His thumb brushed her chin. “I see you were able to clean up.”

“You, too.” She smiled, quite aware that he was still touching her. She stood motionless so as not to break the connection.

“You’re awful pretty.” His gaze moved from the flat plane of her chest bared by her neckline to her mouth. His eyes darkened.

She remembered that look! And the answering flutter in her stomach. Before she realized it, she had taken a step toward him.

“Damn.” He shifted closer too, muttering, “Ought to kiss you and see if you remember that.”

His voice was so low she barely caught his words, but when she did a wave of heat flushed her body. Nervous now, she let her tongue come out to moisten her lips and a nearly pained look came over his face.

For a split second she thought he might kiss her. She wanted him to because she suddenly, shockingly, recalled the feel of his mouth on hers. She wanted to feel it again….

About the Author

Like many writers, DEBRA COWAN made up stories in her head as a child. Her BA in English was obtained with the intention of following family tradition and becoming a schoolteacher, but after she wrote her first novel there was no looking back. An avid history buff, Debra writes both historical and contemporary romances. Born in the foothills of the Kiamichi Mountains, Debra still lives in her native Oklahoma with her husband.

Debra invites her readers to contact her at PO Box 30123, Coffee Creek Station, Edmond, OK 73003-0003, USA, or visit her website at: www.debracowan.net

Previous novels by this author:

WHIRLWIND BABY

WHIRLWIND BRIDE

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

AUTHOR NOTE

This is the eighth and final book in my Whirlwind, Texas series. As such, I had a difficult time writing this letter. It took me a while to realise that the reason I had so much trouble knowing what to say is because I’ve ‘lived’ in Whirlwind for almost ten years.

The series was originally conceived as three books, but I soon discovered there were other characters with stories to be told. Over the last couple of years I’ve had quite a lot of mail about the romance of Bram Ross and Deborah Blue, so it seems fitting to end the series with their story. These two are destined to be together, but before they can have a future they have to deal with their past, and Deborah doesn’t remember it—or Bram—at all. I hope you find their story as special as I did.

This series has been a delight, and these people have become like family to me. It is my wish that they have brought you a fraction of the joy they brought to me.

Happy Trails!

Whirlwind Cowboy

Debra Cowan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To all the readers who love Westerns

as much as I do and so enthusiastically embraced

the Whirlwind series—this one’s for you.

Prologue

West Texas May 1886

The sharp crack of gunshots still echoed in Bram Ross’s ears as he urged his horse away from the shoot-out at the Eight of Hearts ranch. Wincing, he wiped at the blood running down his right cheek. He could smell it on the warm May air.

Only minutes ago Bram and his friends had been in a confrontation with a band of cattle rustlers and the man who had given them their orders. Dr. Annalise Fine had been smack in the middle of it. Thankfully, she was unhurt and safe now with Matt Baldwin.

The sheriff and two other men were taking the dead bodies of the outlaws and their boss back to Whirlwind.

Only one man had gotten away.

Now Bram rode hell-for-leather after Cosgrove, the snake who had slithered off in a hail of bullets after one of his shots had plowed a furrow in one side of Bram’s face. He barely kept his fury in check as he followed Cosgrove’s tracks southwest across the prairie from Eight of Hearts land and onto the Baldwins’ property.

Considering how many men had been firing weapons, it was lucky only the outlaws had been killed.

Bram was beyond angry that Cosgrove had escaped. He had more than one score to settle with the rustling bastard. The skunk hadn’t only injured Bram, he had stolen so many Circle R cattle that Bram’s family had come close to losing their ranch.

In moments he reached Ross land, passing the small cabin his brother had spruced up last year before his wedding. Grass and dirt flew from under his gelding’s hooves as they thundered across the prairie. Bram realized Cosgrove was headed toward the west edge of Circle R property.

And the house where Deborah Blue lived with her mother and three sisters.

Why was the lowlife going this way? Foreboding snaked up Bram’s spine. Did it have anything to do with Deborah? It was no secret that Cosgrove was interested in her, but to come here on the run from the law and Bram? The closer he got to the house, the harder his gut churned.

Though the tracks stopped a good distance from the roomy log house, Bram urged his mount there anyway. If Cosgrove was fool enough to stop here, he wasn’t leaving. Bram quietly dismounted, pulled his rifle from his scabbard and slipped carefully to the corner of the house. No sign of anyone in the garden at the side of the house or in the corral or barn. No one riding through the tall prairie grass behind. There was no sound from inside and no one answered his knock.

If Cosgrove had stopped here, maybe no one had been home. The tightness across Bram’s chest eased slightly—until he heard the rattle of an approaching wagon. He raised his rifle, then quickly lowered it when he saw Mrs. Blue in her wagon with three of her four daughters. No sign of Deborah among them.

His gut knotted. Instead of waiting for the women to reach him, Bram strode toward them.

Recalling the row he’d had with Deborah last night, he wondered if perhaps she hadn’t answered his knock because she was still angry.

“Hello, Bram.” Deborah’s mother, a tall, thin woman, gave him a wobbly smile. Seeing his bloody cheek, she drew in a sharp breath. “Are you all right? What happened?”

“I’m fine, ma’am.” He yanked off his hat, quickly explaining that there had been trouble at one of the neighboring ranches.

There was no sign Cosgrove had been here, no sign that Deborah had left with the bastard. So where was she? “Deborah isn’t with you?”

“No,” Jessamine Blue said. “She stayed here while the girls and I went to town.”

Apprehension drummed through him. “I knocked, but got no answer.”

Mrs. Blue frowned, touching the knee of the raven-haired daughter beside her. “Jordan, go check the house.”

The sister closest to Deborah in age, with the same black hair and blue eyes, allowed Bram to help her from the wagon, then hurried inside.

He had just handed down the older woman when Jordan returned with a piece of paper. She sent Bram an uncertain look before reaching her mother. “She’s gone! She left a note.”

Gone? For a moment Bram’s thoughts stalled. Gone where?

Mrs. Blue quickly scanned the note, shaking her head, sounding bewildered. “She’s gone to Abilene to meet with the school board about her new teaching job.”

The words hit him like a kick to the head. “Why? Why would she do that now? School doesn’t start until September.”

After their heated argument last night, she had agreed to think about turning down the job and staying here with him.

The job was for only two school terms. She’d sworn she would return to Whirlwind. And him.

His ma had said the same thing one day when he was four and Jake was five. Bram hadn’t seen her again until he managed to track her down eleven years later. She had refused to come back to Whirlwind with him. He’d never told Jake about that—who needed to hear that their own mother wanted nothing to do with them? Bram had lived that minute over enough for both of them.

And now Deborah had left Bram, too. That cut too close to the bone. He had asked her to consider staying here, with him. She had considered it all of thirteen hours. He had her answer.

Nothing and no one meant enough to her for her to stay.

Her mother’s blue eyes, faded from age and illness, filled with tears. “I don’t understand why she felt the need to leave now.”

Neither did Bram. He might want to go after her, but what was the point? Besides, he couldn’t lose Cosgrove’s trail.

Cold, sharp fury sliced through Bram. Fine. He was done with her. And he was wasting daylight.

He vaulted into his saddle and bid the Blues goodbye as he rode off. After promising to give his proposal some thought, Deborah had up and left instead.

