Free And Baby Makes Five by Debra Clopton

couldn’t keep going out in this weather.
    Samantha knew where her stall was. She knew there was fresh feed and dry straw in the barn, as well as plenty of protection from all this sleet.
    “Please go to bed. I can’t take a chance leading you over to the barn.” With a heavy heart Lilly grabbed the heating pad from the pantry, turned off the light and trudged down the hallway to her room. There was nothing she could do for Samantha right now. No amount of worrying was going to change that tonight. Her baby came first.
    She was pulling the covers over her and about to turn out her lamp and settle down with the heating pad when the electricity blinked and went out.
    This was not good.
    Worse, Lilly thought, sitting up on the edge of the bed, pain radiated all through her lower spine and down the backs of her legs. She’d definitely worked too long today. After a few moments the lights remained off and a chill started to creep into the room.
    Samantha had walked around the house and was now staring at Lilly through the lace of her curtains. Lilly felt truly sorry for the obstinate old girl. The heater was off and a touch of the coldness Samantha was enduring was settling into the house.
    Lilly rose. Despite the pain, she knew she needed to start a fire. Loading her comforter into her arms and grabbing her pillow, she headed down the hall into the living room. There was already a significant feeling of ice in the air inside the house. It didn’t take her long to build a roaring fire in the large fireplace.
    “Thank you, Lord, for giving me a fireplace.” Pulling the fireplace guard closed, she was turning to crawl onto Granny Shu-Shu’s overstuffed couch when she was engulfed by pain. Red-hot explosions of agony ripped through her back, around to her abdomen and buckled her knees. She caught herself with her hands on the edge of the couch and fought to stand.
    This was not Braxton-Hicks.
    There was nothing false about what was happening to her.
    It was time.
    As Lilly concentrated through the contraction, a groan escaped her clenched lips. She held her abdomen and eased toward the phone in the kitchen. Who would she call? She wasn’t ready. She was supposed to have a month to prepare.
    Gasping when the pain hit full force, she made it to the kitchen and grabbed the phone.
    This was too soon. Not the way it was supposed to be.
    Lilly dialed 911 and put the phone to her sweaty cheek. It took a moment for the silence on the line to register.
    She was in labor, in the middle of nowhere, and the phone was dead.
    Zip, nada, nothing…dead.
     
    Cort woke with a start in the faint light of the full moon that wrestled through the gray clouds to illuminate his curtainless room. Wind and hail pelted against the panes, jolting him from a comatose state of bad dreams to the tickling sensation of Loser’s mangy paw crammed up his nose.
    Snorting and gagging, he slapped at Loser’s stinky toes and instead hit himself in the eye. Yelping in pain, he managed to push the sleeping mutt from his pillow, only to sneeze violently when fuzz and who knew what else fluttered about him. It was a terrible thing for a man to wake up to—the sight of Loser’s ugly mug drooling across his pillow.
    Glaring at the loose-lipped grin plastered across Loser’s hairy face, Cort felt real pity for himself. It was a feeling he despised. When a foul smell pervaded the room he bolted from the bed.
    “That does it,” he grumbled, pushing at the rank dog. “Off the bed. No more sharing my pillow. No more drool on my covers. No—”
    A scraping noise interrupted his ranting. His kitchen door was opening. Cort whirled around and for the first time realized the storm hadn’t wakened him.
    Someone was breaking in to his house.
    Loser heard the sound, too. He snapped to attention. His propeller-sized ears stood out—as much as ears that size could stand out—and a mighty war cry, such as Cort had never heard, nor wanted to hear again, erupted from his