Sunset Promises

by Carla Cassidy

  “I know.”

  “She’s been gone a long time. I missed her.” The tips of Bulldog’s ears reddened slightly. “I always thought she was so pretty. She had a baby.” His smile transformed into a scowl. “I hope some man didn’t wrong her. I’d kill anyone who hurt Colette.”

  And I won’t let anyone get in my way, Hank thought.

  “Sure you don’t want one?” Bulldog offered the candy again.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Well, I gotta get back to work.” Bulldog stood and smiled. The gesture lit up his moonlike face, added depth to his rather vacant gaze. “It’s gonna be nice around here with Colette back and a new baby in the house. Yes, sir, things are gonna be just fine.”

  With a tuneless whistle, Bulldog waved, then strode off.

  Hank watched the big man until he disappeared into the barn, then he turned his attention to the house. His hands clenched at his sides as he thought of how Colette had gotten away from him, sneaking away like a thief in the night. It amazed him that she’d honestly believed she could elude him, that he would let her slink away and forget about everything. If she thought he would just let her go, she was sadly mistaken.

  His gaze sought the window of her bedroom. White curtains moved in the slight breeze but no sound drifted from the interior. Colette. And now a baby. Another problem.

  Consciously he took a deep breath. That was all behind him now. She was here and he wasn’t about to lose track of her again.

  * * *

  A HAND STROKING HER, creating flames of delight as it touched her, caressed her. The hand was achingly familiar…a lover’s hand and Colette knew it belonged to the man she loved, her baby’s father. She struggled to open her eyes, wanting to see him, but her eyelids were too heavy. She touched his face, feeling bold features, sensual lips, the small indention in his chin.

  Suddenly the hands no longer stroked, but rather imprisoned, exerting painful pressure. Fear choked her throat as she struggled to get free. “Help me,” she cried.

  “Come on, Colette, you can do it,” Abby’s voice came from far away.

  “Please help me,” Colette screamed. The pressure disappeared and she sobbed in relief. As she brought her hands up to her face, she saw the blood. Her hands were covered with blood.

  With a gasp, Colette woke up. The golden light of dusk painted the room and the baby was snuggled in her arms.

  “A dream,” she murmured, trying to dismiss the disturbing sleep visions. Still, the fear surged upward, leaving a foul taste in her mouth as she wondered where she’d been, what she’d done. According to her license, she was twenty-two years old. Her life consisted of nothing more than a name, an age and an abiding fear.

  She started as the door to the bedroom cracked open, then relaxed as Abby stuck her head in. “Oh, good. You’re awake. How do you feel?”

  “Tired mixed with a million other emotions,” Colette admitted.

  Abby walked across the room and sat in the chair at the side of the bed. “Okay, baby sister. Want to tell me where the hell you’ve been for the last ten months?” She reached out and took Colette’s hand in hers, her dark blue eyes solemn. “I’ve been worried sick about you since you quit writing to me.”

  Although Colette sensed she could trust this woman with her very life, she found it difficult to confess the depths of her mental confusion. What if she told Abby she had amnesia and Abby tried to take the baby from her? What if it wasn’t really amnesia but some sort of mental illness? And yet, what choice did she have but to tell? With all the blank spots in her mind, there was no way she could pretend everything was all right.

  Within minutes she’d told Abby everything she knew, which wasn’t much. Abby asked questions, her hand still holding tight to Colette’s, giving unspoken emotional support and letting Colette know she’d made the right choice in coming here. “I’ll have Doc Washburn give you a full examination, see if there’s any physical reason for your amnesia,” Abby said when Colette had finished explaining everything. “In the meantime, I’ll send for Belinda.”

  “Belinda?”

  “Our sister.” She smiled sympathetically at Colette’s frustration. “She’ll be here soon, then we can all powwow under the dragon tree.”

  “The dragon tree.” Colette looked at Abby. “I remember that…we had a picnic one time beneath the tree.”

