“That’s what Robert guessed you’d done,” Lauren said, glancing toward the hallway. “But it was so cold, Jon. It’s a wonder you’re not sick.”
“I suppose.” John frowned, unsure he wasn’t sick. If you could call losing his mind being sick. All the time he’d staggered through the desert, he’d felt Cardis was hunting him. But it wasn’t Cardis who’d found him. It was someone in a contraption called a helicopter. It was someone who showed him it wasn’t 1877. He’d seen no need to resist. Not with a half-empty gun. Not if females were lawyers and machines flew.
Not if he wasn’t even sure who he was.
He was yanked back to the present when the lady began speaking again.
“Robert said he talked to you, but you wouldn’t tell him anything. If you want him—us—to help you, you’re going to have to tell us what happened.”
“I told him what I know. I don’t remember anything about a Saul or a ranch that I’m supposed to own.” He’d always dreamed of owning a ranch, but he’d considered it beyond his wages as a Texas Ranger.
Her brow furrowed into tiny lines as she studied him. “You were confused in the cave, too. Do you think it’s because of the head wound that you can’t recall anything else?”
“I honestly don’t know.” He gingerly touched the wound that snaked through his hair. It was just a dull ache now. He remembered more than he was willing to tell her right now. She wouldn’t want to help defend him if she thought he was crazy.
She sighed. “We need to get a doctor to check you out. You may have amnesia.”
“I’ve already seen a doctor.” The man had seemed nice enough, but John hadn’t told the doctor about his confusion. He just couldn’t blurt out that he was from the past.
“And?”
“He said I don’t have pneumonia. There wasn’t anything else I could tell him.” When John saw a shadow of disbelief cross her face, he added, “Trust me again for a while. Okay?”
“You have my word. Jon, even if you can’t remember what happened, I do have some good news. You’re going to have to be patient and not say anything to anyone else until we get this thing figured out. Promise?”
“I don’t have much choice, do I?” he asked, looking down at her. Somehow her presence reassured him and helped him relax.
She smiled and shook her head. “Not really, unless you want to rot here.”
“Then I promise.”
“I thought you’d see it my way. First, Jon, I may be your alibi. Plus, we may have a lead with a photo I took of the man who shot at me.”
Voices drifted into the cell from the outer office. Lauren began talking hastily. “It sounds like Robert got away from the reporters, so he’ll be here shortly. Is there anything else you need to tell me before he comes in?”
John wished he could tell her something, but nothing made sense. He closed his eyes, trying to draw on a memory that would clarify what had happened to him, but his last recollection was still that of Cardis and the firing squad. Of 1877, not the present. “Wish I could, but I really can’t.”
In a soft voice she reassured him. “That’s okay. It’ll come. Robert will see about arranging bail.”
John snorted. “I don’t think he needs to bother. No one I know can come up with two million dollars.” Hell, he doubted there was that much money in Texas. No, if this lady’s hopeful attitude didn’t pan out, he was going to be in this tiny jail cell until he either broke out, which looked unlikely, or was hanged for murder.
She reached out and touched his arm. The contact was light but encouraging. “It’s just a percentage of the set bail. Besides, if anyone can, Robert will get you out of here.”
The sound of a man’s footsteps and voice bounced off the metal alley between the cells as he neared. “Lauren, you there?”
“Yes, in here, Robert,” she answered, stepping back from John.
“I finally got away from those barracudas.” Robert stopped at the jail cell. “You remember anything yet, McCain?”
John shook his head.
“Hell, boy, you’re going to be hard to defend,”
In spite of himself, John couldn’t help liking the older man. But he still couldn’t tell him anything.
Robert kept talking. “Has the sheriff been in to see you? Maybe to talk you into confessing?”
John tilted his head sideways. “Yes. Three or four times a day he’s dropped by, but not for a confession. He just stares at me sometimes, and other times he asks a lot of questions—just like you. And I can’t answer those, either.”
