“This is private property,” he said. “You will not enter my home.”
The men exchanged glances.
“You don’t understand what you’re protecting.”
“I understand that you followed a wounded woman through a storm.”
The stranger’s hand moved beneath his coat.
Silas did not retreat. “Take another step, and every camera on this property will record you forcing your way into an occupied home. Your faces, your vehicle, and your license plate have already been stored remotely.”
There were no such cameras. Silas had barely enough electricity to power his well pump.
But the men did not know that.
The one with the flashlight looked toward the dark trees, then back at Silas. The old man’s voice had never shaken.
Finally, they returned to the SUV.
Silas watched until their taillights vanished down the mountain road. Then he rushed inside, where Chloe was fighting another contraction.
“The baby is coming,” she gasped.
For the next four hours, the storm and the world beyond the cabin disappeared.
Silas focused only on Chloe’s breathing, the pressure of the wound dressing, and the progress of the delivery. He encouraged her when she weakened and steadied her when fear overwhelmed her. The same voice that had once comforted dying patients now guided a frightened young mother through the most painful night of her life.
Just before dawn, a child’s cry filled the cabin.
Silas cleared the newborn’s airway and wrapped him in a warm towel. The baby was small and premature, but his lungs were strong. His tiny arms moved furiously as though he had arrived ready to fight the entire world.
“A boy,” Silas said.
Chloe began crying before he placed the baby on her chest.
She kissed the child’s head repeatedly. “Tommy is going to lose his mind.”