by Debra Cowan
Before her mother could come out and see what they had plainly been doing, Bram opened the door. After a slight hesitation, Deborah preceded him inside. She looked poleaxed. He sure was.
Damn.
She’d finally remembered something. Why did it have to be that? Why did it have to be them?
The feel of her mouth against his had blasted every bit of common sense out of his head. Keep his guard up? Hell, she’d plowed right over it.
Chapter Seven
What had happened at Jericho’s house a few hours ago set Bram back on his heels. Ever since kissing Deborah, he’d wanted more and his common sense had been pistol-whipping him for it.
He wasn’t getting involved with her again, memory or no memory.
After supper he sat in the large front room of the ranch house, visiting with his family before he had to leave for her place.
Sprawled in one of the wide leather chairs at the end of the deer-hide sofa, he patted his stomach. “Good supper, Emma.”
“Thank you.” His slight, blonde sister-in-law smiled warmly.
Bram was finally used to her fair hair. The mix of gold and silvery-blond strands was her natural color. When he first met her, her dark brown hair had been the result of dye, though he hadn’t known it at the time.
His brother, Jake, stood in front of the rock fireplace, watching Molly as she played with a doll on the bearskin rug in front of him. When the little girl had been left on their doorstep last year, Jake had kept his distance. Now he was as wrapped around her finger as the rest of the family, and had adopted her.
The blonde toddler, who was Emma’s half sister, pulled herself up by grabbing Jake’s leg. Releasing him, she took a halting step toward Bram and stumbled. He and Jake both lunged for her, but she didn’t fall. She steadied herself and tottered over to him, throwing herself into his lap with a squeal.
He scooped her up, tossing her into the air until she shrieked with laughter. He glanced at his uncle and his cousin who had been shot by Cosgrove during the
Monaco bank robbery. Jake had told Bram that Ike and Georgia still tired easily, and that Emma helped with everything she could.
“Uncle Ike, Georgia, how are you both feeling?”
“We’re coming along, son.” The older man, lanky and not quite as tall as Bram, gave a weak smile from the other leather chair at the opposite end of the sofa. The thick bandage on his wounded shoulder bulged beneath his tan shirt.
Sitting beside Emma, Georgia smiled, touching her left arm, currently in a sling. That hand had been withered since she was a young girl. “At least Cosgrove shot me in the arm that’s already crippled. Since I can still use my good hand, I’m getting by just fine.”
Bram knew his family members were lucky that animal hadn’t stayed around to make sure they were dead.
“Speaking of Cosgrove,” Bram said, “Davis Lee was able to convince the Monaco sheriff and bank manager to keep quiet about the return of the stolen money.”
“That’s good.” Jake grinned as Molly crawled up Bram’s chest. “Now all you have to do is hope Cosgrove walks into the trap.”
“Oh, he will. He’ll come for that money.”
The toddler bounced in his lap. “More, Unca Bwam!”
Grinning, he stood and settled her on his shoulders, moving her little hands away from his eyes to his head. When Emma started to rise, he shook his head. “It’s okay. I’ve got her.”
As the little girl waved at everyone from her tall perch, Emma settled back on the sofa. She had shown up at the Circle R and was hired on as a housekeeper and baby nurse soon after Molly had appeared in a washtub at the front door. After she and Jake had married, they had told the family that Molly was Emma’s half sister. She had fled an abusive stepfather in an attempt to protect the infant from the man.
Georgia’s brown gaze sought Bram’s. “I guess you’ll be going to Deborah’s again tonight?”
He nodded, trying to keep thoughts of that kiss out of his head. Wondering if it had stuck with her the way it had with him. Thinking about how she’d looked at him, how she’d felt beneath his hands put a hard throb in his blood.
Emma smiled. “How is she doing?”
“Physically she’s healing, but she hasn’t remembered much.” Adding to his frustration, their visit to Annalise had provided no ideas about how to change that.
As relieved as Bram was that Deborah had recollected something, he was aggravated that he couldn’t stop thinking about getting another taste of her.
He lifted the baby from his shoulders and bussed her on the cheek. She gave him a loud, wet smack in return.
“Guess I’d better get going. Duffy’s probably chomping at the bit to get back here and grab some sleep.”
Emma rose, taking the child from him. After saying good-night to everyone, he headed to the barn and lit the lantern hanging just inside the door. He saddled Scout, then checked Cosgrove’s injured mare.
The swelling in her fetlock had gone down, but the joint still needed to be wrapped. After doing that, he broke down a bale of hay, grabbed the pitchfork and tossed the new straw into her stall.
Thinking about Cosgrove made him think about Deborah. Why couldn’t he get the woman out of his head? he fumed. He’d let his guard down for those bittersweet moments when his mouth was on hers, but he couldn’t do it again. Wouldn’t do it.
He headed out of the barn with two buckets, filled them at the pump then returned to leave one in the mare’s stall and the other in his gelding’s. His feet were dragging about going to Deborah’s. His reluctance wasn’t due to fatigue, although he wasn’t sleeping well. It was because that kiss had unleashed all manner of memories he didn’t welcome.
