The Rancher And The Amnesiac Bride

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Books by Joan Elliott Pickart

  About the Author

  Letter to Reader

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Teaser chapter

  Copyright

  Powerful, prominent, proud—the Oklahoma Wentworths’ greatest fortune was family. So when they discovered that pregnant mom-to-be Sabrina Jensen was carrying the newest Wentworth heir—and had vanished without a trace—they vowed to...Follow That Baby!

  Josie Wentworth: The socialite knew luxury living—not working ranches and recalcitrant ranchers! But a love letter to Sabrina Jensen and a diamond ring had brought her to the Single C and...

  Max Carter: One minute, the granite-chiseled cowboy was giving the heave-ho to the pampered princess. The next, he was nursing the amnesiac beauty to health—and trying hard not to fall in love....

  Joseph Wentworth: The stalwart patriarch of Wentworth Oil Works had raised his three grandchildren from rug rats to respectable adults. Now his oldest grandson was gone...and Josie had run off half-cocked to find some answers....

  Sabrina Jensen: Max’s pregnant cousin’s whereabouts were a mystery—until a baby doctor’s bill provided the first clue....

  Don’t miss THE DADDY AND THE BABY DOCTOR by Kristin Morgan, next month’s Follow That Baby title, available in Silhouette Romance.

  Dear Reader,

  Autumn inspires visions of the great outdoors, but Special Edition lures you back inside with six vibrant romances!

  Many of the top-selling mainstream authors today launched their careers writing series romance. Some special authors have achieved remarkable success in the mainstream with both hardcovers and paperbacks, yet continue to support the genre and the readers they love. New York Times bestselling author Nora Roberts is just such an author, and this month we’re delighted to bring you The Winning Hand, the eighth book in her popular series THE MACGREGORS.

  In Father-to-Be by Laurie Paige, October’s tender THAT’S MY BABY! title, an impulsive night of passion changes a rugged rancher’s life forever. And if you enjoy sweeping medical dramas, we prescribe From House Calls to Husband by Christine Flynn, part of PRESCRIPTION: MARRIAGE. This riveting new series by three Silhouette authors highlights nurses who vow never to many a doctor. Look for the second installment of the series next month.

  Silhouette’s new five-book cross-line continuity series, FOLLOW THAT BABY, introduces the Wentworth oil tycoon family and their search for a missing heir. The series begins in Special Edition this month with The Rancher and the Amnesiac Bride by Joan Elliott Pickart, then crosses into Romance (11/98), Desire (12/98), Yours Truly (1/99) and concludes in Intimate Moments (2/99).

  Also, check out Partners in Marriage by Allison Hayes, in which a vulnerable schoolteacher invades a Lakota man’s house—and his heart! Finally, October’s WOMAN TO WATCH is talented newcomer Jean Brashear, who unfolds a provocative tale of revenge—and romance—in The Bodyguard’s Bride.

  I hope you enjoy all of the stories this month!

  Sincerely,

  Karen Taylor Richman

  Senior Editor

  * * *

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  * * *

  Joan Elliott Pickart

  THE RANCHER AND THE AMNESIAC BRIDE

  For Cricket

  You were my furry friend for thirteen years.

  I miss you, happy girl.

  Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to

  Joan Elliott Pickart for her contribution to the

  Follow That Baby series.

  Books by Joan Elliott Pickart

  Silhouette Special Edition

  *Friends, Lovers...and Babies! #1011

  *The Father of her Child #1025

  †Texas Dawn #1100

  †Texas Baby #1141

  ‡Wife Most Wanted #1160

  The Rancher and the Amnesiac Bride #1204

  Silhouette Desire

  *Angels and Elves #961 Apache Dream Bride #999

  †Texas Moon #1051

  †Texas Glory #1088

  *The Baby Bet

  †Family Men

  ‡Montana Mavericks: Return to Whitehorn

  Previously published under the pseudonym Robin Elliott

  Silhouette Special Edition

  Rancher’s Heaven #909

  Mother at Heart #968

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  Gauntler Run #206

  Silhouette Desire

  Call It Love #213

  To Have It All #237

  Picture of Love #261

  Pennies in the Fountain #275

  Dawn’s Gift #303

  Brooke’s Chance #323

  Betting Man #344

  Silver Sands #362

  Lost and Found #384

  Out of the Cold #440

  Sophie’s Attic #725

  Not Just Another Perfect Wife #818

  Haven’s Call #859

  JOAN ELLIOTT PICKART

  is the author of over seventy novels. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys watching football, knitting, reading, gardening and attending craft shows on the town square. Joan has three all-grown-up daughters and a fantastic little grandson. In September of 1995 Joan traveled to China to adopt her fourth daughter, Autumn. Joan and Autumn have settled in to their cozy cottage in a charming, small town in the high pine country of Arizona.

