Her sister Margaret had written twice urging her to come.

You cannot manage the farm alone, Natalie.

There is room here.

Come before the babies are born.

Natalie had resisted for weeks.

The farm outside Promontory had been the last piece of the life she had built with James.

Selling it felt like admitting he was never coming home.

But creditors had begun arriving.

First politely.

Then less politely.

James had earned modest wages at the Lucky Banner silver mine.

When he died beneath a timber collapse four months earlier, Natalie discovered debts she had never known existed.

Feed accounts.

Equipment notes.

A loan bearing what appeared to be James’s signature.

By September, nearly everything had been taken.

She kept the wagon.

Two horses.

James’s Bible.

His trunk.

And the wedding ring she refused to remove.

So Natalie had packed what remained and begun the journey to Kelton.

She was perhaps seven and a half months pregnant.

Maybe eight.

The doctor in Promontory had never been certain because she carried so large.

“Could be one very healthy child,” he had said.

James had laughed.

“With my appetite.”

Natalie had elbowed him.

That had been three days before he died.

Now she was alone.

At least that was what she believed until the rider appeared.

He materialized beneath the storm clouds shortly after four in the afternoon.

Natalie saw him through blurred vision while trying to breathe through another pain.

Dark hat.

Brown horse.

Long coat snapping in the wind.

He approached cautiously.

“Ma’am?”

Natalie gripped the wagon seat.

“Stay where I can see you.”

The cowboy stopped.

He looked to be in his early thirties, perhaps thirty-four.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered without being bulky.

His face had been darkened by years outdoors, and there was a narrow scar near his left temple.

His eyes were gray.

Not cold.

Just watchful.

“My name is Ryan Patterson,” he said.

“Natalie Foster.”

Something changed in his face.

Only for a second.

Natalie noticed.

“You know my name?”

“No.”

“You looked like you did.”

Ryan glanced at the sky.

“Where are you headed?”

“Kelton.”

“Not before that storm catches you.”

“I don’t have much choice.”

“You traveling alone?”

Natalie gave him a look.

Ryan nodded.

“Stupid question.”

Another pain began.

Natalie bent forward.

Ryan immediately dismounted but did not approach.

“How long has that been happening?”

“I’m fine.”

“That didn’t look fine.”

“It will stop.”

“How far along are you?”

Natalie glared at him.

“Mr.

Patterson.”

“Sorry.”

Then water spread beneath her skirts.

Natalie stared down.

For one heartbeat she could not understand what she was seeing.

Then she whispered, ”

Oh, God.

”

Ryan did not need an explanation.

He looked toward the west.

Lightning flashed across the horizon.

“We need shelter.”

“There isn’t any.”

“There is.”

“Where?”

“Line shack.

Maybe two miles northeast.”

“How do you know?”

Ryan hesitated.

“I know this country.”

The next contraction nearly pushed Natalie from the wagon seat.

Ryan caught her.

She should have been frightened by his hands on her.

Instead she grabbed his coat.