Charlotte's Challenge

by Caroline Clemmons

  “You’ll call if you need me, right?” He appeared worried. Her eldest son was especially protective now that he was the man of the house.

  “Of course.” She concentrated on the patient. “Do you feel well enough to feed yourself or shall I help you?”

  “I can manage. I’m feeling hungry except this ache makes me sick at my stomach. Hope I don’t throw up the meal. Wonder how long I’ll have this pounding inside my head.”

  Charlotte helped him sit forward enough that he could eat. “I’m sorry you have to contend with the pain but perhaps the powder will have eased the ache by the time you finish your soup. The doctor thought you were lucky the fall didn’t kill you.”

  He sipped the coffee and closed his eyes as he swallowed, as if savoring the warmth on his throat. “Don’t know why I can’t remember anything. Do you know why I fell?” He spooned up the soup as if he were starving.

  “I wasn’t there. My sons were riding near and they waved at you when they saw you. You waved back but your horse shied at something and you fell to the ground.”

  He appeared thoughtful for a few seconds. “That boy must be your stepson—that is unless you married at ten.”

  She laughed. “As a matter of fact, he’s twelve and I was only ten when he was born. About four years ago his mother died giving birth to a baby who also died. I was a mail-order bride who came to marry his father and take care of Davie, his ten-year-old sister, and seven-year-old brother.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Almost three years. My husband died a month ago.”

  He pulled a face. “So you’re stuck with three step-kids and no husband.”

  That sent anger charging through her. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Craig. I love the children as if they were my own. I’m lucky to have them as my family.”

  He held up a hand. “Sorry, no offense intended. I suspect I don’t know anything about children.”

  Mollified she exhaled a calming breath. “No offense taken. Yours is a common misconception, but without amnesia as an excuse.”

  “How are you managing the ranch with three children to look after and no husband?”

  She studied her work-roughened hands. “Now that my husband, our ranch hands, and half our cattle are gone, well… I won’t deny we’re having a difficult struggle.”

  “I understand your husband has passed but how’d you lose the ranch hands and cattle?”

  She hesitated then decided she might as well tell him the whole story. She explained about the cattle being rustled, the hands killed, and Ike being shot.

  A frown marred Mr. Craig’s handsome face. “I’m sorry you’ve faced such misfortune. I understand replacing the cattle would be expensive but can’t you hire more ranch hands?”

  “I could if any would work for me. Some are superstitious about working for a woman. Frankly, I think someone is scaring them off from hiring on here.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. I hope you’re not in danger.” He set his empty bowl on the tray.

  “I hope so as well, but I believe our danger is financial rather than physical. A wealthy neighbor is determined to acquire this ranch.” She moved the tray and helped him settle back on the pillows.

  “Wish I could remember who I am. Maybe I’d know something or someone that would help you.”

  She stared at him a moment wondering if he would help her when he recalled the money in his saddlebags. Dashing away the thought, she lowered the lamp but left it burning softly.

  “Don’t try to force your memory or worry about regaining it. Things will sort themselves gradually. In the meantime, rest and concentrate on healing. I’ll sleep in the next room with my daughter, Susie. Call me if you need anything.”

  She carried the tray to the kitchen and tidied up the things she’d used to prepare the soup. For a few seconds when Mr. Craig woke and had no memory, she’d been tempted to tell him he had come here to help her family. He wouldn’t know the difference until he’d recovered from the amnesia, but she simply couldn’t lie—even temporarily. What kind of example would that be for the children?

  With a deep sigh, she turned out the kitchen lamp and went toward the bedroom. She needed no light to walk through the house. Susie had to have a lamp left on low all night since her father had been shot or she had nightmares.

  Charlotte slipped off her dress and petticoat. She’d forgotten to get her gown and robe from the bedroom. Wearing her shift, she crawled into bed with her daughter.

  Susie turned and snuggled up to her. “I’m glad you’re sleeping with me, Mama. Is that man scary or a good person?”

