Thundering meadows, p.1
Thundering Meadows, page 1
Thundering Meadows
THUNDERING MOUNTAIN RANCH
BOOK TWO
NICOLE NEISWANGER
Copyright © 2023 by Nicole Neiswanger
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including AI generation tools, information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles and book reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
For questions or and comments about the quality of this book, please contact us at calicopublicationsllc@gmail.com.
Cover Design: Covers and Cupcakes, LLC
Publisher: Calico Publications, LLC
Digital ISBN: 978-1-960600-02-8
Print Edition ISBN: 978-1-960600-03-5
Dedication
To my friend, Jessica Lane
Her invaluable input in this novel and all my novels is what makes them better. She has an uncanny ability to pull out the best in my work, and helped make particular scenes downright delicious. I can’t thank her enough for her friendship and support.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
Thundering Ridge
About the Author
Also by Nicole Neiswanger
One
Christmas Eve, December 24, 1899
“All aboard.”
James stood, his bones stiff from the hard wooden bench. Pinprick tingles ran down his back and across his shoulders from leaning against the jagged edges of the rough brick station house. Smoke from the engine swirled around him, enveloping him in its thick, moist heat.
Waiting for the train to arrive, he sat mesmerized watching the snowflakes fall until the conductor broke the silence. A clean winter wonderland had replaced the once ugly, mud crusted platform. The snow was picking up in intensity and a peek at the sky made it clear it was going to get worse before it got better. He prayed the train made it to Helena in one piece.
He rolled his shoulders, the strap of his tattered knapsack slapping against his back as he moved toward the passenger car. He handed his ticket to the conductor, who checked it closely before waving him inside. His gloveless fingers reached for the frosty handle, pulling his weary frame up and onto the metal steps, each step more freeing than the last.
Emptiness greeted him as he moved into the cool train car. No body heat warmed the inside and the small stove was cold to the touch. Clearly there was no reason to keep a fire burning if no one sat in the worn red leather seats. He gripped the wooden backs, one hand at a time, as he made his way to the middle of the car, one seat as good as another. Placing his knapsack in one next to a window, he dropped onto the flattened cushion.
He tightened his thin coat around his gaunt frame, pulling up the collar in a useless attempt to keep what remained of his body’s heat. His breath formed ice crystals from the frigid air inside the passenger car, but at least the four walls kept the wind at bay. Scrunching down, his weary body attempted to get comfortable for the long ride.
The engine chugged to life, steam billowing behind the frost covered windows. He ran a hand across the window to remove the ice and saw a young woman and child run toward the train. The conductor held out his hand to help her scramble up and into the car. She handed him two tickets, and he nodded, gesturing for her to take a seat. Breathing hard, her hot breath forming a cold mist in the frigid air, she rushed down the aisle, her heavy coat opening revealing her belly, round with child.
The conductor pulled out a pocket watch and snapped it shut a moment later before stepping outside and shutting the door tight behind him. A few minutes later the train pulled away from the station, the lurch jarring but welcome as he was finally on his way home.
He wondered about the woman’s man, but of course, it wasn’t any of his concern. She had settled a few seats in front and to the left of his, her two carpetbags dumped forgotten onto the dirty floor. Her head dropped in obvious fatigue before she hugged her son to her side. He began to fuss, but she distracted him by pointing out the window and whispering in his ear. Within moments, his crying ceased, and she relaxed, closing her eyes.
He couldn’t help but notice her reddish blonde hair streaked with bits of gold. It sat piled high, accentuating her pink cheeks, big green eyes, and plump red lips. Other than her protruding belly, she was small and petite in stature.
The train labored along the tracks, picking up speed, lulling him to a comfort he had long forgotten, and anticipation for a warm feather bed filled him. The simple things were what he missed. Everything else could be left behind. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed his newfound freedom as he slipped into a restless slumber.
Metal against metal and abrupt jerking movements yanked him from his sleep. The train shook and rumbled as the engineer applied the brakes. The train shuddered to a stop, throwing him forward. He braced himself, but the young woman wasn’t as fortunate. With her arms wrapped tight around her son, her forehead slammed into the hard wooden back in front of her.
She slumped, unconscious. Her son screamed and tears poured unchecked down his rosy, red cheeks as he tried to wake her. “Momma,” he hollered. “Momma!”
