by Debra Cowan
A few hours after the wedding, she and her sisters were in the bedroom she shared with Jordan. A warm breeze came through the open window, making the lamplight flicker and swirl. Beneath the smells of prairie grass and dirt was Jessamine’s rosewater fragrance.
Michal lay on the bed beside Marah, chin propped in her hands. “That was the most beautiful wedding,” she said dreamily.
Jordan sat on the edge of the mattress, brushing her hair. “Annalise just glowed.”
“Probably because it was hot as blazes,” Marah said matter-of-factly.
Deborah laughed along with the others.
Michal tugged their youngest sister’s braid. “You’re so romantic.”
Marah stretched out on her stomach beside Michal. Like the rest of them, she wore her sleeveless summer-weight nightgown.
Deborah moved in front of the mirror, removing the pins from her chignon and shaking out her hair.
She picked up the brush just as Jordan asked, “Do you ever think anymore about marrying Bram? I mean, I know you two aren’t really together, but he still looks at you like you hung the moon.”
Deborah certainly hadn’t noticed that. She glanced in the mirror, noting that her sisters were watching her curiously. “He isn’t interested in that any longer.”
“If he said so, he’s lying,” Michal said.
Deborah paused in braiding her hair, glancing at her sister.
Marah pushed herself to a sitting position. “What if he was interested?”
“I don’t know.” She turned back to the looking glass and continued plaiting her thick tresses.
Jordan moved up beside her and Deborah eased to the left to make room. When she glanced at her sister’s reflection, she was taken aback at how much alike they looked. Enough so that she was disoriented for a moment.
They had the same slight widow’s peak, the same blue eyes, the same arch to their eyebrows. Yet Deborah’s hair was straight, while Jordan’s had a wave. Her sister unwound the white ribbon she wore in her hair, the one Deborah had lent her. The one Jordan had given her this past Christmas.
Before Deborah could get excited about remembering something new, a crush of images flooded her mind. The first time she’d walked Jordan to school, her family’s trip from Uvalde to Whirlwind, the day Jericho had left home.
Almost dizzy, she sat down on the edge of the bed, hard.
“What is it?”
“What’s wrong?”
Her sisters’ voices jumbled together, sounding as if they were coming from a distance. Deborah was bombarded with flashes, pictures, words. They were all indistinct and fuzzy. More impressions than recognizable pieces. None seemed to fit together. Were they memories or just cast-off bits of the life she’d forgotten?
Slowly the images came into focus, began to slip into place like a puzzle. Entire pictures formed. They felt familiar, filling her with relief. They weren’t random images! They were memories. Her memories.
Overwhelmed, she felt her chest tighten. She became aware of concerned voices and realized they belonged to her sisters. Gradually their anxiety penetrated her spinning thoughts and she looked up, trying to steady herself. She recalled her entire life before and after falling in love with Bram—the first time she’d met him, their first kiss.
“Deborah?”
Her mother had come in. She bent and gave her a little shake. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Still dazed and disbelieving, she gave a small laugh as her sisters gathered around. “I think I’m remembering.”
“What?”
“Really?”
“Wonderful!”
Her siblings all spoke at once. Their voices grew louder as Deborah’s own excitement rose.
“When’s my birthday?” Marah asked.
“August ninth.”
Michal leaned in. “Where did we live before Whirlwind?”
“Uvalde.” Heart racing, Deborah stood. “I was going to teach school there. Until Sean.”
Jordan squeezed her hand. “How old were you when Pa died?”
“Five. Jericho was twelve. You were all under four.”
Marah let out a loud whoop. “You really do remember!”
Jessamine hugged her tight as the girls continued to pepper her with questions. Deborah laughed from sheer joy.
Suddenly her mother stilled, her head turned toward the wall as she listened hard. “Oh!”
Not until Jessamine left the room did Deborah hear a heavy pounding on the door.
“What’s going on in there?”
Bram. She grabbed her wrapper, shrugging into it and tying the belt as she hurried into the front room.
Her sisters followed.
Jessamine opened the door and motioned the big man inside.
Taking off his hat, he stepped over the threshold, his sharp gaze checking each of them. One big hand rested on the butt of the revolver hanging low on his hip. “What’s all the ruckus? Y’all about made my heart stop!”
“Deborah remembers!” Marah exclaimed.
Surprise flared in his blue eyes. “That right?”
His gaze was so intent on her, so piercing that all she could manage was a nod.
Despite the leashed energy vibrating from him, he moved his hand away from his gun. “Do you recall how you came to be with Cosgrove?”
“The day of the shoot-out at Theo Julius’s ranch, he showed up here.” She cleared her throat, her voice growing stronger. “He threatened to hurt Mother and the girls if I didn’t go with him. He wanted to use me as a hostage.”
“In case I caught up to him,” Bram said flatly.
“Yes. He said it was also because anyone looking for a lone male rider would pass him by if he had a woman along.”
