“Where am I?”
Jake pulled up a chair beside the bed. He didn’t loom over her. He didn’t stand like an authority. He sat like a man who understood fear needed space.
“Hollister Ranch,” he said. “Couple miles west of Dodge City. You passed out cold in the grass.”
She nodded slowly, like she expected that answer. Like she knew she’d pushed herself past her limits and paid for it.
“My name is Jake,” he added. “What’s yours?”
The question hung there.
For a heartbeat, Jake thought she wouldn’t answer.
It was like even her own name was something she had to guard.
Then she whispered, “Sister Elise.”
Jake nodded once. “Elise.”
He watched her hands curl into the blanket, fingers tense.
Running hands.
Hands that didn’t know how to rest.
She tried to sit up, but her body protested. Jake reached out and gently held her shoulder.
“Take it easy,” he said. “No one’s coming for you here.”
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