The wind almost knocked her down. She balanced against the wagon and moved forward. By the time she got to the lead horses, Trapper was already there, trying to control the huge animals.

She grabbed the bridle of one lead horse. Trapper had the other.

For a moment he didn’t see her through the curtain of rain. “What are you doing here?” he yelled. “Get back in the wagon, Emery!”

“No!” she shouted. When she pulled the horse back in line, they began to make progress. She felt like they were walking into an ocean. The rain was so hard she could barely breathe.

One step at a time they moved toward a thick stand of trees. It took what seemed like an hour to go the few hundred yards, but when they stepped behind the shelter of the rock outcrop, the wind slowed suddenly to a breeze as the rain dribbled.

Thirty feet more and they were in the shelter of the trees. Trapper pointed to a break in the tree line just big enough to pull in the horses and the wagon.

The wind and the noise of the pounding rain died, but the gloomy day remained. Now they were moving through a cloud sitting on the ground.

Emery held the reins, talking low to the exhausted team as Trapper began to unhitch the wagon. Four little heads peeked out of the wagon behind Number One, who still stood her post. She might be just thirteen, but she’d done her job better than most men could.

Trapper yelled for them to get back inside; then he helped One down from the bench. “You did great, Number One. I’m very proud of you.”

She smiled. “I told you I could drive.” She went to work, helping to settle the horses, and moved them twenty feet away to an opening beneath the overhang. It looked calm there in the shadows, and the grass was still green.

Emery started toward the wagon, carefully picking her steps in stocking feet. As she watched her path, she suddenly realized her bloomers were plastered to her legs.

She rounded the front of the wagon to the step up to the bench and noticed the thin material of her camisole was wet and lying like a second skin over her breasts. The pink of her nipples was showing proudly through the silk.

Before she could take the step into the wagon, she looked up and saw Trapper standing a few feet away. He seemed frozen as he stared.

There was nowhere she could run. If she stepped up, he’d see more of her, and if she turned to run to the back of the wagon, he’d see her backside.

She straightened and lifted her chin. “Turn around, Mr. Trapper.”

For a moment he didn’t move. She didn’t think he was breathing. He was simply standing there. His eyes were wide open and looking at her.