Whirlwind Cowboy

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 made him ashamed of how hard he’d prodded her. Hell, he’d bullied her, plain and simple.

The blows she’d suffered had obviously been forceful enough to cause her to lose her memory. He had no idea if it was permanent or not. He’d never even heard of such a thing, but he did believe her.

Which meant she couldn’t help him. He would have to find another way to get to Cosgrove.

He believed her. Finally.

Deborah was surprised at the measure of relief that brought. For the first time since regaining consciousness in Monaco, she didn’t feel completely alone.

Still, she really needed to remember. Not for Bram, but for herself.

Hours later, instead of sleeping, Deborah wondered how entangled she was with this Cosgrove character.

The wind whined in the background. Had she participated in that bank robbery in any way? Were there other illegal activities she might have been party to? Right now she had no answers.

Though all the excitement and fear of the day had left her exhausted, she had trouble falling asleep. Maybe because of Bram’s accusations or maybe just because of the man himself. For someone she couldn’t remember, he sure had an effect on her. He made her nervous. And giddy. When she tried to remember him, an unsettling heat spread through her.

Thinking about it, about him, made her head hurt and she’d had enough of that.

The wind buffeted the cabin, hurling dirt and pebbles against the walls like hail. She shook out the sheet before pulling it over her head and closing her eyes. She tried to slow her thoughts so she could get some rest.

After a short time, a dark mist engulfed her and she thought she felt someone touch her. A warm heavy hand, a glimmer of an image and then—

“Deborah!”

She jerked awake to find Bram shaking her. He sat on the side of the bed, concern in his eyes.

Watery daylight flowed into the windowless room through the open bedroom door. A fine layer of dust covered the floor and the bedclothes. One of Bram’s big hands rested on her left shoulder, setting off a flutter of sensation in her belly. Was his the touch she’d felt in her sleep?

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You’re crying.”

She sat up, her movement stirring the dirt on the sheet. Her mind scrambled through a tangle of emotions—terror, loss, unease. Why was she crying?

“Did you have a bad dream?”