Page 61 of A Rugged Beauty
His heart raced, pulse pounding in his temples as he quickly saddled his horse and put on the bridle. He made sure his rifle was strapped into place, felt for the gun belt at his side.
Whoever was out there had been looking straight toward their camp. There couldn't be any good reason for that. Why not approach the wagon train and state your business?
Unless your business was nefarious.
Finally in the saddle, Hollis took off. The man who'd attacked him wouldn't get a second chance. It wasn’t a matter of pride. Hollis had the wagon train to protect.
He kept his eyes wide open, one hand on his rifle stock, and slowed his horse as he neared the place the flash had come from. Dark rocks rose from the prairie, and bushes and brush would give a man ample places to hide. Awareness sent gooseflesh skittering up the back of his neck, but even when he strained his ears, Hollis couldn't hear a sound other than his own harsh breaths.
Where had the man gone?
He searched for several minutes, until a familiar voice hailed, "Hollis!"
Owen approached on horseback from the same direction Hollis had come. The sun was up now, faint, high clouds scuttling across the sky with the dry wind. Easy enough to see his captain's frown as his horse picked its way over the terrain.
When Owen was close, Hollis, still on his horse, pointed to a mark in a sandy drift. "That look like a hoof print to you?"
Owen squinted. "Maybe?" His frown grew as his eyes scanned Hollis. "What're you doing out here?"
He sounded almost accusing. Hollis bristled. "I saw light flashing. Reflecting off field glasses, most like."
Owen glanced around, eyes skeptical. "You sure about that?"
Hollis didn't know why the man questioned him. He didn't have time for games. The company needed to move out soon, and he needed to find whoever'd been out here. But when he tried to move his horse, Owen blocked him with his mount.
"Move," Hollis ordered.
"Abigail told me you high-tailed it outta camp awhile ago. You find any sign of anyone out here?"
Hollis didn't have to answer to Owen.Hewas the wagonmaster. He narrowed his eyes at his captain. "Is there something you want to say?"
"We need your leadership in camp." Owen said the words with a tightness to his jaw. "You're distracted."
There was something else there, something he wasn't saying. Hollis's horse sidestepped, sensitive to the tension between the two men.
"Ever since you and Abigail got back, you've been preoccupied."
Did he mean by Abigail? "You're the one who pushed for me to marry her," he growled.
Things would be a lot less muddled if Abigail wasn't in the mix.
"It's more than that," Owen said. Color had risen high in his cheeks, and Hollis felt his own temper flare.
"You need to say something, say it," Hollis said.
"August told me there were holes in your memory before you and Abigail got washed away in the river."
The words battered Hollis like a blow. The head injury he'd received when the twister had struck had far-reaching repercussions—one of which was Hollis's short term memory that'd been hit or miss.
It hadn't bothered him since he and Abigail had woken up from those poisonous berries. He hadn't even had to think about it. But August had remembered what Hollis had told him in confidence—though he'd had no choice. And August had told his brother.
Betrayal sparked Hollis's temper to a flame.
"My memory is fine now." He gritted out the words.
"Is it?" Owen challenged. "Because two days ago, August went back to where you claimed to be attacked and there was nothing there. Now this," he gestured around them. "There's nothing here. You imagined those flashes out here."
Behind the betrayal and anger burning a hole in his gut was a tiny voice asking if the other man was right. What if Hollis had hallucinated this morning? Or seen a natural trick of the light? Some reflection off the rock face.
