Whirlwind Cowboy. Debra Cowan
her eyes clouded with doubt.
His chest tightened. He shifted, lightly cupping her elbow. “It’s okay.”
Skirts brushing the tops of his boots, Deborah let herself be drawn into the circle of women.
Michal gave a small smile and squeezed her arm.
“Go with the girls, honey,” Mrs. Blue said. “They’ll get you a bath.”
As the women walked off, Deborah gave Bram a last pleading look over her shoulder. A look that pierced him right in the heart.
Jessamine turned to him. “She doesn’t remember anything?”
“No.” His gaze traced the slender, taut line of Deborah’s back as she walked away. “And that’s not the worst of it. You need to know that Cosgrove will likely show up here.”
“What? Why?”
Bram explained about the stolen bank money and his belief that Cosgrove would hunt Deborah down for it.
Alarm pinched the woman’s thin features. “If he does that, he could hurt her again!”
“I won’t let that happen.” Bram might intend to use her as bait—that didn’t mean he would let anything happen to her.
He shared his plan to provide protection for Deborah. “I’m headed into Whirlwind to tell Davis Lee everything.”
Hearing hoofbeats, he looked across the prairie, recognizing the roan gelding loping toward them. “That’s Duffy Ingram, one of my hands. I told him to follow me over here. He’ll stand watch until I return tonight.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“Yes, ma’am. In fact, I’ve arranged for someone to be here around the clock.”
Her eyes widened.
“Duffy will share daytime duties with Amos Fuller, another of my ranch hands. They’ll each take an eight-hour shift and I’ll be here at night.”
“I’ll let the girls know we need to be aware. And armed.”
Bram nodded. One advantage of having a Texas Ranger son was that Jericho had taught all of the Blue women to shoot. And to hit what they aimed for.
Once he had introduced Duffy to Mrs. Blue and left instructions that the ranch hand not let Deborah out of his sight, Bram mounted up. His gaze went to the house, and he hoped she would soon feel at ease.
Now that it was time to go, he didn’t feel right about leaving her. He snorted. What a half-wit. Hadn’t she planned to do that very thing to him?
He had to remember that. Had to remember she was his way to Cosgrove and that’s all she was.
Deborah watched Bram ride away. He didn’t go in the direction they’d come, but instead guided his mount past the house.
She had remembered the place where Bram had proposed. Not the way he had remembered, with details, but when they had paused at the water, she had been overcome by anger followed by a heavy sadness. Then an image, a flash of … something. And a pounding in her head.
His explanation of what had happened there accounted for the suffocating sadness that had rolled over her. That piece of memory had left her half expecting to remember her family. But she didn’t.
As she had stared at them, the realization had hit her like a blow. For a moment she hadn’t been able to breathe. Panic and crushing disappointment slammed her hard enough that she had wanted to lean into his wide chest, let him shelter her from a dark bitter crush of emotion. But she hadn’t.
“Bram’s going into Whirlwind.” Mrs. Blue—her mother—joined the others on the porch and looked at Deborah. “Oh, that’s a nearby town.”
She appreciated the information even though this was something she actually knew. “He told me about Whirlwind.”
“Good.” The other woman smiled softly.
As Bram kneed his horse into a lope, Deborah tore her gaze from his broad shoulders and turned to her family.
Mrs. Blue continued, “He plans to talk to the sheriff and explain what’s going on.”
“Did he tell you about the money?” she asked. “And Cosgrove?”
“Yes.”
“Cosgrove!” Jordan frowned. “What does he have to do with anything?”
“I don’t like him, Deborah,” said the girl with the mouse.
Deborah recalled her name was Marah.
“What money?” Michal asked, pulling her long black hair over her shoulder.
Jordan watched Deborah somberly. Almost warily. “Do you really not remember Bram?”
“No.”
“You’re completely smitten with him.”
Mrs. Blue herded them toward the door. “Let’s go inside. Your sister might like to eat or bathe. And we can talk.”
Sister. Deborah looked at the women around her. All raven haired, all pretty, all showing the same puzzlement that she felt. And she didn’t recognize a single one of them.
Any more than she recognized the man who had asked her to marry him. The man she was supposedly in love with.
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