Page 4 of A Rugged Beauty
“There’s nothing here,” she said, as if her thoughts had followed his gaze around the clearing. “No house. No city. No wagon or horses to pull it.”
“It’d be oxen you’d want for a long journey.” The words slipped past his lips before a conscious thought had formed.
Her brows furrowed above intelligent eyes. “How do you know that?”
He shook his head, but aborted the movement and winced as pain spiked behind his eyes. “I don’t know how I know it, I just do.”
She crossed her arms over her midsection. “It’s like we’ve been dropped from the sky in this wilderness.”
Though his head protested, he forced himself to his feet. Wobbled a bit, but that passed when he spread his feet wide.
"Fanciful," he said. "But not possible. There has to be an explanation."
Her lips pursed and for a moment, he was caught in a staring contest, wariness exuding from both sides.
She was beautiful. There was no denying it. When he would've acted on the tug in his gut pulling him toward her, she glanced to the side, giving him her profile.
"You don't remember anything?" he prodded.
He took a couple of steps to reach the fire and nudged the toe of his boot through the ashes. It was completely dead, completely cold. It could've been out for hours. Or days, though that seemed less likely because the ashes weren't scattered.
"I remember the name of a little girl I knew when I was a child... I think. My brother's face. My father is just a faint trace..."
Her words prompted memory of a child's laughter, then a terrified shriek, though he received no images to go along with the sounds.
When he went to put his hands on his hips, he felt the leather belt around his waist. He glanced down as his fingertips explored.
A gun belt, though there weren't any bullets in the small leather holes made for such. Still, a revolver rested in its holster.
The man's hand closed over the gun's stock for a brief moment. He felt a sense of rightness, of security. He was meant to have this weapon, for protection. But he couldn't say why.
He patted his hips, and then his breast pocket. Empty.
When he looked up, she was watching him closely.
The awareness made heat rise in his face. "I don't suppose you've got anything useful in your pockets? Like a family Bible inscribed with our names?"
Something shifted in her expression. "Do you think our names would be in the same Bible?" A pause, a caught breath.
Married. That’s what it would likely mean to find their names were inscribed in a family Bible.
The uncertainty in her expression magnified.
“I do know you somehow.” He hadn’t meant to say the words, but there they were. He’d wanted to ease her fear, and they were true. He knew her. He felt it. He just didn’t know how.
She nodded toward something behind him. "There's a coat hanging."
When he twisted to see, she continued, "It's much too big to fit me. It must be yours."
It only took a few strides to reach where it hung in the tree. He pulled it down, feeling a lingering dampness at the seams.
"How come I'm not wearing it?"
She shrugged helplessly.
He reached into the pockets, came up empty. Disappointment rankled.
But as he folded the garment over his arm, something heavy thunked against his side. He examined the coat again, this time finding the inside breast pocket. Its flap was tucked closed. Inside, more moisture.
