The Forest Ranger's Child. Leigh Bale

She opened her eyes, but fear or fatigue kept her from moving. If she let go, the flood would sweep her away.

       He cupped one hand around his mouth like a megaphone and yelled louder. “Hang on! I’ll be right back.”

       She didn’t even lift a hand as he turned and sprinted to his truck. Mentally, he took stock of the supplies he had in the back tool chest. His fire pack, ready at a moment’s notice in case he was called out on a wildfire. It included fresh water and food. A first-aid kit, which he might need soon. A toolbox, coils of rope and rappelling clips. He’d definitely need those now.

       A sense of urgency pushed him to hurry. He had no idea how long she’d be able to hold on.

       Inside his truck, he tossed the camera onto the seat and started the engine. Putting the vehicle into four-wheel drive, he steered it off the dirt road and through the brush, getting as close to the flood as possible without burying the tires in the bog so that he wouldn’t be able to break free.

       She was still there, her right cheek resting against the hard boulder. Water rushed over her, slapping her in the face. Now and then she coughed and he breathed with relief. Obviously she had a good hold on the rock, but how long would her strength hold out against the cold, swift current?

       After jerking on a pair of leather gloves, Nate secured two lengths of rope to the front fender of the truck. Then he tied one rope around his middle. As an Eagle Scout, he’d learned to tie knots that wouldn’t come loose, thanks to his mother’s persistence to keep him involved in good activities.

       Binding the other rope to his belt, he trudged through the mud toward the flood. He gasped as he entered the frigid water. The powerful stream knocked him down, soaking his green forest ranger uniform to the skin. The rope gave him security and he pulled it taut to regain his feet. Without the lifeline, he would have been swept away by the stream and possibly drowned.

       With powerful strokes, he fought to swim his way across to the woman. Adrenaline pumped through his body, giving him strength. An entire tree trunk brushed past, its sharp branches scraping his side. In the freezing water, he grunted but barely felt the pain.

       Thankfully the majority of rocks and debris had already passed, pushed forward by the flood. Every muscle in Nate’s body tensed as he fought to keep from being whisked away. He barely dodged a boulder aimed at his head. Cold water washed over him again and again and he coughed.

       Almost there.

       His cold fingers clasped the rock the woman was clinging to, his wet gloves stiff and unyielding. Panting for breath, he looped the rope around the boulder to hold him steady until he was ready to return to shore. He leaned next to the woman, speaking loud over the roar of water. “You okay?”

       Her eyes slit open, then closed, followed by a subtle nod. She was alive, but a trail of blood rolled down her forehead where a lump had formed beneath a nasty gash. Without examining her, he had no idea of the seriousness of her injuries.

       “Help us. Please,” she whispered in a hoarse voice.

       “Us? Is someone with you?” He looked around, his gaze searching for another person he must have missed, but he saw no one else.

       She didn’t respond, her eyes rolling backward in her head. She let go of the rock and he grabbed her before she could whisk away. Holding her tightly by the arm, he pulled the second rope free of his belt and tied it around her chest, just beneath her arms.

       “Can you hear me?” He patted her chilled cheeks, hoping to rouse her. He’d need her help to get them both safely back to shore.

       She didn’t open her eyes, but her mouth moved. He leaned near, feeling her warm breath against his cheek.

       “My baby…please don’t let my baby die…sorry for everything…so sorry.”

       She was pregnant!

       If Nate hadn’t felt the critical situation before, he did now. He had to get her out of here and rush her to a doctor.

       “I’m gonna pull us back to shore, okay?”

       She gave a brief nod, her eyes opening. In their velvet brown depths, he saw deep, wrenching fear.

       “Can you hold on to me?” he asked.

       Another nod that didn’t inspire much confidence in him. She seemed too weak. Too fragile and exhausted. But he doubted he could save her if she couldn’t help hold on.

       “Wrap your arms and legs around me like a python and don’t let go no matter what. I’ll pull us to safety.”

       She did as told, lying against his back as she knotted her small hands in a fist across his chest. With her behind him, he took hold of the rope and pulled, hand-over-hand. The current swept them away and the woman cried out but she didn’t let go.

       “I’ve got us. Just hang on.” His words were meant to encourage her and to give himself the nerve to keep going.

       The rope burned through his hands, but he found a harder grip. Thank goodness for his gloves. His palms would have been shredded to the bone without the protective layer.

       He and the woman jerked hard, tossed in the water like a tiny twig. He pulled and pulled until his arms trembled with fatigue. The frigid water sapped his strength. If he let go, they’d lose headway and he’d have to start over. They still could drown. His stamina wouldn’t last forever. He must make every movement count.

       He didn’t look up, focusing on the length of rope directly in front of him. It was a gargantuan effort not to let his gloved hands slip again. His fingers felt like clumps of ice and wouldn’t obey his commands. Hand-over-hand. Again and again. How long was this rope?

       Finally! Finally he felt solid ground beneath his feet. He kept walking, carrying the woman on his back as he trudged up the muddy bank, his booted feet sinking deep. He staggered to shore.

       Rivulets of water drained from his drab olive-green shirt and pants. As he walked, his work boots felt like heavy bricks of cement strapped to his feet. Looking down, he noticed he’d lost his ranger shield, a small hole in his shirt showing the only proof that he’d worn the badge that day. Blood soaked his side where the tree branch had lacerated his shirt and skin. He scanned the injury with his eyes. Just a flesh wound. He’d survived worse injuries riding wild broncs on the national rodeo circuit, but he’d never been this scared even when he’d faced an angry bull.

       He dropped his hands to the shore and the woman slid away. She lay on the ground beside him, her blue jeans splotched with dirt. One foot was bare, her tennis shoe and sock obviously sucked away by the flood. Her wet shirt clung to her rounded tummy. Definitely pregnant but not real big yet.

       He knelt beside her, touching her face with his shaking hands, searching for life. “You okay, ma’am?”

       A single, brief nod.

       “How about your baby?”

       In response, she slid a pale hand over her abdomen. He had no idea if her baby was alive. He’d heard of traumatic events like this throwing a woman into early labor. She didn’t look far enough along for the baby to survive if it were born now.

       A sense of urgency swept him. “Can you stand?”

       This time, she didn’t move or open her eyes.

       Standing, he tried to pick her up and almost dropped her in spite of her slim weight. The effort to get her to shore had sapped the strength in his arms.

       Changing his tactics, he untied the ropes from around them, then took hold of her shoulders and half carried, half dragged her to his truck. Once he got her inside and buckled in, he wrapped a woolen blanket over her, tucking it around her shoulders and feet. The chattering of her teeth told him she was still alive and suffering from the beginnings of hypothermia. The shivering would help warm her body, but he had no idea what the impact might be on her baby.

       With slow, awkward movements, he removed the roped clips from the fender