Daniel Boone sat alone at the fire. He was sure that the night sky above him was filled with bright stars, but they were hidden by clouds. He glanced up into the sky and prayed again for healing. He prayed for patience. He shivered from cold, but stayed where he was. He found sleep nearly impossible.

After much discussion, Rebecca had agreed to return to Boonesborough, to see if being home would free her memories. It had been three days since he had found her, and she seemed no closer to recognizing him. His longing for her to know him, had become as painful as a physical wound.

Sister Beatrice had agreed to accompany them on this journey and everyone treated Rebecca with great patience and kindness. Tom and Matthew both watched with cautious eyes, hoping against hope, that something they told her would bring her back to them all.

He had meant what he said when he had told Sister Elias that he would rather her be alive than anything. But the truth was being this near her, and not have her know him, was tortuous. At times, he had to walk away from her into the darkness of the trees. She was, even without her memory, unfailingly kind. She understood that he was in a difficult position and struggled daily to remember their lives, but to no avail. Her kindness to him only increased his suffering; even without her memory she was still her truest self - loving, kind, beautiful.

He turned his head at the sound of a soft, familiar footfall. She was bathed in moonlight, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and he turned his face from her too pained to see the moonlight shimmer on her soft skin.

"May I sit with you?" She asked softly.

Blinking back tears, he whispered, "Of course."

They sat together on a fallen log, near the flickering flames.

"Trouble sleeping?" He asked her without looking at her. She nodded her head the moonlight spilled all around her, and he ached to put his arms around her and . . .he sighed.

"Tell me my story." She said looking at him and he faced her. Her blue eyes so bright and trusting met his, and he felt like he could fall in love with her all over again, just from that one look. She smiled at him, and said softly, "Please, if you don't mind, I mean." She blushed, and he smiled back and nodded.

"You were born in a small village in Ireland. I can't remember the name of it right now. You were happy. You had two sisters, Siobhan and Susannah, but your older sister Siobhan died of the fever when you were little. Your Pa was always gone, but your Ma was sweet and good, and you loved her. You told me she was beautiful and kind, and used to sing to you. I never met her, but I think you must be just like her. She was good to you and your sisters. But when you were ten, she got sick and died. You were heartbroken." He glanced down at her. She sat with her chin resting on her hand listening.

"No one knew where your Pa was, so you and your sister were sold to pay off his debts. I don't much like this part of your story. It makes me angry to think on it." He said. "You were bound over then - sold off for seven years. You don't talk about it much. You never really have. You worked at an Inn, and I guess you would have served out your indenture there, but the owner died and you were sold again to another man. He wasn't kind and you were unhappy. That's all you've ever said about that time. I always wanted to know more, but even thinking on it would cause you pain and so I left it alone."

"My life was not an easy one, then. Was I sad?" She asked.

"No. That's the wonder of you. You are 'most always nearly joyful." He looked at her.

"How did I meet you?"

"Well, you stayed with your second owner for maybe a few months and but he fell on hard times and had to sell you off. He sold you to another innkeeper but this one was in the New World. So you sailed to America and when you got there you fell in love with the idea of the frontier. You convinced your newest owner to sell your indentures to a man who was going to the frontier. Cincinnatus bought you then. He was coming to Kentucky. He was gruff and cranky, most of the time but somehow you charmed him. He died awhile back and he left everything to you. He never said so, near as I can tell, but he loved you. Everyone who meets you does."

He glanced over at her but nothing in her face showed recognition.

"He came out to Kentucky on a wagon train I led. That is when we met." He grinned at the memory.

"So you purchased me?"

"No!" He said loudly and then realizing that everyone around was sleeping he softened his voice. "No. You paid it off yourself. You've got an independent streak a mile wide. We met and married. That was nearly twenty-five years ago, though it seems like yesterday. You were sixteen when you came to Kentucky, and to this day are the most beautiful woman to ever set foot on Kentucky soil." He added shyly.

"And we are happy? You love me?" Her voice was soft.

He felt shattered inside and unable to speak. "Oh, 'Becca, I . . ." Embarrassed of his tears, he ducked his head.

"I can tell you do. Anyone could see it. You are so patient. I am sorry that I'm causing you pain. You are a good, kind man. I wish I could remember." She rose and touched his hand briefly. "Thank you for telling me." She paused and said, "I don't remember what I thought the first time I met you, but meeting you now, I know this; I like you. I like you a lot." She turned and left him alone at the fire. He sat for hours staring at the flames holding his breath.