Whirlwind Cowboy

by Debra Cowan

  He soberly searched her face.

  She hoped he could see she meant it. Hoped he could see and accept it.

  Before long, Bram reined up on top of a small rise that looked down on a bustling town. The wide main street was sand, not red dirt like Whirlwind.

  Horses and wagons waited in front of a long line of attached buildings. On the south corner was a bank, a tall stately structure with four white columns.

  “Anything look familiar?” he asked.

  Deborah scanned the limestone and terra cotta building fronts, her gaze pausing on a hotel at the north corner. “Not really.”

  She couldn’t stop looking at the hotel. It felt almost familiar. Trying to place it in her memory, she ignored the stab of pain in her temple.

  “You keep looking at that hotel. Want to go there first?”

  “I...guess so.”

  When Bram stopped the buggy in front of the whitewashed brick structure, she was able to read the sign hanging out over the street. The White Hotel.

  He hopped out and came around to help her down. As she studied the two-story building with its tall arched windows and wide porch, unease snaked through her. She didn’t want to let go of Bram’s hand, but she did.

  “Anything?” he asked quietly.

  “Not really.”

  “Maybe if we went inside.”

  “Okay.”

  Shooting a narrow-eyed glance at the people crossing the street and a group of boys loitering down the way, he pulled Deborah’s valise and his saddlebags from beneath the buggy seat. “Don’t fancy leaving our stuff out here where somebody could make off with it.”

  “I agree.” He had suggested they both bring a bag in case they had to stay overnight.

  He slung his saddlebags over his shoulder, switched hers to his other hand and with his free one, steered her into the hotel.

  Stepping inside out of the sun, Deborah savored the slightly cooler air and immediately caught the faint scent of roses. Something flashed through her mind and her attention automatically went to a basin of water on the corner of the long walnut registration desk.

  She pointed toward the bowl. “That’s rose water. For guests to wash their hands. I’ve been here.”

  “Yeah?” There was a cautious optimism in Bram’s voice.

  “Be right with you,” a man said from behind the counter. After a few seconds he stood, waggling a pen. “Just looking for this.”

  A round barrel of a man, he had a thinning halo of brown hair. He placed the pen in the open registration book before turning his attention to them.

  His friendly gaze moved to Deborah and his eyes widened. “Well, hello. I wondered what became of you.”

  “You know me?” Her heart skipped a beat.

  “I remember when you were here before.”

  Bram stepped up beside her. “So she stayed in your hotel?”

  The man gave them a considering look. “Yes. With an older woman and a man. Then one day all of you were just gone, your things left behind. I kept your valise. All of your things are in there.”

  An older woman and a man? A strange feeling came over her. Something hovered in the back of her mind. What was it?

  Bram asked another couple of questions.

  “The three of you were here a few days,” the manager said. “Had a bank robbery around here the time y’all left. Witnesses said the thief was the man you were with.”

  She froze, her head pounding. “But I wasn’t there?”

  “No, ma’am. Not you or the other woman.” He stroked his chin, his hazel eyes kind. “I don’t think you realized what a no-account that man was.”

  “I didn’t,” she said. “Would it be possible to see the room where I stayed?”

  The man frowned. “I suppose, but the room’s been cleaned. If you’re thinking you left something behind, we put all of your things in your valise.”

  She and Bram hadn’t discussed how much, if anything, to tell people about why they were here in

  Monaco. She gave the manager an apologetic smile. “I’m having a hard time remembering. I thought being in the room might help me.”

  “It hasn’t been all that long ago.” The older man clearly didn’t understand why she would be having trouble.

  “She’s been sick,” Bram put in. “We thought coming here might help her recollect things.”

  “Hmm.” The manager took a key from under the counter. “It’s on the top floor, room 212. Last door on the

  right. If you folks want to go up, I’ll fetch the bag you left.”

  “Thank you.” Deborah took the key and started up the stairs with Bram.

  The gold-and-white flocked wallpaper wasn’t familiar. Nor were the few gaslights that were posted on each floor or the green rugs at the top of the stairs. Her head throbbed, but she kept searching her memory. Nothing.

  When she and Bram reached the room, her hands began shaking so hard she couldn’t get the key in the lock. He set down their bags and closed his big hand over hers, managing to open the door. It looked like other hotel quarters she’d seen. Nothing stood out.

  She took a step inside, then another. The room was clean with a nice-sized bed, a washstand and a basin, and a narrow walnut wardrobe in the far corner. White lace curtains fluttered at the half-open window.

  She walked across the room. As she neared the window, she began to tremble all over, completely unsettling her. “I remember being here, Bram.”

  “Do you remember the woman or Cosgrove?” he asked from the doorway.

  “No.” She glanced out the window, then moved closer to look down on the alley behind the building and the back of a wood frame structure.

  An image flashed. Two people hugging? Fighting? Deborah couldn’t tell.

  Without warning, a paralyzing terror swept over her. Black, frigid, suffocating.

