He pulled out his bandana, dipped it into his water skin, and pressed the wet cloth to her forehead.
She flinched at first, shoulders tensing.
Then she relaxed—almost melting into the touch of something cool for the first time in who knew how long.
Jake stayed still, watching her breathing.
Shallow. Uneven. But there.
And then he heard it—far off, faint but unmistakable.
Hooves.
Not his horse shifting. Not some stray deer.
Hooves on hard ground, coming closer.
Jake’s head lifted. His eyes went to the horizon.
If someone from town found her like this—lying in his arms, his hands on her—Jake didn’t need to imagine how that story would get told. Folks didn’t leave room for innocence when a woman in a habit was involved. They filled in blanks with gossip and called it truth.
And the fear in her voice told him something else, too:
Whoever she was running from… might not be far behind.
Jake made a decision without saying it out loud.
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