The Deputy's Lost and Found

by Stella Bagwell

  “What sort of images?”

  “A steel-gray horse was being saddled by someone. I don’t know who. The blanket was bright red and the saddle was the English sort. Then the horse was suddenly gone and a man was standing in front of me. He was gripping my wrist. Really hard. And he kept saying over and over, ‘You’re coming with me.’”

  Everything inside Brady went still. “Did you recognize this man?”

  “No. It was like a dream where you never see the face. It was someone tall with dark hair.”

  “What about the voice? Did you recognize it?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “It seemed familiar, but I can’t identify it. To be honest, the voice scares me, Brady. I—” She gripped his hand even tighter. “All day it’s been haunting me. Now, after desperately wishing I could remember something, I’m wishing I could forget this.”

  Placing his free hand on top of hers, he said, “I wouldn’t put much stock into the whole thing, Lass. Whatever you saw could be something that happened years ago. Or maybe you had a dream last night and it suddenly came to you.”

  She didn’t look at all convinced and to be honest Brady found it hard to dismiss her images as dreams. From the small amount of time he’d been around this woman, she didn’t appear to be an airhead or a drama queen. True, she was a bit upset at the moment, but anyone in her predicament had a right to feel unsettled.

  “I don’t think so, Brady. I think those were glimmers of things that happened—before I was injured.”

  “Could be, Lass. But we won’t know for certain until you have more of them, or I manage to get a toehold on some relevant information. And I hate to tell you, but that hasn’t happened yet. No one at the track seemed to recognize you. A waitress in the club house restaurant thought she recalled seeing you, but she wasn’t sure. When they see hundreds of faces a day, it’s hard to single out one from the crowd.”

  “Oh, well,” she said, trying to put a bit of cheer in her voice, “someone might eventually see my picture and identify me. I mean, I couldn’t have come from Mars. Martians don’t wear cowboy boots and Levi’s, do they?”

  Glad that she could see a bit of humor in the whole thing, he smiled, then leaned forward and pressed a light kiss against her forehead.

  Behind them, a door opened, and Kate made a production of clearing her throat. “The family is having drinks. Are you two going to join us?” she asked.

  Knowing this intimate time with Lass was over, at least, for now, Brady rose from the love seat and reached for Lass’s hand.

  “Grandma, did anyone ever tell you that your timing is rotten?”

  Kate grinned. “Looks to me like my timing was perfect. I saved Lass from your clutches.”

  Easing his arm around Lass’s waist, he urged her toward Kate and a door that would take them back into the house. “What’s wrong with my clutches?” he asked his grandmother. “Lass just might like them.”

  With a good-natured snort, Kate turned and entered the door before them. “She’s too smart a girl for that, sonny.”

  Lass was quickly learning that dinner at the Donovans’ was a special affair. Tonight, Opal, the family’s longtime cook, had prepared prime rib, and as each course was served, the conversation seemed to change to a different subject. By the time dishes of strawberry torte arrived for dessert, Conall was giving a production report of a gold mine that belonged to their sister, Maura. Since the elder brother was manager of the Golden Spur’s operations and part of the profit was distributed to the whole family, it was a subject that held everyone’s attention.

  Except Brady, it seemed. He seemed more interested in Lass than anything and each time he turned his twinkling eyes on her, her mind insisted on replaying the kiss he’d given her on the back porch.

  What had prompted him to do such a thing? But then what had been behind her behavior? The moment he’d walked onto the porch, she’d thrown herself at him like some sort of starved lover. Was that the way she normally acted around attractive men? Before she’d lost her memory had she been promiscuous?

  No, Lass refused to believe that. Deep down, she felt certain it wasn’t her nature to casually jump into a sexual relationship with a man. She hadn’t felt anything for Hank, or the doctors or even Conall. So she couldn’t exactly understand what had come over her with Brady. Except that all day long she’d been desperate to see him, talk with him. She’d certainly not had kissing the man on her mind. She’d been all wound up about those memory flashes and then when he’d finally shown up, relief and joy had shot her straight to his arms, nothing more. Now he was looking at her as though she was part of the dessert. And all she could think about was the magic she’d felt when his lips had touched hers, the way his hands had caressed and pulled her close.

  For the remainder of the meal, she tried to push the whole incident out of her mind and by the time everyone finished dessert, she’d convinced herself that she was being silly to dwell on one little kiss. Brady hadn’t taken it seriously and neither should she.

  As everyone filed out of the dining room, Brady excused himself to make an important phone call. Since it was still too early to retire to her room, Lass followed Kate and Brady’s parents to the family room.

  While Kate played a medley of Irish folk songs on the piano and Fiona and Doyle started up a card game, Lass picked up a newspaper and began to scan the headlines.

  She was reading about a government proposal to bring aid to drought-stricken ranchers, when Brady eased a hip onto the arm of her chair.

  “Catching up on the news?” he asked.

  She glanced at him, while wishing her heart wouldn’t jump into high gear every time the man drew within ten feet of her. “Trying,” she admitted, then gave him an encouraging smile. “You know, when I started reading the headlines, I realized that I remembered who our president is and most of our national officials. Strange, that I can remember something like that, but not my own parents.”