  Unaware she’d even moved, she was suddenly back beside Bram.

  “Deborah?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “You’re chalk-white and you’re crying,” he said gruffly.

  She reached up and felt wetness on her cheeks. The fear faded, so she tried again to recall something. All she got was pain and a blank in her mind, just as it had been since Bram had found her in his cabin.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She didn’t want to tell him about the throbbing in her head. He already didn’t like the idea that they were here.

  With a hand at the small of her back, he guided her down to the lobby. Away from the room, his touch helped dispel the horror.

  After recognizing and identifying the valise as hers as well as the dress, petticoat and brush inside, she and Bram thanked the manager and left. They stopped at the building’s corner and Deborah stared into the alley.

  The ache in her skull grew sharper and that choking terror rose up again, but there were no images, no ideas to explain why.

  “Anything?” Bram asked.

  Starting to fear she might not recall anything, she shook her head. “I really thought something would come to me.”

  He reached out as though he might touch her, then shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “The hotel manager recognized you. Other people in town might, too.”

  “Like who?”

  “Someone at the bank maybe. We know Cosgrove was there. Maybe you were, too.”

  “The hotel manager said I wasn’t involved in the robbery.”

  “You still might’ve gone into the bank with Cosgrove, maybe when he was learning their schedule.”

  “Okay.”

  “We can stop and see the sheriff, too.”

  “Do you think Cosgrove would’ve gotten anywhere near the sheriff? Or let me?”

  “Only one way to
find out.”

  They walked down the planked walkway connecting the buildings. They passed a drugstore, a general store that also served as a post office and a newspaper office before they reached the bank. They went inside the gray stone structure with its Greek columns.

  Deborah took in the mosaic tile floors, wainscoting of oak paneling and leaded glass windows. Three tellers’ cages lined the counter in front of her; a gold plate above each station bore the name Monaco Bank.

  Deborah and Bram greeted each of the male clerks, but none of them acted as if she were familiar. Neither did the trim young man coming out of an office marked “Manager.”

  She tried not to be discouraged, but her hope of recalling what had happened was quickly dwindling and the throb in her head was growing.

  Bram must have noticed her face. “We can still talk to the sheriff.”

  Pasting on a smile, she nodded. They crossed the street and went into a redbrick building with a sign over the door that read “Jail and Courthouse.”

  She got a brief impression of pine floors, a polished oak desk and a gun cabinet against the wall as a wiry, craggy-faced man wearing a badge stood. “How may I help you folks?”

  Bram removed his hat and stuck out his hand. “I’m Bram Ross and this is my...fiancée, Deborah Blue.”

  Even though it wasn’t a real engagement, there was a flutter of excitement in Deborah’s stomach anyway.

  “Bram Ross?” The lawman’s dark gaze sharpened as he stepped around the desk to shake Bram’s hand. “From Whirlwind?”

  How did the man know Bram? Deborah shot a look at him.

  He nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Sheriff John Hayden. Pleased to meet you. Sheriff Holt said that returning the stolen bank money was your idea. Clever plan.” His gaze went past them and out the window as though looking for something. “Seeing as how you have the lady with you, I guess you don’t have Cosgrove?”

  “No. Haven’t spotted him yet, but I still believe we will.”

  “Then what brings you here?” the man asked pleasantly.

  Bram explained how Deborah had been in Monaco with Cosgrove against her will. “Another woman, an older woman, was with them. The three of them stayed at The White Hotel. Deborah thinks something may have happened there.”

  The lawman’s gaze shifted to her. “When were you in town?”

  “Almost two months ago,” she answered.

  “Something did happen at that hotel around then,” Sheriff Hayden said. “We found a woman’s body stuffed in the crawl space.”

  Deborah inhaled sharply, causing a burst of agony in her head.

  The man walked around his desk and opened a drawer, then pulled out a stiff piece of paper. When he returned, she could see it was a photograph.

  “This is the woman we found. Do you recognize her?”

  As he held the picture so she could see, Deborah looked down at the grainy black-and-white image. The woman’s eyes were closed, her face severely bruised. Her neck lay at an awkward angle. She was shockingly thin with a pointed chin, a long jaw, tight mouth. A wide streak of white cut through the right side of her dark hair.

  The longer Deborah looked at the photograph, the more intense the pain in her skull grew. And that was the only thing in her head. No memories. No sense of familiarity. “I don’t think I know her. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, I’ll keep trying to identify her.”

  Deborah rubbed her temple. “I wish I could help.”

  “Are you planning to stay the night?” the sheriff asked.

  Bram glanced out at the late-day shadows. “Yes.”

  “You should have your supper at The Star and Crescent Hotel. They have an excellent cook there.”

  “Thank you. We will.”

  The lawman shook Bram’s hand and tipped his hat to Deborah. “I’m happy to have met you.”

  “As soon as I nab Cosgrove, you’ll hear from me.”

  “Looking forward to that day.”