The slide of her creamy skin beneath his tongue, the weight of her breasts in his hands, the warm fragrance of her bare flesh.
The revelation that she remembered kissing him sawed at Bram. On one hand, he was glad and relieved. On the other, it tempted him to kiss her again, see if that caused her to remember anything else. That thought had teased him all afternoon.
He braced a shoulder against the stall frame, watching shadows shift as Scout scratched his nose on a wooden slat.
“Need any help at Deborah’s? I could stay there tonight, if you want.”
He glanced over his shoulder as Jake strode into the barn. He should probably let his brother relieve him so he could get some distance from her, but Bram couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine so far.”
“Still want me to take a look at that cheek billet?”
“I’d appreciate it.” His brother made saddles and tack on the side. People came from all over to commission his work.
Jake moved into the stall where Scout stood. “How’s the mare doing?”
“She’s coming along. She’ll probably be healed up by the time Cosgrove shows.”
“Too bad that bastard won’t be riding out of here unless he’s slung over her back.”
“That’s right.” Bram watched as his brother examined the harness strap that passed through a buckle.
“The billet’s fine.” Jake slid him a look. “You still set against trying to work things out with Deborah?”
“What’s the point?”
The other man moved to lean against the stall wall across from Bram. “Deborah said she would come back after two school terms. I never understood why you finished things between the two of you.”
Bram’s jaw tightened. “When Ma left, she said she was coming back, too.”
Jake frowned. “Why would you think she’d be like Ma?”
“Because she made it clear she was leaving Whirlwind, no matter what.”
“You didn’t have a chance to try to change Ma’s mind, but you can talk to Deborah again and
maybe change her mind.”
He’d tried that and had had as much luck with Deborah as he’d had with Frannie Ross. Bram propped a booted foot on the stall wall at his back. It wouldn’t hurt his brother to know now what he had done. And it would stop Jake from talking about the woman Bram didn’t want to discuss.
“I did try to change Ma’s mind.”
“What! When?”
“That first cattle drive I went on?”
“To Denver. You were fifteen.”
“I went on that particular drive because I found out she was there.”
Confusion plain on his face, Jake shook his head. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“No sense in you having to hear just how much she didn’t want us.” Even he had been surprised at their mother’s utter lack of interest in her own sons.
“Why did you go after her?”
“I wanted to know if I was the reason she left.”
“I never knew you thought it might be your fault,” his brother said quietly. “Why would you think that?”
“She said goodbye to you, told you she’d be back shortly.” Bram plucked a piece of hay from his shirtsleeve. “She never said anything to me.”
Jake’s mouth tightened. “I didn’t know that.”
Bram shrugged. “No reason you should. When I found her, she didn’t even recognize me.”
“What?” Anger burned in his brother’s dark eyes. “How could she not know who you were?”
“Evidently she put us out of her mind. I told her who I was and she said I’d wasted a trip, that she wasn’t ever coming back here.”
“And you’re afraid Deborah will do the same? Leave and forget all about you?”
Bram gave a harsh laugh. “She’s already done that.”
Jake grimaced. “That was a bad choice of words.”
“No, it’s right. If her feelings had been as strong as mine, don’t you think she would’ve remembered me by now?”
She remembered you kissing her, a little voice whispered.
“I don’t know,” Jake answered slowly. “Sounds like nobody knows anything about memory loss, including Annalise. Couldn’t you try to help Deborah remember?”
He dragged a hand down his face. “Annalise doesn’t know if that’s a good idea. Besides, she remembered something when we...”
“When you what?”
“Kissed,” he mumbled, looking away. “Earlier in town. At Jericho’s.”
“What exactly did she recall?” A smile sounded in the other man’s voice.
Bram shifted uneasily, ready to get going. “Kissing me. Before, I mean.”
His brother grinned. “Maybe you should build on that.”
“Meaning what?”
“Well, kiss her again.”
“No.” He’d done that against his better judgment. And as much as it riled him to admit it, Bram wouldn’t be able to stop at kissing. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not startin’ back up with her.” He moved into the stall and led his horse out. “It won’t go anywhere.”
“It might help her remember.”
“And if she does remember, she’ll leave, just like she planned.” Before his brother could say more, he continued, “And if she doesn’t recollect and I get tangled up with her, I’ll always be waiting for her memory to return.”
Understanding spread across Jake’s features and he sobered. “There’s no good outcome, is there?”
“Not that I can see.”
* * *
Hours later, Deborah could still feel Bram’s mouth on hers. She stood at the half-open window of the bedroom she shared with Jordan, listening for his return. What she and Bram had shared had been more than a kiss. It had been a real memory. One she had recalled consciously.
Though he’d been reluctant at first, he had relented and given her what she had asked for. He was softening toward her. Which was good, because she felt more and more drawn to him.
