“She will appreciate that, Mr. Scott. She seems like a real sweet person.” Carmen gave him a tender hug before leaving the bedroom.
Pausing in the doorframe, he heard a soft sound coming from behind the bathroom door. Listening, he heard the drip…drip…drip of the hot water faucet he hadn’t yet gotten around to fixing. He tried to imagine how his guest was feeling and what she was thinking, all alone in an unfamiliar place, not knowing what was going to happen to her and dependant on total strangers to protect and take care of her.
He took a step out the door and stopped. She was humming. It was barely audible, but as he listened, he could make out a familiar tune. The lyrical sound lilted under the bathroom door. He closed his eyes and allowed the music to transport him back to a time when his heart was full and the future was bright. It had been so long since he’d heard such a sweet sound.
Frozen, he listened and recalled the past. Maggie always hummed when she mucked the stalls or cleaned the house. She hummed her favorite country songs. Later, those country tunes were replaced by lullabies.
Scott let the peaceful feeling wash over him. When the humming abruptly stopped, he opened his eyes, spun on his heel, and took the stairs down two at a time, hoping she hadn’t sensed him eavesdropping. Cruising into his office, he flipped open his cell phone and punched in Buddy’s number.
Chapter Two
She ran the warm, soapy washcloth across her aching body. Squeezing the rag over each shoulder, she watched the lather slither down her arms. Staring at the discolored bruise glaring at her from the inside of her arm, she recoiled after touching it. When she laid her head on the back of the tub, the questions swam around in her mind.
What happened to me? Why can’t I remember who I am, or where I’m from? How did I get hurt? Was it an accident, or did someone do this to me on purpose? Why wasn’t I carrying any ID? Is anyone looking for me?
Her body relaxed after a while, and the image of the rancher’s face floated in front of her. Amnesia couldn’t erase the intuition she sensed about him. Even though she’d been dazed and in a weakened state, she’d seen the kindness in his blue eyes and felt it in his touch. Although there was much for her to be concerned about, she knew she’d be safe in his home under his care and protection. Knowing nothing about Scott Landry, it was impossible not to feel he was a man of integrity and trustworthiness. After all, he’d exhibited those qualities within the first ten minutes of their meeting.
The water sloshed as she leaned back and dunked her head into it. It felt wonderful to lather her long hair with the fruit-scented shampoo. She scrubbed her scalp until it tingled, rinsed her hair, then pulled the plug and watched the water swirl down the drain as she stepped out onto the bath rug.
The aspirin had taken effect and her head had stopped throbbing. She reached for the fluffy white towels the Mexican lady had hung on the rack. After wrapping her head in one towel and drying off with the other, she was starting to feel human again.
There was a rap on the door and Carmen’s pleasant voice called out to her. “Ma’am, I’ve brought some fresh clothes for you. I’ll leave them on the bed.”
“Thank you.” She peeked out from behind the bathroom door.
“Do you feel better?” Carmen asked, as she spread an outfit out on the bed.
“Yes. Like a brand new person.”
The two women looked at each other and then broke out laughing.
“I see you didn’t lose your sense of humor along with your memory,” the cook chuckled. She shuffled to the door with one hand on her hip. “I hope those things fit. Take your time dressing and come downstairs when you feel up to it.”
“You’ve been so kind, missus...”
“I’m not a missus. I was once, but it didn’t work out. Just call me Carmen.”
She smiled. “Okay. Carmen, it is. Thank you for the loan of the clothes. I’ll be down soon.”
She held the pair of jeans and top against her body. They looked about the right size. When she slipped them on, she was delighted at the perfect fit. She buckled the leather belt and slipped on the socks and canvas tennis shoes before drying her hair. Finding no rubber bands in the bathroom, or anything similar to use for pulling her hair into a ponytail, she stepped back into the bedroom and looked around. A gold frame sitting in the back corner of the tall oak dresser drew her gaze. It was a family photo of the cowboy, his pretty wife, and their baby, swaddled in pink and held in her mother’s arms.
