At the Rancher's Request. Sara Orwig

there’s a good hotel. I’ll call Ed who owns this gas station and tell him you’re leaving your car here for the weekend. It’ll be Monday before anyone can look at your car. In the meantime, I’ll take you back to Verity and you can get a hotel room.”

      “Thank you,” she said, giving him another faint smile.

      “Let’s go sit with my son Scotty until this rain lets up. This is a whopper of a storm. We’ve had a long dry spell, so now we’re getting the rain all at once to make up for it. This is supposed to change to snow later tonight.”

      As she nodded, Mike opened the truck door.

      Sliding into the truck on the passenger side, she turned to smile at Scotty. “Hi.”

      “Hi,” he replied, staring at her.

      Mike turned to her. “Savannah, this is Scotty. Scotty, this is Ms. Grayson.”

      “Hi, Ms. Grayson,” he said.

      Mike closed her door. He walked around to sit behind the steering wheel while she shed her parka and smoothed the oversize navy sweatshirt she wore. The interior of his truck had cooled with the window lowered, so Mike turned on the engine, the heater and defrost. Lights from the dash gave a soft glow in the car.

      “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here,” Savannah said. “Probably driven it out into the rain, opened the hood and then ran. I suppose the rain would have put out the fire.”

      Mike laughed. “Guess it is a good thing I was here. Where in Arkansas are you from?” he asked, looking into big eyes that were the deep blue of a summer sky.

      “Little Rock,” she replied.

      The first hailstone caught their attention. In seconds another struck, then hail began hurtling at the car and ground.

      “Thank goodness we’re sheltered and I’m not still out on the highway,” Savannah said.

      “Those are big hailstones. I’m glad we’re both here.” He took a few minutes to call Ed about her car, then pocketed his phone. “All set for Monday morning,” he told Savannah. “Why don’t you take what you need from your car and then lock it. You can leave the key in the drop box on the station door.”

      “This is nice of you. I hate for you to have to drive back to Verity.”

      “I don’t mind,” he answered. Hailstones fell harder, faster, bouncing when they hit the pavement. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled.

      “Damn. We’re having a bad storm. Excuse me a minute. I want to check at the ranch.” He called his foreman, explaining he was waiting out the storm at Ed’s station. After a lengthy report from Ray on how things were faring, Mike said he’d check back in later.

      He slipped his phone into his pocket. “I don’t live far from here. We’re not going to get back into Verity tonight because the river is flooding and we’d need to cross a bridge to get into town. Also, the temperature is dropping. If it keeps up, this will turn to sleet and roads can get slick in the blink of an eye.”

      “Seems I’ve gone from bad to worse,” she said, gazing at the rain.

      “Savannah, you’re welcome to come back to my ranch with me. You can get a character reference from the sheriff of Verity. I have his phone number—he’s my relative. Or if you want to check in with someone who’s not a relative of mine, I can give you my banker’s or lawyer’s number. I just don’t want you to worry about coming home with us.”

      She laughed. “Mercy. That’s a lot of references.”

      “I’m calling the sheriff now and you can talk to him.”

      “Please, you don’t need to call. I think your best reference is sitting in the backseat.”

      Startled, Mike looked up to see a twinkle in her blue eyes. “Scotty?”

      She turned to Scotty. “Scotty, can I trust your daddy?”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      She smiled at Mike, an enticing smile that revealed even white teeth and made the evening seem suddenly better. “I think you’ve given me enough assurances that I’ll be safe to go with you. You don’t need to call the sheriff. Do you need to call your wife and tell her you’re bringing a guest home?”

      Mike felt a clutch to his insides. No one had asked about Elise in a long time, but it still hurt when he was questioned. “I’m a widower.”

      “I’m sorry,” she said instantly.

      “Thanks. I think the hail has let up slightly. Let’s get things out of your car and get going while we can. Scotty, just sit tight. I’m going to help Ms. Grayson move some of her bags to our car.”

      “Yes, sir,” Scotty replied.

      In minutes they had moved suitcases, a laptop, two backpacks and a box. As soon as she locked her car and dropped the keys in the drop box, they climbed into his truck and he drove back onto the state highway. She glanced back at her car.

      “Your car will be okay there.”

      “I wasn’t worried. It’s an older car with a burned, damaged engine and I don’t think anyone would want it. And thanks so much for your help,” she added. “I hope I don’t crowd you. I can sleep anywhere—sofa, floor, anything works.”

      He smiled. “You won’t have to sleep on the floor. I have plenty of room.”

      They became quiet while Mike concentrated on his driving. The rain was still heavy, but not the downpour it had been, which improved visibility.

      Almost an hour later as they neared the turn for the front gate, Mike called his foreman again on a hands-free phone in his truck. When he ended the brief call, he glanced in the mirror at his son. Big brown eyes gazed back at him.

      “Scotty, we’ll need to go around the creek to get home. But don’t worry because I promise we’ll get home.”

      Scotty smiled and nodded, and Mike glanced at Savannah. “My foreman drove to the creek that crosses the ranch. We can’t get there the usual way from this road. I have to take a longer route.”

      “Whatever is necessary. Anything beats staying alone in my burned car in the rain all night,” she said, smiling. “I’m just thankful to have a roof over my head tonight and be where people are.”

      The downpour suddenly thickened, sheets of rain sweeping over the vehicle again and then hailstones began bouncing off his truck.

      “Dammit,” Mike said softly, glancing quickly in the mirror and seeing Scotty’s eyes wide and frightened.

      “Daddy, I don’t like this.”

      “It’ll quit in a minute, Scotty, and with every mile we’re getting closer to home.”

      “Scotty,” Savannah said, rummaging in her purse and turning slightly to reach between the seats. “I keep a tiny flashlight in my purse. You take it. And look at this. It’s a compass—it shows you which direction you’re headed. See this letter. It’s a W. W means west. We’ll be much closer to your home when the needle points to—” She paused.

      “N,” Mike said.

      “N is for north,” Scotty replied.

      “Very good, Scotty,” Savannah said. “How old is he?” she asked Mike.

      “Yes. He’ll soon turn three and he’s with adults all the time. He knows about a compass.”

      “Scotty, you can watch that compass to see which direction we’re going. You have a flashlight so you can see the letters.” As the hail increased, she raised her voice. “You’ll know when we turn that you’re closer to your home. Look here. I have a marble that was in my purse. I’ll hide it in one of my hands and you guess which one it’s in.”