Carbon Copy Cowboy (Texas Twins Book 3)

by Arlene James

  “Carter,” Jack supplied. “He’s overseas in the military. If Brian Wallace is my father, then Carter is my half brother.”

  “If?” she echoed. “But I thought––”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he interrupted, tossing out the last of his coffee. He put the cup on the ground and got up. “To tell you the truth, I don’t even want to know if Brian is my father or not.”

  “How can you say that?” she whispered, clearly mystified.

  He lifted a hand to forestall more questions. How had they even gotten on this subject? “I have to feed the stock.”

  “Oh,” she said, sounding forlorn.

  Jack tried very hard to just walk away, but somehow he couldn’t, not without growling, “You can come along if you want.”

  She perked up instantly, bouncing to her feet. “Okay. Sure.”

  Jack turned away, striking out for the barn. She quickly fell in beside him. They walked along a pavestone path to the back gate in the wrought-iron fence. From there, the path became more of a bare rut worn in the grass by the passing of many feet. The dog, Nipper, loped across the field to join them. Without slowing his stride, Jack bent to ruffle the dog’s shaggy fur. As they drew closer to the barn, the dog peeled off and loped away.

  After a moment, Jack glanced at Kendra. “You’re not alone, you know. You’re among friends here, and just because you don’t remember, doesn’t mean that someone somewhere isn’t missing you.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “I’d guess that you have a fiancé worrying about you, at the very least,” he said. He’d come to that conclusion at some point during the night, despite having made every effort not to think about her.

  She held up her hand. “If that’s true, why don’t I have a ring?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t know. But there is that veil.”

  She flapped her hands in agitation. “It’s maddening not to be able to remember!”

  “Funny, isn’t it?” he murmured. “You know far less about your past than you want to. And now I know more about mine than I want to.”

  Not long ago, he’d been desperate to know all the secrets of his past, but since his mom’s accident, he’d gladly forget everything he’d come to know if he could just have Belle back, safe and sound.

  * * *

  “What am I going to do with you?” Jack said, patting the dark red hide of the Hereford calf. “Why aren’t you drinking water?”

  “Have you tried warming it?” Kendra heard herself ask.

  “Warming the water? We warm formula when we bottle-feed, but I’ve never heard of warming the water.”

  Kendra shrugged, feeling certain that her suggestion would help but without knowing why. “Can’t hurt to try, right?”

  “We have a sink over here,” he said thoughtfully, picking up the water bucket. He tossed the cool water, and she followed him to a small room tucked into the front corner of the huge barn. He lifted the plastic bucket into the deep metal sink and turned on the spigot. “How warm do you think it ought to be?”

  “It should feel fairly warm to the touch,” she answered, still wondering how she knew these things.

  A yellow-striped cat appeared from behind a pile of feed sacks.

  “Hello, there.” Kendra went to her knees on the straw-strewn floor. “Oh, look, she’s going to have kittens.”

  “No way.”

  “Way. What’s her name?”

  “Tom,” he answered wryly.

  “Tomasina, maybe,” Kendra chortled.

  He shut off the faucet and lifted the full bucket from the sink, placing it on the ground next to the cat. Squatting, he reached out with his square, long-fingered hands and turned the cat onto its back.

  “Well, I’ll be. She is pregnant.”

  Jack rested his forearms across his thighs and looked her in the face. “How do you know these things?”

  “I just do,” she told him helplessly. “Don’t ask me where I learned such things, though, because I have no idea.”

  “Let’s see what else you know,” he said, pushing up to his feet and snagging the handle of the water bucket.

  She trailed him at a safe distance while he swiftly carried the sloshing bucket back to the stall where the calf waited. Jack lifted the bucket over the stall gate and set it on the ground. The calf nosed the pail, swished its tail and started to drink. Turning his pale brown eyes on Kendra, Jack tilted his head. “Wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it.”

  “Try giving him a warm pail every morning for the next week or so,” Kendra said. “He ought to be well hydrated and less picky by then.”

  Jack stared at her for so long that Kendra blushed.

  “Come with me.” He waved her along as he strode down the aisle between the pens. “What do you know about goats?”

  “This breed gives exceptional milk, good for cheese,” she said, looking at the kid nestled in the hay. “Forages well in conjunction with cattle.”

  Jack promptly strode off again, coming to a stop seconds later in front of a pigsty that opened into a sizable outdoor pen. “What’s the difference in a pig and a hog?”

  “A hog’s just a pig that weighs more than a hundred and twenty-five pounds.”

  Off Jack went again, leading her past half a dozen stalls with horses and out the back of the barn to a small, fenced chicken yard, where he eyed her pointedly.

  Kendra glanced over the pen and said, “You’ve got some good-looking Leghorns here.”

  Pointing to another nearby pen with a plastic pond set in the ground, Jack asked, “What do you make of those?”

  “You mean those white mallard hatchlings?”

  Jack folded his arms, legs braced wide apart. “You either grew up on a farm or...”

  “Or what?”

  He shook his head. “You know a lot about animals, that’s all.”

