Chapter 4The next day, Arabella drew hands. Nothing else would appear, try as she might. Rather than muddle expensive canvas, she took her sketchbook and a handful of pencils and wandered down by the creek. She settled beneath a gnarled juniper that surely had been ancient when her ancestors first set foot on this continent centuries ago. Even ancient when the cliff dwellers, whose ruins dotted the red canyons, had trod this rosy sand. Yet if what he said was true, the seed from which its earliest fore-parent grew had not even existed when he was here.
By daylight, it still seemed unreal, but her skin remembered his touch. When she shut her eyes, she could see his hands. Long fingers, broad palms, strong wrists with a dusting of hair too dark to be coppery and yet not black…Deft and nimbl
