A Trace Of Memory. Valerie Hansen

he had recognized her. For another, his expression had been poignant, as if he cared, maybe even had missed her.

      Closing her eyes, Emma let her thoughts drift. She considered praying but before she had time to begin, a name popped into her mind.

      “Travis.”

      His head snapped around.

      “Your name is Travis.”

      “Of course it is. And you’re Emma Lynn Landers, the woman who broke my heart six years ago and ran off with a guitar-playing Romeo. What of it?”

      All Emma could do was bite her lip to control her emotions. She now knew a little about her past, although it didn’t sound as if she’d been a very nice person.

      She took a moment to compose herself before she said, “I’m sorry, Travis. I am so, so sorry.”

      He huffed. “Yeah, so am I.”

      * * *

      Ever since Emma had blurted out his name so strangely, Travis had been surreptitiously studying her. She was hunched down as if trying to make herself invisible and kept glancing in the side mirror of his truck.

      “Why are you doing that, Emma?”

      “Doing what?”

      “Checking behind us. Is somebody after you?”

      “No, I...”

      “Then why are you acting so scared?”

      “I guess I’m just overtired.”

      “Right. And I’m imagining things. Is that what you want me to believe?”

      When she didn’t answer, he found himself mimicking her actions and checking the road behind them. “Now you’ve got me seeing things. I actually do think we’re being followed.”

      “No!” She slid lower in the seat, pulled the hood tighter. “We can’t be. There’s no way they could have known how I got here.”

      “They, who?”

      “I don’t know.”

      Travis shrugged. “Have it your way. The truck I thought was tailing us just turned off. You can sit up now.”

      “You said that on purpose to scare me, didn’t you?”

      “Actually, no.” Travis had noticed a dark pickup pacing them. Since the state of Arkansas required only rear license plates, there was no way he could tell if the truck was local. “I did see someone.”

      “Are they gone now?”

      “Apparently.”

      She swiveled to look behind them, seeing only the towed stock trailer. “How can you be sure? Maybe they just pulled really close so we couldn’t see them anymore.”

      “In that case, they’ll pass us if I pull over,” Travis said logically.

      His rig was too long to park next to the county courthouse so he continued out of town as far as the little league baseball field before easing off the road and turning to face her.

      “Look at me, Emma.”

      She was concentrating on the passing traffic, instead, peering at it as if one of the vehicles might be carrying public enemy number one.

      Travis reached to touch her arm.

      She jumped at the contact.

      “All right,” he said, chagrined. “Why are you here and why did you come to me?”

      “I was riding by, saw your truck and recognized the ranch logo.”

      “Riding? How?”

      “In a semi. I’d been hitchhiking.”

      Frustrated by not being able to look directly into her eyes, Travis made a calculated decision. At this point it didn’t matter whether Emma got mad at him or not. He wasn’t going to let her hide her face. Not if she wanted him to take her the rest of the way to the ranch.

      Keeping his left hand on the steering wheel, he ran his right arm along the back of the seat until he was close enough to grab the fabric at the back of her hood.

      One quick yank was all it took to uncover her head.

      She was startled, of course, but that was not what caught and held his attention.

      Her hair was wild and tangled, as if she hadn’t brushed it in days. Her blue eyes were swimming. Worst of all, there was an angry-looking bruise on her cheek. It was strong and dark, fresh rather than fading, and the sight of it tied his gut in a knot.

      “Emma! Who did that to you?”

      As she turned toward him more fully, tears tipped over her lower lashes and began to slide silently down her chapped, bruised cheeks.

      He could tell she was struggling to speak. Lifting his hand slowly, deliberately, he reached toward her and wiped away a tear with one finger, barely touching her as he did so.

      To his surprise, Emma grasped his hand, pulled his palm against her cheek and laid her head against it as if begging him to cradle her injuries.

      Travis was glad they were both restricted by their seat belts because if they had not been, he was afraid he might have dragged her into his arms at that moment despite their rocky past.

      Someone had hurt his Emma. And as soon as she told him who was responsible, he was going to see that justice was done. One way or the other.

TWO

      Emma would have gladly told this kind man anything he wanted to know, if she’d been able. But she wasn’t.

      She bravely met his gaze, willing him to understand without having to spell it out. It was too soon to admit she was emotionally or mentally impaired—or whatever was wrong with her. There were instances when she felt back in control, yet, more often than not, she found herself floundering as if she were a little lost child.

      This was one such instance. Smiling, she sniffled and swiped at her tears before she said, “I’ve been on the road for at least twenty-four hours and I’m worn out. Can we please just go home?”

      “You really want me to take you to my place?”

      Emma nodded. She couldn’t have explained her trust in Travis if her life had depended upon it, which it very well might. She simply knew that this man would not hurt her the way others had. That was enough.

      “Yes. Please,” she said softly.

      “All right.” Straightening, he put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the roadway. The tension between them was palpable. She could tell he was upset, if not actually angry. And, if she really had jilted him in the past, she could understand why.

      He—Travis, she reminded herself—seemed like a caring person. One in whom she could safely confide. If nothing happened to change her mind she would eventually tell him all she knew. And maybe, by that time, there would be more to tell. She certainly hoped so because being in limbo, the way she currently was, was not how she intended to spend the rest of her life.

      However long that might be, Emma added, trembling. She felt relatively safe at the moment, but that was no guarantee that whoever had kept her prisoner and had shot at her as she’d run into the woods was no longer looking for her.

      How will I know my enemies?

      That question made her shudder and check the mirror again. The traffic behind the stock trailer looked innocent enough, but...

      Icy fingers of fear crept up her spine and spread along every nerve. How could she possibly protect herself when she didn’t even know who had hurt her? Or why. If she had treated a nice guy like Travis badly, as he claimed, what was to say she had not done other terrible things?

      Emma