  “I guess I do,” she said, lifting the top on a hinged plastic bin of cracked corn. She used the scoop inside to pour feed into a chute that spilled into a shallow trough inside the chicken pen. She dumped in a second scoop and closed the lid.

  “That’s exactly the right amount of feed,” Jack told her, clearly impressed. Then he nodded toward the feed bin. “Want to feed the ducks, too?”

  “Not corn,” she said automatically. “Got any barley?”

  Smiling, he pointed to another bin beside the barn door. “You’re definitely a farm girl.”

  “Maybe,” she muttered. “Wish I knew.”

  Shrugging, she fed the ducks, making sure to toss some of the barley pellets into the water. For several moments, they watched adult ducks launch into the artificial pond and feed while the hatchlings pecked the pellets off the ground.

  “How much longer before you turn them out?” she asked.

  “In another couple days, we’ll start opening the gate for them in the morning. They’ll return on their own in the evening, and we’ll close them in for the night. Otherwise the coyotes pick ’em off.”

  “Sensible.”

  “We think so.” He led her around to the side of the barn to check on and feed the pregnant heifer in the corral there before going back into the barn to take care of the horses.

  “I can help with that,” she informed him.

  He shot her a crooked smile. “Not surprised. You figure you ride?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered, looking over the animals in the stalls. “If I did, though, I’d choose this mouse grulla. What a beauty!”

  Jack’s frown surprised her. “You stay away from that horse,” he said flatly, even as the grulla nosed Kendra’s palm through the metal pipes of the stall gate.

  “Why? Is she—”

  “Just stay away from her,” he ordered, turning his back on he
r.

  Puzzled, Kendra petted the mare’s velvety nose before quickly following Jack down the aisle between the stalls. He showed her where to find the feed and the water controls for each stall.

  “I know you must have more horses than these,” Kendra remarked as they worked to clean the stalls and feed the animals.

  “We do,” he replied. “These are just our personal stock. We run two full strings of working stock besides.”

  “A string would be twenty head?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Whose mare is that about to foal back there in the last stall?”

  “The bay is no one’s personal mount. I bought her from a guy who thought she was ill. Neither of us realized she was foaling out of season until I got her home and the vet got a look at her.”

  Kendra nodded. “Happens that way sometimes, but not often.”

  “So I’m told. Now, I’m wondering who told you.”

  She couldn’t do anything but sigh and shake her head. “Haven’t got a clue.”

  Keeping one hand on the sorrel in the stall that they were currently cleaning, Kendra slowly walked around the horse, knowing that it was less likely to kick her if it knew where she was at all times.

  “You may not ride, but you definitely know your way around a horse,” Jack commented, watching her.

  A voice hailed them from the front of the building. “Hello!”

  “Back here,” Jack called.

  As the Grasslands sheriff joined them, Kendra tensed, fearing what he might have to tell her. She desperately wanted to know who she was and all that she’d forgotten, but at the same time, she feared what that might be. Was she a car thief on the lam? Had she left behind people who loved and missed her or only enemies and cohorts in crime?

  Chapter Five

  “What have you found out?” Jack asked, seeming as tense as Kendra felt.

  “Not a thing,” the sheriff answered. “There’s no record that the car has ever been tagged, titled or even assigned to a dealer in the whole state.” He looked to Kendra, adding, “I’ve got nothing on you, either.”

  Kendra swayed, weak with relief—until she realized all that meant. She might not be a car thief, but no one had reported her missing, apparently.

  Swallowing, she asked, “So what now?”

  The law waved a hand. “I’ve got no reason to hold you here any longer. You’re free to leave anytime you want.”

  And go where?

  Jack spoke up. “Doc wants her to stay around until her stitches come out.”

  “That’s between y’all and the doc,” George retorted.

  Jack looked at her, saying carefully, “Kendra will stay here till Doc’s through with her, then.”

  She breathed a silent sigh of relief, offering him a wobbly smile. That gave her a little over a week to get her memory back or figure out where to go next.

  “Kendra?” George exclaimed, hooking his thumbs in his gun belt.

  “It’s a made-up name,” Jack explained quickly. “Little girl at the clinic decided it suited her. Gotta call her something.”

  “Guess ‘Hey, you’ is out of the question,” George chortled.

  Kendra winced at the careless remark, and Jack tucked his chin and glared at the sheriff from beneath the dark slashes of his eyebrows until George cleared his throat.

  “Well, I’ll be getting along,” he muttered.

  “Thanks for coming out,” Jack said.

  “No problem. Thought I’d deliver the good news in person.”

  Jack glanced at Kendra then nodded at George and waved a hand in farewell. The sheriff strolled away. As soon as he was out of earshot, Kendra mumbled, “Good news?”

  Jack reached out a hand and gently cupped her shoulder. “George means no harm. I guess from his perspective, it’s good news that you’re not wanted for car theft or something.”

  She blurted, “But what if I am a car thief? Or worse!”

  Jack shook his head, a lopsided smile in place. “Nah. A girl who knows her ducks and chickens is salt of the earth.”

