Page 47 of Conveniently Wed
“Emma!” he shouted.
Fran quickly echoed his call, not needing him to instruct her.
Twigs snapped and branches slapped at him as they navigated the small woods. He hoped Fran wasn’t getting the same. She burrowed into his back. Maybe that shielded her from some of it.
Finally clearing the wooded area, there was still no sign of Emma.
The rain was pouring even harder now, if that was possible.
Another bolt of lightning rent the sky, and Fran jumped, hands clenching on his sides.
At another time, he might’ve welcomed the protective feeling that came over him, but now his worry for her sister took front and center.
He urged his horse up the incline to the top of the bluff. It grew steeper the farther they went.
He really hoped Emma had chosen to go upwards, but he had a sinking suspicion that if she were trying to hide, she had chosen the lower, more dangerous route.
And all the rainwater running off the taller swath of land to the lower could create a flash flood. Another hundred years and it might wash all the way out into a gully, but for now it just spelled danger. Rushing water and a slip of a girl weren’t a good combination.
He wished he’d had time to call for one of his brothers or the other cowboys before he’d rushed off here alone, with only Fran behind him.
But he wouldn’t let her down. In their wedding vows, he’d promised to protect her, and that extended to her sister as well.
Lightning lit the sky again, and that’s when he spotted Emma’s gray dress against the drenched green grass. She was huddled against the ground.
At least, he hoped it was her and not a wounded animal. It was hard to tell through the sheeting rain.
“Emma!” He shouted, and she moved a little. Was she hurt?
He drew up his horse on the edge of the bluff. The animal shied and a look over the side revealed why. It was a straight drop-off of maybe ten feet. If the horse stepped off it would mean a broken leg for sure—maybe for all of them.
“Is that her?” Fran cried, leaning out so she was more beside him than behind him. She kept a tight grip on his waist. “How can we get down there?”
“I don’t know. It’s a straight drop-off?—”
“You could lower me?—”
She was cut off by a loud rush. A wall of water rushed along the bottom of the bluff, separating them from Emma even more. She was feet away from the bluff, but the water still tugged at her dress or feet, he couldn’t tell which.
“Why doesn’t she get up?” Fran worried aloud.
“I don’t know, but we’ve got to figure a way to get her. If we take the time to go back and find a place to cross, the water may rise even more.”
“Lower me down,” she said again.
He shook his head, accidentally sending a stream of water from his hat brim into her face. She gasped.
“You’re too petite. That water’ll sweep your feet right out from under you.”
“But Emma?—”
“I’m going,” he made his voice firm, so there wasn’t any question, and swung his leg over the horse’s back in preparation to dismount, his opposite foot in the stirrup holding him in place temporarily.
“Guess you’re going to get that riding lesson quicker than I planned.” Before he could think better of it, he slid his good hand behind her head and pulled her in for a quick kiss, a flash fire of mouths pressed together.
Then he slid off the horse to rescue her sister.
Head spinning from that impromptu kiss, Fran registered Edgar’s slide off the horse.
