Tina Radcliffe

Stranded with the Rancher


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      Dan nodded as he pulled on a pair of dark leather gloves and picked up her suitcase again. “Ready?” he asked.

      “Yes.”

      When he opened the door a gust of wind rushed past and slammed into her, bringing stinging flakes along as well.

      Heads down, they dashed through the nearly ankle-deep snow to the curb. Yanking open the passenger door, Dan carefully helped her up and into the vehicle. Chivalry was still alive in Paradise, Beth mused.

      He adjusted his Stetson against the snow before he slid the suitcase into the backseat and then came around the truck to the driver’s side and got in. The man was well over six feet tall and the space inside the cab seemed to noticeably shrink as he settled in his seat. For the first time Beth really looked at him.

      Beneath the brim of the Stetson his black hair was trimmed short, and the shadow of a beard accented his square jaw. When he turned slightly and his gaze met hers, Beth found herself staring into calm, slate-colored eyes. She turned away, embarrassed to be caught.

      She cleared her throat. “I, ah, I really appreciate this.” She brushed the snow off her hair and reached for her seat belt.

      “Not a problem.” He pulled on his own seat belt.

      “What would you be doing if I wasn’t tagging along?”

      “I was heading home. This is just another day for me. Winter in Paradise means that some days getting home requires a bit more patience than other days.”

      “Where is it you live?” she asked.

      “Outside of Paradise.”

      “And where is Gunbarrel?”

      “A little bit farther down the road,” Dan said.

      “You’re sure we can get there?”

      “Ma’am, I’m only sure of a few things in life. But I can tell you this—if I can’t get through then no one can.”

      The CB radio crackled as the truck roared like a wakening lion. A moment later the massive windshield wipers began to slowly shovel the snow away in large wedges. The big blades moved with a thumping rhythm.

      You won’t make it. You won’t make it. They chanted the words over and over again.

      Biting her lower lip, Beth ignored the mocking and focused on trying to see the road ahead. She had to make it to New York. She’d spent too many years working her way out of her circumstances to once again be at the mercy of something she couldn’t control.

      * * *

      “What’s in New York?” Dan finally asked. They’d driven in companionable silence for several miles, and though the driving was slow, they were well past the outskirts of town.

      “I have a locum tenens position that starts on Monday,” Beth answered.

      “Locum tenens? You’re a temp doctor?” He couldn’t help the surprise in his voice.

      “Yes.”

      Dan cocked his head and shot her a glance. “If you don’t mind my asking, why would you want to be a temp doc instead of having your own practice?”

      “I like traveling. New cities. New adventures.”

      “Ah, you’re one of those.” His gaze again left the road for a moment and met her cool blue eyes.

      “Excuse me?” Annoyance laced her voice as she pushed strands of toffee-brown hair away from her face and stared at him.

      “I just mean you’re a wanderer.”

      “A wanderer?” She paused briefly, considering his words. “You’re implying I’m lost?”

      Dan held back a chuckle, recalling the Tolkien quote, “Not all who wander are lost.” Another glance at Dr. Elizabeth Rogers told him she wouldn’t be amused by the reference.

      “No, ma’am,” he finally returned.

      As if reading his mind, she exhaled sharply, obviously more than a little defensive. “You know, there’s nothing wrong with—”

      Her voice trailed off when the vehicle suddenly lurched forward.

      From habit Dan reached out an arm to protect his passenger.

      When the truck jerked to the left he gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands, struggling to maintain control.

      Something didn’t feel right with the steering. Too much play. He’d noticed the same thing earlier in the week, but had dismissed it as his imagination. Now he chastised himself for not taking the truck in to be checked.

      “You okay?” he asked as the vehicle slowed.

      She nodded. “That was scary.”

      “Yeah. Sorry, patch of ice.”

      “The temperatures are dropping already?”

      “There’s a sheet of ice on the roads from that snow-rain mix that was coming down first,” Dan said.

      “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I’ve put you at risk.”

      “Naw. I told you I’d be out on the roads anyway, to get home.” Dan turned up the defroster, hoping to clear the clouded window. “But it might be a good idea to call ahead to the Gunbarrel Hotel and let them know you’re coming.”

      Beth pulled off her gloves and dug a cell phone out of her tote. “No reception.”

      “Once we get to the other side of that hill you should get something.”

      “What hill?” She narrowed her eyes as she peered through the windshield. “All I can see are pine trees and those tall poles.”

      “Snow poles. But trust me, we’re almost past the hill. I’ve pretty much got this road memorized. I spend a lot of time back and forth, making deliveries.”

      “Deliveries?” Beth asked as she put the phone away.

      “I’m a pharmacist.”

      “A pharmacist who makes deliveries?”

      “Why not?” Dan smiled, amused at her reaction. “Fact is, sometimes it’s the only way I can get things to my patients.”

      She glanced out the back window toward the flatbed. “And you’re on a snowmobile rescue team?”

      He nodded. “Yeah. So I know this area inside and out.”

      “What do you do as a volunteer?”

      “Whatever Dr. Rogers tells me to do.” He grinned.

      “Ben is your boss?”

      “Dr. Sara and Dr. Ben are. Ben manages the unit and Sara is his backup. There are six of us and each member has their own area of expertise. I’m an AIFLP.”

      Beth stared blankly at him.

      “Advanced interfacility life support paramedic.”

      “You’re a critical care paramedic?” she asked.

      “The state of Colorado doesn’t have critical care paramedics...yet. Approval is tied up in government red tape.”

      “I’m still impressed. That’s quite a specialty out in the field.”

      Dan shrugged. “I guess so, but I’m basically in it for the perks.”

      “Perks?”

      “Occasionally they let me ride in the helicopter.”

      A smile parted her lips and her blue eyes sparkled, transforming her reserved expression. Dan was caught off guard when dimples appeared. Apparently Dr. Rogers’s good humor had been restored.

      He made a mental note not to annoy her again. They