That hurt every bit as much as the searing pain in his cheek.

Bram could forget her. He would forget. But he wouldn’t forget Cosgrove. He would hunt down that lying, thieving thug and have his revenge, no matter what he had to do to get it.

Chapter One

West Texas June 1886

Where was she? The ground was hard beneath her back. Her head pounded as she stared up at a gray sky and the sun hidden behind red-tinted clouds. Carefully pushing herself up on her elbows, she winced as sharp pain speared through her skull. Her shoulder ached, too. She was behind a two-story white brick building she didn’t recognize.

She touched her temple, and her fingers came away bloody. She inhaled sharply. Blood also streaked her pale blue floral bodice. What had happened?

A creaking sound had her looking over her shoulder. A saddled black horse watched her with dark eyes. Then she saw a wet stain a couple of feet away.

She eased over and touched it, startled to realize it was more blood.

Cold, savage fear ripped through her and she got unsteadily to her feet, fighting back panic. Whatever had happened here had been deadly. She couldn’t remember it, but she knew it.

Her head throbbed as she looked around wildly, trying to identify something, anything. Not the building hiding her or the store across a dusty street or the railroad tracks beyond. Nothing was familiar.

Alarmed and confused, she felt tears sting her eyes.

From the front of the building she heard the heavy thud of boots. A man muttered in a low, vicious voice. The hairs on her arms stood up and fear rushed through her.

There was no thought, only instinct. She gathered her skirts and hurriedly mounted the waiting horse, riding astride. Her skull felt as though it was being cracked open and she thought she might pass out from the pain.

Urging the animal into motion, she rode hard away from the unfamiliar buildings and headed for the open prairie. Someone yelled after her. She wasn’t sure what he said, but she didn’t stop.

Gripping the pommel with sweat-slick hands, she kept the horse at a full-out run until she was assured no one was behind her.

Then she slowed the horse to an easy pace. As far as she could see there was an endless sea of golden-brown prairie grass, dotted here and there with a few evergreen trees. The landscape looked familiar, but she didn’t know why. She didn’t know anything.

A forceful gust of wind had her grabbing the pommel. Bits of dirt and grass pelted her face as well as her mount’s. The animal slowed, but kept moving.

Dust whirled across the prairie. The horse’s hooves pounded in a steady lope. On and on. Daylight turned to gray. They crossed a dry creek bed, then topped a small rise. Through the swirling light and dirt, she spied a small cabin and a barn. As she rode up to the front of the house, she called out, but no one answered. There was no sign of anyone at all.

Glancing over her shoulder, she frowned at a boiling mass of clouds sweeping across the ground. The first stirrings of a dust storm. Being caught out in it could be deadly.

Fighting back panic, she decided to take shelter in the small cabin. She wasted no time settling the horse in the barn. After filling the trough with water from the pump just outside, she closed the animal inside and ran to the cabin, praying she would be able to get in. When she tried the door, it opened and she slipped inside with a big sigh of relief.

Shaking out her skirts then brushing off her hair and bodice, she took stock. A Franklin stove sat in the corner to her left, along with a sink and a pump and a short work cabinet. There was a small but sturdy-looking table, and straight ahead an open door revealed the foot of a bed.

The windows, real pane glass, shook as the wind gathered force. Her shoulders and neck throbbed, but she searched for candles or a lamp in case she needed light later.

Though small, the cabin was solid and would offer protection from the storm. Looking down, she stared at the bloodstains on her bodice. Her mind was empty. Why couldn’t she remember anything?

A shiver rippled up her spine. Not only was she completely alone and lost—she had no idea who she was.

After a week of tracking Cosgrove, Bram had lost him and returned home. Whirlwind’s sheriff, Davis Lee Holt, had wired every lawman in the state and promised to send word to Bram if he received any news.

Bram had duties at the ranch, but he still checked with Davis Lee every day about Cosgrove. Two weeks after the trail had gone cold, Bram got news. Surprisingly it was from his uncle, not the sheriff. Uncle Ike had witnessed Cosgrove robbing a bank in Monaco.

Bram had ridden straight to the small town located northwest of Whirlwind, where he discovered Cosgrove had murdered a man during that robbery.

Bram had picked up the outlaw’s trail again, this time headed east toward Whirlwind. Cosgrove would be a fool to go back there and probably hadn’t, but the approaching dust storm had erased any sign that he might have changed direction.

The past three weeks had been hell, and Bram laid that on Deborah as much as the outlaw he chased. He hadn’t spoken to her mother or sisters again, though Bram’s brother, Jake, had. He had felt it his duty to let Bram know Deborah still hadn’t returned home.

Bram tried to tell himself he didn’t care. She’d made her choice and it wasn’t him.

The spiraling wind swirled across the prairie, flaying his face and body with sharp bits of dirt and grit. The gunshot graze on his cheek was healing. Dragging his dark bandanna up to cover his nose and mouth, he knotted it tightly.

He was worn slick, dirty and madder than hell that this dust storm would force him to briefly suspend his search for Cosgrove, but he would find the low-down dog again. He wouldn’t stop until he did. In addition to being a rustler, Cosgrove was now a murderer. Bram wouldn’t be the only one out for the bastard’s blood. If possible, he hated the cattle thief even more than he had three weeks ago.

The wind swept around him and he barely caught his hat before it blew off. The small cabin on the edge of Circle R property was less than a mile away, so Bram directed his mount there.

By the time they reached the building, the red dust was thickening, spreading. At the barn behind the cabin, he dismounted and slid open the door. When his mount balked at entering, Bram grabbed the bridle to lead the animal inside. He understood the dun’s wariness. This storm made him uneasy, too.

The dust swirled inside, the wind noise escalating to a steady hollow hum. Bram quickly pulled off his saddlebags, unsaddled his horse, then removed the bridle.

Scout stomped, shifting nervously. Bram spoke softly, trying to calm the gelding. A clothesline stretched from the barn to the cabin and would enable Bram to find his way if the dust became too thick to see the house. Just as he bent to pick up his saddlebag, the horse backed up, almost pinning Bram to the wall.

“Whoa.” He laid a calming hand on the animal’s hindquarters and edged away from the weathered wall. That was when he saw another horse deep in the shadows.

Not just any horse. He blinked.

That looked like Cosgrove’s black mare.

No way in hell. Bram couldn’t be seeing what he thought he was.

He eased closer, noting that the animal was unsaddled and had been brushed down. Speaking softly to the horse, he lifted its left front leg, then the back one. A C had been crudely carved into the top of the mare’s rear shoe. It was slyly done, the top of the C coming out of the tack’s head, but this was Cosgrove’s horse!

The damn brand blotter had been forced to take shelter, too. Here!

Bram’s lips twisted. This was too good to be true, and he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to catch the bastard. Or kill him. After the murder committed by Cosgrove during that bank robbery, Bram would have no qualms about taking in a dead man.

Satisfied that there was enough water in the trough near Cosgrove’s animal for both horses, Bram returned to his things in the corner and slid his Spencer rifle out of its scabbard.

After checking his gun, he stepped outside. The wind nearly shoved him to his knees as he shouldered the door shut. Gripping the clothesline for support, he slowly made his way to the cabin’s back stoop.

