Whirlwind Cowboy

by Debra Cowan

  Bram nodded, stepping closer to Deborah to say in a low voice, “May is Charlie’s wife.”

  She threw him a grateful look and he watched as she slowly took in everything around her. Her gaze lingered on a box of fancy soaps and for a moment he thought she might examine a few as she always did, but her gaze continued on to a shelf of shoes, a bin of wool socks.

  Charlie stepped behind the scratched counter. “What can I get you?”

  Bram glanced at Jessamine’s list. “Need five pounds of Arbuckles’.”

  As the other man set five of the one-pound bags on the counter, the scent of coffee beans filled the store. “And a bag of flour. I can get the soda crackers from the shelf.”

  Deborah looked over to read the paper in Bram’s hand. “I’ll get the apples.”

  Walking back toward the door, she chose several apples from a wooden crate, then made her way to the counter to set them down before rejoining Bram.

  “How’s your family, Miss Deborah?” Charlie asked.

  She stared blankly at the man, then recovered quickly. “Everyone’s fine. Thank you.”

  “When’s that brother of yours coming home?”

  “I—I’m not sure.” She looked at Bram uncertainly.

  Oh, hell. It hadn’t occurred to him that people might ask her questions. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Well, it was too late now.

  A young blond man wearing dark trousers and a white shirt with suspenders walked through the front door carrying a wooden box full of work boots. “Hey, Bram. Hey, Deborah.”

  “Hi, Mitchell.” Bram returned the greeting.

  Flushing, she murmured, “Hello.”

  The helplessness on her face told Bram she was self-conscious about not knowing anyone. He eased over next to her and leaned close as though looking at a pair of socks. “That’s Charlie’s nephew.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  The gratefulness in her voice made him want to take her in his arms, but he didn’t.

  He moved away to bag up some nails as Deborah walked over to the fabric table. She ran her hand over a pale pink-and-green stripe. The rushing tap of heels made him turn toward the door.

  Josie Holt, green eyes shining, gave him a broad smile. Seeing Deborah, the petite brunette headed straight for her and enveloped her in a hug.

  Damn. The confusion on Deborah’s face made Bram realize that she had no idea the seamstress was a good friend of hers, and he couldn’t very well yell it out to her.

  He made his way over to the women. “Well, hello, Josie Holt.”

  She released Deborah and turned, giving him a funny look. “Hello, Bram Ross.”

  Deborah smiled her thanks at him and Bram’s heart kicked hard.

  Josie’s gaze shifted back to the other woman. “How are you?”

  “Hi, Josie.” Deborah smiled a real smile. Bram knew it was because the vivacious woman had that effect on people and not because Deborah had remembered her friend.

  He leaned a hip against the fabric table. “What are you up to?”

  “I needed to run in real quick and see if Mitchell was able to pick up my lace when he went to Abilene.”

  The young man poked his head out of the back room. “It’s here. I’ll bring it out shortly.”

  “No hurry.” Josie smoothed back her hair.

  Next to her rich brown locks, Deborah’s hair looked like silky midnight. Bram shifted his gaze to the seamstress. “Where’s Tannis?”

  “She’s with her father at the jail.” Josie beamed. After suffering at least two miscarriages, she and her husband had finally been blessed with a little girl.

  Bram grinned. “Don’t know many two-month-old babies in the hoosegow.”

  Deborah’s eyes widened.

  Josie chuckled. “I told Davis Lee I’m not sure I want her to be so acquainted with a jail cell.”

  So Davis Lee was back from Monaco. Bram wanted to talk to the lawman and find out what had happened there, but he didn’t like to leave Deborah. He would see the sheriff on his way out of town.

  Mitchell came out of the back to give Josie a folded length of lace.

  “Thank you, Mitchell.” She turned to Deborah, studying her for a moment. “You look well.”

  “Thank you,” Deborah said quietly.

  Just as Josie started to ask a question, a tiny dark-haired woman rushed from the back room and hurried over to Deborah.

  Millie Jacobson.

  Bram tensed.

  The town’s worst gossip took the younger woman’s hands in hers. “Oh, my dear, I heard you were caught in the dust storm. How awful for you!”

  Oh, no. Hell, no. How had Millie heard about that? Bram straightened, moving to Deborah’s other side, ready to herd her out of the mercantile.

  Josie edged closer to Deborah, as well.

  Millie’s brown eyes gleamed. “You are so lucky

  that Bram was there. I would’ve been frightened out of my wits!”

  Wouldn’t have taken long, he thought darkly even as he smiled at her. “Not to run off, Millie, but we’re supposed to meet Mrs. Blue.”

  “I need to go, too.” Josie positioned herself so that Deborah was between her and Bram. “Goodbye, Millie. Bye, Charlie!”

  “Bye, Josie,” the store owner said.

  “Hmmph.” That was from Millie.

  Once in the street and a few feet from the mercantile, Josie looked from Bram to Deborah. “What was she talking about? You were both caught in the dust storm?”