Jumping up, James hurried forward. Kneeling eye level with the young boy, he smiled and said, “It’s alright, little man, let me check on your ma.”
The boy popped his thumb in his mouth. His wet, dark green eyes were the spitting image of his mother’s.
James checked the woman over to assess her injuries. She had a nasty gash on her forehead, but otherwise appeared to be unharmed. Grabbing a handkerchief from his coat pocket, he tried to staunch the blood trickling from her wound.
She opened her eyes and screamed. Her arms swung, shoving him away, her eyes wide with fright. He sat back on his heels, startled, giving her room until she realized he offered no harm.
“Ma’am, you’ve been hurt. I’m only tryin’ to help.”
She quieted as soon as she saw her son, her eyes softening before turning to James. They were full of apprehension, but her tension eased as though taking his measure with one glance. “What happened? Where am I?”
“It appears the train had some trouble. When it stopped, you banged your head. Your son is unharmed, though. You protected him while at the same time allowing yourself quite the injury.”
“Oh.” She arched her lower back, and her hands gripped her belly. Her neck strained as the muscles tightened in her long neck. She groaned in agony.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. She had just gone into labor.
He was the only one with her and the only one to help.
What the hell had he just happened into? He didn’t want to do this, but he clearly didn’t have a choice.
Rose gasped as sharp stabs slammed into her spine and radiated across her taut belly. She grabbed the armrests, riding out the waves until they subsided. She panted, her knuckles popping when she released her grip.
No, no, no! Why did this have to happen today, of all days?
Her head ached, and her waters had broken as evidenced by the watery mess running down her legs and soaking her drawers. Having her baby now was the last thing she expected when she climbed onto the train, her body and mind fatigued from running. She wasn’t due for another month, but with the stress and commotion over the last few weeks, she shouldn’t be surprised the baby picked right now to make its appearance. She had wanted to be settled far away, but God had other plans. No matter what happened, she would endure. She had to, for her choices had been wrenched from her hands the day her husband passed.
Another pain started low in her belly and radiated up and across her tight skin. Putting her faith in both God and the brown-eyed stranger sitting in front of her, she breathed through the intense pains. The man had a kind face that was somewhat gaunt, but his clothes were clean though threadbare. He didn’t appear to be squeamish and that woul
Taking a deep breath, the latest contraction ebbed away. She only had a moment before the next one began. They were coming fast and furious. They said the second child always came quicker than the first and it looked like this baby would be here before she knew it. She clasped Tommy’s hand, squeezed it, and smiled at him. He was everything to her, and she didn’t want him to have cause for concern.
Something wet trickled along her hairline. Placing two fingers against the wound, they returned sticky with blood. She reached for her bag, but the man stopped her. His touch was gentle as he pressed a worn but clean handkerchief against the gash.
“Let me, ma’am.” His smile was warm, comforting, and his eyes were solemn but friendly.
“Thank you.”
“My name’s James. It appears we might have a situation on our hands.”
“You could say…” She bent forward and grimaced as another torturous ache wound across her belly. This baby was not waiting and was coming, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
James watched as she dealt with the onslaught of labor pains. She stiffened in agony but didn’t scream, just grunted and moaned as the discomfort of each one tore through her.
It was of little consolation that he knew all about how babies were made but didn’t know the first thing about delivering one. As they say, fate waits for no one, and it mattered less what he knew or didn’t know, as he was the only person who could help. He wouldn’t leave this young woman to do this on her own, no matter how much his stomach dropped from the thought.
The air in the car was cool, but despite that, hot, sticky sweat pooled under his arms, down his spine, and around his waist. He should find coal, but it’d likely have to wait as it appeared the baby was coming sooner rather than later. He didn’t think he’d have time to think, let alone find any usable coal, to start a fire.
He stood, removed his threadbare coat, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. His heart pounded as though he had run ten miles through the desert. The reality of their plight surrounded him and weighed him down. He didn’t have time to consider a way out of this. No doctor was going to arrive from the front of the train to rescue them, and they weren’t anywhere near a town. The train had stopped somewhere between stations and with the blizzard raging outside, it’d be some time before help would arrive.
James reached for her young son and placed him in the seats across the aisle. The child would want to be close but needed to be out of the way. Fussy, the boy quieted with one look from his ma.
