could tell he was trying not to let his teeth chatter. She slipped her arm around him and leaned her body into his to block as much of the wind as she could. Blankets provided little protection against the icy Arctic winds. If they didn’t find help soon, he’d freeze to death. How much could a man persevere after being shot down and nearly crushed?
Her gaze swept over him. The man, all muscle and strength, displayed no weakness. But as cold as she was, he had to be freezing.
Though the storm had moved on and the sun had come out, the wind hadn’t let up, seeming to come directly from the North Pole.
When they reached pavement, Emma almost felt giddy with relief. With the gravel road she’d come in on buried in snow, she hadn’t been completely sure they were headed in the right direction.
“Which way?” Dante asked.
Emma glanced right, then left, and back right again. “If I recall correctly, the man who owns this ranch lives in a house a couple of miles north of this turnoff.”
A cold blast of wind sent a violent shiver across her body.
“Here.” Dante peeled one of the blankets off his back and handed it to her.
“No way.” She refused to take it. “I’m warm enough. You’re the one who needs it.”
“I’m used to this kind of cold. I grew up in the Badlands.”
“I don’t care where you grew up. If you drop from hypothermia, I can’t carry you.” She stood taller, stretching every bit of her five-foot-four-inch frame in an attempt to equal his over six-feet-tall height. “Put it back on.”
He grinned, his lips as windburned as hers, and wrapped the blanket back around his shoulders. “Then let’s get to it. The sooner we get there, the sooner I get my morning cup of coffee.” Wrapping the blankets tightly around himself, he took off.
Emma had to hurry to keep up, shaking her head at his offer of a blanket when she had all the snow gear on and he had nothing but his underwear. Stubborn man.
Her heart warmed at his concern for her and the strength he demonstrated.
So many questions burned through her, but she saved them for when they made it to shelter and warmth. Emma focused all her energy on keeping up with the long-legged Native American marching through the snow to find help. With the sun shining brightly, the blindingly white snow made her eyes hurt and she ducked her head, her gaze on Dante’s boot heels. She stepped in the tracks he left as much as possible to save energy, though his strides were far longer than hers.
After what felt like an eternity, cold to the bone, her teeth chattering so badly she couldn’t hear herself think, Emma looked up and nearly cried.
A thin ribbon of smoke rose above the snow-covered landscape. Where there was smoke, there was fire and warmth. Fueled by hope, she picked up the pace, squinting at the snowy fields until the shape of a ranch house was discernible.
Less than a tenth of a mile from the house, Emma stumbled and fell into the snow. Too stiff to move quickly, she didn’t get her arms up in time to keep from performing a face-plant in the icy crystals.
Before she could roll over and sit up, she was plucked from the snow and gathered in Dante’s arms.
“P-put me down,” she stammered, her teeth clattering so hard she was afraid she’d bite her tongue, but was too tired to care.
“Shush,” he said and continued the last tenth of a mile to the front door of the house.
Her face stinging from the cold, all she could do was wrap her arms around Dante’s neck and hold on while he banged on the door.
Footsteps sounded on the other side of the solid wood door and it swung open.
“Dear Lord.” An older gentleman in a flannel shirt and blue jeans stood in sock feet, his mouth dropped open.
“Sir, we need help,” Dante said.
“Olaf, don’t just stand there, let them in and close the door. Can’t let all that heat escape with the power out.” An older woman hurried up behind Olaf. “Come in, come in.”
Olaf’s jaw snapped shut and he stepped aside, allowing Dante to carry Emma through the door.
Even before Olaf closed the door behind them, heat surrounded Emma and tears slid down her cheeks. “We made it.” She buried her face against the cool blankets covering Dante’s chest.
“Set her down here on the couch in front of the fire,” the woman said, urging Dante forward. She waved a golden retriever out of the way and pointed to the couch she was referring to. “The storm knocked the power out last night and we’ve been camping out in the living room to stay warm by the fireplace. We have a generator, but we save that for emergencies.”
Emma almost laughed. To most people, a power outage would constitute an emergency. The hardy folks of North Dakota had to be really down-and-out to consider power failure to be an emergency.
Dante set Emma on the sofa and immediately began pulling off her jacket.
“Let me,” the woman said. She waved Dante away. “You go thaw out by the fire.” As she tugged the zipper down on Emma’s jacket, she introduced herself. “I’m Marge, and that’s my husband, Olaf.” The woman’s white eyebrows furrowed. “Should I know you? You look familiar.”
“I think we met last summer. My name’s Emma.” Emma forced a smile past her chapped lips. “Emma Jennings from the UND Paleontology Department. I was working at the dig up until yesterday.”
“I thought the site had been shut down at the end of the summer,” Olaf said.
Emma shrugged. “Since we’ve had such a mild fall I’ve been coming out on weekends. I’d hoped to get in one last weekend before the permafrost.”
“And then the storm last night...” Marge shook her head. “You’re lucky you didn’t freeze to death.”
“I c-can do this,” Emma protested, trying to shrug out of her jacket on her own.
Marge continued to help. “Hon, your hands are like ice. It’ll be a miracle if they aren’t frostbitten.” The woman clucked her tongue, casting a glance over her shoulder at Dante. “And him out in the cold in nothing but his underwear. What happened?”
Olaf took the blankets from Dante and gave him two warm, dry ones. “Did your truck get stuck in the snow?”
Emma’s gaze shot to Dante. She didn’t want to frighten these old people.
Dante took over. Holding out his hand to Olaf, he said, “I’m Dante Thunder Horse. I’m a pilot for the Customs and Border Protection unit out of Grand Forks. My helicopter was shot down several miles from here yesterday.”
Olaf’s eyes widened, his grip on Dante’s hand tightening before he let go.
When Dante was done filling them in on what had happened, Olaf ran a hand through his scraggly gray hair and shook his head. “Don’t know what’s got into this world
