Page 57 of A Rugged Beauty
Abigail became aware of Hollis at her elbow. "Abigail and I can check on them together."
His expression was serious as he scanned the groups of men dispersing to their families.
"And then you'll eat dinner," Abigail murmured.
"Already a haranguing wife," Owen teased, though his eyes held a serious glint.
Evangeline and Leo chuckled.
Hollis excused them.
In a nearby camp, the mother and child were pale and complained of stomachaches. Abigail offered to bring them some broth as soon as she could. She made small talk for several moments while Hollis spoke to the woman's husband.
As they left, walking together toward her cookfire, she asked, "Is there anything to be worried about?"
He shook his head. "I don't think so. Husband said they'd drank water straight from the river after the flooding. Who knows what could've been stirred up in it. It'll likely pass in its own time."
His mind was clearly on something else, his eyes vacant and words distracted.
When someone called out to him, his eyes glittered as he leaned in close, brushing his nose to her cheek—pretending to kiss her goodbye?
"Don’t forget your supper," she called after him.
He waved over his shoulder.
Only as she reached camp and focused on her tasks did she let loose of the tight rein she'd kept on her emotions since the moment Hollis had said, "We should get married."
With her head ducked over the cooking pot, she could admit to what she didn’t dare breathe to anyone: she wished it was real.
The marriage.
The way he looked at her.
She'd seen what no one else seemed to be able to see. The lines around his eyes, the weight of responsibility he carried for the company.
She knew him.
Knew she shouldn’t hope.
He’d loved his Dinah dearly. There was no room in his heart for Abigail.
Eleven
Abigail awakenedwhen the man in the bedroll next to hers stirred.
She came to awareness instantly, but kept her eyes closed.
Hollis.
Their wedding ceremony.
Him presenting her to the company as his wife.
He stirred again, the fabric of his clothes shifting against his bedroll.
She peeked her eyes open. It was early morning, but still dark. The sun hadn't come up.
The campfire that had burned last night several feet in front of her now pulsed dully with its last warm coals. It needed stirring, and feeding, if she was to keep it going for breakfast.
