Whirlwind Cowboy. Debra Cowan
her chest, the wild trip of her pulse in her neck. He was uncomfortably reminded of how long it had taken him to get the image of her in that chemise out of his mind.
“This is the work of your beau.”
She closed the pouch and stood. “How do you know? And how do you know the money is stolen?”
“Because my cousin Georgia and my uncle Ike were in Monaco’s bank when the robbery happened. They both saw Cosgrove’s face. Because of that, he shot them.”
“Oh, no!” In the dusky amber lamplight, the horror on her face seemed genuine. “Are they—”
“They’re alive, although I imagine Cosgrove thinks he killed them. He wouldn’t have knowingly left them breathing.”
“Why do you think I had anything to do with it?” She skirted the saddlebags. The defiance on her face was mixed with uncertainty. “I told you I don’t remember.”
“Yeah.”
“Did your kin see me in the bank, too?”
“No. You weren’t inside.”
“Then I wasn’t involved,” she concluded, looking hopeful.
“Maybe you were waiting outside with horses for a quick getaway.” He didn’t like that he could detect her fresh scent beneath that of the dirt that hung in the air.
She rubbed her temple, appearing surprised by the possibility. “I can’t believe I would do something like that.”
“You mean you don’t want to believe it.”
“Of course I don’t want to believe it! Would you?”
Bram recognized the challenging light in her eyes. “The length of time you rode and the direction from where you came all add up to you making the trip from Monaco. You either left Whirlwind with Cosgrove or met him somewhere. It makes sense to think you’d travel with him.”
“Maybe he was helping me get somewhere.”
“To Abilene for your job?” Bram could imagine how the bastard would’ve tried to “help” her. Still, Deborah was cooperating, so he kept that to himself. “If he meant to put you on a train or a stage, he could’ve done that at a few places before you ended up in Monaco. Maybe you wanted to stay with him.”
“You want to believe the worst of me.” Lifting a hand to her temple, she winced. “But you don’t know.”
“You had to be with him or nearby in order to have access to his horse. What I want to know is where did Cosgrove go?”
“And I’m telling you again that I don’t know,” she said hotly, grimacing.
Was her head hurting? Bram hadn’t forgotten how pained she’d looked tonight. For a while he’d thought that had been a ruse to get him to stop questioning her. Now he wasn’t sure. “Does it matter to you that people who counted you as a friend were hurt? That a man was killed?”
“Yes, it matters! But I can’t tell you what I don’t know. Maybe if you gave me more information.”
“Like what?”
Still touching her head, she thought for a moment. “How long have you been chasing this man?”
“Three weeks. From your house, I followed him east then south. I lost his trail at Buffalo Gap and returned home for a couple of weeks. Then my uncle sent a wire from Monaco saying that he and my cousin had been shot in a bank robbery. By Cosgrove. Monaco is west of here. My brother and I started tracking him from there. Jake went the opposite direction, but when I found Cosgrove’s horse in the barn here, I thought I’d found him.”
She lowered her hand. “Instead, it was me.”
He nodded.
“I swear I don’t know anything about that money, even though it appears I was with him.” Her features were drawn tight in the dustspeckled light. “But why do I have the money? Why didn’t he take it?”
Bram huffed out a frustrated breath. “The law is looking for Cosgrove. He could’ve given the money and his horse to you, sending anyone who followed in another direction. That’s a good way to throw the posse off his trail.”
Paling further, she put her hand to her head again. “Oh.”
“The bastard must be expecting to meet up with you somewhere to get the money. I went through his saddlebags looking for a note or anything that might give me a clue as to where he might be, but I found nothing. I need you to give me some information.”
“Like what?”
“Where he went or if you’re meeting him.” Bram ignored his twinge of conscience at continuing to push her when she was plainly hurting. “If you heard him talk about any place.”
“How can I do that?”
“Try to recall where you were before you supposedly woke up with no memory.” He expected her to refuse him. Sure as hell wouldn’t be the first time.
“All right.” She closed her eyes, a look of intense concentration on her face. The wind moaned around the cabin and a branch or rock hit the front window.
Bram eased closer to Deborah. “Can you see yourself waking up behind that building?”
“Yes.”
“Why were you outside?”
“I don’t know.”
Bram reined in his impatience, recognizing that she was trying her best. “You said you heard a man yelling after you as you rode away. Did you hear anything else? Music? Wagons? A group of people? Gunshots?”
She opened her eyes. “No, I’m sorry.”
“Try harder.” When he saw her chin quiver, he softened his tone. “It’s important.”
Pain darkened her eyes and after a long moment, she said, “I don’t recall hearing anything else.”
“You say you didn’t get a look at the man?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you recall ever seeing a man about six feet tall, muscular build, with dark hair and dark eyes? He likely would’ve been wearing fancy clothes. Tailored and expensive.”
She looked disappointed and half-spent, with deep lines etching her brow. Her pink-and-white skin had a waxy cast. “I really want to help you, but I just can’t remember.”
Wondering if he should back off, Bram dragged a hand across his nape, sick to death of the smell of dirt. “Okay, you woke up behind a two-story building. Could it have been a hotel?”
“Yes,” she said excitedly, brushing the dust from the sleeves of her dress. “That’s very possible.”
It wasn’t much, but at least Bram could wire the Monaco sheriff and ask him to find out if Cosgrove had registered at any of the local hotels. Chances were slim Bram would learn anything, but right now this was all he had. It was worth checking.
He realized then that Deborah had closed her eyes again. As long seconds went by, her delicate features grew bleak and a tear rolled down her cheek.
Was she in that much pain? The realization shook him. His insistent questions were taking a toll. Bram couldn’t deny that.
“You can stop. I can tell your head hurts when you try and remember.”
She looked at him, distraught. Outside, the wind whistled around the cabin. Her voice was thick with tears and she sounded slightly panicked. “There’s no memory of anything before I woke up. I’m sorry.”
Her obvious discomfort tugged at him. “I believe you.”
“You do?”
The relief that spread across her face