Page 62 of A Rugged Beauty
No. He was certain of what he'd seen.
"Out of all the men in this company, I didn't think it'd be you who turned against me."
A muscle in Owen's jaw jumped. "I'm not against you?—"
"But you think you'd make a better leader."
Owen rolled his shoulders. "August and I have made this journey together. The company needs stability."
And Hollis couldn't give them that, his words implied.
"I'm still the leader of this company," Hollis said. "Whether you like it or not."
Owen wheeled his mount and rode off without another word, leaving Hollis to another quick scan of the terrain. With his thoughts whirling, anger stirred up, he couldn’t concentrate.
Whoever was out here had covered his tracks too well. There was no sign of him, even for a seasoned tracker like Hollis. And with his gut churning with betrayal, he couldn't focus enough to see any small sign.
Owen was a strong leader. It was why Hollis counted on him to be one of the captains. Folks listened when Owen talked. But if Owen started talking mutiny, or about splitting off, that might lead to disaster.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Twelve
The fire was dyingwhen Hollis came to his bedroll. It was late, there was no noise in camp. No one else awake, save the three men on watch, outside the circle of wagons.
He'd planned it this way. It was easier tiptoeing through the darkness. Better than facing a smiling Abigail over his supper plate, his stomach churning and his heart twisting inside him.
He toed off his boots, aware that she slept a scant arm’s reach away, and piled his slicker and hat atop them. A biting wind had blown since late afternoon and brought back a chill he'd thought they had already seen the last of. Most folks in the company bundled up in shawls or blankets as darkness closed in.
Which is why Hollis expected to slip his feet into a cold bedroll. Yet the cloth around his feet was... warm. He ratcheted up on his elbow, but of course it was too dark to see. He toed around and located the large, flat rock still emanating a pleasing heat.
Abigail must've done this. He knew it instantly. She would've placed the large rock in the fire, let it sit there for hours, then tucked it inside his bedroll to warm it.
He lay flat on his back, his head pillowed on one arm. There was too much quiet coming from her bedroll, only those inches away. No even breaths like he'd hear if she was sleeping. She was awake, even though it was late.
Staring up at the countless stars, he felt a heavy weight pressing in on his chest. It'd been a long while since someone had taken care of him. Since someone had thought of his needs, of his comfort.
What did she want from him? He'd told her from the beginning that this marriage couldn't be real.
Her expectations felt crushing on top of the weight he carried about his captains, the company today. He couldn't breathe. He turned onto his shoulder, the movement pushing air out of his lungs in one bigoopmh.
And now his field of vision locked on Abigail, a shadow in the darkness.
So close. Right there.
"Are you all right?" she whispered, the words barely audible. "I saw Leo and Owen arguing when I was cleaning up from supper; I think you and August were scouting ahead..."
No, he wasn't all right. There'd been tension among the captains in the meeting he'd held during the noonday stop. Cutting glances between the men, silent stares, and crossed arms. An echo of that first fateful overland crossing. He'd been worrying on the problem all day, unsure of how to solve it.
No, he wasn't all right.
Was Owen right? That was the thread that tangled in Hollis’s thoughts. Thoughts of Dinah, Abigail, and his past. Thoughts that stirred him in a way that had never happened to him before. Even before the river had washed him away, if he admitted it to himself.
Washe distracted? Was he putting this company in danger? A liability because of the head injury he'd sustained weeks ago?
"Owen is bucking my leadership." He hadn't meant to blurt out the words, not even in a whisper. But everything that had been eating at him was suddenly unbearable. And she'd asked.
He kicked at the bedroll now stifling his feet, but it didn't help. Because the pressure was coming from inside of him.
