Read Online The Healer's Touch by Lori Copeland - Free Book Online

did—and I don’t mean to add to your troubles but you’ll need to pay to replace that door. If you don’t, I don’t know where I’ll find the money. The house needs paint, and I could use another milk cow. I don’t have the extra funds to go replacing perfectly good barn doors, you know.”
    â€œOf course…” His hand dropped to his pocket and started fumbling. She interrupted his search.
    â€œNo need to look for money or a wallet. You don’t have either one. There was no identification on you.” Heat flooded her cheeks. “I wasn’t being nosy. We needed to know who you were—to notify kin.”
    â€œWe?”
    â€œMy sister, Lark, and her friend, Boots.”
    â€œOh…those two.”
    If anything could jog a memory, it would be Lark and Boots.
    His gaze slowly roamed the kitchen and confusion lit his eyes. They were a clear green—very striking. She hadn’t noticed the exceptional hue before. The warmth in her cheeks heightened when she realized what he must be thinking as he looked around her home. Barely decent shelter, an old woodstove, inadequate counter, scarred kitchen table, and three wooden chairs. She took pity on his puzzlement.
    â€œI’m sorry about the way you found yourself when you woke.” Her cheeks burned now when she thought of how he’d been tied up and set on the front porch like trash. “Well, we thought—assumed—that you’d passed.”
    His gaze switched back to her. “Well, I’m still here. Now what?”
    â€œFirst thing tomorrow morning, I’m to have you at the jail for identification. There’s a bounty on your head and I intend to collect it.” She took the chair opposite him, watching various emotions play across his features. Shock. Disbelief. Fear. Her compassionate side felt sorry for his state. It was a pitiful one indeed. Both eye sockets were yellowish black, swollen to slits, and he was covered with bruises and cuts. And now she’d had to tell him that he was a wanted man with a bounty on his head.
    She hoped the reward was worth the misery and effort.
    â€œWhat am I wanted for?”
    She lifted a shoulder. “Can’t say for certain, but if you are a Younger, as I suspect, the authorities have plenty of charges to choose from.”
    â€œAnd if I’m not a Younger?”
    She hadn’t considered the prospect. It was possible, of course, but highly unlikely. The main road was miles away and strangers didn’t come through the holler often. It was conceivable that he wasn’t a wanted man, but the chances of anyone new riding through Bolton Holler were slim to none. Unless he was a new bandit who’dcome to join one of the gangs that made their home in these hills. The caves, running creeks, white and black oak with scattered shortleaf pines, and a ground cover rich in legumes and goldenrods were the ideal cover for the wanted.
    She met his gaze directly. “If you’re not, you better be able to prove it by tomorrow morning.”
    â€œHow can I prove something I’m not clear about?”
    â€œYou recall nothing?”
    â€œNo. Where am I?” he asked a second time.
    â€œYou’re in Missouri—some miles from Joplin. You don’t recall ramming through the barn door?” Seemed to her a man ought to recall something like that.
    He shook his head. “Last thing I remember is talking to you, here, in some room with books.”
    â€œThe parlor.” She noted that he hadn’t taken a single bite of the oatmeal so she nudged the bowl closer. “Maybe eating something will clear your head. A body can’t think on an empty stomach.”
    Shaking his head, he pushed the bowl aside. “I’ve lost my appetite.” He glanced out the window. “What time of day is it?”
    â€œIt’s late. I was about to come into the house and go to bed when you—appeared.” She