Kat Brookes - The Rancher's Baby Surprise

“What’s your middle name?”

“Austin,” he replied, his attention centered on the tiny face before him.

“Garrett Austin,” Hannah said with a sigh. Her soft, even breathing told him she had finally fallen into an exhausted slumber.

Garrett looked down at the precious bundle he held in his arms and smiled. “Welcome to the world, Garrett Austin Sanders.”

He sat holding the infant for nearly half an hour, his mother and Autumn popping in and out to check on Hannah who was still sound asleep. Both had offered to take the baby, but he’d refused to part with the sleeping infant. While holding something so small—a living, breathing little something—terrified him, Hannah had entrusted him with her baby’s safekeeping. He would keep her son cradled in his arms until she awakened.

That determined thought had no sooner passed through his mind when the sound of the baby’s breathing changed. Not significantly. If he hadn’t been holding the bundled infant against his chest, he might not have even noticed. But it had definitely quickened, the urgent little breaths enough to stir unease in his gut.

He crossed the room and stepped out into the hallway. “Mom,” he called out softly, not wanting to startle the baby.

A second later, she was in the hall, moving toward him. “Honey? Is something wrong?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered with a worried frown as he looked down at the baby. “His breathing seems a little off. I wanted to see what you thought before overreacting.” Preemies might have issues with underdeveloped lungs, but that wasn’t always the case.

Concern lit her features as she leaned in to check on Hannah’s son. That concern remained as she lifted her gaze back up to his. “His coloring doesn’t look good. We need to get him some immediate medical care.”

Care that Garrett couldn’t provide. “Take the baby and have Autumn get Hannah ready to leave.” He started for the front door.

“What are you going to do?” she called after him.

“Whatever it takes,” he answered as he let himself outside.

Minutes later, Hannah was lying across the backseat of his truck, her newborn son held securely in her arms as they drove across the range, along the fence line that ran parallel to the temporarily impassable road. He hated that they didn’t have a car seat for her son, but there was no time to wait for the ambulance to be able to get through. Jackson and Tucker had gone on ahead of them to take down a section of the fence for them to drive through in order to safely access the road beyond the downed wires.

“Garrett,” Hannah said, “I’m scared.”

That made two of them, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “We’ll be at the hospital before you know it. Tucker’s calling to let them know we’re on our way.” He followed his words of assurance up with a silent prayer. One for the baby and one for himself, because he was going to have to step through those dreaded hospital doors.

They were met by hospital personnel with a wheelchair for Hannah at the emergency room pull up. Her son, now laboring for breath, was quickly whisked away ahead of them. Hannah looked up at him, tears in her eyes.

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “It’s going to be all right.”

As soon as she was settled, the hospital attendant wheeled her in through the automatic sliding doors.

Garrett, heart pounding, nausea roiling in his stomach, stood staring at those same doors as they slid shut behind the departing wheelchair. Hannah needed him. But so had Grace. Please, Lord, let us have gotten here in time.

Gathering his courage, more courage than he’d ever needed back when he was riding bulls and broncs professionally, Garrett followed them inside.

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