“Ma’am,” he said. “Do you have any toys your son could play with while we… um… handle this?” He waved to her belly as though she didn’t already know what they were dealing with. It was her belly that was tightening every few minutes and was going to be expelling a child at any moment.
“In my bag.” Gasping through the next pain, it took her a moment before she continued. “There are wooden blocks and a stuffed bear. Tommy loves those.” Out of breath, she paused for a moment. “They should keep him occupied.” Her voice raised in pitch as a new labor pain took hold of her slim frame, making her clench her fists and bite down on her bottom lip as her pretty face grimaced with obvious hurt.
James picked up her light brown carpetbag and unsnapped it. Riffling through the clothing near the bottom, his hands brushed against a pair of silk stockings. Heat bloomed up his chest as he realized he was touching her intimate items, but lucky for him, she was otherwise occupied with the situation at hand and likely didn’t see his embarrassment. He quickly found the toys and handed them to Tommy, his little hands reaching for them. Tommy’s attention was focused on his toys, and he appeared content for now.
Nervous, he studied the woman. What was he going to do? He had never delivered a baby or been around a woman heavy with child. He was going to depend on her to get him through this, which was a ridiculous notion because he should be the one tending to her.
After the next contraction, she gazed at him and shook her head as though she could read his mind and the confusion clear as a bright star in a dark sky. Holding her hands in the air, she asked, “Can you help me stand?”
He nodded, captured her slim hands in his, and helped her to her feet. She made quick work of removing her overcoat, but before she could sit once again, another series of labor pains roared through her body. She gripped the seat in front of her, her knuckles turning white as the pressure from her hands would surely break the wooden seat backs into tiny splinters. When it eased, she raised her eyes to his. Small beads of sweat had gathered along her brow and as she panted, wisps of her dampened hair fluttered across her cheeks. The large green ovals surrounding her black pupils showed all the emotions he too was feeling - fear, trepidation, and determination.
When she released the seat, he reached for her hands again and squeezed them. In his own way, he would offer her comfort and the knowledge she wasn’t alone, a small comfort it may be.
“We can do this, Mrs…?”
“Rose.” She panted. “You can call me Rose.”
“Rose, it’s a pleasure.”
“I’m not quite sure this is,” she gasped. She hunched over once again. His eyes noticed her slim neck, covered in a tangle of reddish curls, and the slightness of her frame. He stiffened as she grasped his hands, squeezing tight, near cutting off the blood to his fingertips. Her weight bore into him, and he held her as though he were the roots of a tall pine tree, preventing her from crashing into the lonely forest.
Her fingers dug into his, her sharp nails likely leaving marks. He grimaced and marveled at her strength but didn’t let go. She held onto him as if he was her lifeline, and in a way, he suddenly was.
Two
Rose blinked away hot tears. Intense pain radiated through her belly, down her spine, and almost buckled her at the knees. It was so severe she doubled over. The only thing holding her upright was James’s strength.
Surprised she didn’t rip his hands from his arms, she clutched him until the pain eased. But it was only temporary, as immense pressure grew between her legs. The baby was coming now.
She was amazed at the handsome man standing in front of her. He was going to be the one delivering her baby, or at least she prayed he was. If this were any other time, she might have swooned at his good looks. Brown hair, the color of dark chocolate and a strong, angular jaw, she might have itched to run her fingers across it if it had been any other time in her life.
He was at least a foot taller than her, broad-shouldered, although he looked as though he hadn’t had a good meal in quite some time, but the muscles under his ill-fitted shirt enhanced his build.
Out of breath, she said, “It won’t be long. The baby’s coming.” She wheezed. “Will you help me?” She could hear the desperation in her voice and asking a stranger was the last thing she wanted. But it was happening, and God help her, she needed him.
“Um,” he gulped.
Still standing, she said, “Please!” Gasping for breath. “I can’t do this alone. I know it’s too much to ask, but…” She stopped as another sharp wave of pain hit her hard. Moaning, her fingers dug further into his palms. She was hurting him, but she couldn’t seem to help it. After what seemed like hours but was only a few seconds, the pain receded, and she sucked in the frosty air. Despite the cold weather, her forehead was damp and wet ringlets stuck to her forehead and cheek.
