Hank rubbed the saddle harder.
“Yes, sir, a sexy lady like that could make me forget my name and address.” Roger kicked at a pile of straw. “Wonder what happened to her that put her in such a state? Like something just scared the memories right out of her. Weird, right?”
Hank grunted, irritated to realize he’d been rubbing the same place for the duration of the conversation. He looked at Roger. “Is there a particular reason for this conversation or did you just want to waste my time?”
Roger’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “You’re an unfriendly bastard, Cooper.”
“That’s what they tell me,” Hank agreed.
“Think I’ll go have my smoke and find some better company.” Without a backward glance, Roger left the barn. Hank felt no remorse. He wasn’t here to make friends.
Amnesia. He thought of that moment when he’d first stepped out of the barn and his gaze had caught hers. Had he seen the flicker of recognition in her eyes? He wasn’t sure.
He wondered if she really had amnesia or was only faking. It would be just like her to fake it, pretend not to remember anything, then run when she got the chance.
In any case, if she did run again, he would find her. No matter where she tried to hide.
* * *
“ABBY? Can I talk to you for a minute?” Colette peeked into the office, where Abby sat at a desk, an account book opened in front of her.
“Sure, I could use a break.” She closed the account book and stood. “In fact, why don’t we go to the kitchen and see if there’s any of that cherry cobbler left, something to take the bad taste of ranch finances out of my mouth.”
The kitchen had quickly become Colette’s favorite room in the house. Large and airy, with a huge oak table, the ambience was warm and inviting. As Abby raided the refrigerator, Colette poured them each a cup of coffee, then together they sat at the table.
“Whew, what a day,” Abby said, wrapping her hands around the coffee mug and leaning back in her chair.
“I saw all the guests arriving. Did they get settled in okay?”
Abby nodded. “I think it’s going to be a fun group. They’re all family, here for a reunion. At least with them, I can put off letting some of the workers go for a few more weeks.”
“Things are that bad?” Colette asked.
Abby nodded. “Short of pulling magic money out of a hat, I’m not sure how we’ll make it through the next year.”
“I told Belinda this afternoon that I was going to talk to you about taking over the baby-sitting for the guests. I noticed there were a couple of small children in the group that arrived. It’s the least I can do to help.”
“That would be terrific,” Abby agreed. “I’d twisted Belinda’s arm to take care of the baby-sitting, but I want to use her marketing savvy and put her to work on a brochure for advertising.” She paused a moment to dip them each a generous helping of the cherry cobbler. “We’ve got a playroom set up in the community building. It has everything you should need.”
For the next few minutes Abby conveyed how the service worked, explaining that the guests signed up for baby-sitting needs on a sheet posted at the community building.
“Brook asleep?” Abby asked.
Colette smiled and nodded. “She’s such a good baby.” As always, thoughts of Brook brought a wealth of frustration, as well. “I just wish…it’s so disturbing not to know who her father is, what he meant to me and where he is now.”
Abby frowned and rubbed her forehead tiredly. “Maybe there are things best left not remembered. There are times I wish I remembered nothing about Cody’s father.”
“What happened to him?” Colette asked, hoping the question wasn’t out of line.
“Greg rode off into the sunset when Cody was just a few weeks old,” Abby explained, her voice holding a trace of bitterness. “He didn’t see himself as the father type. So, we divorced, I took back my maiden name, and I’ve raised Cody alone.”
Colette reached across the table and touched Abby’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
Abby shrugged and took a deep breath, her shoulders stiffening as if she summoned some measurement of inner strength. “Most of the time it’s not too bad. I adore Cody and wouldn’t change his presence in my life for the world. Just occasionally a memory comes back to haunt me, makes me think of how things could have been had Greg been a different kind of man.” She shrugged again, then drained her coffee cup. “Well, I’d better get back to work. I’ve got another hour or two of work ahead of me before I can call it a night.”
She started to carry the dishes from the table to the sink, but Colette stopped her. “I’ll do that. You go on and get your work finished.”
“Thanks.” Abby flashed her a quicksilver smile and started out of the kitchen.
“Abby? Could I ask you for a favor?”
She turned back and looked at Colette. “Sure. What?”
“Could you give me a list of all the people who work here at the ranch?”
Abby’s forehead wrinkled with curiosity. “Sure, but why?”
“I’d just like to learn everyone’s names,” she hedged, reluctant to admit that she thought she’d recognized one of the cowboys in case she’d been mistaken. “Without any of my memories I feel like my head is empty. I guess I figure I can fill it up with the people who are in my present.”
Abby nodded. “Stop by the office on your way to bed. I’ll have a list for you.”
It took Colette only a few minutes to clean up the dishes. As she worked, she thought of the dark-haired cowboy with the haunting shadowy eyes. Of course, there was no way by looking at a list of names she’d know immediately which name was his. She hoped by looking at the names, one would jump out and ring a bell of recognition.
However, she was also aware of the fact that she might have been mistaken in thinking she knew the cowboy. He might simply bare a passing resemblance to somebody in her past.
