Page 1 of White Collar Rancher

Chapter 1

“Justin, you need to get to the emergency room.”

Priya’s direct tone cut through his quiet night streaming the fourth season of Longmire. She was using her doctor’s tone. He teased her about it during each prenatal visit. Priya was Maisy’s doctor and that helped take the sting out of each grueling appointment with the unstable, untrustworthy mom of his kid.

But the ER? Justin’s heart clawed into his throat. If Maisy was going into labor, she was supposed to be admitted to the maternity wing, not the ER.

“What’s wrong?” He was already off the couch, stuffing his feet into his dusty cowboy boots. Forgoing a jacket, he banged out the front door. The house would have to stay unlocked. He lived too far out of town for trespassers to be a problem, but it was habit from living in Denver. Besides, his neighbors were all cousins and the land that bordered the back of his own property was his brother’s.

Priya’s curt words spurred him into a jog. “Maisy’s sick and we’re taking the baby. I don’t… I don’t know if she’s going to make it.” The hitch nearly stopped him short. Priya was talking about Maisy, her friend since high school, and trying to hold it together. The three of them had hung out together back then, but nowadays, they were only together during Maisy’s OB visits. His ex was a scourge in his life, but he didn’t want harm to come to her, whether she was carrying his child or not.

“What’s going on, Priya?”

“I’ve got to go. Someone will explain when you arrive, but get here now.” The line went dead.

Hard reality sank in as he fired up his pickup and stomped on the gas.

Maisy was so sick they were delivering his son.

The trip was a blur. He had no idea what was going on and his mind conjured the worst, only he didn’t know what the worst was. His baby wasn’t supposed to come for two weeks. Maisy had refused to settle on a name—another controlling tactic of hers. Her moods had been erratic throughout the pregnancy, swinging from saccharine sweet and apologetic for her outbursts to enraged and jealous that he refused to propose to her—or to even label her his girlfriend. Because she wasn’t.

She had been, then he’d discovered what a two-faced, mean-spirited woman she was and look at that. Now she was pregnant despite his religious use of condoms.

One weak moment when he’d turned to her after—

Well, thinking about his ex in Denver, who was living the good life with the other half of the company they’d built together, wasn’t going to help.

He’d made it through the last thirty-eight weeks telling himself that he’d endure Maisy for the baby. But shifting from endurance to concern for the woman sent his mind spinning. Priya hadn’t said an accident, or early labor, but sick. What was she sick with? She’d been perfectly healthy three days ago at her last prenatal visit.

He swung into the hospital. The lot was sprinkled with cars, but the idea that he wasn’t the only one whose life was changing course tonight didn’t make him feel better.

He rushed inside, slipping through the sliding door the moment there was enough of a gap for him. His boots echoed through the quiet entry. Squinting against the shine of the fluorescent lights, he ignored the three other people in the waiting room. They were scattered among the thirty empty chairs, hunched over or slouched in their seats. He probably knew them, since he’d grown up in Moore, Minnesota, population just under five digits.

A young guy in maroon scrubs watched his approach from behind a wide desk with a plexiglass panel that reached to the ceiling. Justin went straight for the opening.

“Justin Walker.” He said it like his name was a password. Would he get in? He wasn’t Maisy’s significant anything, but surely baby daddy was enough.

The guy nodded. “Right. Dr. Patel’s expecting you, but she wants you to head to the surgical waiting room.”

The guy gave him directions, but all that registered was where he pointed. Justin spun on his heel and strode away. He’d been born in this hospital; surely he could find the way.

Two wrong turns later, he rounded a corner. The area was smaller than the ER waiting room. A coffee machine sat empty and the TV was off.

The sight flooded his system with dread. During one of Maisy’s appointments, Priya had explained that she could perform a C-section, even an emergency C-section, in Moore’s one and only hospital, but he’d never thought it would happen.

Maisy’s parents were tucked into a corner of the sparse waiting room. Their pale faces and red-rimmed eyes told him the news was not good.

Justin didn’t bother with formalities. Her parents weren’t his biggest fans and he had no idea what story Maisy was telling them. Was he a good guy or a bad guy to them? “What’s going on?”

Katherine Jorgenson sucked in a shaky breath and clutched her husband’s hand. “They, uh…they said she has meningitis and she’s not…she won’t…” Her head bowed, and sobs shook her shoulders.

Martin Jorgenson took over. There was no inflection in his tone. “She waited too long to come in, they said. They were losing her in the ER, but, um—” His face crumpled. “They’re saving the baby.”

Justin crouched in front of them. He stared at the floor. They’d been losing her in the ER when Priya had called. Understanding wasn’t coming easy. Maisy was Maisy. She was indomitable. He’d pondered her sanity several times over the last nine months, but she was too full of life to die.

He knew next to nothing about meningitis. Wasn’t it an infection in the spine or something? And deadly. He knew that much.

Katherine sniffled. “She complained about an ear infection, but she didn’t want to take meds. Afraid of hurting the baby. Wouldn’t listen—” She broke down again.

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