Carbon Copy Cowboy

“Who is Kendra?”

The husky, masculine voice shivered through her with welcome familiarity. She looked up to find Jack Colby standing in the break between the curtains surrounding her bed. Hatless, his rich brown hair fell forward haphazardly, giving him a sweetly boyish air. Much as the day before, he wore scuffed brown boots, comfortable jeans, a utilitarian belt with a palm-size buckle engraved with the initials J. C. and a long-sleeved shirt. He held that disreputable, sweat-stained straw hat in his hands. Only the shirt seemed to have changed. The faded but sunny gold of this one made his light brown eyes glow.

“I guess Kendra is me for the time being,” she told him, winking at Emily. “Seems as good a name as any.”

“So still no memories?” he asked casually, stepping closer.

“Obviously I remember how to speak and how to walk and how to brush my hair, but I can’t recall a thing about me personally.” She shook her head. “It’s as if yesterday was the first day of my life.”

Nurse Hamm had graciously laundered her clothing the previous night, so she had been happy to change out of the hospital gown and into her own things that morning. The dark jeans, pale yellow T-shirt and white athletic shoes felt familiar and safe, but she couldn’t recall purchasing them. Were they favorite items or merely garments to wear? She just did not know.

“Met George outside,” Jack stated offhandedly.

George Cole had been by earlier to tell her that he hadn’t found any reports of a missing person or vehicle that matched the descriptions he’d put out county-wide, so he was broadening the scope of his search. Meanwhile, she was not to leave the area. As if she could do so on foot without a penny to her name.

“He’s, um, running the Vehicle Identification Number on the car and contacting police departments within the odometer range.”

Jack nodded. “So he said. Since no one within the mileage on the odometer of the car seems to know you, he’s searching the state database for the VIN.”

“What if it’s not there?”

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “I guess the car would have to be from out of state. Could’ve been brought in by a new-car dealer.”

“A new-car dealer,” she murmured, feeling uneasy.

“What?” Jack asked.

She searched her mind for some reason to explain her feeling but found nothing, so she shook her head. “I don’t even remember the car, let alone where I got it.”

The curtain slid back, and Dr. Garth entered the space. “Emily,” he said, taking the child by the shoulders and bodily turning her, “you’re supposed to be in bed. Nurse Hamm has medicine for you, and your mom’s off work now. She’ll be here any minute. Scoot.”

Uncowed, Emily tucked her dolls into the curve of one arm and waved. “Bye, Kendra!”

“Bye, sweetie.”

“Kendra?” Dr. Garth asked, sliding his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat.

“Emily named me after her boy doll.”

“Ah. The amnesia hasn’t alleviated, then?”

She shook her head, sighing. “No.”

Jack Colby chuckled, watching Emily scamper across the room to her own bed. “Could’ve been worse,” he noted drily. “I can think of a few toys and cartoon characters I wouldn’t want to be named after.”

“Kendra” shared a wan smile with him. It was true that she preferred that moniker to a number of other possibilities, but what she wouldn’t give to merely know her own name. Choking back a fresh threat of panic, she squared her shoulders and faced the doctor.

“Am I ever going to remember?” she asked.

He pulled in a deep breath before carefully saying, “It’s impossible to know. Amnesia has no rules. Your memory may never 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.

* * *