jumping fences? Where's your saddle? Have you lost your mind?”

“Bree,” she managed at last between giant gulps of air. “The baby's coming, and the phone's out. The car wouldn't start, and there's nobody around. Dan's in town. Bree says there's no time to get her to the hospital now, and I have to call the doctor.” She felt tears of fear burning at her eyes and bit her lip.

“All right, take it easy.” Twisting in the saddle, Jake called out to one of his men. “Get back to the ranch and get hold of Dr. Gates on the CB radio. Tell him Sabrina Lomax is in labor and to get to the Lazy L in a hurry.” Turning back, he handed the reins to Samantha. “Let's go.”

“Are you coming back with me?” Flooded with relief, she gripped tight on the leather.

“What do you think?”

Together, they sprang forward in a gallop.

Speed and thundering hooves were all Samantha ever remembered of the ride back. There was no time for conversation, no time for thought. She was sliding to the ground before she came to a full stop, and Jake once more secured her reins.

“Keep your head, Samantha,” he ordered, watching her bound up the steps and through the front door.

The house was silent. Her stomach tightened as she rushed to the master bedroom. Sabrina sat up in bed, propped by a mound of pillows and greeted her with a cheerful smile.

“That was quick, did you fly?”

“Just about,” Samantha returned, faint with relief.

“We've sent for the doctor. Everything's under control.” She sat down on the bed, taking her sister's hand. “How are you doing?”

“Not too bad.” Her hand closed over Samantha's, as much to reassure as seeking reassurance. “I'm glad you're back. Here comes another one.”

Samantha looked on with unfamiliar helplessness. Her fingers grew tighter over her twin's, as if to steal some of her pain.

“We can thank Mom for that book on natural childbirth.” Sabrina gave a long, shaky sigh and relaxed against the pillows.

“Don't look so worried, I'm doing fine. Oh, hello, Jake.” Glancing at the doorway, Sabrina greeted him with friendly cheerfulness. “I didn't know you were here. Come in. It's not contagious.”

He advanced into the room, looking tall, male and out of place. His hands retreated to his pockets. “How're you doing?”

“Oh, well, you've seen a cow in labor before, I don't imagine there's much difference.” The small hand tightened on Samantha's. “Here we go again.”

Samantha lifted the hand to her cheek.
Where was the doctor?
Sabrina should be in the hospital, surrounded by experts.

“This baby's in a big hurry,” Sabrina announced with a small moan. “I'm sorry, Sam, it's not going to wait much longer.”

I don't know anything about childbirth, Samantha thought in a moment of terror.
What am I going to do? What do I do first?

Standing, she turned to Jake. “Go sterilize some towels, lots of them, and some string and scissors.”

“All right.” His hand rested on her shoulder a moment. “If you need me, give a call.”

Nodding, she moved into the adjoining bath and scrubbed her hands and arms until they hurt.

“You're going to be fine,” she stated as she reentered the bedroom.

“Yes, I am.” Sabrina lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes. “I'm going to have this baby, Sam, and I'm going to do a good job of it. You can't do this for me, I have to be strong.”

“You are strong.” Brushing away the hair from Sabrina's cheeks, she realized with a sudden jolt that it was true. “You're stronger than I ever knew.”

Her calm had returned, and she took over the duties of midwifery with an instinct as old as time. She wiped moisture from her sister's face, working with her, breathing with her, uttering soothing encouragements. Sabrina had not gone through all she had to lose now, and Samantha would not allow anything to go wrong.

“All right.” Wiping beads of sweat from her own brow, Samantha straightened. “I think she's going to come this time, it's almost over. You have to help.”

Sabrina nodded, her face pale and composed. Her hair had darkened with dampness. She shuddered and moaned with the final pang of childbirth. A thin, shrill cry pierced the stillness of the room. Samantha held new life in her hands.

“Oh, Bree.” She stared down at the tiny, wriggling form.

Dan burst into the room two steps ahead of the doctor.

Suddenly, it was all so simple, Dan standing by Sabrina's side, his large hand clutching hers, the small, fresh form swaddled in the curve of her mother's arms.

“Only one.” Sabrina sighed, her eyes luminous. “You'll have to handle the twins, Sam. One at a time is enough for me.”

***

Sometime later, Samantha shut the door behind her and walked toward the kitchen. Jake looked up at her approach.

“A girl.” She lowered herself into a chair. “The doctor says she's perfect, almost seven pounds. Bree's fine.” She pushed at her tumbled hair and ran a hand across her brow. “I want to thank you.”

“I didn't do anything.”

“You were here.” She lifted her eyes, and they were young and vulnerable. “I needed to know you were here.”

“Samantha.” He smiled and shook his head. “You sure find a man's weak points. I'll get you a drink.”

He was back in a moment with a decanter of brandy and two snifters. Sitting across from her, he filled both generously. “It's not champagne, but it'll do.” Lifting his glass, he touched it solemnly to hers. “To mother and child, and to Samantha Evans.” He paused, his smile fading into seriousness. “She's one hell of a woman.”

Samantha folded her arms on the table, laid her head on them and burst into tears.

“I was so scared.” She found her voice muffled against his shoulder as he brought her against him. “I've never been so scared. I thought I would lose them both.”

He tilted her chin as one hand rubbed the small of her back. “You're a survivor, Sam, and too stubborn to let anything happen to Sabrina or the baby.”

Her forehead dropped to his chest as she struggled to stem the flow of tears.

“I always seem to fall apart in front of you.”

“Don't much care for that, do you?” She felt his lips descend to her hair and allowed herself the joy of being cradled in his arms. “Most people don't look for perfection, Sam, they find it boring. You,” he said, framing her face with his hands, “are never boring.”

She sniffed and smiled. “I guess that was a compliment.” Giving in to impulse, she leaned over and rested her cheek against his. “I don't think you're boring, either.”

“Well.” He stroked her hair a moment, and his voice was curiously soft. “That's about the nicest thing you've ever said to me.

“Now drink some of that.” He pushed her gently away and handed her the brandy.