Jake offered her water. He held the cup steady, not forcing it.
She took a small sip.
Then another.
Her throat moved like swallowing hurt.
After a long moment, her voice came out soft and scratchy.
“Where am I?”
Jake pulled up a chair beside the bed. He didn’t loom over her. He didn’t stand like an authority. He sat like a man who understood fear needed space.
“Hollister Ranch,” he said. “Couple miles west of Dodge City. You passed out cold in the grass.”
She nodded slowly, like she expected that answer. Like she knew she’d pushed herself past her limits and paid for it.
“My name is Jake,” he added. “What’s yours?”
The question hung there.
For a heartbeat, Jake thought she wouldn’t answer.
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