Free Ruth by Lori Copeland

again. I am. I’m very concerned about this situation.”
    She rolled over into a more comfortable thinking position. Since she’d be up all night, she might as well think through her plans. Wyoming was still a long way off. She yawned, patting her mouth gently.
    “Never underestimate a determined woman,” she reminded the marshall.
    “So they tell me.”
    Midnight rolled around. Ruth could hardly keep her eyes open. The wind whistled and the warmth from the fire was nice.
    She shoved the gun to the middle of her bedroll—close enough to grab but far enough to keep from accidentally blowing off a toe. She prayed for the Siddonses . . . and the nice people of Denver City . . . as she drifted off to sleep.

    Ruth’s eyes flew open. She lifted an arm to shield her gaze against bright sunshine.
    Bolting upright in her bedroll, she blinked to clear the sleep away. Why, it must be nine—ten o’clock—by the sun’s position. The fog had lifted. She lunged for the gun, searching, fumbling. Ripping the blanket aside, she crawled down into the roll, clear to the bottom, searching for the Colt. Instead of finding the expected steel, her fingers encountered a piece of paper that she ripped out and read in the sunlight.
    Her heart sank as she deciphered Dylan’s hastily scribbled message: Miss Priggish. Never underestimate a man who has been royally suckered.
    She crushed the maddening note in her hand, then threw it down and stepped on it. She couldn’t think of a name bad enough for that lout.
    “Well, at least he left my horse.” Her eyes reassuringly located the mare and her saddle. “And my cheese and bread.”
    Relief flooded Ruth, followed quickly by irritation for falling so soundly asleep. She had no idea where she was—Dylan hadn’t seen fit to share that information. She had no notion of how far they’d come or how far it was to the nearest settlement. The hard ground provided no tracks to follow, so Ruth had no idea which direction he had gone. Oh, she had a horse, bread, and cheese, but that was all . . . and the food wouldn’t last forever.
    Conscious of her vulnerability, she chewed on her bottom lip. She had no idea what to do now that she was truly alone. She buried her face in her hands. Now what? No matter what direction she looked there was only empty space broken by an occasional aspen grove. The purple snowcapped mountains in the distance were pretty to look at but offered no help for traveling, at least not for Ruth.
    She’d never felt so alone, so hopeless. She had looked on the bright side at the orphanage, even on the trail to Denver City. But at those times there had been people around, friends who cared about her, depended on her. And on the trail, there had been Jackson, who knew where he was going.
    Ruth blinked back tears and sat down. She stared at the mare. “Well, the marshall has left us in a fix,” she muttered, still hoping to convince herself she was better off without him. Ruth felt a longing inside for Dylan—in spite of his orneriness—which she didn’t care to identify. She straightened her shoulders. “You’re a fool, Ruth.” The man had refused to help her not once but twice. She didn’t need to be clobbered over the head with a brick to know that he wanted no part of her.
    Well, maybe she did need that brick. If she’d had any sense at all, she wouldn’t be in this predicament.
    She stared across the landscape. Now that the fog had lifted she could see how desolate the area was—wherever it was. A cloud of depression settled heavily over her. She sat with both hands covering her mouth, her eyes scanning the horizon on all sides. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just trees, rocks, and lonely mountain passes. Not even a rabbit whisker—let alone a human being—broke the empty expanse. Only the sound of the cold wind rattling dried grasses broke the silence.
    The hard, cold truth seeped into her consciousness. She could die out here. Alone. No matter what