He had the advantage of surprise, but because both the front and back doors opened into the large main room, he wouldn’t have the drop on Cosgrove for long. Once Bram opened the door, the wind would sweep in, alerting anyone in the cabin.

He slowly turned the knob, then flung open the door. He leveled his weapon, aiming straight at … a woman!

She screamed, stumbling back against the dining table and folding her arms protectively around herself.

“Sweet mercy.” Bram froze, his mind trying to catch up to what he was seeing.

There in the flickering lamplight stood a half-naked Deborah.

Deborah.

What the hell?

Chapter Two

Struggling to recover from the shock of seeing her, Bram kicked the door shut and advanced. Had Deborah been with the outlaw since she had left her home? During the whole time Bram had been tracking the bastard?

She looked terrified, her gaze darting around for an escape. That blistered him up even more. “Cosgrove, show yourself!”

Visibly trembling, Deborah eased back, putting the small dining table between them. She hit the corner, jolting the burning lamp there as she did so.

“Don’t move!” he ordered, shoving down the gritty bandanna.

She froze, looking as though she might cry. Closed inside as they were, the wind had faded to a low vibrating hum. Keeping his gun trained on her, Bram yelled again, “Cosgrove!”

In the hazy yellow light he could see Deborah go pale. That wasn’t all he could see. Thanks to the soft amber light, the sleek lines of her body were plain through the thin fabric of her summer chemise. The undergarment and a pair of sturdy brown shoes were all she wore. Where the hell were her clothes?

Just the thought that the man who had taken so much from him might have seen her half-naked or more had Bram’s finger twitching on the trigger.

His gaze leveled on hers. “Where is he?”

“Where is who?” she asked shakily.

“You know who.”

Inching away, she shook her head. “I don’t.”

Her delicate features were pinched with fear and her raven-black hair slid around her bare shoulders like a cloud of midnight. Looking at her made Bram hurt. And filled him with cold fury.

She reached for the nearest chair.

“I said don’t move.”

“I need to get my dress.” Her voice quivered.

Considering how his traitorous body was reacting to the sweet curve of her hip and the fullness of her breasts visible through her chemise, he saw the merit in letting her put on her clothes.

“Stay put. I’ll get it.” He walked toward her, keeping his back to the cabin wall and one eye on her. Bits of grass and rock pelted the front window.

The dress hung over the back of a chair, a pale blue floral he recognized. He tossed it to her, dust drifting from the garment as she spread it protectively over her front, covering most of herself.

He dragged his gaze from her. “Cosgrove!” he called again.

“There’s no one else here,” she said quietly.

He gave her a withering look. “I saw the bastard’s horse in the barn.”

“I’m the one who rode that horse.” Her voice shook.

Rifle trained on her, Bram motioned her out from behind the table, keeping her in his sights. He herded her to the corner then looked into the bedroom, where a fine silt covered every surface. The room was empty.

He knew Cosgrove hadn’t gone out the front while Bram was coming in the back. The horse Bram had tracked also hadn’t been carrying two people. Deborah was telling the truth. About that, anyway. He still couldn’t believe she had been with Cosgrove.

Sheer terror darkened her blue eyes. She was probably afraid of what he would do or say about her running off with the man he hated.

The force of his anger when he thought she’d left to take the job in Abilene had been strong enough to sear his insides. But learning she’d been with Cosgrove drove a hole right through Bram’s chest.

His gaze swept over her and she clutched the dress more tightly to her. The strap of her chemise had slipped down, baring the silky skin of one shoulder. Skin he knew tasted as sweet as cream and felt that way, too.

The heat he always felt around her burned him from the inside, made him want. But since he’d realized she had left with Cosgrove, Bram could hardly stand to look at her.

“Get dressed,” he snapped, lowering his weapon. When she blinked those frightened blue eyes at him, it went all over him. Did she think he was going to hurt her? She’d just spent the past three weeks with a thief and a murderer! “Dammit, put your clothes on.”

She nodded, taking a step toward him and the bedroom beyond.

“Uh-uh. Right here, sweetheart.”

Her eyes widened. “Not with you watching! ”

“Put the dress on,” he said softly. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

“I’m not likely to run out into the storm.”

“How do I know you don’t have a gun hidden in that room?”

Clearly affronted, she gasped. “Because I don’t!”

“I’m not taking my eyes off you. Now, put on the dress.”

A spark of temper masked the uncertainty in her eyes. She angled her chin at him, clearly prepared to argue, then she seemed to realize he wasn’t bluffing about dressing her himself.

She backed into the corner and stepped into the garment. When she bent to pull the dress over her hips, Bram got a tantalizing view of her breasts, plump and pale and perfect.

He bit his cheek. Hard. Once she was covered and buttoning her bodice, he said, “Now let’s try again. What are you doing here?”

Looking uncertain, she said, “There’s a storm.”

He made an impatient sound. “Don’t play with me.”

“I—I’m not.”

“Why are you here?” Fine grains of dirt floated in the hazy light. “In my cabin?”

“I didn’t know it was your cabin. I took shelter so I wouldn’t get caught in the storm.”

“Don’t test me. I’ve had all of that I want from you.”

She froze, her gaze riveting on his face. “You sound as though you know me.”

“Of course I know you.” He bit out his words.

“Well, I don’t know you,“ she said in a voice thick with tears. Hands clenched tightly at her sides, she was still shaking.

She beat all he’d ever seen. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing. I don’t know who you are.”

That put a strange heaviness in his chest. “Yeah, I’m sure you’d like to pretend you never did.”

“I’m not pretending. I don’t know who you are.” She swiped at a tear tracking down her ivory cheek. “Or who I am either.”

Bram stared at her for a full five seconds, fighting back a roar of anger. The ebony of her hair made the light blue of her eyes even more striking. And her petal-smooth skin had a faint tinge of a blush. There was an innocence about her. Even now, after what she’d done, she looked angelic.

She was so damn beautiful he wanted to touch her, and he hated himself for it.

Trying to come to terms with the fact that he was really seeing her, he repeated scornfully, “You don’t know who you are.”

She blinked. “You … don’t believe me.”

“No.” Bram took off his hat and smacked it against the wall, knocking off a thick film of dust. He tossed it onto the table.

“Why would I lie?”

“How about because you ran off with a cattle rustler who’s also now a murderer? Or because you walked away from your family, your home and me—”

He broke off, pinching the bridge of his nose. The constant buzzing of the wind made his shoulders even more tense. “By claiming you don’t remember any of that, you can plead innocence. I wouldn’t admit to knowing anything either.”

“But I don’t remember! I don’t know anything. Not my name, not where I’m from.” Fear and frustration mixed on her face. “You said you know me. What is my name?”

He frowned. She sure was carrying through with this lost memory business.

“Please.” Pure desperation shaded her voice. And confusion. “Please. ”

“Deborah.” He wondered how far she would go with this. “Your name’s Deborah Blue.”

“Deborah Blue.” Her face fell. “I don’t remember being called that. And who are you?”

Could she be telling the truth? She really didn’t remember him or herself or Cosgrove? Bram walked slowly over to her and stopped within a foot, studying her eyes.