What a beautiful family. They look very happy. She let her finger drift along the edge of the frame. Picking it up with both hands, she studied the photo with an inquisitive eye. Something about the baby stirred a sense of familiarity in her. A snippet of a memory flashed through her mind. It was the image of a woman running with a child in her arms, and a man chasing them.
She laid the picture frame down with a jolt.
The image had lasted a mere second or two, but it was enough to unhinge her. She’d never experienced anything like it before. Stumbling into the bathroom, she hung her head over the sink and splashed cold water into her face. Raising her eyes to the mirror, she stared at her reflection. What just happened? Was that a memory from my life?
She wondered what had brought it on so suddenly. Perhaps something in the rancher’s family photo triggered a memory.
After a few moments, she inhaled a deep breath and left the bedroom, deciding some fresh air was what she needed. Descending the stairs, she gripped the wooden handrail tightly, just in case she got dizzy again.
She heard country music blaring and pots and pans banging in the kitchen. On quiet feet, she followed the noises down the hallway. Halfway down, a door flung open next to her and out popped her host, talking on a cell phone. He wore the same dusty cowboy hat over Keith Urban-style shaggy blond hair that touched the collar of his work shirt. A five o’clock shadow peppered his chin and cheeks, and his eyes were as blue as sapphire. His low voice carried a southwestern drawl. He smiled at her and finished up his conversation.
“Thanks, Buddy. I’ll bring her by this afternoon. I appreciate it.” After snapping the phone shut, he said, “Hello.”
“Hello.”
“How are you feeling? You look refreshed.”
It was impossible not to notice his gaze taking her all in, top to bottom, from her wet hair to the old-school tennis shoes.
“I am. My headache is gone, and getting something in my stomach helped bring me back to life. Thank you for letting me soak in the tub in your bathroom. The bath worked wonders on my sore muscles.”
“I’m glad to hear that. And you’re welcome.”
She couldn’t help but see that he stared at the clothes she wore. Perhaps the cook had loaned the clothing without her boss’s permission. “Carmen brought me these things to wear. I don’t know where they came from, but I promise I’ll return them as soon as I can buy some more.” Her fingers nervously fiddled with the fabric. Thinking she glimpsed pain behind his eyes, she looked away for a moment. But maybe she had just imagined it, because within moments, his gaze snapped away from the clothes, and his lips curved into a friendly smile.
“I’m glad she was able to accommodate, but those things are hand-me-downs,” Scott responded. “I’ll take you shopping when we’re in town later today. It’ll be my treat.”
“Oh, no. I can’t allow you to do that. I’ve already imposed on you as it is. You don’t know me, or anything about me. You don’t have to buy me anything. I have no idea if I can pay you back.”
Scott insisted. “You need a little help right now and I have the means to give it to you. I’m more than happy to buy you some clothes.”
“Is there a shelter in town? A mission, perhaps?” she asked.
“Yeah, but why do you want to know?”
“I could room there while figuring out my situation. I really feel bad putting you out.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” he said. “You’re going to stay here at the ranch, and we’re going to help you fin
d your family.” He cocked his head. “Let me ask you a question. Have you ever read the Good Book?”
“The Good Book? Are you referring to the Bible?”
He nodded.
“Yes. I’ve read parts.”
“Then you know I’m just doing what it says. The Bible teaches us to be Good Samaritans. If you don’t allow me to do what the Good Book says, then you’ll be making it harder for me to get to Heaven. Do you understand?”
He flashed a lopsided grin again, and she realized he was pulling her leg. Or maybe he wasn’t. Either way, he got his point across.
“Besides,” he continued more seriously, “you’re not imposing. We have people coming and going around here all the time. That’s how it is in the guest ranch business. There are six guests staying here this week, so one more person is no big deal.”
She smiled and felt relieved, since it scared her to think of being alone not knowing who may be after her. “Well, okay, since you put it that way.”
