Page 239 of Wild Then Wed
She doesn’t answer. Just lets out another string of curses that ends in a sob, her knees wobbling beneath her.
Shit.
I quickly scan the barn, heart hammering as I tie Winnie’s leash to the closest post. She lets out a confused whimper but I can’t even turn around.
Phone. I need my phone. I need to call an ambulance. Right? Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? What if I don’t have time?
My stomach drops.
My phone. It’s back at the house. On the kitchen counter.Shit.
I can’t leave her here, alone.
Before I can fully spiral, I hear laughter—casual, unaware—floating through the open door behind me. Crew’s voice, light and joking, and someone else with him, one of the ranch hands—Tyler, I think.
Thank God.
They round the corner, still grinning, until they see us—and the mood shifts instantly. Crew’s eyes snap between Anna and me, his face falling. Tyler just stops in his tracks like his brain hasn’t caught up yet.
“Crew,” I breathe, standing up straighter. “Crew, go get Sawyer. Now.”
“What the hell’s going on?” His voice pitches up, eyes darting between Anna’s soaked jeans and the way she’s crumpled against the beam.
“What does it look like?” I snap, motioning toward her. “She’s having the damn baby. Go! Now!”
Anna groans again and manages to get out, “I need to lie down—I can’t—I can’t—”
Crew moves toward her like he wants to fix it just by being close. “We need to call an ambulance.”
“I don’t think we have time,” I say, sharper than I mean to, because the words terrify me. “Just go get Sawyer. Please.Run!”
Crew doesn’t waste another second. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, and bolts out the barn doors like his boots are on fire.
I spin toward Tyler, who’s still frozen.
“I need a thick blanket,” I say quickly, firmly. “Clean towels, scissors or shears—whatever you can find. Hot water if you can get it. In case Sawyer doesn’t get here in time. Go.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. “Now, Tyler!”
He nods so fast his hat nearly falls off, then turns and sprints out after Crew.
Anna screams again—louder this time—and drops to all fours, her whole body trembling. She’s sobbing now, gasping between words, her voice raw and ragged.
“Get it out!” she cries. “Please—just get it out of me.”
I grab the closest clean thing I can find—a folded horse blanket stacked on a tack trunk—and toss it down beside her,trying to keep my voice steady even though my heart is pounding so hard in my chest it feels like it’s trying to crawl out of my throat.
“Okay,” I say gently, crouching beside her. “We’re going to move you to the blanket, where it’s dry. You can do this. I’ll help you.”
“I can’t,” she chokes out, shaking her head violently. “Ican’t,Wren.”
“Yes, you can.” I put my hand on her back. “You’re doing so good already. Just one step at a time. Let’s get you lying down, okay?”
She nods, barely, and I shift under her arm, bracing her weight with my shoulder as she stumbles up and then back down again onto the blanket. Her breathing is fast and shallow, her chest rising and falling in short, panicked bursts.
“You’re okay,” I murmur, brushing her hair off her face. “You’re safe. We’ve got you.”
She curls slightly on her side, one hand cradling her belly, and I kneel down beside her. “Anna,” I say carefully. “We’re going to have to check where the baby is, so I’m going to take off your jeans, alright? Is that okay?”