She lifted her chin and he saw a bruise on her jaw. And a cut on her temple. He went still inside. Had Cosgrove done that to her? The idea shook Bram. He gestured to her face. “What happened to you?”

“I think … someone hit me.” She touched the faded streaks of blood on her damp bodice. “There was a big spot of blood beside me. I don’t think it was mine.”

He might not believe she had memory loss, but someone had roughed her up. A cold fury gripped him. He didn’t hold with violence against a woman. Ever. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so.” She curled her hands over the edge of the chair as if she needed support. Though she looked as if she might bolt if he so much as blinked, she didn’t move. Her gaze held his. There was no guile in the blue depths and no spark of recognition at all.

“Your name. Please.”

His hold tightened on his rifle. Grit seemed to settle in his throat. “I’m Bram Ross.”

“Bram Ross,” she said softly in the same sweet, almost shy way she had the first time he’d told her to call him by his given name. And just as it had then, the dark velvet of her voice stroked over him like a hand, making his body go tight. Dammit.

“How do we know each other?”

Bram felt as though he’d been kicked in the gut. “We live near the same town, Whirlwind.”

“Are we friends?”

“Not exactly.” He wanted to grab her and kiss her, ask if she remembered that. At the confused look on her face, he said flatly, “I asked you to marry me.”

“Oh!” Hope lit her eyes. “So you’ve been looking for me?”

“No. I’m actually looking for your … beau.” Bram could barely force out the word.

“But if you …” She frowned. “I thought you were my beau.”

“So did I,” he muttered under his breath.

“This man you’re looking for is my beau?”

“It appears so.”

He could see her trying to reconcile what he was saying. Well, hell, he was trying to reconcile seeing her.

Her brow furrowed. “Why would I be with someone who steals cattle, who kills people?”

“I’ve never been able to figure out why you even talk to that double-crossing polecat, and neither has your brother.”

“My brother?”

Bram stared hard at her. Was she pulling his leg? “Jericho’s a retired Texas Ranger, married with a baby. He and his wife are in New York City, visiting the nuns who raised her.”

“Do I live with them?”

“No, you live with your ma and three sisters on the edge of my property. The Circle R ranch.”

She put a hand to her head, her lips bloodless. “This is so much to take in.”

“Tell me what you remember.”

“Nothing!” The look of irritation on her face was familiar to Bram. It was the same one she’d gotten the night he tried to convince her not to take the teaching job, to stay with him in Whirlwind.

He ground his teeth. “You remember riding here.”

“Yes.”

“And before that?”

She closed her eyes, pain etching her features. “I woke up outside, behind a building. Two-story. I had no idea where I was, but my head hurt and there was blood on my dress.”

“Maybe from that cut on your head.” His gaze dropped to the damp fabric of her bodice where she’d tried to get out the blood. “How did you get Cosgrove’s horse?”

“It was behind the building, just as I was.” Her brow furrowed. “I heard someone coming. A man. He yelled after me.”

Bram’s head came up. “Did you see him?”

“No, and I didn’t wait to find out who it was. I was terrified—I don’t know why—so I took the horse and rode away.” She gingerly touched her temple, pain stark on her delicate features.

Bram didn’t think she could fake that look of agony, but what did he know? She’d faked her feelings for him for months. “Why did you come here, to my cabin?”

“I didn’t intentionally come here. I just rode until I was sure no one was following. When the dust storm came up and I saw the cabin, I took shelter.” She briefly closed her eyes, her chin quivering. “My head hurts.”

She was pale, her skin waxy in the smoky lamplight. Dust sifted in around the edges of the window frame. “How far did you ride?”

She stared blankly at him.

Reining in his impatience, Bram rubbed the nape of his neck. “How long did you ride before you reached this place?”

“Over an hour. Maybe an hour and a half.”

“Was the horse running full-out the whole time?”

“No, about ten minutes.” She swayed. “It hurts.”

Frowning, Bram steadied her with a hand on her elbow. He wasn’t going to get more out of her right now and she really did look spent.

Hooking a foot around a chair leg, he steered her over to the table and sat her down.

She held her head in her hands. “Thank you.”

The threadiness of her voice raised Bram’s concern. He might be mad as hell at her, but he didn’t like seeing her hurt this way. “Is there something I can do?”

“I think I just need to sit for a minute.”

He glanced around, his gaze skimming over the silt-layered room. “I don’t think there are any headache powders here.”

“The pain isn’t quite so bad now.” She gave him a small forced smile, then closed her eyes.

In the flickering light she looked helpless and fragile. Her pretty mouth was drawn tight with pain. He stiffened as his gaze fell to the bruise on her jaw then moved to the cut on her temple.

He had to fight the urge to hold her and he didn’t understand why. She’d left him, run off with a murdering cattle thief. He shouldn’t want to be within a hundred yards of her. What was wrong with him?

Cosgrove was the one Bram wanted, the one he’d expected when he had come through the door earlier.

Instead, he’d found the one woman he never wanted to see again, and until this storm blew over, he was stuck with her.

Didn’t that just cock his pistol?

Bram Ross didn’t much care for her. Right now, Deborah didn’t much care for him either.

An hour later, as they sat at the small dining table eating supper, she was as befuddled and uncertain as she had been when she had woken up behind that two-story building. Adding further to her confusion was her strong reaction to the rugged cowboy who had found her.

He was a big man. Beneath his grimy white shirt she could see the play of lean carved muscle in his shoulders and arms. Though his black hair was cut short, the ragged ends suggested it hadn’t been trimmed in a while. Whisker stubble shadowed a square unyielding jaw. A raw-looking scar ran up the right side of his face from the middle of his cheek to his temple.

Tall and broad with powerful thighs, the man was daunting, especially when his dark blue eyes turned hard, which they’d done more than once when he looked at her.

His attention sent a shiver through her. She was drawn to him and intimidated at the same time.

Keeping his gun trained on her, he had searched the bedroom for a weapon. He hadn’t found one, of course. Then he had gone out and returned with their saddlebags, using the rope to guide him through the storm to the barn and back. Now the whirling dust and nightfall made it completely dark outside.

After dropping the bags in the corner near the back door, he had found a tin of beans and one of peaches, carefully opening them with a knife. He had managed to keep out most of the dust; she had wiped off the tin plate he’d given her. They ate in silence, with her at one end of the table and him at the other. The insistent hum of the wind scraped at her nerves, as did the hovering veil of dust.

She ate slowly, sneaking looks at him. She couldn’t seem to stop her attention from wandering to his firm, sometimes-harsh mouth, searching her mind for any memory of him. Touching, kissing, laughing. She’d tried the same for her family and any part of her life.

The harder she tried to remember, the more her head hurt, but she needed answers. Something to grab on to, to slake the sense of … incompleteness inside her.

Although she believed what Bram Ross had told her, she didn’t feel any of it.

A million questions, especially about him—them—spun through her head. She wasn’t sure she was ready to talk about that. From the way his face had turned to stone earlier, she doubted he was either.

He looked up suddenly and she tore her gaze from his mouth.

“You’ve been staring at me since we sat down,” he said baldly.

She flushed at being so obvious. Reaching up, she touched her cheek. “What happened to your face?”