“See, Bram,” Marah said. “Deborah was forced to write that note and go with that polecat.”
“Sure enough.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Jordan eased up beside Deborah. “She’s remembered all kinds of stuff from before we came to Whirlwind.”
“What about after?” Tension coiled in his body as he searched Deborah’s face.
His intense regard had her nerve endings stinging. “We arrived here two years ago for Jericho and Catherine’s wedding. You and I met at their wedding.”
One side of his mouth hitched up in a half grin. “I remember.”
She smiled at his teasing tone, aware of the other women laughing softly. He had later told her he had been smitten the first moment he’d talked to her. Her heart clenched hard at that.
In the flickering lamplight, his eyes glittered.
“That was also the night Ian McDougal escaped from jail and Davis Lee went after him,” she said. “So did Josie, because Ian killed her family.”
Bram nodded, his expression pleased and concerned at the same time.
Her mother hugged her. “Do you remember the first time you accepted an invitation from Bram?”
“Yes.” Deborah watched him as closely as he watched her. “We went riding. To the creek behind your house.”
“We had a picnic,” he said gruffly.
They had also shared their first kiss.
They had taken off their shoes and socks to wade in the water. She had slipped and almost fallen, but Bram had managed to catch her. He swung her up in his arms, and after making sure she was all right, he’d kissed her. They had become so caught up in the moment that he had nearly dropped her and fallen himself.
Her mouth tingled at the memory. And the look on his face sent a shiver through the rest of her body. The searing desire in his eyes let her know he remembered, too.
She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth as her sisters named other things she and Bram had done together. They had attended t
he grand opening of The Fontaine, Russ and Lydia Baldwin’s hotel. Gone to J. T. Baldwin’s wedding to Cora Wilkes, a widow from Whirlwind. Buggy rides, supper in town, horse races.
She recalled when her niece was born, when Bram’s brother, Jake, married the woman he’d hired to take care of the baby abandoned on his doorstep.
“Remember the tie party at this year’s Founder’s Day celebration?” Marah asked.
Because Bram had managed to end up with the tie that matched Deborah’s dress, they had spent the whole day together. That night, behind The Pearl restaurant, they’d gone further physically than ever before.
With unsettling clarity, she recalled the feel of his mouth on her neck, the swell of her breasts. Her gaze shot to his. He was staring at her with a raw hunger on his face that he quickly masked. Her stomach dipped.
After an hour of reminiscing, she noticed her mother and sisters hiding yawns. Bram noticed, too.
He bid them good-night and with one last heated look, he left and closed the door.
As she climbed into bed with Jordan, Deborah smiled. She’d remembered at last! Well, she knew her life before and after Bram. Not one thing about what had happened in Monaco. Which dragged at her relief and excitement over the progress she had made.
While that worried her, what kept her awake was the argument she’d had with Bram the night he had proposed. An argument she recalled in full detail. An argument she still didn’t understand.
He had never explained why he was so dead set against her leaving to teach. That night, he had made her so mad that she hadn’t asked why, but she wasn’t mad now and she wanted an answer.
* * *
Bram was mostly happy that Deborah had finally regained her memory. Only mostly, because he fully expected now she would leave as she’d planned all along. He was glad he hadn’t let himself get involved with her again. Betrothal aside.
Two hours after the women finally quieted down, Bram made one last pass around the house and barn. He stripped off his shirt and lay down, but he couldn’t sleep. It was too hot and he was too wound up over Deborah.
He rose and stepped outside, staring up at the stars sprinkled across the clear dark sky. The moon hung fat and low, veiling everything in silver.
The muffled sound of a door opening and closing made him slide his Peacemaker from the holster hanging off the stubby bedpost. Gun leveled, he turned toward the house.
Gasping, Deborah stopped midstep, holding her hands up. “It’s me.”
“Don’t sneak around.” He lowered his weapon. “You know I’m armed.”
“Sorry. I wanted to talk to you.”
“Did you remember something else? Something about Monaco?”
“No.”
He couldn’t tell if she was anxious about that. “You’ll probably recall things soon.”
“I hope so.”
He eyed her curiously as he returned his gun to his holster.
She stepped down and moved toward him. In the moonlight, her skin shone like polished ivory. Midnight-black hair draped over her shoulder in a thick braid. The wrapper she wore was loosely belted, drooping to the side to reveal the strap of her nightgown. The shadowed swell of her breasts showed in the vee of her robe.
Her gaze did a slow glide over his chest, then the rest of him.
Body going tight, he swallowed hard. His words came out unintentionally harsh. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I remember the fight we had the night you proposed.”
Bram wanted to get his hands on her, his mouth. It was a good bet she hadn’t come out here for that. He focused on her face. “And?” he demanded impatiently.
“Why were you so set against me leaving for that teaching job?”
He didn’t want to dance this dance again. Now that she remembered, what was the point in dragging everything back up?