  Not as much as Deborah was.

  After bidding the sheriff good-day, she and Bram stepped into the street. She turned to him. “You and Davis Lee returned the money? When?”

  “A few days after I got you home.”

  “Then why would Cosgrove still come looking for it?”

  “The sheriff and the banker have both kept quiet about the stolen money being recovered. Besides Davis Lee, you and me, those two men are the only ones who know it was returned.”

  “So as far as Cosgrove knows, I still have it.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you think he’ll come for it.”

  “He’ll come.”

  Deborah was very afraid he would.

  Bram touched her arm. “I’ll be there. He won’t hurt you.”

  She nodded, trying not to wince at the pain stabbing the backs of her eyes.

  “Goodness,” she said. “I haven’t thought about that money once since we left the cabin.”

  “Well, you’ve been concentrating on getting your memory back and nothing else.”

  That wasn’t true, she thought. She had also thought about Bram and her. A lot.

  He frowned. “How’s your head?”

  Realizing she was rubbing her temple, she lowered her hand. “It’s fine.”

  He leveled a look on her.

  “I’m not ready to give up. There may be someone else who remembers me or something that might be familiar.”

  “All right.” Bram’s reluctance was plain.

  Deborah’s head was pounding so hard she felt it in her neck, but she was determined to remember something. She had to.

  * * *

  “I just knew I’d recall something. I’m so sorry I haven’t.”

  “It’s fine, Deborah.” It was hours after they had continued their trek through town and Bram knew her head hurt, no matter what she said.

  She was wan and lines fanned out in tight creases from her eyes—eyes dulled by discomfort. One of the reasons she was trying so hard was to help him, and Bram couldn’t stand it.

  “Where else should we go?” She scanned the buildings on the back of town where they now stood. “Maybe if I looked at the picture of that woman again.”

  “Enough,” Bram said firmly, yet gently. “No more. I can’t force you to stop thinking about it, but try to leave it be for the rest of the night. Let’s go eat supper at the hotel Hayden recommended.”

  “All right.” She gave him a tired smile.

  Fifteen minutes later, he had arranged for them each to have a room at The Star and Crescent. After a delicious meal, he cajoled her into a walk beside a creek that ran along the outskirts of town. The water was just a trickle. Like Whirlwind and the rest of the area,

  Monaco was suffering from a drought. If they didn’t get rain soon, the creek would dry up.

  He and Deborah discussed books and music and Marah’s pets. Bram thought she was finally relaxing. The shadows in her eyes had eased, as had the cruel lines around her mouth. A mouth he’d wanted to kiss more than once today. But he hadn’t.

  Since that night in the barn, he had kept his hands to himself and it was becoming a real struggle, especially today. The more pain he saw in her eyes, the more he wanted to hold her, soothe her, help her.

  When they finally returned to their hotel, Bram walked her to her door. A gaslight at each end of the hall spread a hazy curtain of yellow over the area, glinting off the oak woodwork and door. “My room is just across the hall. I’ll leave the door unlocked in case you need anything.”

  “Like...you?”

  Hell, yes. Her half-whispered question drew his muscles up tight. Sweat broke out on his neck. “Like if you remember something or get spooked.”

  “Oh.” She looked
up at him, her features soft in the dim light. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Bram. I know I’ve disappointed you.”

  “No, you haven’t. Stop apologizing.” She was clearly torturing herself and he wanted to give her a little shake. “It’ll come when it’s supposed to. I don’t want you making yourself sick over this. Especially for me. It’s not worth it.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.”

  All day he’d watched her struggle, watched her features grow more pinched, her blue eyes cloud with anguish. He just couldn’t stand there and let her hurt.

  He pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her, murmuring, “Please try to relax. I know your head is paining you.”

  He slipped one hand under her hair and stroked the taut muscles in her neck until he felt the tension in her body start to ease.

  She melted against him, her breasts pressed to his chest, her arms tight around his waist. His body clenched tight. “You’re a good man.”

  “Because I’m rubbing your neck?” he asked wryly.

  She lifted her head. “No. Because you care even if you don’t want to. In that way, you’re like my brother and my cousins. You’re a good man, Bram.”

  Aching with need, he knew good was not what he felt at the moment. He wanted to get her clothes off. Plastered to him as she was, she had to feel what she did to him.

  The rosy flush on her cheeks said she did. He knew she was turning that sweet pink all over.

  “You haven’t touched me since that night in the barn.”

  “Because I don’t trust myself to stop when I should.”

  Desire flared in her eyes. “What if I don’t want you to stop?”

  Her voice was so low Bram figured he hadn’t heard right. Her next words proved him wrong.

  “I want you,” she said quietly. “I’ve wanted to be with you since that night.”

  What was she doing to him? When he’d said he wanted her to relax, he hadn’t meant by using sex. It would only muddle things further. Still, the tantalizing idea and the feel of her breasts against his chest, her hips against his, chipped away at his common sense.

  “Stay the night. Please.”