This Perfect Stranger by Barbara Ankrum

Author:Barbara Ankrum
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2001-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

Cain hauled Biscuit to a stop at the sight of Maggie’s truck, lying sideways and half submerged in the swiftly moving flash-flood waters of the wash. And felt his heart move into his throat.

“Maggie!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. But the torrent was loud and the rain, relentless. He vaulted off the horse, already stripping off his jacket, and ran to the edge of the water. Cupping his mouth with his hands, he shouted again. “Maggie!”

Nothing.

There was no sign of her. The driver’s side window was open and muddy water was splashing against the inside of the truck’s cab. His heart was thudding in his ears.

Don’t be dead. Please God—

He yanked the rope from his saddle, tossed it around himself, then attached the other end to Biscuit’s saddle horn. She was the best cutting horse Maggie owned and he knew he could count on her to pull him back out if he got in trouble.

He waded into the rushing deluge and immediately knew it was going to be too slippery to navigate. The slick grass underfoot was like ice and the current impossible. He backed up and started upstream to get above it.

That’s when he heard it.

The voice was faint, but distinct. And it belonged to Maggie.

Cain slipped on the bank and recovered, dragging Biscuit in the direction of the sound. Forty feet away, he saw her, clinging desperately to a half-submerged chokecherry bush and fighting the current determined to drag her away.

“Maggie!” He sent up a silent prayer of thanks. “Hang on.”

“Cain! I’m slipping!” she cried.

Cain ran to the edge of the frigid water and plunged in, feeling the current threaten to take him out into the center of the spreading river. He fought it, stroking hard in her direction.

“Maggie! Don’t let go!”

“Cain! Please—”

The current slammed him into the bush near Maggie and she lost her grip. But he caught her wrist just before she flew out of reach and dragged her toward him with one hand. His own grip on the bush was tenuous and he knew he’d have to let go to get them out of here.

“Maggie—” he shouted, “put your arms around me!”

She clung to his neck but she was cold and moving too slowly and her lips were a dangerous shade of blue. “S-so c-cold…”

“The rope, Maggie. Slip under the rope.”

Her numb fingers plucked at the rope but the tension kept her from getting any grip on it. And it was impossible to open the loop that held him firmly. The current slapped them in the face and stole Cain’s breath. Gulping air, he could feel the cold working on his muscles and knew they had precious little time to get out of here before they were both lost causes.

He threw a look back to the bank where Biscuit waited, braced against the tug of his weight, ears thrust forward. “Biscuit!” he shouted over the roar of the water. “Back! Back up, damn you!”

Slowly, one step at a time, he did. Cain felt the tug of the rope against his chest and felt his grip on the branch of the bush weaken.

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