Josh squinted into the distance, studying the progress of the storm. He could hear the rumble of thunder in the distance and knew the rain would reach them before they reached the ranch. Instinctively, he urged his horse faster, but not because he was afraid of getting wet. They had to get to higher ground before the tons of water washing down the far mountains swept onto the prairie in a giant wall and devoured them.

Still, he felt no fear but only a curious sense of excitement, even though he understood perfectly the danger they were in. Savage and merciless though it was, this was his land, as much a part of him as his own flesh and bones. He owned the ground they rode upon, legally and outright, but he also knew that whatever the government papers might say, in reality the land owned him. The Indians had accepted that fact, never comprehending the white man's idea of property, and Josh accepted it, also.

As the endless canopy of sky turned slowly gray above him and thunder echoed from afar, Josh recalled what his father had told him time and again. "Never put your trust in other people," he had warned. "They come and they go, but the land is always here. You can love the land, son. It will never betray you."

Josh and his father knew well the pain of betrayal, the pain that loving a person could cause. They never spoke of it, but it was always there, hovering and haunting, coloring every aspect of their lives. And when Josh had buried his father, bequeathing him finally to the earth he loved, Josh had found himself completely alone except for his land. But that had been enough, then.

Lightning streaked across the horizon, and Josh tightened his grip on the girl in anticipation of the noise that would awaken her. He knew a sudden pity for this little Felicity, this rootless wanderer whose only remaining bond with the earth was a wagon which might not even survive the fury of the coming storm. She was as alone as he. For the first time he felt the burden of that loneliness as he cradled her protectively.

The crash of thunder jarred her awake, and for one horrible moment Felicity thought she was once again alone on the plains with that horrible storm breaking over her. But only for a moment. Strong arms tightened around her in silent comfort, and she became fully aware of her surroundings. A storm was breaking, all right, but Mr. Logan would protect her.

Shifting a little from her half-reclining position in his arms, she looked around. The clear blue sky was now gray and overcast, and a chill wind cut through the worn fabric of her dress. She had seen many of these storms in her life and knew the havoc they could wreak. She turned her gaze to the face of the man who held her. His grim expression chilled her more thoroughly than the cool breeze.

"How far are we from your ranch?" she asked.

"Too far," he replied, telling her that they would not make shelter before the storm hit. What he did not say, and hoped she would not notice, was that they were crossing a large gully. The ground beneath them was bone dry, but at any moment a flash flood could turn the gully into a raging river capable of carrying them and their horses to oblivion. But they had no other choice than to cross the gully, since to avoid it meant adding several hours to the trip. If only they could make it before… "Hold on!" Josh yelled, leaning forward to provide her body greater protection as he spurred his huge Appaloosa into a gallop.

Felicity clung for dear life. At first she only feared falling from the running animal, but then she heard the distant roar and understood with terrifying clarity the reason for the mad run. Flash flood!

Jarring, bouncing, clutching, and praying, Felicity caught a glimpse of the water, the enormous gray mass a hundred feet high, churning and foaming and charging relentlessly toward them. Closing her eyes against the horrible sight, she realized the Appaloosa was straining. They were running uphill. Uphill, away from the water-to safety! Her prayers changed, thanks mingling with entreaties for the other two men whom she could no longer see.

Josh was cursing his own stupidity. Why had he not allowed Cody to take the girl? The two of them together would not weigh much more than Josh alone, and Cody's mount could have easily carried them both at a dead run. He had stubbornly insisted on taking her himself, and now his horse was laboring under the double load. Would they make it? Would his stubbornness cost the girl's life as well as his own?

Expecting to see Cody and Grady race by him at any moment, Josh guided his mount up the ever-steepening incline to the plateau above that beckoned mockingly. The Appaloosa was straining but he wasn't winded. Thank God he had thought to ride the big animal this afternoon. A smaller pony would have faltered long since. A few more feet, only a few more. Josh risked one last glance at the water. Still plenty of time if they didn't slip. And then they were free.

The Appaloosa reared when Josh jerked him to a halt and turned him around to check the progress of his two friends. Just as the horse's front hooves hit the ground again, an agonized animal scream pierced the now constant thunder of the approaching flood.

The scream came again and again, and Felicity stared in horror at the horse that lay thrashing halfway up the hill, its foreleg snapped and shredded into a gory mass. The boy, the boy who had found her, had struggled free and was scrambling up the hill, but he would never make it ahead of the water. Even she could see that. He would disappear beneath the liquid avalanche as if he had never even existed.

Josh took in the scene in an instant. From the corner of his eye, he saw Grady's horse clawing its way over the top. Grady had not yet seen, and by the time Josh could call to him and get him to turn…

"Stay here!" he commanded, thrusting the girl to the ground. Without even making a conscious decision to do so, he spurred his horse back down the hill.

Somehow Felicity found her feet, barely conscious of the huge raindrops that had suddenly started to assault her. Some distant part of her brain registered the fact that the third man had reached the safety of the plateau and was calling something to the others, but she could not make out his words. She could only watch the tableau before her, the wall of water roaring toward them, the magnificent gray horse with his equally magnificent rider racing back down the hill to certain destruction, the boy lifting his arm with a shout, the man grasping it and pulling him up to the saddle even as he turned the gelding and began again the long climb to safety.

But this time rain was sluicing down the hill, turning it into a quagmire. The Appaloosa faltered once, and then again. "No!" she screamed, but the wind tore the sound from her, and even she could not hear it above the deafening rush of the water. Closer, ever closer, the flood roared onward, and again the horse slipped.

Felicity raced to the edge of the plateau as if she might somehow draw them up by force of will. Seconds, they only had seconds left before the water crushed them. Someone grabbed her arm. "Stay back!" he yelled, shoving her away from the edge. The other man was reaching, grabbing the horse's halter as it came, pulling for all he was worth.

She ran, her wet skirts dragging at her legs, and she grabbed, too, catching a handful of leather and throwing her whole body backward toward safety. For one awful second, the animal would not budge as his hooves gouged into the mire, and a blast of spray pelted them, the harbinger of disaster. "Oh, please!" she cried, tears mingling with raindrops.

And then the flood came, smashing, surging, swirling, its dark tentacles reaching out for victims. At the very last instant, the Appaloosa caught his footing and charged over the crest of the hill. Flung aside like a rag doll, Felicity slammed to the ground as the horse frantically raced by.