  She held her daughter’s hand. “He’s not scary but I don’t know how good he is. He lost his memory and doesn’t know who he is or where he’s from or where he was going. One thing, though, he’s too injured to even get out of bed.”

  “How did he lose his memory?”

  “Sometimes when people are hurt badly or they see something so scary their mind can’t cope then their mind goes blank. They remember how to eat and breathe and walk, things like that which are automatic, but they can’t remember their name or their family or anything about their life. It’s called having amnesia and must be frightening.”

  “That man has a-nees-ya?”

  “Amnesia.” She spoke the word slowly so her daughter would understand. “Probably it won’t last long, maybe only a few days.”

  “Do you think he could be one of those who shot Papa?”

  “No, I’m certain he had nothing to do with Papa’s being hurt. You’ll be safe all night, dear. Good night, dearg.”

  How sad when a little girl was afraid to go to sleep. Charlotte wished the men who had caused so much havoc in her life would be captured. At least then maybe her daughter could sleep without fear.

  Chapter Nine

  After his hostess left, Bret fought to remember anything. His mind was blank. No, not entirely blank—he had a vague recollection of riding a horse and leading one. And of a big house. Where was the house and who lived there?

  Maybe it was his house. Could he have a wife and children somewhere? Surely he wouldn’t forget them if he had. Saddlebags! Mrs. Dunn had mentioned saddlebags. If he could look through them perhaps he’d remember something.

  He slept fitfully off and on through the night. When dawn crept through the window he was relieved. Maybe now he could get some answers.

  Davie came into the room carrying a pitcher and pan. “Good morning. Mama is cooking breakfast. Do you need me to get the chamber pot?”

  “Please.” How embarrassing to have to depend on a boy to help him pee. When he’d relieved himself he said, “There’s something else you could do. Your mother said I had saddlebags. Could you bring them to me?”

  “Yes, sir. First, I’m supposed to give you the bowl and soap and hot water so you can wash your face and hands.”

  Davie helped him by holding the bowl while Bret soaped his face and hands and arms and rinsed.

  “I do feel better after washing. Thanks.”

  “I’ll get the saddlebags now.” He carried the pan of water and empty pitcher with him as he left.

  “How do you feel this morning?” Mrs. Dunn glided in, bringing welcome aromas with her. She set down a tray holding fried eggs, bacon, ham, biscuits, and coffee. “There are butter and jam in the small containers and milk in the little pitcher. Davie will bring in your things as soon as he eats.”

  “I’m much improved and much obliged. This looks and smells delicious.” He cut into the ham.

  “The ham was in your things. You’d already sliced into it, so I thought we’d better use it before it spoiled. We have some in the smokehouse you can use to replace it.”

  Surprised, he looked up at her. “I hardly think that’s necessary since you’re taking care of me. Indeed, your family rescued me. Who knows what would have happened to me otherwise?”

  She appeared sympathetic. “Unfortunately, the birds and other predators likely would have finished y
ou but that didn’t happen, thank goodness.”

  He gulped and swallowed the last bite he’d taken. The picture she painted of him lying as food for predators sent shivers up his spine. He refrained from openly shuddering because that wasn’t manly. He might not remember his name but he sensed that much.

  “Life here is harsh but we have compensations. It’s a lovely ranch and we love living here. Most people are kind and help one another. We couldn’t do otherwise when you needed help.”

  Davie carried in his saddlebags and set them on the bed. “Mama said I should bring in your other things, too. Not the camping gear but your personal things.”

  Jimmy and Susie each carried in packs.

  Charlotte smiled at her children. “You’ve met Davie and this is Susie who’s ten and Jimmy who’s seven.”

  Bret looked at the two youngest. “Pleased to meet you. I believe Jimmy helped rescue me. Thank you, young man.”

  “Davie and I saw you fall. There’s more stuff in the barn.”

  Davie said, “It’ll take us two trips.”

  Bret met his hostess’ gaze. “How much stuff do I have?”

