Page 45 of A Rugged Beauty
Hollis's head pounded as he reached down to gather his things from the bank. He hadn't bathed, but maybe that didn't matter anymore.
His hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Tell no one.
His traitorous brain was quick to remind him of the statement he'd made when they'd been rescued. He'd claimedAbigail was his wife in front of August, Owen, Beaumont and Bones.
He’d created a problem. One that had no solution.
Nine
The usual morningnoise from camp was familiar, but something about the familiar was grating today. Part of Abigail missed the gurgling of the river, the quiet birdcalls.
Hollis's closeness.
She worked to put that from her mind as she took the pan of biscuits away from the campfire.
"Oh." Alice had come around the corner of one of the wagons and nearly ran into Abigail. "I didn't know you were there."
Abigail nodded acknowledgement. No harm done.
Alice waved a book in the air as she stepped around the fire. "Leaving this for Hollis. Leo wanted him to have it."
Good. Hollis's captains were rallying around him. Whether he would let anyone close was a mystery, but he needed friends.
Alice left the book on the open tailgate of Hollis's wagon. She was hurrying out of camp, obviously in the middle of packing up, but hesitated. "You're awfully quiet this morning. Everything all right?"
Abigail felt a shadow of herself. Or maybe it was the grief from regained memories that hung over her like a cloud. It wasn't good if Alice had noticed.
She attempted a smile. "Just feeling a little discombobulated being back in camp. I'll be all right."
Alice watched her with serious eyes. "You certain?"
Abigail nodded. "Every day on the trail is one day closer to seeing my brother."
That was the reason, Abigail realized, she had come on this journey. She needed to focus on Joseph, on her future. But she couldn’t find the hope she’d felt before she’d left her home in the East. The unsettled, bitter memory of Mr. Smith’s betrayal was too fresh. New again with the return of her memory.
Alice didn’t seem to notice Abigail’s uneasy attitude. She ducked out of the campsite, no doubt off on another errand. Abigail moved to the tailgate of her wagon where she'd set out several tin plates. She pushed for a sound from her throat. It was difficult to think of the tune, to begin to hum.
She felt much the same as she had after her mam had passed away.
Her skin prickled with constant awareness. No matter what she did, an ache knotted her stomach.
Chin up.
Joseph's voice in her head reminded her that there was no room for sadness. Not with so much to be done.
She didn’t understand it. How could she be grieving the loss of a... friendship... with Hollis when it hadn't been real?
But it had felt real. When they'd fought against the elements, fought for survival, it'd been the two of them against the entire wilderness.
She blinked away the memories and realized she'd stopped humming again.
She let a tune vibrate from her throat, louder this time, as she spooned gravy over the biscuits. They'd been on the trail long enough that there were no bits of ham in the white gravy. This morning, she'd been conscious of the fact that the salt barrel washalf-empty too. She'd been a little more stingy with the salt and pepper in the gravy. Were they halfway through this ordeal?
With nothing left but to serve the breakfast, she harrumphed when she realized her humming had faded again.
She strode through the camp, aware of a woman in conversation with her neighbor, a whisper cut off as Abigail walked past them. A man and his teenaged daughter stared at her as she progressed through camp.
