Carmen kept one eye poised on Beth as she filled a plate for Cody. “You want blueberry pancakes with your ham, eggs and potatoes?”
“Yes, ma’am. You can read my mind,” he replied. He washed his hands at the sink and climbed onto a barstool.
Carmen set the maple syrup and a steaming plate in front of him.
“Muchos gracias.” He dug in with gusto. “What is it you want to talk about?” he asked Beth between mouthfuls.
“I want to ask you a favor.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Is Mr. Scott still in the barn?” Carmen interrupted.
Cody glanced over his shoulder at her. “Yep. He’s sitting on a hay bale staring at his boots. Said he wasn’t hungry.”
“I wonder why.” She looked at Beth again, who did not comment.
Cody shoveled potatoes and eggs into his mouth before remembering the start of a conversation with Beth. “What were you saying?”
The phone pealed. Carmen grabbed it on the second ring. In a robust voice, she said, “Good morning, High Lonesome Ranch. This is Carmen, may I help you?”
Beth whispered to Cody, “I need a big favor”
Carmen’s voice lifted an octave as she spoke into the telephone receiver. “Si, Sheriff. I understand. I’ll tell them. Adios.” She hung up and stared at Beth with wide eyes.
“What is it, Carmen?” Cody asked. “You look like someone just walked over your grave.”
“That was Sheriff Griggs.”
That grabbed Beth’s attention. She swiveled to face Carmen. “What did he want?”
“He wanted me to tell you and Mr. Scott that there’s a man sitting in his office. He says to come quick. He says it’s the real deal this time.”
Beth’s gaze darted back and forth between Carmen and Cody, whose fork hung suspended in the air. “Did he tell you who the man is?” Her voice quivered.
“Si. Sheriff Buddy says the man claims to be…your husband. And he’s brought proof.”
“I knew it,” Beth uttered. “Cody, could you please drive me in to town?”
He looked confused. “Well, you know I’d be glad to take you, but Scott will want to himself. Won’t he? I’ll run out and get him.” He jumped off the stool as he grabbed a sausage off his plate.
“No!” she barked, grabbing his arm. “I want you. Please.”
Cody stopped dead in his tracks. “Sure, Beth. Whatever you want.” He exchanged a subtle glance with Carmen and then slid another egg down his throat.
“Thank you. I’ll be right back.” Beth scurried out of the kitchen and returned wearing her cowboy hat. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“Are you sure you don’t want Scott to go with us?” Cody asked again, his young tanned face lined with concern. His jaw was grinding with another forkful of meat and potatoes.
“No. Carmen, you can tell Scott about the call later when he comes in. I have to do this by myself.” She gave the cook a big hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.
Carmen frowned. “Why are you giving me a hug, Miss Beth? You’re coming back, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen at the sheriff’s office, but no matter what, I’ll come back and say a proper goodbye to you and Willow. I just want to thank you for all you’ve done for me.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck.” Carmen’s bushy brows knitted together.
“Thank you. Let’s go, Cody.”
He plucked his hat off the coat hook near the door, and the two of them dashed outside, jumped into his pickup and Cody gunned it. His truck barreled down the drive, kicking up dust.
Hearing the truck pass by the barn, Scott stepped out and peered down the road. Where the hell is he going in such a hurry?
He’d been stabbing hay bales with a pitchfork—still reeling over Beth’s odd behavior the evening before. Tossing and turning all night, he’d been unable to sleep or make sense of things. Questions flooded his mind. What had come over her so suddenly? Why had she shut him out? Had her memory completely returned? Why didn’t she just tell him, if that was the case? Did she really believe she was married, or was it just an excuse? Maybe the declaration of his feelings down at the lake had scared her. Maybe her memory hadn’t returned at all, and she was simply confused and afraid. He’d understand, if that was it.
Scott flung down the pitchfork and ambled into the house for some breakfast. Usually, he ate earlier, and his stomach growled. The moment his boots crossed the threshold, Carmen gave him the news.