  Abby smiled and in her eyes Colette saw pleasant memories and wished she had them, as well. “Every important occasion in our lives was talked about and shared beneath that tree.” She scribbled something on a piece of paper, folded it and stuck it in an envelope. “I’ll send this off tomorrow and by the end of the week Belinda should be here.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “About a year before you decided you wanted to go to California, Belinda decided to try her hand at living on her own in Kansas City. I spoke to her last week and she was between jobs and sounded homesick. I think she’ll welcome a reason to come home.”

  “And I was living in California?”

  Abby nodded. “You moved there about a year and a half ago. You got a job as a paralegal with a big law firm. Until about ten months ago, you wrote regularly, sounded happy and secure. Then your letters stopped coming and your phone was disconnected. My letters started coming back unopened, stamped ‘addressee unknown.’ I’ve been frantic with worry, but didn’t know how to find you. Every day I prayed you’d show up safe and sound.”

  Again a whisper of fear danced up Colette’s spine. Why had she stopped writing? Why had her phone been disconnected? And what had she been doing in a motel room in Las Vegas? Dammit, why couldn’t she remember? What had happened to steal her memories from her? She looked down at the baby sleeping at her side, the fear no longer a whisper but a shout. “Abby, I think I’m in trouble.”

  “What makes you think that?” Once again Abby sat and reached for her hand.

  “I—I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I have.” More than a feeling, it was a certain knowledge in her head. “I’m so scared.”

  “That’s only natural.” Abby offered her a smile of reassurance. “Honey, you’re suffering a memory loss and that has to be frightening. You’re safe here, and I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before your memory comes back.”

  “Abby, do you know who is the father of my baby? Am I married?”

  Abby squeezed her hand. “I don’t know,” she answered softly. “I don’t know what happened to you in the months we lost contact.” She smiled, but the gesture looked forced. “It will all be okay, Colette.” She released Colette’s hand and stood. “Now, I’ll get out of here and let you get some more sleep.”

  Colette nodded although she didn’t believe Abby’s words. Nothing was going to be okay. Her fear came from more than her lack of memory, it came from her gut, a visceral terror she couldn’t ignore. When Abby had left the room, Colette snuggled the baby closer to her side, knowing with the instincts of prey that someplace was a hunter, looking for her and her baby.

  * * *

  AS THE SUN SET, it lengthened shadows and formed pockets of darkness on the east side of the bunkhouse. A lone figure leaned against the planked wooden building, his gaze focused on the bedroom window where white lace curtains billowed inward with the night breeze.

  He’d known she’d show up here sooner or later. It was the obvious place for her to come. She was smart, she was crafty, but she’d made a big mistake in being predictable and coming home.

  He scuffed his snakeskin boot against the ground, impatience gnawing inside him, absently tracing the calluses he’d developed in the time he’d been working at the ranch.

  It had been luck that had gotten him hired here a month ago. However, he wouldn’t depend on luck any longer. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t afford to screw up. Too much was at risk. She wouldn’t escape from him again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “How come it had to be a girl?” Cody, Abby’s six-year-old son, stood by the side of the crib. He sighed an
d turned to look at Colette. “There’s already too many dumb girls in this house. My Mom, and Maria and Aunt Belinda and you…” He thrust a thumb back at the crib. “And now this new one.” He shook his head ruefully. “Too many girls.”

  Colette bit her tongue to suppress a smile, knowing Cody took this girl thing very seriously. In the ten days she’d been at the ranch, he still hadn’t quite forgiven her for giving birth to a girl instead of a boy.

  She checked to make sure the baby was still sleeping, then walked with Cody out into the hallway. “You know, Cody, someday baby Brook might need a big strong cousin to protect her.”

  Cody frowned thoughtfully, then scuffed the toe of his worn cowboy boot against the floor. “Brook is my onliest cousin, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, she is.”

  Cody’s blue eyes sparked and his chest puffed with pride. “I’m a cowboy, and cowboys always protect their cousins.”

