Alice knelt beside Nathan, holding the nearly-full pan of water steady for him as he gently sponged JD’s brow. In the morning Nathan discovered JD had developed a slight fever overnight, which worried him some, but the cool water seemed to be keeping it under control. Nathan dipped the cloth into the pan Alice held, glancing sidelong at the young woman as he did so. She had pushed the sleeves of her blouse up in order to keep them dry as she scooped water from a nearby creek, and in the afternoon sunlight Nathan had a better look at what he thought he’d seen that morning.

The yellowy-green mottling of fading bruises was faint, but still visible on her forearm, and even in their faintness their pattern was evident. Three dark, distinct lines, flanked by one lighter one, wrapped themselves over the top of Alice’s arms, and Nathan suspected he’d find one deep hard line on the opposite side if he had a chance to look. He’d seen bruises like that before, most recently on the arms of Nora, the prostitute Chris, Buck and JD had rescued from Wickestown. Bruises made by the strong grip of hands digging into flesh.

Even though they’d talked some over supper last night, Nathan realized they knew more about him than he did about them. Every time the conversation had turned to themselves, Alice would look a little uneasy and Meg would change the subject. With Meg on lookout up by the trail, Nathan wondered if Alice would be more willing to talk. “Feels like he’s cooling down,” he said, wringing out the cloth.

“Good.” Alice smiled with relief.

“Lucky thing y’all found him when you did,” Nathan said. “Probably saved his life.” He paused, then asked, “Are you ladies from around here?”

Alice was concentrating on JD when she absently replied, “Amarillo.” As soon as she said it, her eyes snapped wide and she looked at Nathan, first astonished, then guilty.

Nathan smiled gently at her. “That’s quite a ride,” he acknowledged, and looked back down at their patient. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, could see the hesitation on her face as she debated whether to respond to his comment or not. Nathan had a feeling she would consider it rude not to give some sort of response, and was rewarded a moment later by Alice’s hesitant reply.

“About nine, ten days.” She shook her head as if the time surprised her. Nathan looked over at her again, saw the thoughtful, slightly bemused look on her face, and decided to try one more question.

“What brings y’all riding out so far?” He kept his tone light, unthreatening, unsure if the question would get a response or not. Alice seemed to be on the fence between wanting to talk and retreating again, and Nathan watched to see which way she’d lean. She looked as though she was torn so he asked quietly, “Running from someone?” with a meaningful glance at the bruises on her forearms.

Alice looked down in surprise – she hadn’t realized they were uncovered, or that Nathan was observant enough to notice them. She started to pull her sleeves down in embarrassment before daring to look up at Nathan again. The compassion in his dark eyes surprised her. Compassion paired with kindness, and Alice found herself wanting to talk to this man, to exorcise the demons that haunted her.

“My husband,” she admitted. She waited for the look of disbelief on Nathan’s face that she’d gotten from Uncle Angus ten days ago. It didn’t appear.

“Your husband did that to you?” Nathan asked instead, the flare of anger at the admission being pushed aside by sympathy. She looked nervous, almost fragile, and he didn’t want to frighten her.

“He has a bit of a temper,” Alice said quietly, looking down at her hands. She realized it sounded like she was apologizing and her hands knotted into fists. When she looked back up at Nathan, a strong, defiant light was in her eyes. “After a year of it, I’d had enough. Meg had suspected, and I finally told her.” Alice smiled ruefully. “She was furious. I thought she was going to hunt Ian down herself.”

“Ian’s your husband?”

“Yes. He’s a cattle rancher, like Uncle Angus.” Alice shrugged. “I suppose that’s why Uncle Angus didn’t want to believe me. He thinks the world of Ian. Sharp, bright, and Ian’s land is right next to his. So Uncle Angus couldn’t have been more pleased when Ian asked for my hand.” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head and looking down at JD as she remembered. “I was so flattered. Ian swept me off my feet. He was handsome, and successful, and owned a profitable ranch near Amarillo.” She frowned. “But then he turned mean. He’d get angry over little things. Supper was late. My hair wasn’t right when we went visiting. Silly things.” Alice looked up at Nathan, who was watching her steadily, empathizing more than she could have imagined.