“I’m a little worried about his intentions,” Lauren said in a lowered voice, glancing up to make sure no one else was in hearing distance. “I know Chester lied about hiding from you last Saturday. But we don’t know if he killed Saul or if someone else did, or what other lies have been told. So while you’re in here, Jon, watch your step.”
“Great.” John offered a grim smile. He’d been jailed by a man who was lying about him. A man who could kill him.
“Has he acted like he knows you?” Lauren asked.
“No, and I haven’t gotten the idea he’s out to make me his new friend.” The fact was, the sheriffs attitude was downright hostile. John figured that was natural. What Lauren had said shed a new light on it.
Robert eyed Jonathan’s head. “Chester said Dr. Olguin’s been in to see you. By any chance did you mention to him that you’ve lost your memory?”
“Hell, no. I don’t want them to think I’m crazy.”
“You’re too late for that.” Robert chuckled. “Anyone who tries to cross the desert without food is automatically considered crazy. Anyway, it’s obvious you don’t remember much—leastwise to Chester. Let’s keep it that way. So. if you do recall something, you’re to tell us. No one else, you understand? Your safety may depend on it.” Robert turned to Lauren. “If you’re done in here, we better get busy.”
John held his breath as Lauren turned to face him again. God in heaven, he wanted to be alone with her for a few more minutes. Maybe if he could kiss her, he could gain enough sustenance to endure the jail for a little longer. She could apparently tell what he was thinking because her soft pink lips parted slightly as her gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips.
“I can’t stay,” she whispered, backing out of the cell, “but I’ll be back as soon as I can. It’s your turn to trust me.” Then she hurried after Robert.
John stood and studied her departing figure for several seconds before the sheriff arrived to lock his cell. He’d been thinking about a woman and possibly missed his only chance to escape. Then it occurred to him that the sheriff might have wanted him to try.
Again Lauren took two steps for every one of Robert’s as they walked to his beat-up pickup. She felt as if she’d been hit by a Brahman bull. Only a week ago her life had been simple, busy...and boring. Now it was anything but simple and boring. All because of one man.
It had been hard to walk away from him. Despair and confusion had clouded his eyes, which had begged her to comfort him. She’d longed to put her arms around him and take away the pain. He couldn’t know the willpower it had taken for her to leave him in that cell. And while she had no choice, she vowed to do what she could to get him out as soon as possible.
She wanted to focus on this one case to the exclusion of all else, yet she and Robert both had other clients who had to be dealt with. Their business hadn’t come to a standstill because they were representing Jonathan McCain.
But her heart had.
She climbed into the beat-up old pickup and snagged her hose on the worn seat. “Buy a new pickup, Robert.”
“Don’t have time,” he said. “Besides—” he patted the peeling vinyl on the dashboard “—this honey’s got another hundred thousand miles on her.”
Lauren rolled her eyes.
Robert ignored her expression. “What did you learn from that boy?”
“Nothing except what he did after I left the cave. He claims he can’t remember anything el
se.”
“Amnesia’s a tricky thing.” Robert shook his head. “He better hope his memory comes back pretty quick.”
“Maybe when you call his parents you can find out something from them that will jog his memory.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Robert, I’m a little concerned about Jonathan being out on bail. If Van Rooten is involved, then Jonathan’s not safe—in jail or out.”
“I know.”
“Chester has always been a blowhard, but he’s seemed to believe in the law he’s been elected to uphold. How or why would he be involved?”
“I think we touched on that. If drugs are involved, then his motive has to be money. Hell, sheriffs out here work for peanuts. That would explain how he was able to get that expensive pickup he drives. Let’s assume drugs are an issue. That means we’ve got to find out who he’s working with. Small-time border smugglers or a larger group? Or is he working for himself?”