“What? Why didn’t someone come get me?” He kicked the bottom of the door.
“She wouldn’t let us. She wanted Cody to take her. I’m sorry, Scott. There was no stopping her.”
“It’s not your fault,” he relented. “She’s a stubborn woman.” He mumbled some curse words under his breath as he ran his hands under the sink and dried them on a dishtowel. “I’m going in to town. Can you watch Willow for me?”
“Si. But I don’t think Miss Beth wants you there.” Carmen narrowed her eyes at him. “What happened last night?”
“The hell if I know,” he answered with a shrug. “I’ll see ya later.” Slamming the door behind him, he jogged to the truck. He, too, left a trail of dust in his wake as he roared down the road toward Ghost Rock.
****
Beth’s legs wobbled as she swung them out of Cody’s pickup. When her boots hit the pavement, she stood frozen, unable to take a step. The wrangler came around to her side. “You ready?”
“I don’t know. I’m scared.”
“I wish Scott was here. Why didn’t you want him to bring you?”
“Never mind. Let’s go in.”
Cody held the door open for her. When he let go, it banged behind them, sounding like a gunshot blast. “Gee whiz. Buddy needs some new hinges for that thing,” he complained.
Because it was Sunday, there was no one in the reception area to greet them. The lobby was quiet except for the low buzz of the window air conditioner. At the sound of the front door banging shut, Buddy rushed out of his office and closed the door behind him. He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. Touching the brim of his cowboy hat, he said, “Good mornin’ Beth. Mornin’ Cody. Where’s Scott?”
“Scott couldn’t make it. Carmen said someone claiming to be my husband is here. Is he in your office?”
“He is. Why isn’t Scott with you?” Buddy repeated. He looked at Cody, who shrugged.
“Scott’s busy.” Beth answered in a voice so tart it could have spiced a cherry pie. “Can I please meet this man?” She strode toward the door. All she wanted was to get this over with; meet another crazy who claimed to know her, and then have Cody drive her to the nearest local motel.
Buddy caught up to her and touched her arm. His voice was hushed. “Let me give you the story in a nutshell before you barge in. He saw your photo on one of the cable television stations. He drove in last night from Arizona and left a message on our machine. I listened to my messages this morning when I came in to do some paperwork and gave him a call at the motel where he’s staying.”
“Arizona?”
“Tucson. I told him you’ve been staying at the High Lonesome with the man who found you. I explained how Scott ran found you in the desert disoriented and injured. He appears to be genuinely concerned about your well being and safety.”
“What’s his name?” she asked.
“Jack West. Does it ring a bell?”
She shook her head. “You told Carmen he has some proof that I am who he says I am?”
“That’s right.” Buddy shifted from one foot to another. “Be prepared. I think he’s the real deal.”
A cold chill washed over her. “Okay. Let’s get on with this before I lose my courage and run out the door.”
Buddy put his hand on the knob and pushed his office door open.
“Wait,” she whispered, clamping her hand onto his wrist. “What if I don’t remember him at all? What happens then?”
“Just t
ake it one step at a time. Maybe you will remember something. I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.”
She glanced at Cody, who was propped against the corner of Linda’s desk. He gave her a thumbs-up sign.
When she stepped into the sheriff’s office, a man turned and rose from the chair. Unlike the last time she’d walked into that room to face a strange man, this one didn’t come rushing toward her, scaring her half to death. He was over six feet tall, good-looking, groomed, muscular, and was dressed in casual but well made clothes. A smile unfolded on his face, but he waited for her to make the first move.
“Mr. West, is this your wife?” Buddy asked.
“Yes. Yes it is,” he said, obviously trying to rein in excitement. “She’s my wife, Angela.”
“Angela?” Beth whispered the name, trying it on for size.