“Go back inside. I can’t look at you half-dressed like that without—”
“Without what?”
He moved closer, looming over her, trying to intimidate her into going back inside. “Without wanting to peel you out of those nightclothes.”
“Oh,” she breathed, looking interested. In the pale light, he saw a slash of color darken her cheekbones, but she didn’t step away. She didn’t look as if she was going to budge at all. “Don’t try to distract me. Why were you so set against me leaving for that job?”
He folded his arms. “Seems normal to me that a man would want his fiancée to stay near him.”
“It was more than that, or at least something besides that.”
“Sounds like you have it figured out.” He turned to go back inside the barn.
“Please don’t do that,” she said quietly. “Don’t dismiss me.”
He glanced over his shoulder and the plea in her eyes tugged hard at him. Damn. After a long moment, he faced her. “All right.”
“Your not wanting me to leave had something to do with your mother, didn’t it?”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “Why does it matter? You’re leaving anyway, aren’t you? Have you resigned from that job yet?”
“No. Please answer my question. I’ve asked you twice.”
“We’re not even together anymore.” He read the protest on her face, figured she was fixing to bring up their present “engagement.” “Not in truth anyway.”
She angled her chin at him. “This is how you were that night, too. Stubborn. Cutting me off.”
“Me! You’d just agreed to marry me, then in the next breath you said you were leaving. I wanted you to be my wife.” He gritted out the words.
“But not enough to wait for me.”
“That cuts both ways, sweetheart. You wanted to be my wife, but not enough to stay.”
“I had already given up my dream for one man. I wasn’t going to do it again.”
“Don’t talk about other men.” Bram narrowed his eyes, hands clenching into fists. “This is between you and me.”
“I know that.” Though anger flashed in her eyes, he could tell she was trying to calm herself. “Keeping our relationship together would’ve required sacrifice on both our parts, but we could’ve done it. We could have written to each other and I would’ve come home at Christmas.”
“And what about when your contract was up?” He braced his hands on his hips. “Would you have stayed another school term? Then another?”
“No. I contracted for two. That was all. You knew that.” She paused, looking stricken. “That’s it, isn’t it? You believed I wouldn’t come back even though I gave you my word. How could you think that? I’d never broken your trust before.”
“You’d never wanted anything that badly before
either,” he muttered. “You sure never wanted me that badly.”
Sadness flickered across her face. “You think I wanted that more than I wanted to be your wife?”
“I proposed. You planned to leave.”
“Did you only ask me to marry you so I wouldn’t go to Abilene?”
“No, but even if I had, it didn’t work, did it? You still planned to run off.”
“I wasn’t running off!” She threw up her hands. “I would’ve come back.”
“My ma never did.” Though the words were true, Bram immediately regretted saying them.
Deborah let out a big sigh that sounded like relief. “I knew she had something to do with this. Maybe she was a victim of circumstances and she couldn’t come back.”
He barked out a laugh. “Frannie Ross wasn’t a victim of anything.”
“How do you know?” Deborah took a step toward him, hurt flaring in her eyes when he moved back.
“Because I tracked her down when I was fifteen.”
Deborah’s eyes widened. “And you spoke to her.”
“Yes.” For all the good it had done. “She didn’t even know who I was. When I told her, she said she didn’t want to see me again and she was never coming back here.”
“Oh, Bram.” Tears filled Deborah’s eyes.
“Save your pity,” he growled.
“It’s not pity, you oaf. It’s— How could you think I would do that to you? How could you think I would break my word?”
“You wouldn’t, not at first anyway, then things would slowly change.”
“You’re saying you think I would abandon you.” Her voice cracked. “You don’t trust me.”
His chest felt as if it were splitting wide open. “Doesn’t matter now. After I catch Cosgrove, this pretend engagement will end. We’ll both be free to do what we want.”
She was quiet for a moment. “What if I don’t want it to end? Don’t want us to end?”
The words were so soft Bram thought he heard wrong. “Why wouldn’t you want that?”
An odd look crossed her face. “Here, there or anywhere.”
Bram’s knees nearly gave out. “What?”
“You said we would love each other here, there or anywhere. The phrase has been floating around in my head, but I didn’t know what it meant until now.”
When she had repeated those words, he’d been struck dumb. “It doesn’t really change anything.”
Hurt flared in her eyes. “It wasn’t true, was it? You could only love me if I was here, nowhere else.”
“You didn’t even talk to me about taking that job! Just announced that you were leaving five minutes after you accepted my proposal.”
She stared straight at him. “I think it might be a mistake to walk away a second time.”
“What’re you saying?” This woman turned him inside out. “That you want us to give it another go?”
“What if I am?”
He couldn’t imagine it. She didn’t even sound like herself. “You have most of your memory back now. Before long, you’ll be itching to go to that job.”
“I’m not sure I want to do that now.”
“What? Leave?”
“Or teach.”
He froze. “Teaching is the most important thing to you.”