Scott held up his cell phone. “I was just speaking to the county sheriff. I explained your situation, and he wants us to stop by his office before I take you to the clinic for the CT scan. He’d like to interview you and take your photo. He’s going to put out a multi-state APB. By the time I got off the phone with him, he was already planning a media blitz.”
“That’s fast work.”
“To be honest with you, it’s reasonable to expect you’ll become somewhat of a local celebrity in Ghost Rock. Not much happens around here. It’s a pretty small community, so a pretty young lady with amnesia is going to set tongues to wagging.”
She chuckled, picturing gossips whispering in the beauty parlor.
“Are you still hungry?” Scott asked. “I want to make sure you get your strength back. We don’t know how long you were out in the desert. Carmen can fix you a sandwich.”
“I’m fine,” she assured. “The soup and bread was perfect, but I’d love something cold to drink. I’m still parched.”
“Come with me.” They stepped into the kitchen and Scott’s nose tilted upward. He sniffed the air as Carmen popped a cake into the oven.
The cook grinned. “Hello, miss. You look so clean.”
“I think she means that as a compliment,” Scott said, chuckling.
Carmen frowned. “Of course I do. Cleanliness is next to godliness.”
“Thank you. I couldn’t agree with you more.”
“Smells like spice cake in here,” Scott said, pouring a glass of tea for her and one for himself.
Carmen removed quilted oven mitts from her hands and began gathering ingredients from the refrigerator. “Your favorite, Mr. Scott. Lots of pecans and thick cream cheese icing.”
“Mmmm. Can’t wait,” he said, rubbing his stomach. He looked at his watch and glanced at her. “I’ve got to unload the grain in the back of my pickup. We have a little time before we need to head in to town. Would you like to come outside with me? If you feel up to it, I’ll give you a tour of the place when I’m done unloading.”
“I’d love to see the ranch.”
“Great. Bring your tea with you.”
“Have fun,” Carmen called as they exited the kitchen. “Glad to see you’re feeling better!”
A gentleman, Scott held the door open for her.
“Your cook is very sweet,” she said as they strolled down the sidewalk to the pickup. Scott lifted his hat, plowed a hand through his hair, and punched the hat back down on his head. “Carmen’s more than our cook. She’s a part of the family. She’s been with us since I was a boy.”
She urged him to elaborate.
“She’s been cooking at High Lonesome for close to thirty years. My father hired her after my mother passed away, and she’s been here ever since.”
“Oh. I’m sorry about the loss of your mother.”
“I was just a little kid of eight when she died. She had cancer.”
“That must have been very hard on you. A boy needs his mother. What about your father? Is he still alive?”
Scott sidestepped a reply while opening the passenger door for her. “Jump in. We’re going down to the barn.” He climbed onto the driver’s seat and started up the engine as he revisited her question. “My dad passed away two years ago. He died right here on the ranch because he refused to go to the hospital. Stubborn as a mule, that one was. We ran this place together up until the time he got sick. He was my rock, and I miss him every day.” He put the truck in gear and started down the gravel drive.
“Do you run the business by yourself now?” she asked.
“Oh, no, I have a lot of help.”
She bounced up and down on the springy seat. Her voice jiggled while trying to converse. “Seven thousand acres and a guest ranch must be very demanding on your time and energy.”
“It is, but we never have more than ten guests at a time, and I’ve got a good crew backing me up. Besides Carmen, Amber is our housekeeper. She’s only nineteen, but she does a bang-up job. Has a good work ethic. It took a lot of trial and error before I found her. I also have two young wranglers who handle most of the guest activities. They take people on trail rides or on local excursions around the county. Cody was the cowboy we saw earlier when we drove in. You weren’t feeling too well, so I don’t know if you noticed him.”
“I did see a young man helping people saddle their horses.”
