Drive-By Daddy: Drive-By Daddy / Calamity Jo. Patricia Knoll

cowboy grew alert, quietly looking from Darcy’s face to the place where the action was. “Well, someone forgot to tell your daughter, I reckon. Okay, here we go. Ride it out, Darcy. That’s good. Breathe. You’re doing fine. You need to push?”

      Her eyes now squeezed shut, her neck muscles corded with her effort, Darcy nodded and shrieked, “Yes. I need to push, dammit. That’s what I’m doing. My back! My back is killing me.”

      Suddenly her eyes popped open. The cowboy had grabbed her arms and was—she couldn’t believe it—literally pulling her to her feet, to a squatting position. “I’ve obviously never had a baby before, Darcy—”

      “Well, neither have I, you…man, you!” It was the worst thing she could think to call him at this moment.

      He blinked but otherwise ignored her outburst. “But I know what the Crow women say. It doesn’t hurt so bad if you’re squatting. It relieves some of the pain.” Then, holding her steady he reached around her with his other hand and rubbed her lower back.

      Blessedly, unbelievably, she did feel better in this position. But weak, tired, certain she couldn’t keep this up, and wanting to be anywhere but here, Darcy leaned her weight into him, resting her forehead on his shoulder and clutching at his shirt. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m not usually this mean.”

      “It’s okay,” he soothed. “I’m not usually this helpful.”

      Darcy sniffled into his shoulder. Something else, something totally inconsequential, occurred to her. “Where’s your white hat?”

      “In the cab.”

      She nodded, breathing in the clean scent of warm man and aftershave. “Like the Lone Ranger.”

      His hand on her back stilled. “What?”

      “Your white hat. The white truck. Your being here to help me. Like the Lone Ranger.”

      “I’m hardly the Lone Ranger. I don’t make it a habit to go around looking for damsels who need rescuing.”

      “Well, I’m glad you did today. You got a cell phone? Need to call my mother.”

      “Your mother? How about an ambulance?”

      “My mother’s a volunteer at the hospital. She’d get an ambulance out here.”

      “Makes sense. Yeah, I’ve got one, but not with me. Can you believe it? It’s back at the hotel.”

      “Mine, too. At the house. Forgot it.” Then Darcy felt the surging pain again and clutched at him. “Oh, no. Here comes another one. Hold me.”

      And he did. As her pain escalated, as it ate at the fringes of her consciousness, he talked to her…and rubbed her lower back. Darcy could only capture a few words, but she clung to them as if they were the keys to her sanity. Montana…means mountainous regions…land of blue sky…and cattle…beautiful country, Darcy…you ever been there…that’s good, you’re doing fine…lots of good grazing land…just here on business…can’t believe he came down this road…he’d been turned around, going the wrong way, otherwise—

      “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, Cowboy—here she comes! Help me!”

      “I will.” And he did. Quickly but gently, he laid Darcy back on the blanket, propping her shoulders against the rolled blanket and forcing her grasping hands around her bent knees. From his shirt pocket he pulled a bandanna and quickly rolled it, finally tying a big knot in it. “Here.” He stuffed it in her mouth.

      “Bite down on this.” She did, never taking her gaze away from his face. Sweat trickled down his temples. “Okay, Darcy, a few good, hard pushes, and we’ll get your little girl out here where we can look her over.”

      With that, he scooted back on his knees, assumed a catcher’s position, and put a hand on Darcy’s knee. Then his gaze met hers. “You can do this, Darcy.”

      He sounded so sure. Darcy nodded, her jaw clenching around his bandanna. And then wave after wave of searing pain hit her, nearly casting her into unconsciousness. All she could hear was the cowboy’s calm voice, urging her, encouraging her. All she could feel was the hard truck bed under her, the heat of the glaring sun above her. All she could do was push and breathe and groan and push again. And watch his face and listen to his voice…the Lone Ranger.

      “Son of a—Here she comes, Darcy!” Excitement captured him. “Push, Darcy. Ohmigod. I’ve got her, Darcy. Here’s her head. Breathe. Push, push. Okay, got her shoulders. She’s a beauty. A ton of black hair. The hard part’s over. Quit pushing…okay, I—well, I’ll be damned. A baby. A whole brand-new baby! She’s here, Darcy. We did it. Our little girl. Look!”

      Exhausted, wringing with sweat, tired beyond belief, but elated to the point of tears, Darcy looked. Sure enough. There she was…a beautiful little pinkeningup and squalling baby girl. The child had black hair. Just like her mother’s. And was mad at the world. Just like her mother. Darcy pulled the bandanna out of her mouth and reached for her daughter. “My baby. Give me my baby.”

      “Congratulations, Mama,” he said, handing the baby to her and grinning from ear to ear. Then, and as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do, he leaned over Darcy, smoothing her dampened hair back from her forehead as he kissed her there and cupped her cheek with a warm and work-callused hand. With his face close to hers, he said, “You did just fine, Darcy. Just fine. Your little girl looks just like her mama. Real beautiful.”

      Lost in the moment, Darcy covered his hand with hers and then lifted it to kiss his palm. “Thank you.” The sobbing words were all she could get out as her gaze locked with his. She saw his mouth working as he nodded and moved back. Then she turned her complete attention to her daughter. Darcy carefully lifted her baby until the soft, wet head was nestled in the crook of her own neck, and whispered, “My baby. My sweet little girl. I love you.”

      In the next few moments, Darcy’s attention remained riveted on her child. She wiped at her, cleaning and caressing her, looking her over, checking her color and making sure she was breathing okay. She all but forgot her cowboy deliverer as he worked quietly to help her body complete the birthing process.

      Once that was done, he caught her attention as he worked his way up to her head and gently removed the blanket from under her shoulders and wrapped it around her waist and legs. Then, with his shadow casting Darcy in blessed shade and drawing her attention up to him, she saw him reach into the pocket of his jeans and pull out a pocket knife…which he opened. Darcy’s eyes widened.

      “Umbilical cord,” he said. “Got to cut the little filly loose.”

      “Oh, God.” Darcy clutched her tiny daughter tighter.

      The cowboy hunkered down beside Darcy, putting a big, warm and strong hand on her shoulder. “I’ll leave it pretty long, enough to tie it off into a knot. The doctor can clean it up later.” Darcy whimpered. He squeezed her shoulder gently. “It’s okay. I’ve done this before, Darcy.”

      “To calves,” she blurted.

      “Yep. Same principle.” Very matter-of-factly, just like his answer, he opened the knife’s blade and reached into a shirt pocket to pull out a match book. Darcy’s eyes widened even more. “Got them at the hotel. Always pick them up even though I don’t smoke. They’re more of a reminder of all the places I’ve been. Glad I grabbed them, though. I need to sterilize the blade.”

      “Oh, God.”

      His eyebrows rose. “You can trust me. I wouldn’t hurt a fly. Much less a sweet little baby.” His gaze then locked with Darcy’s. “Or her mama.”

      Darcy swallowed, nodded, and looked down, kissing her baby’s head. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” she cooed. “We won’t let anything happen to you.” We? Who’s this we, Darcy? She shot a look to the cowboy…and simply took a deep breath, suspending any further thoughts of him.

      Thankfully—to