Cowboy Took a Girl Sold by Her Brother, Only to Realize She Was Carrying His Salvation

Chapter 9

Two days later, Xavier’s fears nearly materialized. He had been working with Miguel in the north pasture when Tom came galloping across the field, his horse lathered with sweat.

“Boss!” the young hand shouted before he’d even fully reined in. “Mrs. Cooper says to come quick. It’s the Mrs.— the baby’s coming early!”

Xavier’s heart lurched painfully. “Has someone gone for the doctor?”

“Johnson rode out an hour ago, but there’s a storm coming in from the west. Mrs. Cooper says there might not be time.”

Xavier was on his horse before Tom finished speaking, racing back to the ranch house with fear clawing at his throat. The sky to the west was indeed darkening ominously, heavy clouds gathering over the mountains.

He burst into the house. Mrs. Cooper met him at the foot of the stairs, her normally composed face tight with concern.

“How is she?”

“The labor came on suddenly and strong. Her water broke while she was helping me with the bread.” Mrs. Cooper followed him up the stairs. “The pains are coming fast. Too fast for a first baby.”

A cry from upstairs accelerated Xavier’s pace. He found Sophia in their bed, her face flushed and damp with sweat, her knuckles white as she gripped the sheets through a contraction.

“Xavier,” she gasped when she saw him, reaching out a trembling hand.

He took it immediately, sitting beside her on the bed. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

Mrs. Cooper bustled around the room, gathering clean linens and the supplies she’d prepared weeks earlier. “The baby’s in a hurry,” she told Xavier grimly. “And I’m worried about the bleeding. It’s heavier than it should be.”

Fear clenched his heart, but Xavier kept his expression calm for Sophia’s sake. “What can I do?”

“Keep her comfortable. Talk to her. I need to check how far along she is.”

As Mrs. Cooper examined Sophia, another contraction seized her, stronger than the last. She cried out, crushing Xavier’s hand in hers.

“That’s it, dear,” Mrs. Cooper encouraged. “You’re doing wonderfully. The baby’s head is already engaged. We won’t have long to wait now.”

Outside, thunder rumbled as the storm approached. Xavier silently cursed the timing. The doctor would never make it through in these conditions.

The next hour passed in a blur of pain and fear. Sophia’s labor intensified rapidly, each contraction building on the last with barely a moment’s respite between them. Mrs. Cooper moved with efficient calm, but Xavier caught the worried glances she exchanged with Miguel, who had come to the door with hot water and extra lanterns in case the storm knocked out the light.

“Something’s wrong,” Sophia gasped during a brief lull. Her face was alarmingly pale, her nightgown soaked with sweat and blood. “It shouldn’t hurt this much.”

Xavier stroked her forehead, pushing back damp strands of hair. “You’re the strongest woman I know, Sophia Blackwood. You can do this.”

She managed a weak smile before another contraction took her — this one tearing a scream from her throat.

“It’s time,” Mrs. Cooper announced. “On the next pain, Sophia, you need to push with all your might.”

What followed tested every ounce of Xavier’s resolve. Sophia fought bravely, pushing when instructed, resting when allowed — but with each effort she seemed to grow weaker. The bleeding Mrs. Cooper had mentioned earlier continued, soaking through the linens faster than they could be changed.

“I can see the head!” Mrs. Cooper finally announced. “One more big push, dear.”

Gathering her remaining strength, Sophia bore down, her cry of pain giving way to a gasp of relief as the baby slipped into Mrs. Cooper’s waiting hands.

A moment of silence. Then a thin wail filled the room.

“A girl,” Mrs. Cooper announced, quickly wrapping the infant in a clean blanket. “A beautiful little girl.”

Xavier felt a surge of joy so intense it nearly overwhelmed him. “Sophia, you did it. We have a daughter.”

But Sophia’s eyes were closed. Her face was ashen. When he touched her cheek, her skin was cool and clammy.