“And how is Jonathan involved? Is he involved in the smuggling, but not the murder? His bank records would support that theory.” Lauren longed to know the truth about the man who’d so easily and quickly caused her heart and ethics to war with one another.
The next day, Lauren was still dwelling on the what-ifs and surely-nots as she drove Jonathan home. She adjusted her sunglasses and tried to concentrate on the long stretch of highway that led south of Sierra toward his ranch. Jon hadn’t said much while she had taken care of the paperwork granting his release. He’d asked where the money had come from. When she’d told him his family, he’d looked puzzled and lapsed back into silence. From what Jon’s mother had told her, if Jonathan remembered anything about his father he wouldn’t have taken the money.
Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she saw only confusion in the man staring out the window, searching the countryside as if it were the first time he’d seen it. She was so used to the terrain that she hardly paid attention to it anymore, but thought it would be enlightening to see it through Jonathan’s eyes. Only small rugged mountains broke the mile after mile of rolling brown grassland that stretched in all directions. The barbed-wire fences and the couple of ranch headquarters tucked away in valleys some distance from the highway were the only signs of human habitation.
“Jon, do you remember anything at all about your family?” she asked, wondering if she’d detect any hint of residual bitterness.
He shook his head and looked at her. “Why?”
“I met them yesterday afternoon.” Lauren and Robert had decided to drive to El Paso after seeing Jonathan in the jail. Although the bail money was handled by wire, Lauren had other things on her agenda. She wanted to deliver the negatives to the lab, and she needed to meet Jonathan’s family to see if they could help their son regain his memory. She glanced at Jonathan, seeing similarities between him and the tall man who’d greeted her the day before. Although Jon’s dark hair and bronzed skin obviously came from his mother’s Spanish heritage, his eyes and smile were like his Irish father’s.
“And?”
“I told them you couldn’t remember them.”
“If these people are my parents, why haven’t they been to see me?”
“That’s a long story, Jon. They told me a lot of things about you. Maybe some of it will spark a memory.” She reached over and covered his hand with hers. “Some of it you won’t like hearing.”
“I haven’t liked much of anything, yet. Why should this be any different?”
“Your mother, Alicia, talked to me privately while Robert and your father, J.C., arranged for the bail money. You’ll be pleased to know that she and your father believe you’re innocent of murder.”
Jonathan rubbed his hands over his thighs, then half lifted his fingers. “I really don’t know how to react, Lauren. I don’t remember anyone named Alicia or J.C.”
Lauren noted the look of anguish on Jonathan’s face, but knew she had to continue. “Your mother said as a youngster you were headstrong and rebellious.”
Lauren could still see his mother standing in the sunroom, fingering a pot of yellow chrysanthemums, a faraway look in her eyes. “You see,” Alicia McCain had said, “Jonathan and J.C. had a frightful falling-out when Jonathan was only seventeen. During his senior year in high school, he and a couple of his friends were arrested for possession of marijuana. But through it all, Jonathan said he was innocent of the charge.
“J.C. didn’t believe him even though Jon was never prosecuted. Instead, J.C. ranted and raved, and he and Jon got into fight after fight, until finally my husband told Jon to leave. At the time, I thought it was my obligation to stand by my husband.” The corners of her mouth curled, slightly as she sought to get Lauren to understand. “You know, the obedient wife.”
“You mean you’ve had no contact with Jon in all these years?” Lauren had asked.
“Yes and no. He stayed in touch with Helena and we communicated that way, so I knew he owned an import-export business in Mexico before he bought the ranch. I’ve only seen him twice since he left for the army—both times at Helena’s. He’s as stubborn as his father about apologizing.” Tears filled Alicia’s eyes. “I told J.C. I was going to see our son now, that enough was enough. Surprisingly, he agrees and feels that in some way he’s to blame for this.”
Lauren hadn’t known how to empathize with the McCain family, since her own parents had always been so support tive. Still, she’d listened as Alicia reminisced about Jonathan’s childhood, his athletic prowess, his sense of humor.