“Hi Angie,” the man said. He stayed rooted to his spot and clasped his hands in front of him. “Sheriff Griggs told me about the amnesia. It’s unbelievable. It must have been a frightening few days for you, but I’m here now. I’ll take you home and help you recover and everything will be okay.”
“I don’t remember you,” she blurted. Her arms hung at her sides, her fists clenched. His cool gray eyes swung to meet the sheriff’s gaze.
Buddy cleared his throat. “The doctor here in town ran a CT scan on Beth…er, your wife, Angela, and although it showed no brain damage, her memory has still not returned. Have I got that correct, Mrs. West?”
“Not entirely.” She stared into the man, Jack’s, eyes. They burned into her, robbing her of self-possession. “My memory is starting to come back little by little. I’ve been having flashbacks on a regular basis.”
He looked surprised. “Well! That’s wonderful news. You can’t imagine how worried I’ve been since you went missing.”
“Since I went missing?” she mumbled. She studied him, trying to remember something, anything familiar about the man, but all she felt was a chill like the brush of spider webs creeping up her arms.. “Your name is Jack West?”
“Yes, and you’re my wife, Angela.”
“The sheriff says you have proof. Could you please show it to me?”
“Why don’t we all have a seat,” Buddy suggested, as he offered her a chair and then leaned against the corner of his desk.
Jack said, “We have a daughter. Her name is Heather and she’s four years old.” He unzipped a small leather briefcase, which was sitting on the floor, and lifted out the framed photo of Beth and the little dark-haired girl.
When he handed it to her, she stared at the picture and felt her eyes moisten. “I know her. I’ve been dreaming about her. She likes me to push her on the swing and read to her.”
A grin plastered the man’s face. Sheriff Griggs smiled, too.
“That’s right,” Jack acknowledged. “Swinging is one of her favorite things to do. She’s always begging you to take her to the park. That’s our little girl, Heather.”
Beth gazed around, as if the little girl might be hiding under the desk or behind a chair. “Where is she? Didn’t you bring her?”
He paused. “I left her with the neighbor. A lady you know well,” he added. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you all at once, and I didn’t want Heather to be upset, in case you didn’t remember her.”
“Where does she think I’ve been these last few days?” Beth asked.
“I told her you were visiting a friend. I didn’t know what else to say. She’s so young, she didn’t question it.”
“Did you bring anything else with you? My birth certificate, a passport, or our marriage certificate?” She choked out the words. Was she really married to this stranger?
“I looked, but I couldn’t find our marriage certificate.” He chuckled nervously. “I don’t know what you’ve done with it. It wasn’t in the wedding album where I thought you kept it. I brought a photo taken of us on our wedding day instead. I figured it would suffice.” Jack glanced at Buddy, received the go-ahead nod, and retrieved the picture from the briefcase and presented it to her.
There it was, in full color, the proof that she was indeed his wife. After a few lingering moments in which she tried to get her head straight, she set the photo aside and gazed longingly at the one of herself and the little girl. She was that child’s mother. She had known it; felt it so strongly.
I connected with Willow because of the bond I had with my own little girl, she thought, sadly.
“Jack? You don’t mind if I call you Jack?” she asked.
“Of course not. Jack’s my name, honey.”
She cringed when he called her honey. “Sheriff Griggs says you drove in from Arizona. He said you came from Tucson.”
“Yes. We live in a suburb of Tucson. You—I mean we—have a very nice home,” he added, smiling at Buddy.
“Do you have any idea how I ended up in a desert in New Mexico?” she asked with the directness of an investigator. “Ghost Rock is a long way from Tucson, isn’t it?”
He shook his head, and his lips grew grave. “There were no witnesses, but we suspect you were kidnapped. The kidnappers must have driven all this way to throw the police off and then left you in the desert when they had what they wanted. I presume they were after money. I understand you had no purse or I.D. on you when you were found.”