His eyes narrowed and his voice turned hard. “Your beau shot me and his bullet skinned a trail up my face.”

She winced. Even though the wound was healing, it had a fresh look to it. “Is that why you hate him?”

“No, that’s after the fact. He led a band of rustlers for months, stealing not just my cattle, but my neighbors', too. People who were also his neighbors. Due to the drought last year, we had already lost plenty of cattle. His thieving almost cost my family our ranch. Add to that, he murdered someone two days ago during a bank robbery.”

This Cosgrove sounded like a horrible person. Deborah didn’t want to believe she could be involved with him, but Bram certainly believed it.

The dust tickled her nose and she stifled a sneeze. After a minute, she said, “May I ask you something else?”

“More about Cosgrove?” he sneered.

“No. About me, you, everything.”

In the hazy light, his eyes were like dark steel. His gaze trailed from her face to her breasts and back up, making her stomach dip. Hunger flared in his eyes, then was gone. She shivered.

He studied her for a minute, then shrugged.

This man had proposed to her. Shouldn’t she recognize something about him deep inside? She had no sense of him other than the fact that he was strong, no-nonsense and gruff. “You said I lived with my mother and sisters?”

“Yes. They’re younger than you. Jordan, Michal and Marah.”

She searched her mind for an impression or part of a memory. Nothing.

“You have cousins here, too. Riley and Davis Lee Holt.”

None of these people sounded familiar. She tried to calm the panic rising inside her. With a shaking hand, she tucked her hair behind her ear. “You said I lived near Whirlwind. Where is that?”

“North central Texas.”

“Do you have kin nearby, too?”

Bram eyed her skeptically. “Yeah. I live at the Circle R ranch with my cousin, Georgia, and Uncle Ike. My brother, Jake, and his wife also live there.”

All the names spun in her head. “You’re a rancher?”

He arched a brow. “Yes. That’s why I live on a ranch.”

She flushed. The man irritated the fire out of her, but right now he was the only person who might be able to help her remember.

“What happened to your parents?”

“My pa died years ago and my ma lit out right after,” he said with exaggerated patience—as though he were humoring her, not because he believed she needed answers. “Ike raised me and my brother.”

She braced herself for the possibility that he might not answer her next question. “When did you ask me to marry you?”

He pushed his plate away, his gaze piercing as though he was trying to probe her brain. “How long are you going to carry on with this?”

“I’m not carrying on. I need to know.” She wanted to smack the disbelieving look off his handsome face. “When did it happen? When did you ask me?”

“A little over three weeks ago.” His voice hardened and his eyes went flat. “The day before you took off.”

Her head pounded. She had hoped something about her or him would spark a memory, but nothing had. She couldn’t even remember something as important as a marriage proposal. “Why did I turn you down?”

A muscle flexed in his jaw as his gaze leveled on hers. Blade-sharp, frigid. “You wanted to take a job as a schoolteacher. I wanted you to stay with me, and you said you’d think about it. Instead, you left the next day.”

No wonder he had been so angry when he’d found her in the cabin. Her voice cracked. “I don’t remember any of it.”

“So you say.”

Why wouldn’t he believe her? “I’m sorry. I

really don’t.”

Plainly skeptical, Bram pushed his chair away from the table and rose.

Surprised at a quick flare of panic that he might leave, she asked tentatively, “Where are you going?”

“I’ve been up since before dawn and I need some shut-eye. You can do whatever you like as long as it’s quiet.”

She bit her lip. She was tired to the marrow of her bones, but there was only one bed.

He saw her glance toward the bedroom and barked out a sharp laugh. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m getting my bedroll. I won’t even darken your door. You made your choice real clear.”

She swallowed hard. She might not remember him, but she could appreciate what was right in front of her. Stranger or not, jilted beau or not, he affected her. When he looked at her, every nerve tingled and his deep voice sent a tremor to the pit of her stomach.

She didn’t like it. “What will we do tomorrow?”

“Depends on the storm. Once it’s over, I’m taking you home.”

His tone said he couldn’t wait to be rid of her. The idea that she had a place to go, that she belonged somewhere, should’ve reassured her, but it didn’t.

Though she had learned a few things about her family and Bram, they didn’t really mean anything.

She had hoped his answers would help her remember, give her some kind of anchor, but they hadn’t. Thanks to that big strapping mountain of a man, she felt even more off balance.

She was getting to him just as she always had, and it made Bram madder than hell.

He couldn’t get the image of her face out of his head. Undone, disoriented. She had appeared desperate for information and when he had given it to her, a light had gone out of her. Hope.

The way her face had crumpled when he told her about her rejection of his marriage proposal had him wondering if she was telling the truth about losing her memory. Dammit, he didn’t want to wonder. He didn’t want to care either, but judging by the rush of anger and protectiveness he’d felt upon spying her bruised jaw and the cut on her temple, he did.

Bram swept up the latest layer of dust that had filtered in through the sides of the window and deposited it in an old water pail. After shaking out his bedroll, he spread it and sat down with his back against the wall adjacent to the bedroom. He wanted to focus on Cosgrove, but as usual, Deborah’s presence had run everything else out of his mind.

Frustrated, he dragged a hand across his nape. The sooner he got shed of Deborah Blue, the sooner he could continue his search for the murdering rustler who had nearly ruined his family.

It had been almost an hour since she had gone into the bedroom and shut the door. Her look of bafflement had seemed earnest. So had the lack of recognition when she saw him. She had seemed genuinely lost. But he’d trusted those eyes for months, believing she told the truth about her feelings being as strong as his, and look how that had turned out. She claimed not to remember anything. Bram remembered just fine.

He fingered his scar. The wound was still somewhat tender, just like his reaction to her queries about the two of them.

There was no them. She’d made sure of that.

He stared at the bedroom door.

Her questions reminded him of what they’d had, how she’d lit out just like his ma. He didn’t want to feel anything for her, but he did.

Bram couldn’t abide more of her professed memory loss. He wanted her to take responsibility for what she’d done. There had to be some way to get her to admit she was lying about losing her memory. Or at least some way to get her to point him in Cosgrove’s direction.

She had the cretin’s horse. Maybe she had something else of his.

Bram’s gaze went to the saddlebags in the corner. He’d brought his in from the barn along with two that were probably Cosgrove’s. Bram rose, picked up the lamp and walked over, going to one knee beside them.

Inside the first pouch was a comb, shaving cup and soap, a straight-edge and hair pomade. His lip curled. Pomade. He reached for the other leather bag, which was considerably heavier.

He flipped up the flap and opened the pouch wide. His pulse thudded hard.

Sweet mercy. He’d been looking for something to tie Deborah to Cosgrove and here it was. His heart sank.

Inside the saddlebag was money. A lot of money. Some loose bills, some in a flour sack. Unless Cosgrove had spent some, it was the forty thousand dollars he’d taken from the Monaco Bank.

In the next instant Bram was overwhelmed by a numbing fury. He surged to his feet, grabbed the saddlebag and stalked to the bedroom.

He threw the door open, lamplight flickering.

Standing in the middle of the room, Deborah jumped, one hand at her throat. “You scared the daylights out of me!”

“You keep sayin’ you don’t know Cosgrove, but this right here proves you do.” Speaking to be heard above the storm, he tossed the saddlebag toward her. It landed heavily at her feet.