While Lauren told Jonathan what his mother had said, she watched him for some form of recognition. She was disappointed.
“Oh, yes,” she added, “your mom sent some family pictures for you to look at and one of your old high-school yearbooks. I’ll leave them with you so you can see if they help you remember.”
Jonathan nodded.
“Also, I saw an old tintype photograph of your great-great-grandfather while I was at your parents’ house yesterday. The man in the picture looked exactly like you.”
Chapter 7
“Umm.” Jonathan shifted uneasily in his seat. “That’s not all that unusual—looking like your ancestor.”
“Maybe not, but there was something else I can’t describe. I got kind of a creepy feeling.” As they peaked a crest in the road, Lauren noticed the thunderclouds building to the southwest. The tall white pillars towered over the distant mountains, teasing them with rain. She hoped she would be back in Sierra before any severe storms developed. It was dangerous to be caught in the desert after a downpour. Flash floods were common.
She glanced at her passenger, who seemed to have shut her out. Had discussing his family upset him? Was he recognizing the passing landscape? “Do you remember where the turnoff is?” she asked.
He shrugged. “No.”
“I thought maybe seeing familiar surroundings would trigger some memory.”
“I hoped it would, too, but it’s still like I told you back at the jail. I don’t remember a thing.”
“I know you said you didn’t remember owning a ranch, but I’d hoped that—”
“Then I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he interjected, cutting her off. He sounded exasperated, as if he was tired of explaining the same thing over and over.
She knew he must be frustrated. “You haven’t disappointed me at all, so don’t worry about it.” They’d passed the road to her own father’s ranch a few miles back, so she realized no more than fifteen miles separated the two ranch headquarters. “Just help me watch for the next turnoff. It will take us to your place.”
Lauren wasn’t the only person who hoped that seeing something would jar a thought, a memory of some sort. John had hoped the same thing. Other than a few flitting flashbacks, nearly like the feeling of having a word on the tip of your tongue, he was a stranger to his surroundings. He liked the looks of the pastureland and could imagine the grass being green in the springtime. But now the dry grass blanketed the countryside, with no familiar landmarks leading to
a revelation about who he was.
Finally, he gave up and leaned his head back. In just a short time, he’d already learned that a car was not only faster than a horse, but more comfortable. He tapped his fingers over the head wound, which was nearly healed, and remembered how Lauren had gently tended to his injury in the cave. Even in the dark, she’d been more careful than the doctor who’d pushed and poked and jabbed at it in the jail. The headaches weren’t as frequent anymore, but the jumble of unknowns running around inside had gotten worse.
From half-closed eyes, he watched the woman who’d introduced herself as Lauren Hamilton, although to him she was still “lady.” She’d said he had parents, as well as the sister who’d come to see him, but he was sure they weren’t the family he remembered. Yet these relatives had been willing to put up the bail for him. For that he should be grateful. And now this beautiful lawyer, his lady, was driving him out to a ranch he supposedly owned. He hoped they still had cattle and horses on ranches nowadays. At least he knew something about those.
Lauren glanced at him. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Being addressed as ma’am makes me feel old.”
He opened one eye and glanced toward Lauren. Her smooth, flawless skin held only a hint of tiny laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. He was suddenly curious. “You never did tell me how old you are.”
“Asking a woman her age isn’t a way to impress her, but since our file revealed that you’re forty, you can’t say much about my being thirty.”
John bit his bottom lip. “I’m forty, you say.” Damn, that was right. He was forty. More things might be the same as he remembered. “Other than what Alicia told you, what else do you know about me?” He couldn’t bring himself to say “my mother.”
Lauren told him the limited information she’d been able to find out from records and from people who claimed to know him. She paused and glanced at him before she slowly added, “The sheriff said you could have been smuggling cocaine from your ranch and that Saul might have discovered what you were up to.”
McCain's Memories Page 8