“They? Who are you talking about?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “The people or person who took you. The Arizona State Police conducted an investigation, but the trail ran cold fast with no real leads. Still…what else could have happened? You didn’t just walk to New Mexico on your own.”
His theory didn’t make sense. “Who would have kidnapped me? Are we wealthy?”
Jack glanced at the sheriff again and tilted his head. “Well, we’re quite comfortable,” he answered. “I’m the vice president of a bank. Don’t freak out, but your disappearance might have been drug-related.”
Inside, she did freak out. “Drug related? In what way?”
“There have been some drug-related robberies in houses in our part of town lately, and it was an angle the police considered. I think that’s what happened. Some punks broke into the house thinking no one was home, but you were there, and they took you hostage.”
Her eyes enlarged. “What about Heather? Was she hurt?”
“She wasn’t with you at the time, thank God. She’d been playing at a friend’s house.”
“Oh.” Relief poured through her veins.
“All that matters now is that someone found you, and you’re safe. I’ve been going crazy with worry.”
“What kind of search for me took place? Were our friends and neighbors questioned? What were you doing to find me?” She fired questions at him with the relentlessness of a bulldog.
“Whoa.” Jack held up his hands. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I’ll try to answer them all for you. Let’s take them one at a time. This has been a trying time, for both of us.” He leaned forward and reached for her hand, but she kept hers folded in her lap.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his gray eyes clouding. “I forgot. I’m a stranger to you.”
“Give her some time,” Buddy suggested.
A shiver ran down Beth’s spine. Her eyes searched the man’s face as she tried to conjure up even one shred of a memory besides the terrible flashbacks. She couldn’t be absolutely sure the visions were true memories. She wasn’t even sure he was the man in them, but her intuition told her to be wary. As Doctor Coleman had explained, amnesia affected the brain in different ways. She couldn’t wait to be reunited with her daughter, but should she be frightened of this man who claimed to be her husband?
She placed her head in her hands. Whether I like it or not, I’m Angela West, Jack’s wife. He has a wedding photo to prove it. There’s nothing I can do but go back with him and to my former life. Even if I don’t remember him, I have a daughter. I do remember my child, and I want to be with her again.
She scooted the chair back, causing the legs to scrape
the floor with a squawk, and stood. “Seems there’s nothing left here to do. If you’re satisfied, Sheriff, I guess Jack and I should be going home.”
Buddy moved away from the desk and extended a hand to them both. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a happy ending.”
Angela wasn’t entirely sure about that, but she forced a smile and spoke with sincerity when she said, “Thank you for all you’ve done.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. West. Good luck to you both.”
Jack opened the briefcase, stuck the wedding photo in, and then snapped it shut. Angela was still holding onto the picture of her and Heather.
As they stepped out of Buddy’s office, she froze. Cody was gone, but Scott was there in his place, leaning against the wall with his boot kicked up and his blue eyes shining from underneath his dusty Stetson. Their gazes fastened.
“Scott, it’s about time you showed up.” Buddy strolled to him and clapped him on the back.
“Scott Landry, I want you to meet Jack West. He’s your friend’s husband. Her real name is Angela West. They’ve just been reunited. Mr. West, I’d like you to meet Scott Landry. He owns the High Lonesome Ranch just outside of town, and he’s the man who has kept your wife safe and sound for you.”
Jack stepped forward and offered a handshake. “Mr. Landry. Thank you.”
Scott returned the shake, while never removing his eyes from Angela. Her gaze dropped to the floor. A distinct hum mushroomed from him. She could feel it vibrate between them like a tuning fork.
“It appears I owe you, Mr. Landry,” Jack said. “I’d like to repay you for all you’ve done for Angie.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a checkbook. “Would a thousand dollars cover her expenses for the last few days?”
Scott’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t want your money, Mr. West.”
“I insist. It’s the least I can do.” Jack began to scribble on the check.
“Save your ink,” Scott repeated. “I won’t take money for doing what any decent person would have done.”
High Lonesome Page 17