  His brows peaked with interest, and he gestured toward the paper. “Were there any stories in there that sparked your memory? A town? A name?”

  “Not really. But that’s not surprising. I’m obviously not a local.” A thoughtful frown puckered her forehead. “When I look at some of the addresses listed on these advertisements, I keep thinking I should see a TX rather than NM.”

  “So you’re thinking you might be from Texas?”

  Nodding stiffly, she said, “I’m hardly certain of that. It’s just a gut feeling.” As she looked at him her eyes suddenly widened. “Brady, maybe I had a rental car! You could trace it! Or perhaps I flew in from Texas to the Ruidoso airport? Will they have records?”

  “I’ve questioned the staff at the airport. None of them recalled seeing you. As for passenger records, the personnel at the airport has promised to go through them, but since we don’t have your name, it’s impossible to know when you arrived, or even if you arrived by plane. So that effort might not lead to any sort of productive information. Hank has already checked all the car rental places in town. Nothing there. So that means you probably took a taxi. We’ve left your photo with all the cab services. But I’m not expecting much to evolve there. There are simply too many tourists and strange faces in town and a cabbie would’ve only seen you for few short minutes at the most. Plus there’s still the possibility that someone else drove you to the track.”

  “Someone else drove me to the track,” she repeated blankly. “Like who? If I was with a friend or relative where are they now? Why did they leave me on that mountain road?”

  “I understand that possibility doesn’t make sense to you, Lass. But as a lawman, I have to go at things from every angle. Some person you met in town could have simply offered you a ride to the track out of kindness, then left town after the races.”

  “I see,” she murmured, while wondering why this news left her feeling so confused. She wanted Brady to discover her real identity, didn’t she? Of course, she did. Her whole life was missing. And yet, a part of her di
dn’t want to return to who she’d been before. A part of her wanted to start her life right here. Right now. With him. Oh, God, what was happening to her?

  “Come on, you’ve worried about all that stuff enough for one day. Do you feel like a walk?”

  Grateful that he understood she needed a break from the turmoil going round in her head, she smiled at him. “I’d love to take a walk.”

  He helped her from the chair, then ushered her out of the room before his parents or grandmother even noticed they were leaving. At the end of a long hallway, near a door composed of paned windows, he snatched a white shawl from a rack on the wall.

  “You might get a little cool,” he explained as he draped the crocheted lace around her shoulders. “Mom won’t mind if you borrow her shawl.”

  Swallowing nervously, she focused on the front of his pale yellow shirt instead of his face. “Thank you, Brady.”

  “My pleasure.”

  When they stepped outside, Lass could see they were at the side of the house. It was shaded deeply by tall ponderosa pines, but footlights illuminated a graveled path leading to the front and back of the huge rock structure.

  “Let’s go to the backyard,” he suggested as he splayed a hand against her back. “Have you been down to the pool yet?”

  “No. I’ve only gotten as far as the porch,” she admitted.

  He ushered her forward and they began to slowly walk abreast. He’d been right about the air turning cool. The temperature felt as though it had dropped several degrees, but the touch of his hand felt so hot against her, it chased any chilliness away.

  Breathing deeply, she tried not to think of his nearness or the way it had felt to kiss him.

  “Do you like living here with the rest of your family?” she asked as they strolled along a walkway of loose river gravel.

  “I can’t imagine living anywhere else.” He darted a glance at her. “That probably sounds like I lack ambition, doesn’t it? You’re probably wondering why a man like me doesn’t want a place of his own.”

  “I’m not wondering anything like that,” she admitted. “I see a man who loves his family.”

  “Hmm. That’s true. But I don’t hang around here because I’m too green to cut the apron strings.”

  Lass smiled in the darkness. Green was the exact opposite of the image he portrayed, she thought. He was strong, brave and independent. The exact opposite of…whom? For a split second, a man’s image almost popped into her head, but it was so fleeting and her mind so weary, she didn’t bother to try to catch it.

  “I would never think that,” she assured him.

  His hand moved downward until his fingers were curled snugly around the side of her waist. “You’re being very polite.”

  “I’m not just being polite. I’m being honest.”

  He chuckled then. “Well, I guess to the outward person my brothers and I look like mama’s boys. But that’s not the case at all. Conall and Liam run the ranch operations. Without all their work, Dad wouldn’t be able to retire and enjoy these years with Mom. And me, well, I don’t do ranch work on a day-to-day basis, but I help as much as I can.”

  “That’s something I’ve been curious about,” Lass told him. “Why did you become a lawman? Particularly, when your brothers are ranchers like your father.”

  They walked for several yards before he finally answered and by then they’d entered a garden filled with ornamental bushes and low, blooming flowers. The graveled path had turned to stepping stones and the sweet smell of honeysuckle filled the night air.

  Brady paused to face her. “I’m lucky, Lass. From the time we were young children, our father has always encouraged us to follow our own dreams. If that meant something other than raising thoroughbreds, then that was okay with him.”

  “You don’t like working with horses?”

