Ride With Me (A Quaking Heart Novel - Book One)

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  Clint jolted awake. His hand, still resting on Jessie's arm, had shifted. Had he moved it, or had she? The pre-dawn light was almost enough to see by. He rose up on an elbow and peered into Jessie's face.

  "Jessie? Little one?" He whispered so near she'd be able to feel the warmth of his breath on her face.

  He shook her arm a fraction. "Jessie?"

  As he watched her face, miraculously she stirred.

  Clint sat up and twisted around so that both bent arms straddled her head. His face was within inches of hers.

  "Jessie, wake up, sweet girl, please." Clint kept talking, hoping to coax her up from the depths.

  Mary, Johnnie, and Rose Marie stirred out of sleep and came to join him.

  He pleaded and cajoled until dawn broke and streaks of light stretched across the sky, but still, nothing. He clamped his eyes shut, wondering how he would survive another day with her so close and so far away. But his eyes only burned with unshed tears, so he went back to looking at her sweet face again.

  And then it happened. Jessica's lips parted, and the muscles around her eyes fluttered like she was trying to see but her lids wouldn't cooperate.

  Clint about choked on his own breath. "Mary, get a cloth and wet it like you did for me."

  Handkerchief in hand, he dabbed at Jessie's eyes. She flinched, maybe from the cold, maybe from surprise.

  "It's okay, little one. It's me. I'm here."

  He continued to dab and wipe until finally her eyes opened.

  "Thank you, God!" Clint said. Johnnie and Rose Marie gawked at him. He ignored them. "Jessie, can you hear me?"

  She nodded so slightly it was almost undetectable. He stroked her hair back from her face, a lump swelling at the back of his throat. "Her lips are dry," he said with a croaky sound.

  Mary remoistened the cloth from the canteen and squeezed some onto Jessie's lips. Her tongue instinctively flicked out to capture the moisture.

  "More," Clint said. Mary continued until Jessica stopped collecting it into her mouth. "Can you speak?" Clint asked.

  As he stared into her eyes, all he saw was fear. "Are you able to speak?"

  Her eyes grew larger, the fear greater.

  "What is it?"

  She formed words on her lips.

  "Need more water?" he asked. She shook her head.

  She looked directly into Clint's eyes, a pleading sort of look. Beneath his frustration helplessness churned. Her fingertips brushed the front of his shirt. He grabbed her hand and brought it lovingly to his lips, kissing her fingertips. Her look was of surprise. Those beautiful hazel eyes. He drank in the sight of her, his wild pulse thrumming at his temples. She's disoriented. Soon she'll grace me with one of her incredible smiles. He smiled tenderly and stroked her cheek with a long finger.

  She was trying to speak again.

  His eyes urged her on.

  "Who are you?" she whispered.