Near dawn, the woman thrashed, caught in a nightmare that dragged her back into whatever horror she’d crawled away from. “No,” she cried, voice breaking. “Please, I don’t have it. I don’t have it!”
Wade rose, hesitant, then reached out and touched her shoulder lightly. “Ma’am. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you here.”
Her eyes flew open, wild and unfocused, and she tried to scramble away even though she had nowhere to go. Then she recognized the outline of him, not his name, not his life, just the man who’d held her upright on a horse and kept her from sliding back into darkness. Her breathing slowed by inches.
“Water,” she rasped. Wade lifted her carefully, supporting her back as she sipped from a glass. She winced at the movement, but after a moment she managed, “Thank you,” in a voice that sounded like pride trying not to collapse into relief.
“Where am I?”
“Pine Hollow Ranch,” he said. “A few miles outside Bandera. I’m Wade Calder.” He set the glass down. “Can you tell me your name?”
She hesitated, fear flickering across her face like a match struck in wind. Then she seemed to make a decision that cost her something. “Evelyn,” she whispered. “Evelyn Hart.”
“Miss Hart,” Wade said, gentling his tone. “Do you remember who did this to you?”
Pain shadowed her eyes, not just the physical kind. “I can’t,” she said, and then, quieter, “I shouldn’t.”
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