Rhyne supported herself on her elbows and stayed there while the first wave of pain ebbed. Grimacing, she inched backward until she felt the headboard pressing against her shoulders. With the iron rails behind her, she was able to rise to a full sitting position.Her first coherent thought was that she was late beginning her chores. She’d seen the position of the sun from Judah’s window often enough to know she should be bringing him breakfast now, not merely waking herself. She hadn’t gathered eggs or fed the chickens. The horses needed her attention. There was no fresh water in the pitcher on the washstand and no kettle heating on the stove. Normally the aroma of brewing coffee would be filling the cabin, nudging Judah awake before she arrived at his door with his tray.She’d tasted the coffee that the sheriff and Will brewed in their office, and it wasn’t an invitation to linger. She couldn’t imagine that the prisoners got a cup that was any better. That no-account Beatty boy didn’t know what he’d taken on when he’d taken Judah in.
