Carbon Copy Cowboy. Margaret Daley
return. On the other hand, you could wake up one morning with everything in place, or something could trigger full recall. Or your memories could come back bit by bit.”
“Kendra feels familiar somehow,” she reported, excited to think that might mean something significant.
“But it doesn’t trigger anything definite?” he asked.
Deflated, she dropped her gaze. “No. Nothing.”
“Worrying about it won’t help,” he told her kindly.
“What does?” she asked, feeling glum again.
“Time. Hopefully.”
She spread her hands. “Seems I have plenty of that.”
“Do you have any idea where you’re going to spend that time?” the doctor asked. “There’s really no reason to keep you here any longer, and we have so few beds....”
Alarm rose in her chest again. “I—I’d hoped you might have a suggestion.”
“Actually,” Jack said, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “I do. My sisters and I would like to invite you to stay out at the ranch.”
“There you go!” Doc said with obvious relief. “Problem solved.”
On one hand, she wanted to throw her arms around Jack Colby and sob with gratitude, but what did she know of this man, really? Of anyone here? Even herself.
“I—I wouldn’t want to impose on anyone.”
“You won’t be imposing,” Jack insisted. “The house is plenty big, and there’s a room in the same wing with my sister, Maddie. You won’t be in anyone’s way.”
“But... You don’t know me.” And I don’t know you, she thought.
“The Colby Ranch is a good place for you,” Doc said. “The Colbys are good Christian folk, and Violet and Maddie are about your age. Now, I’ll want you back in about ten days to have those stitches removed,” he proclaimed, as if that settled the matter, and she guessed it did. What other option did she have, after all?
“Thank you,” she said to Jack, but he just looked away with a slight shrug.
Dr. Garth stepped forward to pull a pair of gloves from a container fixed to the wall above her bed. “I’ll just take a gander at this before you go.” After donning the gloves, he peeled away the bandage. “Looks fine. Wait another forty-eight hours before you shampoo your hair. Then just keep dirt out of the incision.” He applied a large adhesive dressing and peeled off the gloves. “Normally, we’d have you sign some papers and arrange payment before you go, but in this case, we’ll wait a bit. We’ll take care of it when you’ve figured things out.”
“Sounds good,” she said, greatly relieved. “Thank you.”
The doctor nodded, first at her, then at Jack. “Wait here. I’ll send Nurse Hamm over with a few things—a kind of parting gift we give our patients. Toiletries, mostly.”
“Thanks again,” she murmured.
“See you soon,” the doctor told her, adding pointedly, “Kendra.”
She smiled because of his kindness but also because she found it surprisingly easy to think of herself as Kendra. Now, if she only knew what kind of a person “Kendra” was.
* * *
I ought to let Doc examine my head while I’m here. Jack was walking beside “Kendra” across the clinic parking lot. His mood pretty much matched the overcast day. He couldn’t help feeling somewhat responsible for her, and with the only hotel in the area temporarily closed, he had no choice but to take her home with him until George said she could leave. That didn’t mean he was happy about it, though. He would have felt better about the underling if he hadn’t had her on his mind the entire day long. For once, he couldn’t seem to focus his thoughts where he focused his energies, and that bothered him. He told himself that it was because of the unusual circumstances. Amnesia! How often did that happen? At least she wasn’t in a coma.
Turning off thoughts of his mother, whom he’d visited before walking over to the clinic, he opened the passenger door of the truck for Kendra—he really had no other way to think of her—and handed her up inside, making sure that she didn’t bump her head along the way. Tucking the small plastic bag of bottles and tubes into the floorboard, she murmured her thanks and reached for her safety belt.
“You okay with this?” he asked. When she gave him a blank look, he turned toward her. “I had a buddy who crashed his car back in college,” Jack explained. “It was weeks before he could bear to ride in the front seat of a vehicle again.”
“I don’t remember the crash, so it doesn’t bother me,” she said with a shrug.
“Right. Well, that’s one good thing about amnesia, I guess.”
She frowned, looking so sad that he wanted to bite his tongue.
He searched his mind for something helpful to say and came up with “My sisters can lend you some things to wear. But, um, not jeans, I imagine. You’re pretty tall.”
“Am I?” she asked, looking down at herself.
Man, if she was faking amnesia, she was doing a good job of it. Jack couldn’t quite believe that to be the case, however.
“You’re for sure taller than my sisters,” he told her, his gaze sweeping down the length of her legs. Long, slender legs. “I’d say five-eight, maybe five-nine.”
“I see.”
“We can stop by the ranch supply store and pick up some things, if you like.”
She shook her head, long blond hair cascading against her shoulders. “I’d rather wait until I can pay.”
“Whatever you say,” he told her doubtfully.
“Let’s wait another day or two, anyway,” she decided. “In case the police come up with something.”
He told himself not to be too pleased that she hadn’t jumped at his offer to buy her some new clothes. Still, that made her more believable.
Her slender brows drew together. “Did anyone look in the trunk of my car for a suitcase?”
“Not while I was there,” Jack answered. “You feel up to going to take a look now?”
“Oh, yes. Please,” she said eagerly.
“Car’s over behind the gas station,” he said, closing her door. He hurried around the truck and got in behind the steering wheel, thinking that maybe seeing the car would jar loose her memory of herself. Maybe the Lord was just waiting for her to see that sleek red car before He opened the door to her past.
And maybe, just maybe, God had something else in mind entirely.
Chapter Three
“Grasslands is such a small town that we don’t have a real police impound,” Jack explained.
“Grasslands,” she echoed thoughtfully.
“Does that sound familiar?” he asked, starting up the engine.
“I don’t know,” she said as he backed the truck around, “but I keep wondering why I was headed here.”
“Are you sure you were?”
She heaved a great sigh. “I just don’t know, but George said that the road I was on doesn’t go anywhere else.”
“Well, it’s true that Franken Road dead-ends right here in town, but there are other roads leaving town, you know.”
“So maybe I was just passing through,” she muttered.
“Could be.”
They discussed