  Mrs. Dunn raised her eyebrows. “A lot. You were leading a pack horse that was loaded heavily. You also had things tied onto your saddle. We think they’d be safer in here than in the barn in case we have prowlers.”

  “Do you sometimes have them?”

  “Not yet. We have two good dogs. I suspect whoever rustled our cattle will send someone to prowl around, though. Whoever it is probably has someone watching our place.” She rubbed her arms. “I’ve sensed I was being watched several times.”

  “He sounds like a nervy fellow and not one I’d like.”

  “To make it worse, someone is pressuring the bank to sell our loan to him so he can call in the note.”

  “What can you do to fight him?”

  She shook her head slowly and crossed her arms. “Absolutely nothing. Mr. Edmondson, the banker, is a nice man. However, his investors have been swayed or bribed by Winfield and are urging the banker to sell our note. Mr. Edmondson is trying to hold off until we can sell our cattle in September and pay our debt.”

  “Mrs. Dunn, what month is it now?”

  She looked as if she was holding back tears. “Only June I’m afraid. My husband poured his sweat and lifeblood into this ranch for thirteen years. Last fall, a neighboring ranch came up for sale—a once in a lifetime opportunity. Ike mortgaged this ranch in order to buy the other property.”

  “Let me guess. Another neighbor wanted to buy it, too.”

  “Yes, but Mr. Mills, the owner, didn’t like Winfield and wanted Ike to have the land. That’s when little ‘accidents’ started happening around here. Most everyone in the county thinks our neighbor is a wonderful person but you’ll never convince me Winfield isn’t to blame.”

  “You think he’s behind the rustling and death of your husband?”

  “I can’t be sure because there’s no proof. The sheriff is a good man but he can’t find the rustlers or the missing cattle. There are a lot of places to hide them in this county and the surrounding ones.” She shook her head and gave a dismissive wave. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to burden you with our troubles.”

  The three children filed in, each weighed down with more bags and bundles.

  Davie set down his load, which included a rifle he leaned against the wall near the bed. “This is the last of the things we figure you’ll want in here. Camping gear and a tent are outside. They were damp and smelled like mold so we set them in the sun to dry.”

  “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful and I appreciate it plus the fact you saved my life. Looks like my things have filled up the room.” Why on earth did he have so much stuff with him?

  “Do you care if we play in the tent if we’re real careful and don’t damage it?”

  He grinned at them. “Have fun, children.”

  The three dashed out and clomped down the hall.

  Mrs. Dunn smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Craig. The tent is dry now but still has a bit of an odor to it. A couple of days in the sun will remedy that. You’re kind to share it with them.”

  He grimaced and gestured to the bed. “I’m definitely not using it right now.”

  “Is there anything else you need? You see I’ve left the headache powders near the pitcher of water and glass?”

  “I used some as soon as I woke. I feel much better since that delicious breakfast.”

  “If the pain is too intense I have laudanum. Dr. Ross didn’t think you should sleep too deeply until you’d woken up at least once. Call out if you need anything. I expect the doctor will be by soon. I’ll leave you to go through your things.”

  He began with the saddlebags. He found wrinkled but apparently clean clothes. There were papers. Sure enough, apparently he was Bret Craig. Oh, here it was, he was from Fort Worth. He’d forgotten to ask where he was now.

  He sifted through the papers. A will left everything to his sister, Phyllis Martha Craig, at the same address as his in Fort Worth. So, he wasn’t married.

  That was a relief anyway. Now why had he thought that? He suspected because the widow was so pretty and kind. Drat, he hoped to the devil he wasn’t a womanizer.

  He tried to call up an image of his sister. Shouldn’t he remember his own sister? This void was maddening.

  A man appeared at the door. “Good morning, Mr. Craig. Nice to see you awake. I’m Dr. Ross.”

  “Come in if you can get in. The children brought in my things. With all this stuff I must have intended to travel for a long distance.”

  The doctor picked his way across the room. “Let me take a look at my handiwork on your head.”