She eyed it the way she would a snake. “What is that?”

“Money. Stolen money.”

Shaking her head, she glanced down, then back at him. Questions were plain on her pretty face.

“You said you were leaving me for a teaching job,” Bram snapped, taking a step toward her. “Looks like your real job was being an accomplice to a bank robbery.”

Chapter Three

Twin spots of color stained her cheeks. “Accomplice to a robbery? I wouldn’t do that.”

“How do you know?” he asked archly.

She bit her lip, stooping to look inside the saddlebags. Those innocent blue eyes widened.

Folding his arms, Bram took in the flush on her face, the rapid rise and fall of 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 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?”

Until now, she hadn’t realized. “Yes.”

With trembling hands she pushed her hair out of her face. A light sweat had her chemise clinging to her and she gulped in a big draft of dusty air. Oh, dear. She felt as if she were drowning, being pulled down into a seething mass of uncertainty.

A powerful sense of horror pressed in on her. The same horror she had felt when she’d woken behind that building. Swept by a wave of fear and panic, she reached out. One hand gripped Bram’s strong forearm. Her head dropped forward, brushing his wide hard chest.

He didn’t push her away or pull her close. He didn’t move at all. A sob jerked out of her. She wanted to be folded into those big arms. Just the strength in his body, the thud of his heart, calmed the panic tearing loose inside her.

How ridiculous. The man couldn’t abide her. Still, Deborah couldn’t make herself move away from him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.”

He sat stiffly, his voice hoarse. “What was the dream?”

She tried to recall it. A suffocating heaviness hovered on the edge of her mind, making her shudder.

“Deborah?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not sure. There was nothing, then … I was thrown into some kind of horror.” She stared down at her shaking hands. “It was awful, terrifying. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. There was a feeling of violence, something coming closer to me, then it was gone before I could tell what or who it was. I can’t make any sense of it.”

She shuddered, her voice muffled against his warm muscular torso. One of his big hands closed around her waist, steadying her. With his other hand, he lifted the far corner of the sheet and wiped her eyes.

She realized she was still crying.

“You okay?” The gruff worry in his voice made her want to snuggle into him. He moved his hand up her back, warm, reassuring, and cupped her shoulder.

Pain flared, causing her to flinch.

Bram jerked his hand away. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

She nodded, turning her head to look at her shoulder. “It’s sore.”

Before she could blink or check for herself, he nudged her hair aside and lifted her chemise strap. He cursed. “There’s a bruise here. A big bruise.”

She craned her neck to see. The mark was wide and bluish-black.

Bram studied it, too. “This must’ve happened at the same time as your other injuries.”

She looked up, startled to see how cold and hard his eyes were. “Do you think I fell? Or maybe was struck?”

A muscle flexed in his jaw as he shifted his gaze to the cut on her temple. “Hard to know for sure.”

His breath drifted warmly against her skin. Just his presence made her feel less shaky. She was overwhelmed with the urge to climb into his lap and huddle into his strength. It unsettled her how much she wanted that. Her grip tightened on the sheet.

The dark stubble along his jaw softened the rough angles of his face. She found herself staring at his mouth, trying to recall how it felt. Despite not remembering, she had no doubt they had kissed.

She became aware then that he was also staring at her mouth.

Before she realized what she was doing, she lifted her hand to his face and lightly touched the raw scar on his cheek.

Their gazes locked and in his she saw heat, hunger, then nothing. A chill crept over his face.

He gently but firmly removed her hand, then surged to his feet and moved to the door.

She tried to dismiss the sudden knifing sense of aloneness. He shouldn’t be the only one pulling away. She had rejected the man’s marriage proposal, after all.

“Do you think it was Cosgrove who hurt me? Just as he did you?”

“Most likely.” Bram’s gaze flicked to her face, then to her bruised shoulder. “I came in to let you know we can leave. The storm is over.”

The noise outside had stopped, she realized. “So, you’re taking me home?”

“Unless you don’t want to go.”

“Where else would I go?” She prayed her family wasn’t as angry at her as he was. “Do you think my family will welcome me back? If I hurt them as badly as I hurt you, they may never want to see me again.”

“They’ll be glad to see you.”

She tangled her fingers in the sheet she still held to her chest. “How far is my house?”

“Less than an hour’s ride from here.”

She was so close, yet she’d had no idea. She brushed the grit off her hands. “Can you tell me something about my family? So I won’t feel as if I’m meeting complete strangers.”

He hesitated, plainly reluctant to answer, but finally said, “You, your ma and sisters moved to Whirlwind to be near your brother, Jericho.”

Deborah nodded. “Why does my brother live here? Where did we move from?”

“You moved from Uvalde. Your brother came here tracking some outlaws and stayed because he fell in love and married a woman in

Whirlwind.”

“What else?”

He looked impatient. “I’m not sure what you want to know.”

“Anything. Please.”

“All of you kids were named after people in the Bible. Jericho is the oldest, seven years ahead of you. Jordan is two years younger than you, Michal a year behind her and Marah’s a year behind that.”

Deborah had hoped the information might spark some memory, but it didn’t. Her mind was still a blank slate. “You said my brother is married.”

Bram nodded, keeping his distance by staying at the door. “To a fine woman named Catherine. They have a baby girl, Evie.”

His gaze went again to her mouth, putting a tingle in her blood.

Earlier, when they had both studied her bruised shoulder and his face was close to hers, she had thought he was going to kiss her. She had wanted him to.

The admission had her squirming inside. It was disconcerting to have such feelings about a man she didn’t remember. Just how well did they know each other? Had they been intimate?

She couldn’t bring herself to ask. At least not yet.

She had no idea if her family would welcome her back, but anything would be better than being with Bram and dealing with this edgy anticipation. Wanting him. Because he certainly didn’t want her in return.

It was good that they were leaving the cabin. She needed some distance from him.

She flapped the sheet, sending a puff of dirt into the air. “Are you going to return the stolen money before taking me home?”

“No, I’m taking you back first.”

“What if Cosgrove comes looking for the money and me? You said you thought he would.”

“Oh, he will.” Suddenly his gaze turned speculative.

What was he thinking? Not understanding the flare of apprehension inside her, she studied him. “What should I do if that happens? If Cosgrove finds me?”

“You won’t need to worry about it.”

“Why not? You just said you thought he’d come looking.”

“He’ll have to go through me to get to you.”

She went still inside. “What do you mean?”

A slow, calculating smile spread across his face, causing a chill to ripple through her.

“When Cosgrove shows up, I’ll be waiting.” Bram stepped out of the bedroom, looking over his shoulder at her. “I’m going to be your shadow.”

Shadow? “For how long?”

“As long as it takes.” His gaze shifted back to her, almost as if he’d been talking to himself. “I’ll saddle the horses while you get dressed, then we’ll go.”

She nodded, staying on the bed as he walked out.

He was using her as bait.

Regardless of what they had been to each other in the past, that’s all she was to Bram now—a way to get to the man who had stolen from him, tried to kill him and his family.

How much time was she going to have to spend with him? Look how just the past twenty-four hours had gone. Now she was stuck indefinitely with a man she had refused to marry. A man who plainly resented her.

