Short-Straw Bride by Karen Witemeyer

Perhaps it was his imagination, but she seemed to be resting more peacefully now than she had before, as if knowing he was there actually brought her comfort. Then again, it probably wasn’t his presence specifically that eased her. She hardly knew him, after all. Most likely she simply didn’t want to be alone, and he was handy. Crockett or even Neill would have filled the bill equally well.
    But, despite the logic of that observation, Travis couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it didn’t ring true. The things Meredith said during their brief, and thoroughly bizarre, conversation had sounded personal. So personal, they’d rattled him. And stirred an odd warmth in him, too.
    Did she really dream about him?
    Travis lowered himself back into the chair he’d placed at the side of the bed and slowly released Meredith’s hand. He fingered his eyes, trying to massage the exhaustion out of them, then rubbed his palms down his face. Whiskers scratched his skin, eliciting a rueful chuckle.
    She was right. He did need a shave.
    A floorboard creaked in the hall, and Travis glanced up to find Crockett—barefooted, pants hastily donned, shirt untucked—standing in the doorway. “I thought I heard voices.”
    â€œYou did.” Travis pushed to his feet and waved him into the room. “Meredith woke a couple minutes ago. She was disoriented and confused, and most of what she said didn’t add up.” He turned his attention from his brother to the woman sleeping in his bed. “Thought she was at home in her own room and didn’t recall the fire until I mentioned it. Even then, she seemed to have to dig real deep to muster any recollections.”
    Travis worked his jaw back and forth, trying to churn up enough courage to ask the question he was afraid to have answered. “You don’t think her mind’s been damaged, do you?”
    â€œNot permanently, no.” Crockett leaned over the bed and felt Meredith’s head for fever, just as Travis had done earlier, and pivoted to face him. “Confusion and memory loss are to be expected. Her brain took a hard knock. I wouldn’t worry unless she fails to improve after a day or two.”
    â€œSo she’ll be staying with us for a while?”
    â€œYep.” A defensive edge crept into Crockett’s voice, as if he expected Travis to argue. “I don’t want her out of bed until we’re sure she’s fully recovered. If we send her on her way too soon, she could succumb to a dizzy spell and fall off her horse or get disoriented and wander from the path only to get lost in the woods. I know you don’t like having strangers here, Travis, but I’m going to have to insist.”
    â€œMeredith proved herself an ally last night,” Travis conceded. “She can stay as long as is necessary.”
    He cleared his throat, afraid Crockett would sense how easy it was for him to break his own rules where Meredith was concerned. “But as soon as she’s healthy, she has to go. I don’t want a bunch of townsfolk poking around out here because one of their own is missing. It wouldn’t do her any good, either, to be found alone on a ranch with four men.” The last thing he wanted to do was cause Meredith more grief. He’d done enough of that already.
    â€œAgreed.” Crockett clapped him on the back. “Why don’t you grab a few winks before the sun comes up. I’ll sit with her for a while.”
    Travis shook his head. “No. I promised to be here when she woke, and I aim to keep my word.” He scratched at his stubbly chin and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above his chest of drawers. Haggard was about as kind a description as could be applied to what he saw. Filthy saddle bum painted a truer picture. “I might take a few minutes to clean up a bit, though. I could stand a wash and some fresh clothes.”
    â€œYes, you could.”