  Dear Reader,

  Being invited by the Silhouette editors to take part in a special project is a thrill for any author. The FOLLOW THAT BABY series is especially exciting, as the series is traveling through five different Silhouette lines.

  Because I wrote the first book in this adventure, I am looking foward to reading the others to see how the continuing story unfolds. Along with you, I will be anticipating the other books like presents to be unwrapped.

  While writing The Rancher and the Amnesiac Bride, I came to realize how frightening it would be to have amnesia, to look in the mirror and not recognize the person looking back. That is what Josie Wentworth goes through, as she and Max Cooper begin their rocky road to true love.

  Josie and Max are from two totally different worlds, which prove very difficult for them to mesh. There are ups and downs, laughter and tears, before they reach their goal of being together, forever.

  I sincerely hope you enjoy this first book in the FOLLOW THAT BABY series and the ones that are yet to come.

  Thank you all for your support and the lovely letters you write to me. I appreciate all of you more than I can begin to say.

  Warmest regards,

  Chapter One

  The delightful dream Josie Wentworth was having followed her into the foggy state between sleep and wakefulness.

  The vivid images in her mind were of her senior prom at Freemont Springs High School. She was wearing a pretty, frilly pink dress, a wrist corsage of gardenias, and her hair was swept up in an extremely sophisticated style.

  She was dancing with a lanky, good-l
ooking young man whose name the dream did not supply. A band played louder than necessary in a crepepaper-decorated gymnasium. She was having an absolutely wonderful time.

  Josie stirred, opened her eyes and glanced around the bedroom, fully expecting to see the prom dress in a heap on the floor, where she’d dropped it after the previous night’s festivities.

  This was the bedroom where she’d grown up, she thought, then yawned. There was her desk, the overflowing bookcase, the dresser—with three drawers spilling forth various items of clothing—the posters on the wall, stuffed animals on a shelf.

  But where was the expensive dress with shoes dyed to match? Why couldn’t she smell the aroma of gardenias from the now-wilting corsage?

  Josie frowned. In the next instant she sat bolt upright in bed, her heart racing. A chill coursed through her as the last vestiges of sleep were shoved away by harsh reality.

  She was not seventeen years old, she thought, pressing trembling fingertips to her lips. She was not a carefree child with license to reminisce at dawn’s light about the special dance she’d attended the night before.

  She was a twenty-nine-year-old woman who had returned temporarily to her family home to sleep once again in a room where her biggest worry had been if the boy of the moment would telephone as promised.

  She was Josie Wentworth, of the notoriously wealthy Oklahoma Wentworth Oil Works family.

  She was the granddaughter of Joseph.

  The older sister of Michael.

  The younger sister of Jack.

  And Jack was dead.

  A sob caught in Josie’s throat and she willed herself not to cry, not again. So many tears she’d shed. Such pain had ripped through her as she faced, time and again, the horrible truth that she would never see her beloved brother again.

  “Oh, God, Jack,” she whispered, as the unwelcome tears filled her eyes. “What am I going to do without you? Why did you leave me?” She drew a shaky breath. “Jack—” tears spilled onto her pale cheeks “—be nimble. Jack be quick. Jack jump over...”

  Josie shook her head and covered her face with her hands as the raw tears closed her throat.

  Two weeks, she thought. It had been two weeks since Trey McGill had telephoned her, asking her to meet him at the Wentworth family estate, where Grandfather and Michael still resided.

  Two weeks since a visibly shaken Trey had stood in the enormous living room and taken on the persona of the messenger of death.

  He had been with Jack on an undercover mission for the State Department, Trey said. It had been carefully planned down to the most minute detail. Everything was in place. Nothing could go wrong.

  But it had all fallen apart, Trey had related, his voice breaking. And Jack...Jack had been killed. His body never recovered. He was gone. Jack Wentworth was gone.

  The days since had been a haze of misery for Josie. There’d been so many people to call with the shocking news. A memorial service had been held and she’d told herself over and over that the ceremony must give her emotional closure, despite there being no body to lay to eternal rest in the ground.

  She was trying so hard to cope, to accept the loss of her big, strong, handsome brother. He had been her hero, always there for her, ready to comfort, protect or praise.

  Josie dashed the tears from her cheeks and stared into space, a soft smile forming on her lips as gentle memories momentarily soothed her aching heart.

  On her first day of school, she mused, she’d suddenly decided she wasn’t going to that scary building she’d visited with her granddad.

  The teacher lady smiled all the time and had big teeth and fuzzy hair like a witch. The brightly decorated room she’d seen had been filled with noisy kids, and she didn’t like them at all, none of them.

  She’d stood in the foyer of the house in her new saddle shoes and knee socks, hating the regulation uniform that was making her itch, and stuck her thumb in her mouth. She refused to budge.

  “Let’s go, Princess,” Joseph Wentworth said. “I promised to drive you to school on the first day and walk you all the way to your classroom, remember? That’s exactly what I intend to do, so off we go.”