  He opened his medical bag and took out his scissors. After cutting away the bandage, he examined the back of Bret’s head. He tentatively probed the wound.

  “Ouch.”

  “Sorry, looks as if it’s healing up nicely. Charlotte… Mrs. Dunn had already cleaned and dressed it when I got here. She knew I was coming so she waited for me to take the stitches.”

  After the doctor had wrapped a fresh bandage around Bret’s head, he asked him to follow his finger with his eyes. He examined Bret’s pupils.

  “Looks as if you’re doing well. Mrs. Dunn said you’ve lost your memory. Don’t worry. I’m sure it will return as you heal. Don’t push yourself. When you feel like doing so, you can move around but don’t over-exert yourself. A little walk to the kitchen should be enough for a day or two more. I’ll stop by later in the week and see how you’re faring.”

  “Thank you, doctor.”

  When the doctor had gone, Bret tried to stand. The room spun so he quickly sat down on the edge of the bed. He pulled his saddlebags toward him and replaced the papers he’d read. A few more caught his eye. Apparently he and his sister owned a business, Craig Foundry and Metal Works. Their parents must have passed away since they weren’t mentioned.

  Mrs. Dunn—he thought of her as Charlotte now that he knew her name—came to check on him. “The doctor said you’re doing well. Any luck with your saddlebags?”

  “I learned I’m not married and I have a sister in our Fort Worth home. I’ve neglected to ask where exactly I am.”

  “You’re on the Dunn Ranch near Palo Pinto in the county by that name. We’re west of Fort Worth… about sixty or seventy-five miles. I’m not sure. I rode the stage coach here from Fort Worth and it seemed at least a thousand.”

  “Where did you start?”

  “In South Carolina. My parents died and I had no family left. That’s why I applied to be a mail-order bride.”

  “You had a long journey. Oh, I guess I know where South Carolina is.”

  “That’s reassuring. I’m sure you’ll remember everything soon. I came to see if you need anything. I see you have clothes there. I’ll do laundry on Monday and can wash whatever you need clean. In the meantime, you’re the same size as Ike so you’re welcome to help yourself to anything of his. I’ve meant to go through
them and give most of his clothes to the church.”

  “You’re a generous woman. The doctor said I can get up some. I tried as soon as he left but things spun around.”

  “Let me arrange your space in case you wish to try later.” She shifted the various bundles the children had brought inside. He hadn’t noticed a trunk in the corner until she scooted it beside the bed and set his bundles on top. She stood the rifle between the lamp table and the bed, leaning it against the wall.

  “Now, I think you can reach your things without falling over them. I’ll check on you later.”

  He opened a bag and found it filled with money!

  Chapter Ten

  Bret stared at the cash in his hands. He counted it and wondered why on earth he was carrying so much with him. The boy—he must know about the money if he’d checked Bret’s belongings for camping gear versus personal items.

  Bret was lucky the Dunn family members were honest. They could easily have finished him off and kept the money. He didn’t think he’d ever before been vulnerable but he sure felt it now.

  He tried standing again. This time he’d been sitting before he stood instead of lying down and he didn’t get dizzy. He wasn’t certain how far he could walk.

  Aiming for the chair, he made it slowly and sat for a few minutes. Gradually standing, he walked back to the bed and sat down. Man, his head was pounding again.

  He prepared a dose of the headache powder in a glass of water and drank it. Maybe he should rest a little while. All these discoveries had been puzzling. He knew more about himself but nothing made sense yet.

  ***

  Bret must have dropped off to sleep. When he roused himself he sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes. He was about to stand when Davie rushed into the room.

  The boy looked about to cry. “Mr. Craig, can you come to the porch? Mr. Winfield is here upsetting Mama.”

  Bret reached for his rifle. “You’d better walk beside me. I’m not too steady yet. Help me tuck in my shirt so I look decent.”

  They made their way to the front door.

  Bret pulled off his bandage and tossed it at a table before stepping onto the porch. “Is something wrong, Charlotte?” He carried his rifle.