“Sophia?” Alarm sharpened his voice. “Sophia, open your eyes.”

Mrs. Cooper handed the swaddled infant to Miguel, who had remained to assist. “Take the baby,” she ordered. Then she turned her full attention to Sophia. “She’s losing too much blood. We need to stop it now.”

The next hours were the longest of Xavier’s life. Mrs. Cooper worked tirelessly to stem the hemorrhage, applying every remedy she knew, while Xavier held Sophia’s limp hand, whispering desperate prayers and promises.

Outside, the storm raged — lightning splitting the sky, rain lashing against the windows. Inside, another kind of storm threatened to tear away everything Xavier had come to hold dear.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleaded, pressing Sophia’s fingers to his lips. “Please don’t leave me. Not when we’ve only just begun.”

Whether it was Mrs. Cooper’s skills, Xavier’s prayers, or Sophia’s own stubborn will to live, the bleeding finally slowed… then stopped. Her pulse remained weak but steady. Her breathing shallow but regular.

“She’ll need time to recover,” Mrs. Cooper said, her own exhaustion evident in the droop of her shoulders. “But I believe the worst has passed.”

Only then did Xavier allow himself to look at his daughter, who had been placed in the cradle he’d built — patiently waiting to be properly welcomed into the world. Miguel had swaddled her expertly, a skill Xavier hadn’t known his foreman possessed, and she was sleeping peacefully, despite the drama of her arrival.

He lifted her carefully, marveling at how light she was, how perfectly formed. Her tiny face was scrunched in sleep, a wisp of dark hair visible beneath the edge of her blanket.

“Hello, Elizabeth Grace,” he whispered, carrying her to Sophia’s bedside. “Your mama is resting now. But she fought so hard to bring you here safely.”

As if sensing she was being discussed, Sophia’s eyelids fluttered. She opened her eyes with visible effort, her gaze unfocused at first, then sharpening as she saw Xavier holding their daughter.

“Is she—?” Her voice was barely audible.

“Perfect,” Xavier assured her, carefully placing the baby in the crook of Sophia’s arm. “Absolutely perfect.”

A weak smile touched Sophia’s pale lips as she gazed down at their child. “She has Robert’s hair,” she murmured. “But I think she has your chin.”

Xavier swallowed the lump in his throat. “She’s beautiful. Like her mother.”

“I was so afraid,” Sophia whispered. “I thought I might leave you both.”

“Never,” Xavier said fiercely. “I wouldn’t have let you go.”

Mrs. Cooper cleared her throat from the doorway. “The storm’s passing. I’ve sent Miguel to see if he can find the doctor and Johnson on the road. The new mother needs rest now.”

Xavier nodded, carefully taking Elizabeth from Sophia’s weakening grasp. “Sleep,” he told his wife. “We’ll be right here when you wake.”

As Sophia drifted into exhausted slumber, Xavier sat in the rocking chair by the window, his daughter cradled against his chest. The storm had indeed passed, the first stars appearing between breaks in the clouds. The ranch was quiet except for the occasional drip of water from the eaves.

“Your arrival was quite dramatic, little one,” he murmured to the sleeping infant. “But then, the most precious things often come to us through trials.”

Elizabeth sighed in her sleep, her tiny fingers curling around one of his. The simple gesture cemented what Xavier already knew in his heart. This child was his — not by blood, but by choice. By love. By the sacred trust Sophia had placed in him.

Dr. Harris arrived shortly before dawn, weary from fighting his way through the storm-damaged roads. He examined both mother and daughter thoroughly, confirming that while Sophia had lost a dangerous amount of blood, she would recover with proper rest and care.

“She’s a fighter,” the doctor told Xavier. “And the baby is remarkably healthy for being a bit early. You’re a fortunate man, Blackwood.”

“I know.” Xavier’s gaze moved between his sleeping wife and daughter. “Believe me. I know.”