She cried harder. "You don't understand. It's not just Amy. Last night I was me, and now, I don't know who or what I am."
         "You're still you." He ran one hand down her arm, smoothing it over and over again. "It will be all right."
         "How can it?" she sobbed. "What am I going to do? How am I going to get home?"
         She heard him draw nearer, then heard his harshly drawn breath. She stilled, waiting for what he would do next, and trembled under his gentle caress as he kissed her eyes, one after the other. "Don't cry. I'll help you. I promise."
         "How? If I can't explain how I got here, how--maybe I should just go back to where I was last night and see if--"
         "Go where? There's nothing here but our wagon company."
         She turned and studied the desert. She didn't even know where the rest stop had been. The river curved by in a gentle flow, surrounded by endless desert on both banks.
         Mollie raised her face, unconsciously seeking comfort and reassurance that she wasn't alone in this nightmare. His breath fanned over her wet cheeks as his mouth followed the tracks of her tears. The heat of his body enveloped her. She moved her head only the smallest fraction needed to meet his. He stiffened, as if to stop the kiss, then moved his mouth over hers, barely brushing her lips.
         She murmured something, she didn't know what, a plea to continue, a request to let her go. Ford's arms slid around her, bringing her closer. She tensed, then allowed herself to bask in the comforting warmth he offered. Her arms stole around his middle as she laid her temple against him, curling into his body as closely as she could get. His heart beat strongly under his bare chest. He was still damp from his exertions. She breathed in the reminder of hard work, man and a subtle, masculine aroma that was all Ford.
         She should move back, step out of his arms, but it felt so good to share this solace. Just a moment more. She didn't know why he was able to comfort her when no one else had. Maybe it was because he could read between the lines, hear what she didn't say and understand how lost and lonely she felt. Perhaps his own recent bereavement prompted his actions. Whatever the reason, she absorbed his compassion into her body as she became more conscious of his. Her hands moved slowly down his back, muscle and sinew and male strength.
         "Well, now, ain't that cozy?"
         "You shore didn't waste any time, Hunter," Whipple sneered. "A man could take lessons from you."
          Mollie froze. Ford's arms tightened around her. She started to turn around to face her tormentors, but Ford held her still. "Let me handle this."
         "No wonder you was so eager to run us off before. Wanted her all to yoreself."
         Mollie wiped her eyes and squirmed until she could peer over her shoulder. "Haven't you got anything better to do?" Her voice sounded hoarse.
         One laughed. "Wanna do it with me?"
         She felt her cheeks flush at the crude suggestion. Ford turned her back into his arms and faced the men over her head "Move along, boys. There's nothing for you here."
         "If yore willin' to share, Hunter, I'd make you a purty good offer."
         Mollie bristled. She forgot about having slipped through time. She forgot she needed to keep a low profile, to blend in with the other women. Taking in a deep breath, she prepared to tell the tall, burly man off. Ford gripped her harder, telling her without words to keep her mouth shut.
         "You know what the Articles say, Hunter. Share and share alike."
         "That refers to game, spoils--" Ford stopped abruptly.
         Whipple laughed again, a coarse, suggestive sound that grated on Mollie's nerves. She wanted to turn around and let him have it, right between his thick ears, but Ford held her immobile.
         Another man joined in. "Sure does, Hunter. And what's she if she ain't spoils?"
         Mollie breath hissed out. Spoils? She'd see about that! She heard more people arriving, their footsteps muffled by the thick dust. Ford moved her behind him, one hand still on her arm, keeping her still. She felt him inhale, felt the tightening of muscle as he spoke.
         "If you want to discuss this when the lady is not present, I'll be glad to accommodate you."
         "Lady," a man hooted. "Wearing that skirt don't make her no lady!"
         Several men in the crowd laughed. A woman sputtered, "Mr. Hunter isn't wearing a shirt. Shameful."
         Egged on by an audience, Whipple stepped forward. "I'm claimin' my share of the woman, Hunter."
         Ford released her so suddenly, Mollie had trouble keeping her balance. His fist shot out and landed with a satisfying, resounding crack on the bigger man's jaw. He went down without a sound.
         Mollie's gaze swung from the man on the ground to Ford. She barely noticed the crowd watching. "I've never seen anything like that. So fast. Are you hurt?" she asked, when he rubbed the bloodied knuckles on his right hand.
         Eyes still blazing with anger, Ford spared her a heated glance before his gaze returned to the two men standing open-mouthed behind their fallen friend. "You boys want more of the same?"
         "You hit him. You shouldna done that."
         "Get your friend out of here," Ford snapped. "I find any of you boys bothering Mrs. Andersen again, and you'll--"
         "What's the trouble here?" Captain McFarland shouted as he galloped up. The crowd parted, making room for him. Swinging down from his horse, he moved smartly to Ford's side. "What's going on?"
         "Hunter broke the rules. He started a fight," one of the men yelled. Several men in the crowd murmured agreement.
         "That true, Mr. Hunter?"
         "Whipple," Ford gestured at the man on the ground rubbing his chin. "Made offensive remarks to Mrs. Andersen."
