She lay still, her gaze staring into the heavy, gray clouds blanketing the overhead sky. Torrents of rain or heavy snow could have dropped on her, and she wouldn’t have cared. He’d kissed her. She ran the tips of her quickly cooling fingers across her lips, where the memory of his soft kiss lingered. Deep voices slipped into her bemused mind and rapidly drew her attention as their conversation became clear.
“…the townspeople complained, and we were moved here. Martin, here isn’t a good place to be. Moccasin Springs is hard enough to cross in calm weather, but now? Look around you. The Cherokee are in no shape to battle anything. Those who aren’t sick soon will be. The trip to the new territory is barely half over, and thousands are dead already.” Even though she was unable to see his face