  Smiling wanly, Kendra glanced around. “Well, at least I can help out around here.”

  Jack took hold of his pitchfork again. “Let’s wrap this up, then, so we can grab some grub.”

  Kendra went to work, but in the back of her mind hovered the thought that she had only a little over a week left here. All she could do in the meantime was pray that her memory would return before she had to go.

  * * *

  While making quick work of breakfast, Jack tried to turn his mind to the day’s chores, but his keen awareness of Kendra’s mood constantly drew his mind back to her predicament. Pensive and morose, she did little more than push food around on her plate and sip at her coffee. He couldn’t help wondering what she would do with herself that day. She had seemed alternately relieved and distraught about George’s news—or rather the lack of it—and Jack could tell that her situation preyed on her mind now.

  Whenever he felt overburdened, he headed over to the old Lindley house and went to work refurbishing the place. Keeping busy occupied his mind and held worry at bay. He would hate to be stuck in a strange place with nothing to do all day. Having come to that conclusion, he couldn’t very well walk out and leave her sitting there to stew.

  Draining the last little bit of his coffee, he pushed back his chair. He then all but dropped his mug onto the table and, as casually as possible, asked, “Want to ride along with me today?”

  She looked surprised, but then she offered him a soft smile and a gentle nod. “Yes, thank you.”

  He shrugged, getting to his feet. “Nothing exciting going on. It’ll beat sitting around here twiddling your thumbs, though.”

  Popping up from her chair, she looked down at herself, smoothing her hands over her slender middle. “Should I change?”

  ‘No, you’re fine,” he answered, looking away. She was more than fine, actually. She was breathtaking. He suddenly wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but it was too late to withdraw the invitation.

  He told Lupita not to expect them for lunch then headed down the hall. Kendra followed him, pausing while he grabbed his hat from the peg on the wall then trailing him out to his truck. They rode in near silence along the ranch trail to the gathering pen where the hands had bunched the cattle.

  His uncle James had built the pen, an old-fashioned, wood-plank corral with weathered square posts, in a rolling landscape of tall grass, which had turned gold at the top, leaving only the bottoms of the slender reeds green. Barbed-wire fencing stitched the pastures together into a crazy quilt of range, hemmed on two sides by lines of trees still darkly leafed, their trunks the color of charcoal. The crumbling chute of the corral had been replaced with a portable one made of pipe, its red paint now chipped and rough. Jack had always like this spot and knew that the remains of an old line shack from the day of the open range could be found just over the rise to the east. Jack had often poked around there while James had performed what was now his own job. He felt very blessed in that moment to be doing what he was doing in this lush place.

  Looking to the woman next to him, he said, “You can sit in the truck if you want.”

  She shook her head and let herself out of the cab. Nevertheless, she held back while he strode over and climbed up on the corral fence.

  “Is this all of them?” he asked.

  “Near as we can tell,” Ty answered, wading through a chest-high bovine sea. “I’d say it’s a virus.”

  “But we wormed as usual this year,” Jack pointed out.

  “We did,” Ty agreed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was lung worms because of the coughs.”

  “Lung worms!” Jack retorted. “Is there a swamp around here I don’t know about? This is northwest Texas, a
nd in case you’ve missed it, we’ve been in drought much of the year.” He’d only seen lung worms once in his lifetime, and his uncle James had declared it the wettest year on record.

  Ty shrugged. “The vet’s going to have to tell us, then, because I’m all out of ideas. We treated for parasites when we first noticed we could have a problem.”

  “Did the coughs start before or after you treated for parasites?” Kendra asked.

  Jack glanced at her in surprise. Shading her eyes with her hand, she looked calmly up at him. She’d asked a very prescient question, one he wouldn’t have thought to ask himself.

  “Are you thinking the cattle could have been poisoned by the insecticide?”

  She dropped her hand, staring into the distance for several seconds before murmuring, “I’ve seen cards.”

  “Cards?”

  She looked up at him then. “Uh, like, I don’t know, flash cards or reference cards. I—I remember one about grubs.”

  “Grubs?” Ty echoed skeptically. “Like grub worms?”

  “You might know them as warbles or cattle wolves.”

  Ty lifted his eyebrows and shot a thoughtful look at Jack. “Warbles could produce these symptoms if they got into the cow’s esophagus.”

  Jack braced an elbow against the top rail of the corral fence and addressed Kendra frankly. “How do we find out for sure?”

  She shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, I suppose you have to take samples and get them to a lab.”

  That was pretty much what the vet had said. “Hang on while I call Anderson,” Jack said to his foreman. Taking out his phone, he dialed the crusty, overworked veterinarian and after some time, finally got through to him. A short conversation followed. Afterward, Jack addressed Ty, detailing what needed to be done.

  Ty shook his head. “We have to comb the cattle,” he said. “Seriously? With what, exactly?”

  Glancing around, Kendra asked, “Anyone have a pocket comb?”

  One of the hands reluctantly dug into a hip pocket. “I’ll buy you a new one,” Jack promised.