Chapter One

      “Oh, this is not good...” Nina Crawford said to herself as she cautiously pulled her SUV to a stop at the sign on the isolated country road outside her hometown.

      Mother Nature had not been kind to Rust Creek Falls this year. First a summer flood had devastated the small Montana town, and now—still in the midst of trying to recover from that—it was being hit by a December blizzard.

      The weather report had predicted only a moderate storm that would arrive later tonight. Nina ran her family’s general store in town and, trusting that weather report, when an elderly, arthritic customer on an outlying farm had called in and asked that a heating pad be delivered to her, Nina hadn’t hesitated to leave the store in the hands of her staff and grant that request. And even when that lonely elderly woman had offered Christmas cookies and chamomile tea, Nina still hadn’t had any worries about spending an hour visiting.

      But the sky had grown increasingly ominous and dark with storm clouds, and when the first few flakes began to fall much earlier than they were supposed to, Nina had left.

      Only to find herself miles from home when the howling winds had whipped that snow into a blinding frenzy.

      Temperatures had plummeted rapidly, and already the snow was freezing to the windows of Nina’s SUV, adding to the limitations of her vision. She rolled down her window, hoping to be able to better see if another vehicle was coming from her left.

      It didn’t help much. Visibility was low. Very, very low.

      She studied the crossroads, searching for anything that might give her an indication that another car was coming. But she didn’t see any approaching headlights in the whiteout conditions, and all she could hear was the screaming wind. So, hoping the coast was clear, she rolled up her window and ventured into her right turn.

      But the moment she got out onto the road she did see headlights. Coming straight for her.

      Trying to avoid a collision she swerved sharply, and so did the other vehicle.

      The next thing Nina knew her SUV was nose-down in a ditch and she’d fallen pregnant-belly-first into the steering wheel.

      Which was when she felt the first pain.

      “No, no, no, no...”

      Fighting the rise of panic, she did what she could to push herself back from the steering wheel—which at that angle was no easy task.

      Her due date was January 13. It was currently two weeks before Christmas. If her baby was born now it would be a month early.

      She couldn’t deliver a month early.

      She couldn’t....

      A pounding on her side window startled her and the fright didn’t help matters.

      “Are you all right?” a man’s voice shouted in to her.

      Her SUV hadn’t hit anything so her airbag hadn’t activated and the engine was still running. But dazed and scared, she didn’t know if she was all right. She just couldn’t think straight.

      Then the door was opened from the outside. And standing there was Dallas Traub!

      It wasn’t exactly encouraging to see a member of the family that had been at odds with her own for generations.

      “Are you all right?” he repeated.

      “I don’t know. I may be going into labor. I think I need help....”

      “Okay, stay calm. My truck is stuck, too, on the other side of the road. But at least it isn’t nearly up on end the way you are. If we can get you out of here you can lie down in my backseat.”

      Fear and the dull ache in her abdomen robbed Nina of the ability to argue. Traub or not, he was all there was and she was going to have to accept his aid.

      “Can you turn off the engine?” he asked.

      That made sense but it hadn’t occurred to Nina. And, yes, she could do that, so she did, leaving the keys in the ignition.

      “I’m glad to see that you can move your arms. Do you have feeling everywhere—arms, legs, hands, feet?”

      “Yes.”

      “Did you hit your head? Do you have any neck pain?”

      “No, I didn’t hit my head and I don’t have any neck pain. I just hit the steering wheel.”

      “Are