“Yep. That was Cody. I don’t know where Rowdy is right now.” Scott stopped the pickup at the barn and stuck his head out the window and peered around. “He’s supposed to be repairing some broken bridles.”
“Is Rowdy his real name?”
“No. The boy’s given name is George, but he didn’t think George sounded like a cowboy, so he came up with Rowdy. I don’t know how. I think he got it from one of the old western re-runs they show on TV. He’s an Apache. He lives on the reservation with his uncle.”
“Is that so? How far is the reservation from here?”
“About a thirty-minute drive. Not that far by general standards, but it may as well be a continent away to a young person with a busy social calendar. Rowdy tends to stay up late and sleep in. I helped him secure a loan for a little Toyota truck so he can get to work on time. Before he got the truck, it was typical for him to arrive late, or not show up at all.”
“What a generous thing for you to do to help him buy a truck.”
“It’s used, but it serves the purpose.”
“Still, you didn’t have to do it.”
Scott jerked the keys out of the ignition and tossed them on the seat. He pushed the door open and went around her side to open the passenger door. “I like the kid,” he continued, “but I confess I had an ulterior motive. With a business like this, I need dependable people. They have to be here when they’re supposed to be. Besides, he’s a pretty good worker and I believe in giving everyone a chance.”
“Rowdy is lucky to know you…and so am I.” She smiled and followed him to the back of the truck. He unlatched the rear gate. “What kinds of opportunities are there for young people on the reservation?” she asked.
“Not many. Most of the kids leave and go to the big city. They want adventure and fun. There aren’t many jobs to be had on the rez anyway. Even if there were, a good many of the young folks seem to be allergic to hard work. It’s not like when I was growing up. My dad had me baling hay and shoeing horses with him when I was nine years old. I didn’t have a choice. It was expected when you grew up on a working ranch.”
Scott began to lift and haul the fifty-pound bags of grain one at a time from the back of the truck. She leaned against the pickup and watched with interest as he went back and forth. His legs looked as sturdy as tree trunks, and his arm muscles bulged with each exertion.
“What about you? You never decided to strike out from this ranch?” she asked on one of his return trips. “You never wanted to go to the big city and seek out adventures?”
He shook his head. “The High Lonesome is my home. The horses are my li
fe. I love it here. Besides, I don’t know how to do anything else but cowboy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a cowboy,” she replied. “And from the looks of this ranch, I’d venture to guess you’re a savvy businessman.”
“I do all right,” he admitted. “I’ve been blessed in many ways.”
She stared across the pasture with her mind drifting. “I envy you, Mr. Landry. You love your home and your life. I have a strange feeling that mine is unpleasant.”
“Pardon me?” He yanked a bandana from his back pocket and wiped his brow, then strode over and stood in front of her. “Why did you say that?”
Snapping out of her reverie, she gazed at him, feeling blank inside. “I haven’t the foggiest.”
“That was an unusual thing to say.”
“It was, wasn’t it? I don’t know where that thought came from. It just popped into my head.”
“Maybe it was a memory,” Scott suggested. He reached into the truck bed and pulled out another bag. Heaving it over his shoulder, he strode a few steps into the barn and dropped the bag into a wooden bin on top of the others. “Have you remembered anything about your life yet?” he asked, walking back.
She hesitated before she answered. “Yes, I think so.”
He stopped his work. “Tell me.”
“Right after I got out of the bath, I experienced what I think was a flashback. It all happened so fast, it almost didn’t seem real.”
“What was it like?”
“I don’t know if you could call it a memory. It was like a scene from a movie. I couldn’t make out any details. The people in it were fuzzy.”
“What people? Who was in this movie of yours?”
There wasn’t much for her to remember. “A man, a woman, and a child. The woman was carrying the child in her arms. I think she was running away from the man. It wasn’t a good feeling.”
“Did you recognize them? Was the woman you?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. It lasted only a moment before fading away. What a strange thing to see something in your mind that way and not know if it’s real or imagined.”
High Lonesome Page 3