Later that night she sat in her room, the light on the desk illuminating the list of names Abby had provided to her. There was a total of seventeen names. Three female, the rest males.
Abby had marked the names of the men she’d hired in the last month. There were five. Roger Eaton, Bob Sanderson, Philip Weiss, Hank Cooper and Billy Sims. The names meant nothing to her, although she wondered vaguely which name went with the dark cowboy. She’d met Roger, who’d helped her up when she’d fallen, but he’s the only name she could attach with a face.
She sighed in frustration, realizing no matter how long, how hard she stared at the list, nothing changed. Stretching with arms overhead, she stood and walked over to the crib. As always, her heart expanded as she gazed at her sleeping daughter.
Brook slept on her tummy, a thumb stuck in her mouth. Her sweet baby scent wafted on the air, filling Colette’s sense with the headiness of a love so pure, so clean, it ached inside her. She stroked the dark down that covered Brook’s head. “Sweet baby,” she whispered.
She fought the impulse to pick her up, snuggle Brook against her heart. Did it really matter that she couldn’t remember her past? She could be as strong as Abby, raise Brook as a single parent. Surely if Brook’s father was a loving, caring man, he’d be here. She wouldn’t have been alone in a Las Vegas hotel room. If he’d loved Colette, wanted the baby, he would have shown up by now.
Sighing heavily, she turned from the crib and went into the adjoining bathroom. As she washed her face, she stared at her reflection, trying to find a resemblance to Abby and Belinda. Both her sisters had blond hair, while Colette’s was a chestnut brown. Their eyes were blue and hers were hazel.
Still, she thought she saw a likeness in the shape of her face, a sameness in the contour of her lips. It comforted her. Without her memories she felt displaced, groundless, but her familial ties to Belinda and Abby soothed her, gave her emotional sustenance.
She changed from her clothes into a long, white cotton nightgown, then went into the bedroom. The near full moon beckoned, spilling
silvery light through the window. She pulled the curtains aside and gazed out. The landscape looked surreal in the light.
The clicking of insects, the hushed whisper of a night breeze and the distant lowing of the cattle drifted in through the open window. Comforting night noises. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the window frame, her gaze still directed out the window.
Feeling more at peace than she had since her arrival, she started to turn away from the window, but paused as a flicker of movement captured her gaze.
There, by the edge of the barn. She squinted, trying to pierce the dark shadows of night. Yes, she was certain. There was somebody standing there, staring toward her window. She could almost feel the intensity of his gaze prickling on her skin.
As she watched, a match flared then died, producing the red glow of a lit cigarette. Was he watching her window? Or merely leaning against the barn for a quick smoke?
Suddenly realizing that with the desk lamp lit she was probably perfectly silhouetted in the window frame, she pulled the curtains tightly closed and moved away.
She shut off the desk lamp, then crawled into bed, still disturbed. Even if the man outside wasn’t staring at her window or watching her, she realized she could never be completely happy or safe without her memories.
Something in her past threatened her. She didn’t know what or who. She only knew until she remembered her past, she would never know when her present happiness might be shattered.
CHAPTER THREE
Colette leaned on the top of the main corral railing, Brook in her arms, her gaze captured by the man riding the back of a skittish horse.
A huge, powerful creature, the horse sidestepped and shook his head as if fighting whatever command the rider gave.
Despite the magnificence of the horse, it was the rider who captured Colette’s attention. He appeared to be an extension of the horse, his dark hair the same color as the animal he rode. His T-shirt stretched across his broad back, and his biceps bulged as he worked the reins in an effort to control.
Even his legs appeared taut within the worn jeans that covered them, giving the appearance of unsuppressed strength.
Although she was too far away to see his eyes, she remembered them from her brief encounter with him the day before. She knew his dark eyes were framed by thick black lashes, and she couldn’t deny there had been danger in their depths, a danger mingled with an indefinable emotion that had stirred a latent desire in her. What was it about him that caused such an odd mixture of emotions in her?
She’d dreamed of eyes the night before. Dark, angry eyes. They stared at her, emanating an unspoken threat that terrified her. She’d wanted to run, needed to get away—escape his anger, escape the rage in those eyes—but she couldn’t move. Something held her confined. His prisoner. Fear had kept her still, fear and something else, something more powerful. Lust. Desire.
She jumped as a hand touched her shoulder. She turned to see Roger Eaton standing next to her.
“Good morning. Abby sent me out to take you to the community center,” he explained with a friendly smile.
She nodded and placed Brook in the carrier on the ground next to where she stood. Picking up the carrier, she straightened, her gaze once again on the cowboy on horseback.
“Who is that man?” she asked Roger.
“Hank. Hank Cooper. Your sister hired him about a month ago. A week after she hired me. He’s good with the horses. According to your sister, that particular horse hadn’t ever been ridden, but Hank’s been working with her since the first day he arrived.” Roger laughed. “You should have seen him the first day he got on her back. She bucked him off in a matter of seconds. Hank didn’t look so hot lying flat on his back in the dust.”
Colette looked at Roger curiously. “You don’t like him much, do you?”