“So he beat you.” Nathan put it so simply, yet sympathetically, that Alice found her eyes welling with tears. She nodded, unable to answer. “And y’all left.”

Alice swallowed heavily and dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “Yes,” she said, hoarse. “I suppose it was cowardly, running away, but…”

“No, it ain’t,” Nathan interrupted softly. “It ain’t cowardly at all.”

He smiled at her and Alice smiled back, grateful. She drew a trembling breath and let it out slowly, surprised and relieved that sharing her troubles with an understanding soul was so strengthening. Not that Meg wasn’t supportive and understanding, but her compassion was overshadowed by her anger. Alice felt as though a burden had been lifted from her shoulders and she looked down at JD with renewed strength. “What can we do now?”

Nathan was glad to hear the change in her voice. She sounded more sure of herself, less scared. “We wait for him to wake up,” he replied, “and hope it’s soon.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 Meg shifted her seat on the ledge that overlooked the trail, her rifle never leaving her hand. The track showed no sign of life that she could see, but she was still nervous enough to stay on watch as the sun crawled across the afternoon sky. She didn’t doubt that Ian – or at least some of his ranch hands – were after Alice. But Meg swore her cousin would return to him over her dead body. Angus MacArthur might not care that the golden boy was capable of beating his wife, but Meg had seen the bruises. Even now she winced when she remembered Alice limping around the ranch three months ago. Her cousin had said she’d tripped and twisted her ankle, but Meg knew better. Now.

She also kept a careful watch on the trail for the return of Nathan’s friends. Meg hoped they’d been able to find what they were looking for. She wondered what chance the four men who’d continued on would have against the riders she and Alice had seen, then remembered the look in their eyes before they left. She smiled grimly, realizing that the group who had captured their friend were the ones in danger. Nathan’s companions were dedicated. It was a trait Meg could appreciate and relate to.

It was her own dedication that had transformed her from the spoiled daughter of a successful cattle baron, concerned mainly with suitors and propriety, into a crack shot and accomplished cow wrangler after her older brother’s death. Angus MacArthur had been so proud of his son Patrick, and Meg had hoped that some of that pride would be bestowed upon her after Patrick was killed in a riding accident. But her father had never been able to look past her gender to see that she could ride, shoot and wrangle as well as Patrick had ever done. She was still a girl, and girls were meant to cook and clean and bear children, not ranch. They were bargaining chips, used to seal alliances through marriage. That no one had courted Meg after Patrick’s death was a burr under Angus’ saddle, at least until Ian Marsten had shown interest in Alice. That had mollified Angus.

Meg could still remember the scene ten days ago when Alice had arrived at the door in tears, her arms striped with welts that were already darkening to bruises. Alice had come to her cousin in search of help, telling Meg about Ian’s temper and beatings, and Meg had practically dragged Alice to Angus’ study when Alice balked at telling him. When Alice finally leveled her tear-stained accusations at her husband, Angus has simply refused to believe it, replying that she was overreacting and making a fuss about nothing. Meg could still hear his thick brogue ordering Alice to return home to Ian and be the dutiful wife he had raised her to be.

She and Alice had left the MacArthur ranch that night, taking a handful of supplies, a few of Meg’s personal valuables, and two horses from Angus’ stable, and headed west. They had been on the trail ever since, stopping two days out of Amarillo to sell Alice’s wedding ring and most of Meg’s trinkets to buy more supplies. They had brought down dinners with Meg’s rifle, cooked over an open fire, and took care of themselves as well as any trailhands.

Until they’d come around this bend in the trail and found JD.

Meg sighed and shifted again, stretching out her cramped leg and continuing her vigil.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *