Elle James - Christmas at Thunder Horse Ranch

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 when you can’t even be safe in North Dakota.”

Emma laughed, more tears welling in her eyes. After their near-death experiences, she was weepier than normal. For a short time there, she had begun to wonder if they’d find shelter before they froze.

“Mind if I use your phone?” Dante asked. “I need to let the base know I’m alive.”

Marge tucked a blanket around Emma. “Olaf, hand him the phone.”

Olaf gave Dante a cordless phone. Dante tapped the numbers into the keypad and held the phone to his ear and frowned. “I’m not getting a dial tone.”

“Sorry. I forget, without power, this one is useless.” Olaf took the phone and replaced it in the powerless charger. “Let me check the one in the kitchen.”

A minute later, he returned. “The phone lines are down. Must have been knocked out along with the electricity in the storm last night.”

“I need to get back to Grand Forks. My people will have sent up a search and rescue unit.”

“I can get you as far as Devil’s Lake,” Olaf said. “But then I’ll have to turn back to make sure I get home to Mamma before nightfall.”

“Don’t you worry about me. I can take care of myself,” Marge insisted.

“We don’t want to put you in danger,” Emma said.

“No, we don’t,” Dante agreed. “If we could get as far as Devil’s Lake, we can find someone heading to Grand Forks and catch a ride with them.”

“I’d take you all the way to Grand Forks, but with the snow on the road and the wife here, keeping the house warm by burning firewood...”

“We wouldn’t want you to leave her alone that long,” Dante assured Olaf. “It’ll be a long enough drive to Devil’s Lake and back.”

“I’ll get my truck out of the barn.” Olaf hurried into the hallway leading toward the back of the house. “Mamma, find the man some of my clothes. He can’t go all the way to Grand Forks in his underwear.” Olaf shot a grin back at them as he pulled on his heavy winter coat, hat and gloves.

Marge left them in the living room and headed the opposite direction of her husband. When she returned, she carried a pair of jeans, an older winter jacket and a flannel shirt. “These were my son’s. He’s a bit taller than Olaf. They should fit you better.”

“I’ll have them returned to you as soon as possible.”

“Don’t bother. He has more in the closet and he rarely makes it up here in the wintertime. We usually go stay with him and his family in January and February. They live in Florida.” She grinned. “It’s a lot nicer down there at this time of year than up here.”

Dante smiled at the woman and accepted the clothing graciously.

“There’s a bathroom in the hallway if you’d like to dress in there.” Marge pointed the direction.

Dante disappeared and reappeared a few minutes later dressed in jeans that fit a little loose around his hips and were an inch or two short on his legs. The flannel shirt strained against his broad shoulders, but he didn’t say a word.

Emma figured he was grateful to have anything more than just thermal underwear on his body.

He shrugged into the old jacket and zipped it. “I’ll go help Olaf with the truck.”

“Stay inside,” Marge insisted. “You’ve been exposed to the weather enough for one day.”

“I’m fine.” He nodded toward Emma, his dark eyes smoldering. “I’ll be back in a minute for you.”

Emma’s heart fluttered. She knew he didn’t mean anything by the look, other than he’d be back to load her up in the truck.

Alone with Marge, Emma wished she was warm enough to go out and help, but the thought of going out in the cold so soon after nearly dying in it didn’t appeal to her in the least. How did Dante do it?

“That’s some man you have there,” Marge said, fussing over the blankets in Emma’s lap.

Emma started to tell Marge that he wasn’t her man, but decided it didn’t matter. The farmer and his wife had been very helpful, taking them in and providing them warmth and clothing.