  Colette smiled. “That’s great, Cody. I feel much better knowing Brook can always depend on you.” She patted his back. “Now, why don’t you run on downstairs and see what Maria has made for breakfast this morning? I’ll be down in just a few minutes.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you later, Aunt Colette.” He raced down the hallway, his boots clattering on the wooden floors. Colette watched until he disappeared around the corner, then went into her bedroom to check on Brook one last time before joining the others for breakfast.

  She went to the crib, still awed by the fact that the child sleeping within was hers. Brook Ann Connor. She didn’t know where the name Brook had come from, only that it was the name she wanted for her daughter.

  Brook was a good baby. It was as if she knew the tenuous hold her mother had on sanity and so compensated by being a contented, happy baby who slept long hours and rarely fussed at all.

  Although no real memories had resurfaced over the past ten days, Colette had found a measure of peace simply being among people who obviously loved her.

  Belinda had arrived four days before, and since her arrival the three sisters had spent hours talking. For Colette it was a study in frustration, to hear things from her past—names and events—and feel nothing. She cried when Abby and Belinda spoke of their parents’ funeral, mourning a mother and father not remembered and long dead.

  Leaning down, she kissed Brook on the cheek, picked up the portable monitor, then left the room and headed for the large dining room at the other end of the house.

  “Good morning,” she greeted Belinda, who was already seated at the large oak table with a cup of coffee in hand. Cody sat next to her, focused on his plateful of pancakes. “Where’s Abby?” she asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the pot that sat on a warmer on the sideboard.

  “She’s going over last-minute details with our foreman, Rusty. We’ve got a group coming in from Phoenix for a week. They’re supposed to arrive sometime this afternoon.” Belinda paused to take a sip of her coffee, then continued, “But she told me to tell you she hasn’t forgotten her offer to watch Brook for a couple of hours this morning so you can get out and see the ranch. She thinks maybe that will help jog something loose in your memory. Besides, you’ve been cooped up inside for too long. Fresh air and sunshine will be good for you.”

  “Dr. Washburn feels that eventually something will jog my memory,” Colette exclaimed. “I just hope that something happens soon.” She sank into the chair across from Belinda. “There’s nothing worse than having big black holes in your mind.”

  “I hate to have holes in my socks,” Cody quipped, causing both his aunts to laugh.

  “At least we know it’s nothing physical,” Belinda said.

  Colette nodded, then smiled a good morning to Maria, the cook, who entered the room with a plate of pancakes for Colette and Belinda. Cody kept up a steady stream of chatter, excited at the prospect of new guests and hoping there would be a boy his age. He finished eating and left the table in minutes.

  “I wonder if we ate that fast when we were that age,” Belinda said as she poured syrup over her pancakes.

  “Who knows?” Colette sipped her coffee, thoughtfully staring at her sister. “Belinda, I feel silly asking you this, but you don’t know who I was dating…who might be Brook’s father, do you?”

  “No, I don’t. You weren’t involved with anyone before you left here, so it had to be somebody you met while in California.”

  Colette sighed. She’d hoped Belinda would have answers, but she knew it had been a long shot. “What about you? Are you married…dating…in love?”

  Belinda laughed. “None of the above.” Her smile faltered slightly. “Although I was once in love, but that was a long time ago and he doesn’t even live in the area any longer.”

  “I’m sure I was in love with Brook’s father,” Colette said firmly. Any other scenario was unthinkable.

  “Don’t worry, Colette. Dr. Washburn said your amnesia was probably caused by stress or some sort of emotional trauma. Now that you’re back here at the ranch, safe and sound, it will all come back to you.”

  Colette nodded and stared down at her plate. Yes, that’s what Dr. Washburn had said, and that’s what scared her. Even being back at the ranch with the security of home and family, she was afraid. Somehow she knew she was far from being safe.

  * * *

  THE SUN WARMED Colette’s face and the air smelled like cattle and horses, fresh hay and sweet grass. Again she found it difficult to believe she’d chosen to leave the ranch and all its beauty behind for a job in California.