It didn’t bode well.

Chapter Four

Bram wanted some distance from Deborah. He needed it. Just a few minutes.

He escaped from the cabin and strode to the barn to saddle their horses. The morning air was still, choked with the smell of dirt. His boots left deep impressions in the drifts stirred up by the wind.

He struggled to dismiss not just the horror he had seen in Deborah’s eyes minutes ago after the nightmare, but also the feel of her satiny skin beneath his hand, the sight of yet another bruise on that ivory flesh.

The sheer terror in her face had rattled him, enough that he had been ambushed by a gut-twisting urge to hold her. Kiss her.

But he hadn’t. And he wouldn’t.

After the incessant shriek of the wind, the lack of sound was stark, disorienting. Like looking into Deborah’s eyes and realizing she didn’t recognize him. That had sliced right through Bram.

Did she really not remember? Part of him still resisted the notion.

Once they were under way, he wouldn’t have to look at her. Or even talk to her if he didn’t choose. Itching to get on the trail, he opened the barn door, breathing more easily now that he was away from her.

He was relieved to see Scout looked none the worse for wear aside from the blanket of dust coating his yellow-tan body and black-tipped ears. After saddling the dun gelding and steering him outside, Bram made his way to the back of the barn.

Cosgrove’s black mare was covered in dirt. If it hadn’t been for the whites of her panicked eyes, she would’ve blended into the shadows.

The sight of him had her shifting jerkily as if she might bolt. Bram spoke softly to the skittish animal, easing closer. She tossed her head and stepped back, her rump hitting the barn wall. He laid a comforting hand on her neck and stroked until she settled, then he coaxed her into the wedge of light at the front of the barn.

She was limping. With a frown, he stooped to examine her legs and discovered her right front fetlock was swollen. Likely sprained. She had been fine when he’d left his own mount in here last night.

The mare must have become distressed during the dust storm and tried to rush the door or kick down the wall. At least the injury wasn’t more serious. Still, Deborah wouldn’t be riding this horse today. Nobody would.

Bram cursed under his breath. Scowling, he tugged off the bandanna he had dampened and used to wipe the most recent layer of grit from his face, then knelt and wrapped the horse’s lower joint. He saddled and bridled her, then led both mounts to the porch where Deborah stood with his and Cosgrove’s saddlebags.

In her bloodstained dress, she looked small, fragile. The cut at her temple stood out in stark relief against her fair skin.

Her uncertain gaze sought his. That infernal protectiveness rose inside him again. Jaw tight, Bram gestured at the black mare.

“Cosgrove’s mare is injured, so you can’t ride her.”

Alarm flitted across her delicate features. “Did I ride her when I shouldn’t have? I was so focused on getting away that I didn’t notice she might be hurt.”

“If she’d been hurt while carrying you, you would’ve known. I think she got spooked in the barn during the storm.”

Deborah stepped to the side as Bram bent to pick up Cosgrove’s saddlebags and drape them over Scout’s withers in front of the saddle horn. He settled his own bags on Cosgrove’s mare behind her saddle.

Deborah frowned. “If she’s hurt, you shouldn’t be riding her either, should you?”

“I won’t be. I’ll be riding Scout.”

“Then how—”

“You’ll have to ride with me.”

“With you?” she squeaked, her spine going rigid.

“Behind me.” He sure as hell wasn’t having her sit in his lap all the way back to her house.

She licked her lips. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

No, he did not. “I can walk.”

“No. I don’t want that.” She shot a look at the outlaw’s saddlebags on Bram’s mount. “I guess you don’t want to let that money out of your sight?”

“That’s part of it. If we run into a threat, the lame horse won’t have the burden.”

Concern flashed across her face. “Run into a threat? Do you expect trouble?”

“Thanks to the dust storm erasing any tracks, I have no way of knowing Cosgrove’s whereabouts.”

She paled, her eyes vivid blue in her ashen face. “He could be over the next rise.”

“Yes.” Bram didn’t particularly like scaring her, but she needed to be prepared. “If something happens to me, you ride like hell for help.”

She looked stricken.

“Deborah?”

At his sharp tone, she nodded. “Yes, all right.”

“Keep the sun in front of you and ride until you come to the Circle R.”

“All right.”

After checking the cinch on Cosgrove’s black mare, Bram mounted Scout and held his hand out to Deborah. “Ready?”

She hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, impatient to get going.

“I assume I’ll have to ride astride.”

“Yes.”

She bit her lip, looking uncertain. “My skirts …”

He gave a heavy sigh. “Did you ride astride on your way here?”

“Yes, but I was alone. And I tried to make sure no one saw me.”

Bram bit off the reminder that last night he’d seen a damn sight more than her stockings or petticoats. The memory of her full breasts and slender thighs revealed by the lamplight shining through the thin cloth of her chemise was seared on his brain.

“You’ll be behind me, so I won’t see anything. Besides, you wouldn’t last two minutes if you tried to ride sitting to the side.”

After a moment she stepped to the edge of the porch. He gripped her forearm and swung her up behind him. She didn’t weigh anything.

She shifted, tugging her skirts down on one side then the other. Every time she moved, her soft full breasts brushed his back. He couldn’t stand much of that.

Jaw tight, he pressed the mare’s reins into Deborah’s hand. “You lead Cosgrove’s horse.”

“All right.”

From the corner of his eye he caught a flash of a white stocking and the hem of her pale blue floral dress. He glanced over his shoulder, her silky hair tickling his neck.

“Ready?” he asked gruffly.

When she said yes, he urged his horse into motion. Deborah fell full against him, her oomph of breath burning through his shirt.

“Oh!” She jerked away, startling Scout, who gave a backward hop to keep his balance. Deborah bounced against Bram.

“Be still,” he ordered.

“Sorry.” She sat stiffly, quietly at his back, holding herself away from him.

Fine with him. All he had to do was get her home and deliver her to her family. He wouldn’t let her get to him.

Scout started down a steep hill and Deborah pitched to one side, yelping.

Bram grabbed for her, his hand clamping down on whatever limb he could reach because of her odd angle behind him. He steadied her at his back, registering a froth of skirts over his arm and a thin layer of fabric under his fingers. Fabric like … undergarments. Drawers.

He froze. So did she.

He realized then that his hand was up her skirts, high on her thigh. Beneath his touch, he felt a whisper of muscle. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly, but it was enough to have Deborah making a sound deep in her throat.

A kind of sighing moan that made Bram’s body go hard.

He jerked his hand back, batting away the yards of fabric.

“Hang on to … something,” he growled, irritated at the low throb in his blood.

She steadied herself behind him, her hands curling over the cantle.

“Where are we?”

“On Circle R land.” He looked out over the rippling prairie, a mix of green and gold with patches of orange and red and yellow wildflowers sprinkled throughout. The tall grass made a swishing noise as their horses moved.

“All of this is yours?” Her breath tickled his nape and he caught a faint whiff of her scent.

He nodded.

“Have I ever been here before?” Her voice was small.

“No.”

“At least that’s one thing I’m not supposed to remember,” she muttered.

Bram didn’t speak. He focused on the rolling landscape in front of him, the clear sunny day, the lumbering gait of the horse following them. Anything except the feel of Deborah so close to him. So close that he could feel the occasional puff of her breath against his nape.