  There was a perplexed frown on her face, as though she couldn’t imagine anyone opposing such a job. It made Brady realize just how much she loved horses and that she’d no doubt been involved in the equine business in some form or fashion. But that was a wide-ranging possibility that included farms, ranches, tracks, trainers, stables and veterinarians, coupled with all the offshoot jobs from those businesses. Unless she remembered something helpful, finding her identity was going to be like searching for one tiny mosquito in the middle of a giant swamp.

  Keeping that worrisome thought to himself, he said, “Oh, sure. I love horses. But I never had that special touch with them. Not the way my father and brothers have always had. They understand what a horse is thinking and planning way before the horse even knows it. And I…well, I learned the hard way. By being bit or kicked or bucked off. You get the picture. But that didn’t matter. I just happened to have other ideas about my career. And it wasn’t breeding or racing horses.”

  She nodded that she understood his independence wasn’t born out of retaliation. “How did you decide you wanted to be a lawman? You have other relatives in the business?”

  He chuckled. “I wish. Then everyone wouldn’t look at me like I’m the lone wolf of the bunch.” Curling his arm around her shoulder, he once again urged her forward. “Actually, I first planned to be a lawyer. A horse farm of this size always needs legal work and I liked the idea of laying out rules and regulations.”

  “A lawyer,” she repeated with faint amazement. “I can’t imagine you in a courtroom.”

  “No? Well, Grandma could imagine me in that role. She said I could argue better than anyone she knew,” he teased. “But after I started college it didn’t take me very long to realize I didn’t want to be confined behind four walls for the rest of my life.”

  “So you quit college and went to work for the sheriff’s department?”

  “Not exactly,” he answered. “I went to work part-time for the sheriff’s department, did my rookie training and continued earning a degree in criminal justice during my off hours. All of it together was tough going for a while. But now I’m glad I put out the effort.” With a wry smile, he glanced down at her. “I took the long way about answering a simple question, didn’t I? So I’ve talked enough about myself. Let’s talk about you.”

  By now they had reached a long, oval-shaped pool surrounded by footlights. The crystal clear water sparkled invitingly and as she stared at the depths, she envisioned herself in a similar pool, the water slipping cool against her arms, the night air above her hot and humid. She tried to hang on to the image, to memorize every detail, but like before, it was gone almost as quickly as it came and with a frustrated sigh, she said, “We can’t talk about me, Brady. I don’t know anything about me.”

  Seeing the whole thing disturbed her, Brady urged her over to a flowered lounge positioned a few feet from the edge of the pool. After she took a seat on the end of the long chair, he sank next to her and reached for her hand.

  “I’m sorry, Lass. I wasn’t thinking. Damn it, I’ve never been around anyone who can’t remember who they are and I keep forgetting to watch my words. Everything I say seems to put a glaring light on your predicament.”

  Shaking her head, she stared pensively into the darkness. “That’s all right. I don’t want you to watch your words around me, Brady. I want you to be yourself. I don’t want you to try to isolate or cushion me from reality. I’m tougher than you think. Really I am.”

  Brady couldn’t stop his hands from wrapping around her slender shoulders or turning her toward him. There was something sweetly endearing about her that pulled at everything inside of him. Something about the trusting look in her gray eyes that made him want to be her protector, her hero, her everything.

  “Tough is not the way I’d describe you, Lass,” he said lowly. The holes in the crocheted shawl exposed patches of skin to his hands. The soft feel of it excited him, almost as much as gazing at the moist curves of her lips. “Strong. But not tough.”

  Her lashes fluttered demurely against her cheeks. “Brady, we came out here for a walk,” she pointed out. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re s
itting.”

  He rubbed the top of his forefinger beneath her chin and swallowed as the urge to kiss her threatened to overtake his senses.

  He murmured, “As a deputy of this county, I can assure you that sitting isn’t a crime.”

  The tip of her tongue slipped out to nervously moisten her top lip. “Brady, that kiss…earlier—”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t think we should repeat it.”

  She looked confused and worried and for the first time in his life, Brady felt a bit of unease himself. Which didn’t make any sense. Kissing a beautiful woman had never concerned him before. He didn’t know why it should give him second thoughts now. But kissing Lass had been different, he realized. So different that he wanted to do it over. He wanted to make sure it had actually felt that amazing.

  “Why?”

  Her mouth fell open. “You have to ask? Brady, I can’t even tell you my name! I don’t even know how old I am!”

  He cupped his palm against the side of her face as his thoughts rolled back to the night he’d found her lying lifelessly in the ditch. When she’d finally regained consciousness and he’d sheltered her in his arms, he’d experienced some very unprofessional feelings and since he’d gotten to know her, those unprofessional feelings had only deepened. Hell, that was enough to scare any tried and true bachelor. But it didn’t scare him enough to make him rise to his feet and walk away from her.

  “Of course you can tell me your name,” he insisted. “It’s Lass.”

  “Only temporarily.”

  Ignoring that, he said, “And you certainly look old enough to kiss.”

  She sighed. “Kate says you’re somewhat of a ladies’ man.”

  He grimaced. “Grandma has a motormouth.”

  “Then she was speaking the truth?”