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.
Fighting a yawn, Garrett pulled out his cell phone to check the time—9:37 a.m. He wondered if Hannah had awakened yet. The previous day’s events had clearly left her spent, and understandably so. And what about her son? Lord, he prayed the infant that he’d held in his arms shortly after his birth was faring well. The emergency room personnel had taken him straight to the neonatal intensive care unit as soon as they’d arrived at the hospital and he hadn’t gotten to see the baby again before he’d left to head home.
Hannah hadn’t been the only one under emotional stress when they’d arrived at the hospital the day before. Garrett hadn’t stepped foot inside the place since the day Grace had taken her last breath there. Truth was, he dreaded ever having to return there again, but none of that had mattered when Hannah’s son’s life was at stake.
Once Hannah had been examined, she’d been placed in a private room just down the hall from the NICU. Garrett had then done his best to calm her fears, pushing his own aside. Despite the doctor’s reassurance that it was common for a baby born five weeks earlier than expected to need a little help breathing, that his lungs would strengthen in the days and weeks ahead, she’d been beside herself. So much so, that Garrett had ended up staying by Hannah’s bedside until late into the night, talking to her about anything and everything to keep her mind from going into the dark places he knew all too well. Places he’d gone to when Grace had taken a turn for the worse, with all the whys and what-ifs.
Exhaustion threatened to drag him down. He had remained seated at Hannah’s bedside the night before until sleep had finally claimed her. And that hadn’t been until well after midnight.
“Morning,” Garrett muttered as he stopped by the corral on his way to the barn.
“Morning,” Tucker replied. His brother stood in the center of the corral, working with a green mare they’d purchased to use as a saddle horse. Breaking in horses was one of his brother’s specialties. “Didn’t expect you in this early. Not after the late night you put in.”
Garrett raised a brow. “How did you know about that?” He’d been in touch with his family from the hospital to update them, but he hadn’t called anyone when he’d finally headed home. It had been too late.
“Couldn’t sleep,” his brother admitted. “I was sitting on the porch when you drove past. How was Hannah doing when you left?”
“As well as can be expected, under the circumstances.” Garrett glanced around, seeing their other brother’s truck parked beside the far end of the barn. “Where’s Jackson?”
“In the barn,” Tucker replied, his gaze remaining fixed on the young mare. “Just got back from running feed out to the veteran horses.”
Unlike a lot of rodeo stock companies that unloaded their retired stock once the animals’ profitability was gone, the Triple W Rodeo Ranch kept theirs. They had a special section of land fenced off specifically for the older horses where they could live out the remainder of their lives in leisure, being grain-fed daily. They had worked hard during their rodeo years. In his opinion and his brothers’, they deserved no less.
Garrett nodded, not that his brother had seen him do so. Tucker’s visual focus remained solely on the mare he was coaxing to pick up her pace as she ran around the outer edge of the fenced-in enclosure.
Shoving his phone back into his jeans, he leaned against the fence, watching his little brother at work.
“Didn’t expect to see you here this morning.” Jackson’s familiar voice came from behind him.
Garrett glanced back over his shoulder to see his brother striding toward them. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”
“You having had such a late night and all,” his brother prompted.
Garrett’s gaze shifted back to Tucker.
His youngest brother must have felt his accusing stare, because there was no way Tucker could have seen it with his back to them the way it was. Yet he called back over his shoulder, “I might have mentioned to Jackson that there was a good chance you’d be hitting Snooze on your alarm clock today.”
“Well, I didn’t,” he said in irritation. At thirty-four he could still manage a late night here and there and still get up in time to help his brothers with ranch duties. How was he supposed to sleep in, anyhow, with thoughts of Hannah and her son weighing so heavily on his mind? “I have blood draws to do today.”
Every six months, they needed to draw blood from the rodeo stock to keep their health certificates up-to-date. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to transport the broncs from state to state to the various rodeos. Having an in-house vet on the ranch also saved them money.
Jackson lifted a brow. “Someone’s a little on the touchy side this morning.”
“Maybe a little,” he grumbled. “Lack of sleep, and then receiving some bad news, has a tendency to bring that about.”
Jackson’s head snapped around. “Hannah?”
He shook his head. “No. She and the baby are okay. Or, at least, they were when I left the hospital last night. The bad news is business related.”
That grabbed both of his brothers’ attention.
“Kade called this morning,” he explained. “He had to put Little Thunder down last night.” Kade Owens owned the Breakaway Ranch in Oklahoma where, along with raising beef cattle, he bred and raised bucking bulls. Little Thunder was one of Kade’s top, prize-winning bulls. The Triple W had partnered up with Kade a few years back to allow them, as a joint partnership, to qualify for a PRCA stock contractor card, which required the stock provider to own a minimum of twenty-five bareback horses, twenty-five saddle bronc horses and twenty-five bulls.
“What happened?” Tucker asked.
“Thrombosis of the inferior vena cava.”
“Which is what?”
“A liver abscess,” Garrett explained, “which led to a serious infection near the heart.”
Jackson shook his head. “A real shame. He’s been a good bull. Hopefully, The Duke and Wise Guy will come into their own this year.”
“They showed promise last season, so maybe this will be their year,” Garrett acknowledged with a nod, recalling the two newest additions to Kade’s rodeo bull lineup. “At least, Kade still has some top contenders that rank right up there with Little Thunder for the upcoming season.” Their first scheduled rodeo fell during the second week of June. Without having promising stock to offer for rodeo competition, contractors risked losing out on future contracts. That’s why they made sure their stock stayed strong and healthy, sending the best they had to offer out to the various rodeos.
“True,” Jackson agreed with a nod as they watched Tucker move in slow, fluid circles from where he stood in the center of the corral, following the movement of the mare as it made its way in larger circles around him.
Garrett slid his cell phone from his jeans pocket once again. A quick glance told him there were still no messages from Hannah or the hospital. That had to be a good thing. At least, he prayed it was. If something had happened, surely someone would have contacted