Page 83 of A Rugged Beauty
Hollis turned his gaze on Owen, who looked peaked and a little chagrined.
"I was wrong to leave," Hollis said. "I should've listened." He cleared his throat when the words didn't want to come. "I value your friendship, your advice."
"I was wrong, too," Owen admitted. "I'm grateful you came back. And brought help."
Hollis shook his head. "Alice is the one who brought reinforcements."
"How'd she convince them to come?"
Hollis shook his head. "I don't know. The commander wouldn't give me a lick of help. But she and Braddock disappeared into the fort, and when they rode back out, they had soldiers with them." Braddock had been riding beside one of the more senior soldiers. Hollis had a suspicion, but no proof, that there’d been bribery involved.
Owen frowned. But his expression lightened when Rachel appeared from behind the blanket, freshly bathed, her hair wet down her back. Hollis thought, not for the first time, that his friend was a lovesick fool over Rachel.
And he'd be the same for Abigail.
Abigail had turned away, slowly lugging the washtub, Alice supporting the weight on its other side. He'd hurt Abigail with his callous words, by pushing her away.
Was it too late to mend things?
Distant thunder rumbled. Abigail opened her eyes to the fire crackling with warmth that felt stifling in the dry morning air. This morning seemed the hottest so far, summer nearly upon them. She'd dreamed?—
For a moment, she closed her eyes, sinking back into the dream where Hollis had curved his body behind hers, his arm heavy and secure around her waist, his solid presence filling her with warmth and care.
She opened her eyes again, throwing back the blanket.
It didn't matter how real the dream had felt. It was only her imagination.
Hollis hadn't spoken to her once since she'd woken from the fever. She'd caught a long look from him last night, but he'd beenbusy with some of the men when she'd fallen into her bedroll in exhaustion.
He probably hadn't slept.
Another ripple of thunder. She squinted against the rising sun. The sky was clear?—
No.
Stretching her neck had revealed a line of dark clouds building on the far southern horizon. They seemed so far off. A warm wind blew strands of her hair into her face. It'd been so dry and dusty. Just imagining the cool air that hit right before a rain, the drops of moisture that might hit her face...
Or would it be another flash flood like the one she and Hollis had endured together?
She couldn't bear to dwell on thoughts of those days. She stood. Best to ready herself for today’s work.
The sticky heat made it uncomfortable to cook over the fire, but she persisted in making biscuits, wiping sweat with her wrist. Felicity appeared in the quiet campsite on the leading edge of the circle.
"Hollis and Owen have agreed that we'll strike out after the funeral."
Felicity had regained some of her color, but she was winded and tired from carrying the two pails of water she'd brought with her. "Hollis rode off with Owen and August a bit ago."
The funeral.
Abigail wasn't sure she could stomach attending the funeral. The grave had been large. They'd lost a dozen pioneers. None had been safe. Not men, women, or children. Young or old. And thinking about standing at that graveside reminded her too pointedly of standing beside her mother's grave.
No doubt it would be expected for the wagonmaster's wife to offer comfort to those who'd lost loved ones. But she had none to give. She felt empty, scraped raw.
"What's the matter?" Felicity was closer than Abigail had realized, offering the dipper from the pail.
Abigail took it, parched but not yet finished with the biscuits and the fire. "Nothing." She lifted the dipper to her lips, wishing she could hide from Felicity's scrutiny.
"You came to help us when you'd barely recovered, but this seems more than exhaustion."