  As she walked by the barn, a man stepped out of the dark interior. As the sun hit his face fully, it highlighted bold, almost savage features: a straight nose and high cheekbones and a mouth that looked as if it had never formed a smile. His face was weathered by the sun and chiseled by hard knocks. Unlike many of the working men, he wore no hat and his ebony hair nearly touched his shoulders. His gaze met Colette’s.

  Instantly fear formed in the pit of her stomach and rocketed throughout her body. Those eyes. She knew those dark eyes. She suddenly remembered he was the same man she’d seen in those first moments of arriving at the ranch.

  With Brook’s birth she’d forgotten all about that moment of inexplicable fear. Now fear rocked through her. Danger! Danger! The word screamed in her head.

  The man held her gaze with frightening intensity. Suddenly another emotion shimmied up her spine, weakening her knees. Passion, as strong, as intense as the fear. She knew him…somehow, someway, she knew this man. But how? From where?

  Her foot caught in a rut and she felt herself pitch forward. Colette hit the graveled path on her hands and knees.

  “Hey, there, are you all right?” An unfamiliar voice and a strong hand helped her up.

  Colette smiled in embarrassment at the pleasant-faced man who helped her regain her feet. His cowboy hat hid his hair, but his blond mustache gleamed in the sunshine and his mouth curved upward in a pleasing smile. “Thanks. I can’t believe I’m such a klutz,” she said, brushing the gravel off her jeans.

  “No problem. I’m Roger Eaton.” He held out his hand. “I was hired a couple weeks ago to be in charge of the horseback riding for the guests.”

  Colette nodded absently, her gaze seeking the man who had caused her to trip and fall. He’d disappeared, leaving behind only a residual boom of anxiety still resounding in Colette’s chest.

  “Come on, we’d better get you inside,” Roger said. “You’ve scraped your palms and they need to be cleaned up.”

  Colette looked at the palms of her hands, realizing he was right. Blood oozed from several places where the gravel had broken the skin. She looked away, the sight of the blood making her ill. She thanked Roger for his help, then hurried toward the house.

  Belinda greeted her, dismayed as she saw Colette’s hands. “I’ll clean you up,” Belinda said as she led Colette into one of the bathrooms. “You’ve never been very good about dealing with blood.”

  “I think I just figured that out,” Colette agre
ed. She turned her head, wincing as Belinda cleaned her palms with antiseptic.

  As Belinda worked, Colette replayed in her mind the moment of seeing the dark cowboy. What was it about him that had caused terror to eddy through her? Terror and a strange singing passion? Like the memory of an old song, it was as if she could remember the tune, but was unable to remember the words. Was it possible she knew him? Was he part of the past she couldn’t remember? What part did he play in her life? Had she dated him, been intimate with him? Or did he just remind her of somebody else?

  Confusion muddied her mind, but one thing remained clear. If she knew the man, if he was part of her obscured past, she couldn’t dismiss the potent terror she’d felt when she’d seen him.

  Something about him had frightened her and she had the distinct impression of danger whispering against the nape of her neck.

  She had to remember. Whoever he was, he scared her and there had to be a reason for that. She had to get her memories back. She had a feeling her life just might depend on it.

  * * *

  HANK POURED more oil on the saddle on the wooden workhorse. With a soft rag he swirled the oil across the worn leather.

  “Don’t you ever rest?”

  Hank looked up as Roger Eaton entered the barn. “I like to keep busy,” he answered, focusing on his task.

  Roger leaned against the door and shook out a cigarette.

  “Don’t light that in here.” Hank looked at him in irritation. Any fool who’d spent more than ten minutes working on a ranch would know better than to light a cigarette in a barn full of hay.

  “Sorry, wasn’t thinking.” He tucked the pack of cigarettes back into his pocket. “I met the elusive Colette today. Heard she has amnesia. Heard she doesn’t remember anything at all before the day she arrived here.”

  “Sounds to me like you’ve been listening to gossip.” Hank poured more oil on the leather.

  “Yeah, well I’ll tell you something that’s not gossip. She’s a hell of a looker. I’ll bet she could make a man forget his name, if you know what I mean.”