Page 49 of A Rugged Beauty
Owen’s words instantly conjured a vision—not a memory—of Abigail in a wedding dress, Abigail curled up against him intheirbed.
He wanted that.
The want shamed him, so he shoved it away.
"No," he said sharply.
Owen's face turned into a storm cloud but August spoke gently, "If you'd consider?—"
"I won't," Hollis interrupted.
"We could keep the ceremony quiet," Owen argued. "Pretend it'd happened before you two got lost. There were only a handful of folk who knew about me and Rachel in the beginning.”
"She's already been in close company with you," August said quietly. "Always near Felicity, with you only a few wagons away."
"Because Joseph asked me to look after her."
The request had come in a letter along with fare for Abigail to make the journey from Independence. He'd owed Joseph, after the other man had saved his life. Hollis would've made a vow to the other man if he'd been present, instead he'd made a vow to himself to watch over Joseph’s sister on the trail.
A vow that didn't include marrying her.
There was something broken inside Hollis. Joseph knew it. Marrying Abigail would be the last thing he would want.
"No." Hollis infused the word with finality. "I'll make an announcement tonight. Gather the captains—gather all the men once we're circled up and the oxen are cared for."
Owen's lips went tight, but he kicked his mount into a trot, quickly outpacing the other two. He glanced over his shoulder once, but August didn't move to join him.
Hollis kept his gaze resolutely over his horse's ears. He felt too raw to hear anything his scout had to say.
"Anything you need to talk about?"
Hollis shook his head at August's words.
"Clearly something happened between you and Abigail out there."
Hollis hated how calm his friend sounded, while Hollis's insides were twisting like a barrel of snakes.
"It's there in the way she looks at you."
A split-second flash of memory. Abigail's eyes, filled with affection and joy as she'd devoured the fish he'd grilled over the open fire.
"Nothing happened," Hollis growled.
August plodded along beside him for several quiet moments, then pushed his horse into a faster walk. Then he turned back and faced Hollis as Hollis kept his horse at a walk.
"Even if you make some kind of announcement, people are going to talk," August said. "About Abigail."
Hollis knew that. He hadn't been able to think about anything else since Owen had made his proclamation.
"Her reputation will be ruined. Word might even get out when we reach Oregon, if folks talk enough."
August wheeled his horse and rode off, dirt flying from beneath the horse's hooves, leaving Hollis to stew.
Ten lost. It had come to him that morning, a remembrance of the words’ meaning.
Ten souls, lost on this journey.
So many.
