Rocky Mountain Man. Jillian Hart

please, I have to stay.”

      But he whisked her onto the porch and the well-built log walls stood between her and Duncan. She tried to push out of her brother’s arms, but it was as if she’d used up all her strength like kerosene in a lamp and it was gone. Tears blistered her eyes and she couldn’t see as he laid her in the back seat of the family’s surrey.

      Joshua covered her with a wool blanket and kindly told her to rest, this was for the best, to trust him, but she felt betrayed.

       How could her family do this to her?

      The surrey jolted as the family horses leaped into a brisk trot, and on the leather-springed seat, she bounced and bumped and watched the cabin grow smaller. Her cheeks were wet and she felt as if she’d been the one clawed apart by a bear. It was wrong to leave him like that. When she’d promised him, she’d promised him, that she’d stay by his side.

      Inside where Duncan Hennessey still fought to live. He’d made it to a new day and surprised the doctor, but he was too weak to lift his head from the pillow. Far too wounded to care for himself. Granny was magic—her home remedies legendary, and Betsy trusted her with all of her heart.

      But I should be there, too. A vow was a vow, and when she made one, she kept it. Duncan needed her. It had been so long since someone had truly needed her. She knew Granny would go about tending him. Gently cleaning off the poultice Betsy had boiled up in the night, and the doctor had applied over the red swollen gashes of flesh held together by her hurried stitches.