She looked out over the buffalo grass rippling in the breeze and across the prairie toward Whirlwind. The fading golden-pink of late day gave way to darkness. Now that the sun had set, the June temperature was more bearable.
Bram had arrived before nightfall last night. Anticipation swirled inside her. Where was he? Had he thought about that kiss as much as she had?
From the corner of her eye she caught a flash of lantern light, a movement, and turned to see Duffy Ingram come from the back of the house. She smiled at the wiry ranch hand who had eaten supper with them.
Once an hour, the older man stretched his legs by walking around the house and the barn and chicken coop. His boots made a soft noise in the grass as he neared. Stopping at the window, he touched a finger to the brim of his hat and smiled, his hazel eyes crinkling.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” He peered around her, acknowledging her sisters. Jordan lay on the bed behind her and Michal sat in a chair next to the table holding the lamp. “Evenin’, Miss Jordan, Miss Michal.”
“Good evening, Duffy.” From where she lay reading on the bed, Jordan waved.
“H-hello.” Michal kept her gaze on the bodice she was stitching.
Duffy walked on as Deborah glanced at her stuttering sister. Though the third Blue daughter was an excellent seamstress, she had problems speaking smoothly to anyone outside the family.
Deborah wondered if she had ever known how to help Michal. If so, she wished she would remember that. Thinking about recalling things had her thoughts circling back to Bram. Not that he’d been out of them for long.
Kissing him was the clearest memory she’d had while at her brother’s, the only one she could fully identify, the one she couldn’t leave alone. But it wasn’t her only recollection there.
Instead of reliving that kiss, she should be more concerned with trying to figure out who the man was in the image she’d seen earlier.
She looked around the bedroom. The bed was slightly bigger than the one shared by the two youngest siblings. A wardrobe of dark walnut was backed against the far wall and held their clothing and shoes. In the adjacent corner was a polished vanity of the same walnut with a standing mirror beside it. The small table holding a pitcher and washbasin sat opposite the foot of the bed.
Marah and Michal slept in the next room, and on the other side of the house their mother had a room that had been built last year.
“You’re being awful quiet.” Jordan looked up from the book she was reading.
Michal nodded, biting off a length of thread. “You didn’t say much about your visit to town. How was it?”
“It was all right.” She had told them earlier what Dr. Fine—Annalise—had said about her condition, but not much else. “Bram took me to the general store. I met Charlie Haskell and his nephew.”
Michal spread the fabric on her lap, eyeing the pink bodice front critically in the amber lamplight. “Did you meet May, Charlie’s wife?”
“No.” Deborah stayed at the window. “She was helping someone in the back, a lady named Millie Jacobson. I did meet her.”
“Ugh,” Jordan said.
Michal and Jordan grimaced, just as Bram had.
Deborah laughed, feeling increasingly comfortable with her family. “I also met Josie Holt. She seems nice.”
“You like her very much. I mean, you did. When you knew her. Or...remembered her.” Jordan frowned. “How do I say that?”
Deborah understood what she meant.
“Josie is a wonderful seamstress,” Michal said.
“Better than you?” She found that hard to believe.
“If you ask Michal,” Jordan said with an affectionate look at their sister. “I think she’s every bit as good as Josie, though. So does Jo
sie.”
“I’m not. I try to learn from her whenever I can.”
Jordan glanced over at Deborah. “You haven’t said if you remembered anything in town.”
She didn’t want to share what she had remembered and she wasn’t sure she could describe the too-brief image she’d had of the tall man.
What could it hurt, though? At worst, Deborah would know exactly what she knew now. At best, she might learn something new.
“Deborah?”
She pulled her attention back to Jordan, whose frown indicated she had asked a question, maybe more than once.
“Did anything happen in town at all?”
“Maybe at Jericho and Catherine’s?” Michal asked. “Mother said you went there.”
Deborah wasn’t telling her sisters about kissing Bram. Or that since then she had been stunned by phantom sensations of his mouth on her in other places. Her neck, her shoulder. Her breasts. Heat shot through her and her stomach dipped. She had no idea if they were real memories.
“There was one thing,” she said. “But it was just an image of a man. No detail.”
“That’s something.” Michal tilted her head. “Isn’t it?”
“There wasn’t much to the picture in my mind.”
“Can you describe what you did see?”
She was quiet for a moment. “I saw a man stooping to come into the house. A very tall, dark-haired man.”
“What did Bram say?” Jordan asked.
“I didn’t tell him.” Her mind had been too taken up with kissing him. “I wasn’t sure what to say. What I saw was so hazy.”
“Maybe Jordan can draw him from your description,” Michal suggested.
Deborah’s eyes widened. “Do you draw?”
Jordan nodded.
“She’s very good.” Michal flipped the bodice to stitch something on the inside.
“It’s worth a try,” Deborah said. Plus maybe it would help distract her from wondering what other places Bram might have kissed her.
Jordan rose and moved to the foot of the bed. Opening the hope chest there, she took out a pad of paper and a charcoal pencil. “Tell me what you can.”