Roger shrugged. “He’s a hard man to like. Keeps to himself and doesn’t offer much in the way of friendship. Of course, there’s several like that here.”
Colette redirected her attention to the horse and rider, wondering what it was about the man that disturbed her so much. He was handsome in a brutal sort of way, looking as strong and enduring as the mountains in the distance. But it was more than his attractiveness that troubled her. Something about him distressed her, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was.
“Do you know where he’s from?” she asked.
Roger shook his head. “We’d better get going, I’ve got work to do.”
She nodded and they started on their way. As they passed the barn, Colette noticed several cigarette butts lying in the dirt in about the area she’d spotted somebody standing in the darkness the night before. Again a nervous tremor raced through her. Had the man she’d seen been watching her? Had he stood here and smoked cigarette after cigarette, his eyes trained on her window? Who had it been?
Stop it, she commanded herself. She was spooking herself with thoughts that might have no basis in reality. Just because there were several cigarette butts there in the dirt didn’t mean they had all been smoked by somebody staring at her window. Probably the men weren’t allowed to smoke in the barn, where hay and grain were stored. She was being ridiculous, looking for a bogeyman where there was none.
“Here we are,” Roger said as he opened the door to the community building. They entered a large, airy room and he pointed to a nearby doorway. “The playroom is through there. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks for showing me the way.”
“No problem.” He tipped his hat, then turned and walked away.
Colette watched him go. He seemed like a nice young man. She wondered how long he’d stick around. Abby had complained only the night before about how difficult it was to keep good ranch help. Would Roger last through the fall? Or would he be one of the ones Abby had to let go because of finances? It seemed a catch-22 for Abby. She couldn’t afford to pay terrific wages to keep good help, and so went through a huge turnover of workers.
Just before he disappeared from her sight, he paused. As she watched, he shook out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. Again Colette felt a shiver work up her spine. Had it been Roger she’d seen the night before? Had it been he who’d stood there in the darkness, watching her at her window?
One more time Colette felt the breath of danger caress the back of her neck. She had to get her memory back. She had to know if she and Brook were safe or if somebody was out to get them.
* * *
HANK MOVED the brush down the powerful horse’s flank, uttering soothing murmurs as he worked. He’d been amazed by how easily his horse skills had returned to him. Like riding a bicycle, it had only taken mounting a horse again to remember all the things his mother had taught him.
Putting the young mare in her stable, his thoughts turned to Colette. He’d seen her pass the corral early in the morning with Roger Eaton, their destination apparently the community building.
He had to figure out what he was going to do about her, had to decide his next course of action. If the amnesia was true, then she wasn’t as much of a risk. If she didn’t remember him, then she probably wouldn’t run again. But there was no way to know for certain. And that left him uncertain as to how to proceed.
He needed to force a confrontation with her; see if she remembered him or not. He wanted to meet her face to face, examine her reaction, peer into her eyes.
Putting a cupful of oats in the feed trough, he then left the barn. He walked toward the community center, unsure exactly what he had in mind, but following instincts long honed.
He’d always worked on instinct, found gut reaction far more reliable than anything else. It was part of what made him so good at what he did, part of what kept him alive.
The door to the community building stood open and he walked inside, his gaze focused on the playroom. He heard no sounds, nothing to indicate she was still here. But when he entered the playroom the first thing he saw was the baby
in the crib.
She was awake, lying on her back, making little soft sounds of sweetness. He approached the crib, his heart suddenly pounding loud in his ears.
Clad in a pink one-piece sleeper, the little girl eyed him solemnly. He could smell her, a mixture of baby powder and innocence that pierced through the armor around his heart. She had dark eyes that matched the dark hair on her head.
He hadn’t expected the visceral pull, the utter wonder that swirled inside him as he stared at the baby girl. Such a tiny thing, with perfect, miniature features.
Leaning down, he lightly touched her cheek, a smile curving his lips as she turned her head and worked her mouth as if seeking a bottle. “Hey, little one,” he said softly, irritated that he didn’t even know her name. Damn Colette. There was no getting around it. The baby was a definite complication. Another stake in a game with no rules.
Gently, he picked her up, wanting to hold her close for just a moment, feel her wiggly warmth against his heart. He had no idea what the future held for Colette or this innocent child.
He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her, imprinting it in his brain. Her little bottom fit perfectly in the palm of his hand and she snuggled against his chest in complete trust.
She didn’t know she’d been born in the midst of chaos, couldn’t know her life was at risk. She only knew the needs of a newborn and trusted those needs would be attended.
Reluctantly he placed her in the crib, smiling as her fist closed around his finger.
“What are you doing in here?” Colette’s voice rang sharply from behind him.
He straightened and turned to see her standing in the doorway, Cody and two other children at her side. “I came to get some things from the closet and saw the baby and nobody else around.”
“We were just outside,” she replied, and moved past him to check on the baby. “Cody, why don’t you and Amy and Grant get out some of the puzzles on the shelf in the closet,” she suggested, then looked at Hank. She waited until the kids were occupied. “Please, get what you need and leave,” she said, her voice slightly haughty.
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