  He glanced over his shoulder to see the older woman had followed them as far as the doorway and now stood there staring. He gave Josie a meaningful look. “Can we talk about it later?”

  She nodded in understanding. “Of course. Good to see both of you.”

  “You, too,” Deborah said.

  As the petite beauty started across the street toward the jail, Bram touched Deborah’s elbow and guided her in the opposite direction.

  “Sometimes it’s good not to remember,” he muttered.

  She looked up, her smile fading when she saw the scowl on Bram’s rugged features. “Who was that woman?”

  “Millie Jacobson, the worst gossip in Whirlwind.”

  “How did she know we were together during the dust storm?”

  A muscle worked in his jaw. “The only ones who know besides us, our families and Davis Lee are Duffy and Amos. I’ll speak to both of them. They know they aren’t supposed to talk about it.”

  “You told your family?” Deborah asked.

  “Had to,” he said sharply. They angled between the church and the Whirlwind Hotel and started up the hill.

  She hurried beside Bram, trying to keep up with his long strides. He’d been careful all day not to touch her. The one time he had, outside the store a moment ago, had been so brief that she thought she might have imagined it.

  She glanced back toward the mercantile. “Do you think that lady will cause trouble?”

  “She sure likes to.” He slowed, allowing Deborah to catch up to him.

  After a moment, she said, “Thank you for helping me with people’s names.”

  “You’re welcome. I should’ve realized people would expect you to know them, answer questions.”

  “I didn’t consider that either. I was so concerned about trying to recall something in there.”

  “Did you?”

  “No.” She tried not to feel discouraged. “Maybe I’ll remember something at my brother’s house.”

  “I bet you will.”

  She appreciated his encouragement. Since their visit to the doctor, he seemed less aloof.

  After he had walked out on their conversation last night, she hadn’t seen him again until he arrived after lunch to bring her to town
. He’d been quiet during the entire trip, seemingly unaware of her. His decision to stay with her at the clinic had surprised her until she realized he likely wanted to hear about her condition straight from the doctor and not her.

  Still, he’d been as relieved as she had at Dr. Fine’s news that she hadn’t been violated.

  She looked up to find his attention fixed on her. Her stomach fluttered.

  “Just so you’ll know, Josie’s married to Davis Lee, the sheriff. He’s your cousin.”

  “Ah, okay. I imagine I’ll meet him at some point.”

  “Yes.” As they reached the top of the hill, Bram pointed to something ahead.

  Deborah’s gaze followed the direction of his finger to a pale yellow frame house. “Is that where my brother lives?”

  “Yes.”

  She recalled nothing. Yet. She would remember something here. She had to.

  They passed the front porch and stopped at the corner of the house. Deborah peered around Bram to see Mrs. Blue—her mother—kneeling in a patch of vegetables.

  There was a root cellar on this side of the house and a spring house. Both unfamiliar. Maybe going inside would jolt something in her mind.

  Mrs. Blue turned, placing a sweet potato on the small mound of vegetables beside her, which also included freshly dug carrots.

  “How did it go at the store?”

  “I didn’t recall anything.” Though Deborah feared seeing disappointment on the other woman’s face, all she saw was patience and understanding. “Bram had to tell me who everyone was.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Though she was warmed by the woman’s genuine caring, her smile was wobbly. “Just a little frustrated.”

  “I can only imagine. Would it help if I came inside the house with you?”

  “I don’t know.” She searched Bram’s blue eyes.

  “Maybe you should try it alone at first,” he said.

  “Very well.”

  Jessamine nodded. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do or if you change your mind.”

  Deborah nodded, stepping up on the porch with Bram. He opened the front door, the fresh air displacing the musty smell of the closed-up house. A white curtain fluttered at the front window.

  She moved inside.

  “I’ll wait out here, too.”

  The thought of doing this without him left her feeling adrift for a moment. “I—I’d rather you come inside. If you don’t mind.”

  “All right.” As he stooped to avoid hitting the top of the door frame, an image flickered in her mind.

  A tall man. Very tall. He was black haired and also stooping to come inside. Then the picture was gone.

  For the first time since coming into town, she’d had a flash of...something. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

  Encouraged, she took in the large front room that also accommodated a kitchen. To her left was a fireplace. A bathing tub was propped against the adjacent wall. A dark dining table and chairs stood in front of her, with a cupboard along the wall behind. A framed sampler hung above the cupboard.

  The name “Blue” was embroidered in the center with Catherine’s and Jericho’s names on either side of it. Below their names was a date.

  Bram moved up beside her. “You made that for their wedding day.”

  She skirted the table, studying needlework that was neat and precise. The fact that she felt no connection to it at all had her searching her mind hard and coming up empty.

  Bram pointed to an open doorway straight across from the table. “That’s Catherine and Jericho’s bedroom. When you stay here, you sleep in Andrew’s bedroom.”

  He walked a few feet down a short hall to another open doorway. “Andrew is Catherine’s younger brother. He gives up his bed anytime you or your sisters visit.”