         The Captain muttered under his breath. "That woman. Damned troublemaker."
         Mollie stepped forward. "Those men interrupted Mr. Hunter and me. They wouldn't leave when asked. They were rude, offensively so-"
         "Ain't you gonna tell the Captain what we interrupted?" one man interjected. "They were canoodlin' right here in plain sight."
         The crowd surged forward to hear the details. Mollie glared at them.
         McFarland's brow furrowed as he swung his gaze from the men to Ford. "Is that true?"
         "What if it was?" Mollie shot at him.
         Ford shushed her. "Be quiet. You're only making it worse." To the captain, he said, "Mrs. Andersen was experiencing an emotional moment. I was merely comforting her."
         "Some comfort!" The man on the ground rose unsteadily to his feet. "Look at him, without his shirt. Another moment and he'd have had their clothes off. They'd have been screwin' in the dirt!"
         "That's not true!" Mollie burst out. "You take that back, or I'll punch you myself!"
         McFarland's mouth twitched. "That'll be enough, Mrs. Andersen."
         "How come you're not telling anybody that you offered to share me, you jerk?"
         A leathered man shifted the wad of tobacco to his cheek. "You do that, Whipple?" He spat into the dust at his feet. "Shee-it, you need some manners."
         Whipple sneered in return. "You gonna teach me, old man?"
         "You're all making too much of this." Mollie took a step forward.
         Ford reached out for her and brought her to his side. "That's enough. I'll handle this."
         Mollie broke free of Ford's grip. She faced Captain McFarland, hands squarely on her hips. "If you want to blame anyone, blame those cretins who can't keep it in their pants!"
         "Mrs. Andersen!" Ford and McFarland shouted simultaneously.
         "What?" she shouted back. Fury choking her, she glared at Ford and the captain. Why did they make such a big deal out of Ford's offering her a little comfort? Or of her accepting it?
         Ford started to lead her away. "You're losing your dignity. I'll take care of this."
         "Just a moment there, Mr. Hunter. Some answers, if you please."
         Ford turned back to the wagon train leader. "I'll give them to you as soon as I escort Mrs. Andersen back to the Tiptons."
         "That can wait. I have a question for her, too."
         "There's nothing she can tell you that I can't say for her."
         Mollie nudged Ford. His muscles felt like iron under his tanned skin. "I speak for myself."
         "You don't have to," he insisted.
         "Yes, she does," the captain interjected. "For this question, I need her answer."
         Mollie raised her eyebrows. "To what?"
         McFarland switched his attention to Ford. "Put your shirt on, Mr. Hunter."
         Mollie saw the muscle clench in Ford's jaw, but he grabbed his shirt from the ground and yanked it on.
         As he was doing the buttons, the Captain asked, "You were in a compromising situation with Mrs. Andersen?"
         "It was nothing like that!" she protested. "I was upset, and--"
         "You'll have your turn in a moment, young lady," McFarland interrupted her sternly. "Well, Hunter?"
         Ford's hand stilled. "It might have looked like that," he admitted slowly, "But Mrs. Andersen is completely innocent in all this."
         "For crying out loud, you guys, it was just a kiss. Nothing to get excited over."
         "Will you please let me take care of this?" Ford got out through clenched teeth.
         Mollie halted. Ford looked like he could handle anything. He was the lawyer. Let him talk them out of this--this fracas. "If you say so."
         "Thank you." Turning to Captain McFarland, Ford gestured to the men who had interrupted him and Mollie. "Those boys made insulting remarks and I had no recourse but to silence them."
         "Insulting remarks? What brought that on?"
         "There's no need to go into that. They were wrong, and not for the first time. They were disturbing Mrs. Andersen earlier."
         McFarland glanced up at the taller man. "So Mrs. Tipton said. And more besides. That woman," he tipped his head at Mollie. "Is nothing but trouble."
         Ford studied Mollie. His expression told her nothing. Then, slowly, his mouth softened into a smile. "That woman," he echoed McFarland's intonation, "got my starving baby to eat."
         Mollie smiled at Ford, who smiled back.
         "Maybe this won't be so difficult after all." The Captain faced her squarely. "Mrs. Andersen, you said you have no family?"
         She tore her attention away from Ford. "What?"
         "Your family is dead."
         "Yes." She spoke warily, unsure where his questions led.
         "You have no one to look after you?"
         "Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that, Captain. I'm quite capable of--"
         "You are not promised to another?"
         "Another what? Oh, you mean, am I engaged? Of course not." Mollie paused. "Why are you asking me this?"
         "Just making sure there are no impediments."
         "Now, McFarland, if you're getting at what I think you're getting at--" Ford moved restlessly, but the captain raised a hand, silencing him.
         "Mrs. Andersen, the way I see it, you have a choice. Our Articles, which every man in this company signed and agreed to live up to, don't allow for any single females of marriageable age. I'll have to ask you to decide whether you want to stay with us or go."
         "Go where?" Her voice broke as she remembered her situation. Tears threatened again. "I have nowhere to go."
         His brows furrowed at her words. "Then that leaves you no choice, does it, Mrs. Andersen?"
         "Choice about what?"
         "You marry. Today."

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