Lone Star Redemption. Colleen Thompson

sheriff’s warning to leave town.

      “All my fault,” she wept. “It’s all my fault—poor Henry.”

      “Shh,” he told her. “Hold still, Jessica. I need you to hold still for me right now so I can get this bandaged, so you can live. So you can live to figure out who would do this to your friend.”

      Both firm and kind, his voice punched through her despair. Reached through to offer her the courage to draw another breath.

      “So you can make who did this pay,” he said.

      “So I can—make him pay.” She looked up into his face, her body going still as she repeated the words. Words that gave her purpose, even as the strength drained from her.

      But the respite didn’t last long. As the rancher bound her injured hand, agony and anguish forged a pain so overwhelming, she cried out and fought to pull away from his grasp. Fought until the blackness rose up, offering the only real release from pain and guilt.