  Deborah walked toward Bram and eased past him into the room. She managed to ignore his dark male scent and the distracting brush of his hard thighs against her skirts. The space was small, with a narrow bed and nice-sized window. She didn’t recognize it or the small bedside table that held a lamp and a carved wooden quail.

  She squashed a flare of panic. “Have I spent a lot of time here?”

  “Quite a bit.” Bram’s deep voice was soothing, yet she wasn’t soothed.

  After another thorough look around, she stepped back out with him and studied the front room again. The sink, the fireplace, the now-open front window. Nothing.

  “We can go outside and walk around, check out the barn if you want.”

  She nodded, still hopeful despite the fact that her spirits were falling fast as they walked to the other side of the house and down the narrow hallway toward the back.

  Though he opened the door for her, she paused, studying the barn about fifty yards away, the prairie beyond the weathered gray building.

  She moved out to the stoop, closing her eyes as she listened to the muted sounds from town—the rattle of a wagon, the low buzz of voices, a child’s laughter. She waited for something to come into her mind. Anything.

  Unlike when Bram had stopped at the creek where he had proposed, she felt nothing, good or bad. She’d really thought she would find something familiar here.

  Tears tightened her throat. Trying to steady her voice, she said over her shoulder, “You can go back inside. I’ll be right there.”

  “Nothing, huh?”

  She shook her head, afraid if she said more she would cry. Bram didn’t move, just waited behind her. Why couldn’t he go away?

  “It’s understandable to be disappointed. And mad, too, I reckon. I figure I would be.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Sorry,” he said softly. “I thought this place might help you.”

  She curled her hands into fists until her nails bit into her palms. She wanted to scream.

  His big hot hand closed gently over her shoulder and squeezed. Bram felt her tremble.

  She looked back at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I thought I’d remember something. Just one thing.”

  She turned away, but not before he saw a tear fall. Hell. A sharp ache pierced his chest. When her shoulders sagged, he couldn’t stand it.

  Even as he told himself he would be sorry, he pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

  They stood like that for a long moment. He grew painfully aware of her teasing scent, the full press of her breasts against his chest, the cradle of her hips.

  Unable to step away, he smoothed her hair back and tilted her face up to his. Her eyes were liquid blue, her cheeks wet with tears. The vulnerability on her delicate features clutched at something deep inside him. Bram knew the smart thing would be to release her and fetch her ma, but he couldn’t muster up one ounce of smart. He couldn’t imagine how it would be to remember nothing, to have no roots, no history. To feel so alone.

  Cupping her face in his hands, he thumbed away her tears.

  Before he realized what he was about to do, he bent his head, intent on her mouth. Then he stopped.

  What the hell? Kissing her was the stupidest thing he could do.

  He started to straighten, taken aback when she gripped the front of his shirt with both hands.

  A flush tinting her cheeks, she said shakily, “I want you to do it.”

  “What?” He couldn’t have heard her correctly. “No.”

  She licked her lips, her gaze pleading as she whispered, “I think I...remember that.”

  His heart started hammering hard. This was a bad idea—he knew it—but when she pulled him closer, he went. His mouth covered hers.

  At first she tensed, and disappointment speared

  him. Just when he would’ve pu
lled away, she melted against him, her arms going around his neck as she kissed him back.

  Sweet mercy. Filled with the fresh scent of her, the feel of her, he curled her tight into him.

  That should’ve been enough for her to recall if she was going to, but he couldn’t stop. He cradled her jaw with one hand, his other one sliding to her waist and angling her to him for a better fit.

  She opened her mouth, inviting him in. She had the same sweet hot taste he remembered. The same soft sound in her throat that triggered a savage swirl of need. She held him tight, her breasts flattened against his chest. She pressed into his arousal.

  Sharp, searing need blazed through him, nearly pulled him under. He wanted to get his hands, his mouth, all over her.

  Finally he managed to lift his head, his breathing ragged. Her mouth was wet from his. She opened her eyes and when he saw the desire there, the surrender, he nearly kissed her again.

  He struggled to level out his breathing, to think. “Shouldn’t have done that.”

  He had no idea where the words came from, because he didn’t believe them.

  “Oh, yes,” she breathed, excitement in her voice. “You should have.”

  His gaze searched hers. “Did you remember?”

  “Yes. Yes.” She flushed.

  He knew she was turning that delicate pink all over. Oh, yeah, he remembered that.

  She went to her tiptoes, reaching for him again. His hand flexed on her lithe waist. He wanted more and was about to take it when her ma’s voice sounded in the house.

  “Deborah? Bram?”

  They both froze. Deborah’s alarmed gaze flew to his. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  Bram could barely speak himself. “Out here,” he said hoarsely.

  “Any luck?” Mrs. Blue asked.

  What was he supposed to say? Your daughter and I were just working on getting intimately reacquainted?

  The violent pounding of his blood finally began to quiet. “Nothing in the house sparked a memory,” he managed.

  “That’s too bad,” Mrs. Blue said, her voice growing closer.

  The dazed look left Deborah’s face and Bram released her, forcing himself to step away.