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Page 51
hide something, or she was a few bricks shy of a load.
Whichever it was, he reluctantly admitted to himself that he found this mysterious, beautiful woman intriguing. Maybe he was just captivated by the challenge. In any event, he determined to pry the truth from her.
But as they walked, she answered no more questions about herself or the wagon train. All he was able to get from her were pleasantries about the scenery, the heat, and their progress.
Soon their progress slowed as Abby began to lag. She still did not complain, though. In fact, he was finding her lack of bitching quite touching and brave, for she was obviously tired. No other woman he knew would have kept so silent about her discomfort, even if Mike could do nothing to help it; certainly his late wife wouldn't have.
"Let's rest for a few minutes," Mike said. "I have some food in my pack. We'll have a little picnic."
The look Abby shot him was full of gratitudewhich he also found appealing. He unstrapped the backpack from his shoulders and offered her a sandwich.
"Thank you," she said. She pulled the plastic bag from it, studying it carefully. She even looked through it before putting it down.
Then she turned the sandwich over in her hands, staring at it, too. The hands holding the sandwich were somewhat rough, as though she worked with them; the nails were short and un-

 
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