Free Her Dearest Enemy by Elizabeth Lane

been forced to amputatethe poor fellow’s leg below the knee. Not a goodthing to remember at a time like this.
    “I could go for help,” Harriet said. “Johnson Citycan’t be all that far.”
    Brandon shifted against the rock that supportedhis weight. “We’re about halfway between Dutchman’sCreek and Johnson City, so either way it’sabout seven miles. But in your condition, you’d nevermake it, especially in this weather. Right now, theonly smart thing you can do is find yourself a shelteredspot below the cliff and hunker down untilsomebody comes along who can help us.”
    “But you’ll be in the creek all that time!” she argued,her words floating to him across the water.“You could freeze to death!”
    “I’ll be fine,” he said, knowing it could well turnout to be a lie. “Go on, now! Find yourself a safe hollowbefore you catch your death of pneumonia!”
    Harriet did not reply, but Brandon could sense herhesitation. “Go on!” he barked. “You can’t do ablasted thing for me right now, so you might as welltake care of yourself!”
    The only answer was the banshee scream of thecougar.
    Panic surged through Brandon’s body. “Harriet!”he shouted. “Where the devil are you?”
    “Here!” He heard her now, splashing through thecreek toward him. “Let’s just hope that big kittydoesn’t like getting wet!”
    “Did you see it?” He reached out and caught herhand, pulling her under the edge of the buggy. Shewas cold and trembling, her eyes huge in the darkness.
    She shook her head in answer to his question. “Ididn’t take the time to look. But that cry—mercifulheaven! He sounds like a giant version of the tomcatsI hear yowling in the cemetery at night.” Shemanaged a brave little laugh. “Who knows? Maybehe’s just serenading a lady friend.”
    “I don’t think this is the mating season for cougars,”Brandon said. “Until we’re certain he’s gone,you’d better stay right here.”
    Opening his sheepskin coat, he pulled her closeagainst the rock that was his anchor in the swift-moving current. He had never given a thought to embracingthe maidenly Miss Smith, but holding her inhis arms was the only way to make room for themboth in the tight, dark space beneath the buggy. Fora long moment her body was tense and resistant.Then, with a sigh, she sagged against him, curlinginto the little warmth he had to offer. It was a matterof survival, nothing more, Brandon told himself. Itwould change nothing between them.
    “How’s your leg?” Her voice was an intimate,husky whisper in the darkness.
    “Water’s pretty well numbed it,” he muttered, hishead swimming with the fragrance of her damp hairagainst his cheek. “Probably a good thing, keepingit cold like this.”
    “I could try to look at it—or at least reach downand feel it through the water.”
    “Don’t bother. There’s nothing you can do untilwe get help. Meanwhile, I’d just as soon not knowhow bad it is.”
    “I could try tipping the buggy off you. I might beable to lift it from the open side.”
    Brandon exhaled shakily. “Tipping the buggymight do more harm than good. Leave it be, Harriet.God didn’t appoint you to step in and fix everythingthat’s wrong in this world!”
    She glanced up at him with a puzzled frown.“Now where did that silly idea come from? You’renot going to pass out on me, are you?”
    “I’m fine,” Brandon snapped, although he didseem to be feeling light-headed. What if the injuryto his leg had cut a vein or an artery and he wasbleeding into the water, too numb to feel what washappening?
    A shudder passed through his body as he realizedthat, for now at least, there was nothing to be done.True, Harriet might be able to tip the buggy, but onlyfrom the open side, which would throw even moreweight onto the crushed leg. To tilt the vehicle backward,lifting it free, would require the strength of severalmen or a horse. Meanwhile, a tourniquet aroundhis thigh might stop the bleeding, but it