Christmas at Thunder Horse Ranch

Her brows dipped. “Stay here while I get the generator running.” She opened the door, letting in a cold blast of air.

“Keep your eyes open,” he said through chattering teeth.

“I will.” She closed the door behind her and the room was silent.

Dante hunkered down into the blankets, feeling as though he should be the one out there stirring the generator to life. When Emma hadn’t returned in five minutes, he pushed the blankets aside, wrapped one around himself and went looking for her.

He was reaching for the doorknob when the door jerked open.

Emma frowned up at him, her dark hair dusted in snowflakes. “The generator’s not working.”

“Let me look at it,” he insisted.

She pushed past him, closing the door behind her. “It won’t do any good.”

“Why?”

“The fuel line is busted.” She held up the offending tube and waved him toward the bed. “Get back under the covers. At least we have a gas stove we can use to warm it up a little in here. I don’t recommend running it all night, but it’ll do for now.”

“Why don’t we get out of here?”

“It’s almost dark and it started snowing pretty hard, I can barely see my hand in front of my face. It’s hard enough to find my way out here in daylight. I’m not trying in the dark and especially not in North Dakota blizzard conditions.”

“I need to let the base know what happened.” He glanced around. “Do you have any kind of radio or cell phone?”

“I have a cell phone, but it won’t work out here.” She shrugged. “No towers nearby.”

His body shook, his head ached and his vision was hazy. “I need to get back.”

“Tomorrow. Now go back to bed before you fall down. I’m strong, but not strong enough to pick up a big guy like you.”

Dante let Emma guide him back to the bed and tuck him in. When she smoothed the blankets over his chest, he grabbed her hand.

Her gaze met his as he carried her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles. “Thanks for saving my life.”

Her cheeks reddened and she looked away. “You’d have done the same.”

“I doubt seriously you’d be shot down from the sky. Your feet are pretty firmly on the ground.” He smiled. “Paleontologist, right?”

She nodded.

“Isn’t it a little late in the season to be at a dig? I thought they shut them down when the fall session started.”

She shrugged. “With our unseasonably warm weather, I’ve been working this dig every weekend since the semester started.”

“Until recently.”

“Since it snowed a few days ago, I figured I’d better get out here. I’d heard more snow was coming, and I needed to dismantle my tent and bring it in.” She stared toward the window as if she could see through the blinding snow.

“I take it you didn’t get the tent down in time.”

She gave him a little crooked smile. “A downed helicopter distracted me.”

“Well, thank you for sacrificing your tent to be a Good Samaritan.”

Her cheeks reddened and she turned away. “Let’s get that shoulder cleaned up and bandaged.”

She wet a cloth and returned to the bedside. Pushing the fabric of his thermal shirt aside, she washed the blood away.

Her fingers were gentle around the gash.

“It’s just a scratch.”

Her lips quirked. When she’d washed away the drying blood, she applied an antiseptic ointment and a bandage. “As it is, it was just a flesh wound, but it wouldn’t do to get infected.” Patting the bandage, she stepped back, the color higher in her cheeks. “I’ll make you a cup of hot tea, if you’d like.”

Studying her face, Dante found he liked the way she blushed so easily. “Have any coffee?”

“Sorry. I didn’t expect to have guests.”

“In that case, tea would be nice.” Dante glanced around the tiny confines of the trailer. “Aren’t you afraid to come out to places like this alone?”

Emma reached for two mugs from a cabinet. “Why should I be? It’s not like anyone else comes out here.”

“What if you were to get hurt?”

She shrugged. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

“As close as it is to the border, you might be subject to more than just an elk hunter or farmer.”

“I have a gun.” Emma opened a drawer and pulled out a long, vintage revolver.

Dante grinned. “You call that a gun?”

She stiffened. “I certainly do.”

“It’s an antique.”

“A Colt .45 caliber, Single Action Army revolver, to be exact.”

Nodding, impressed, Dante stated, “You know the name of your antiques.”

Her chin tipped upward. “And I’m an expert shot.”

“My apologies for doubting you.”

The wind picked up outside, rocking the tiny trailer on its wheels.

Emma struck a long kitchen match on the side of a box and lit one of the two burners on the stove. A bright flame cast a rosy glow in the quickly darkening space. She filled a teakettle with water from a large water bottle and settled it over the flame. “I have canned chili, canned tuna and crackers. Again, I hadn’t planned on staying more than a couple of nights. I was supposed to head out before the weather laid in.”