  Josie shook her head, then two big tears splashed onto her cheeks.

  “There, there, don’t cry,” Joseph said. “You’re a big girl now. My stars, you’re five years old and so gnown-up. This is a very special and important day for you. Don’t you want to show the other children your new shoes?”

  Josie sniffled, frowned, then shook her head, her thumb still firmly in her mouth.

  “Wonderful,” Joseph said, throwing up his hands. “What should I do? Carry her kicking and screaming into the school building?”

  Eleven-year-old Jack set his books on the floor and kneeled in front of Josie.

  “Hey, Peanut,” Jack said, “listen to me, okay? You and I are going to have a secret code. If you take your thumb out of your mouth, I’ll tell you what it is.”

  Josie studied her big brother for a long moment, then out popped her thumb.

  “All right,” Jack said, drying Josie’s tears with his fingertips. “Here’s the deal. When you get scared or upset or lonely, at school or anywhere else, you just say the poem that was written about me and I’ll hear you, no matter where I am. You won’t see me, but I’ll be with you. That’s what our secret code will do. Do you remember the poem?”

  Josie nodded. “Jack be nimble. Jack be quick. Jack—”

  “That’s the one,” he interrupted. “Do you understand how the secret code works?”

  “You’ll be with me no matter what,” Josie said, nodding. “Even if I can’t see you.”

  “Yep.”

  “Jack?” Josie said, her bottom lip trembling. “Will the secret code work forever and ever?”

  “Forever and ever,” he said. “I promise.”

  “’Kay. I’m ready to go to school now, Granddad.”

  Joseph Wentworth chuckled. “Jack, you’re destined to be a politician when you grow up.”

  “No,” Jack said, getting to his feet. “I’m going to be a Navy SEABEE. I’ll be the best one the navy has ever had.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a minute,” Joseph said. “But after you’re a famous SEABEE, I’ll be waiting for you to take over the running of Wentworth Oil Works. Now hurry along, you two. We don’t want to be late.”

  “Jack be nimble,” Josie had whispered as they left the huge house. “Jack be quick....”

  Josie shook her head slightly to erase from her mind the scene that had taken place so many years before.

  “Forever and ever, Jack?” she said, her own words feeling like physical blows in the quiet room. “Oh, God, Jack, forever is gone.”

  Downstairs, Joseph Wentworth sipped hot, strong coffee from a wafer-thin china cup. He was in his usual chair at the table in the sun-filled breakfast nook beyond the kitchen, attempting to concentrate on the morning edition of the Freemont Springs Daily Post.

  With a sigh of defeat he set the paper to one side. Propping his elbows on the table, he cradled the cup in both hands and stared out the window, not actually seeing the perfectly manicured grounds that stretched in all directions.

  His oldest grandson was dead, he thought. Jack Wentworth was dead. Maybe if he repeated that horrifying fact often enough, he’d really believe it in his heart, mind and soul.

  Maybe he’d be able to let go of the thread of hope he was clinging to that it was a mistake, that Jack was alive and would walk through the front door any minute. There hadn’t been a body to bury, no tangible evidence that—

  “Fool,” Joseph said aloud. “He’s dead and gone, just like his father and mother before him.”

  This was not the natural order of things. A man shouldn’t lose his only son, then years later his oldest grandson. It was too much to bear, too much pain, too stark and cruel.

  Joseph set the cup on the saucer, then dragged his hands down his face.

  Lord, he was tired. He hadn’t slept well since Trey McGill
had delivered the unbelievable message of Jack’s death.

  He sighed.

  He was exhausted to the bone, felt every bit of his seventy-two years and then some. He had to get a grip on himself because, heaven knew, he didn’t want to have another stroke.

  The sound of Josie greeting Evelyn, the housekeeper, reached Joseph and he straightened in his chair. He smoothed his thick, salt-and-pepper hair, then ran one hand over his silk tie. Pulling the newspaper back in front of him, he focused on an article about air pollution.

  “Good morning, Granddad,” Josie called as she entered the kitchen. “I’ll get some coffee and join you if that’s all right.”

  “Hmm?” Joseph dragged his gaze from the paper. “Oh, yes, certainly. You should have more than coffee for breakfast, though.”

  “That’s what Evvie just scolded me about, but I’m really not hungry. Anyway, I’m a bit worried about her. She doesn’t look well.”

  “She’s upset about Jack,” Joseph said. “After all, she helped me raise him—raise all of you, for that matter. I couldn’t have done it without Evelyn’s help.

  “You and Michael don’t remember your parents and the boating accident that killed them, but Evelyn was a pillar of strength during those difficult days. I was very grateful when she agreed to stay on and be a mother figure for you three. She came to love all of you very, very much, believe me.”

  Josie walked into the sunny nook with a cup of steaming coffee and sat opposite her grandfather. As she sipped the hot drink, Joseph peered at her over the top of the newspaper.