He clenched his jaw.

Behind him, she slid and slipped around a few times. Not once did she reach for him to steady herself. That shouldn’t have irritated him, but it did.

What did she think? That one touch from her would strip his control, have him shucking her out of her clothes?

Heat surged through him at that tempting thought and he bit his cheek. Hell.

Scout picked his way down the steep bank of a deep gully and Cosgrove’s mare gingerly followed behind. The gelding started up the opposite earth wall, lunging forward to gain ground.

Deborah shrieked, canting off to the side.

This time Bram managed to grab her arm. After pulling her up for the second time, he took her hand and curled it around his waist. “Leave it there.”

Neither spoke as they continued on.

Bram tried to ignore the feel of her soft curves against him. It didn’t help that from the corner of his eye he could see her skirts creep higher on her leg, exposing her drawers to the knee. All that did was stoke the memory of his hand under her skirts.

It was hot. He was hot. Because of her.

Feeling as if he were being choked, Bram ran a finger around the loose neck of his shirt. He wanted her until he ached with it. And each minute he spent with her felt as though his skin were being peeled off.

After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a third of that, they passed the Ross family cemetery, then reached the mouth of the creek that ran across Circle R land and onto Riley Holt’s pasture.

The now-dirt-filled creek that held painful memories for Bram.

He stiffened. With her arm around him, she had to feel it.

“Have I been here before?”

It wasn’t the warm wash of her breath against his neck that made Bram glance back. It was the wistfulness in her voice.

She was staring hard at the water that had been stirred a sandy-red by the dust storm. Sunlight glittered on the surface, dappled the ground through the leafy branches of an old pecan tree.

“Yes, you’ve been here. Do you remember?”

“No.” Frustration thickened her voice as her gaze met his. “Your reaction made me wonder.”

He didn’t tell her this was where she had informed him that she was leaving. And ripped out his heart.

Yes, she’d sworn she would return to him, but his ma had said the same and she had never come home. When he had finally tracked down Frannie Ross, she hadn’t even recognized him. Just as Deborah didn’t now.

That realization made Bram’s anger flare to life again.

“Did something bad happen here?” she asked tentatively.

Tightening his grip on the reins, he thought about not answering, but what did it matter? “Guess it depends on your point of view. This is where I proposed.”

She was silent for a long moment. So long that he thought maybe she hadn’t heard him. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” The memory still had the power to make him wince.

Bram fought the urge to knee Scout into a run, get away from Deborah as quickly as possible. But the last thing he needed was for her to be plastered to him, holding on for dear life.

Especially after being cooped up with her overnight and feeling her lithe curves against him all during the ride. She was too near, her eyes too soft with a vulnerability that made him want to take care of her.

He ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached, and he urged Scout forward.

The packed trail gave way to hilly grassy pasture. Evergreen trees and brush spotted the rolling landscape. Vibrant patches of wildflowers bloomed across the field.

In the distance, he spotted two of his ranch hands rounding up stray cows. After stopping to speak to them and leave Cosgrove’s injured mare, he and Deborah continued on.

When they finally topped the rise near her home, Bram pointed to the log structure at the bottom of the slope. “There’s your house.”

Her hand tightened on his waist. “I don’t recognize it,” she said tremulously.

He looked over his shoulder at her, his hat grazing the top of her head. Her pert nose was slightly sunburned, but it was her eyes that held his attention.

The sharp disappointment in the blue depths razored through him. She appeared lost and he saw hope seep out of her, like water from a leaky pail.

When her gaze met his, tears welled in her eyes.

“Oh, hell,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I really thought I would remember my own house.”

“It’s okay.”

“I— What if they don’t want me?”

Bram stared at her. She had likely been thinking such things during the entire ride. The more distance he had put between them and the cabin, the more heaviness he had sensed from her.

A strange feeling unfurled in his chest. “Of course they’ll want you.”

“Thank you for bringing me … here. And for helping me.” She made as though to slide off.

Bram grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing?”

“You said this was my house.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to go down there alone.” He couldn’t just deposit her like a bag of laundry and leave. His voice was gruff. “I’ll explain everything.”

“You will?”

He nodded.

“Thank you,” she said softly, relief plain on her face. “Thank you.”

The small whisper of her breath teased his lips and his gaze dropped to her mouth.

He was aware of the rapid flutter of her pulse in the hollow of her throat. The black satin of her hair gathered back in a ponytail that slid over her shoulder. Hair he wanted to free and bury his hands in. Mixed in with that awareness was the infernal protectiveness he couldn’t shake.

It frustrated the hell out of him. Pulling his attention from her, he guided Scout into the yard. Bram threw one leg over the gelding’s neck and slid to the ground, then turned to help Deborah dismount.

He lifted her down, his hands closing on her taut waist. Her breasts brushed his chest and her hips pressed to his as he slowly set her on her feet. Bram bit his cheek against the urge to pull her full into him. He couldn’t let himself get tangled up in their past.

For a long moment their eyes held. A rosy flush stained her cheeks.

She looked away, appearing confused and overwhelmed. And frightened, Bram realized. She had worn the same expression when he had come upon her in the cabin.

His chest ached as he asked quietly, “You okay?”

“I think so.”

He lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face.

“Deborah!”

She started and so did Bram. Together, they turned to face the tall woman rushing toward them.

“That’s your mother, Jessamine.”

Three younger women burst out of the house, excitement and relief plain on their faces as they moved in Deborah’s direction.

“Oh, thank you for bringing her home, Bram!” Mrs. Blue said. “I didn’t know you were going after her.”

“I didn’t.” He removed his hat. “I found her at the cabin on the other side of the Circle R.”

“The cabin? Why?” Jessamine frowned, her blue gaze shifting to her oldest daughter. “Your note said you were going to Abilene.”

“There’s an explanation,” Bram said. He wondered if her family would have as much trouble with it as he had at first.

“I should hope so.” The older woman leveled a look on Deborah. “You’ve never lied to me before.”

Deborah’s fingers curled into the loose shirt fabric at Bram’s waist. He glanced at her. If she was holding on to him so tightly, she had to be afraid. He noted the paleness of her skin and the alarm on her face. She didn’t recognize her mother or sisters.

Without thinking, Bram stepped slightly in front of Deborah, shielding her. “Hold up a minute, Mrs. Blue. We have a problem.”

The older woman stilled, as did Deborah’s sisters. Jessamine’s dark hair was threaded with gray, but the younger women were all raven haired like Deborah. Jordan’s eyes were the same sky-blue, but the two younger sisters, Michal and Marah, had silver eyes like their older brother. All of them fixed anxious gazes on him.

“Something’s happened,” he said.

Jessamine looked around him to her daughter. Her eyes widened. “You’re hurt! How badly?”

“She’s bruised some.” Bram couldn’t stop a fresh rush of fury at Cosgrove.

As succinctly as possible, Bram explained how he had been on Cosgrove’s trail and tracked the thief’s horse from Monaco to the Ross cabin. There Bram had found Deborah instead of the outlaw. He ended with the information that Deborah had no memory.

“No memory?” Confusion clouded the older woman’s eyes. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Neither have I.” Bram dragged a hand down his face. “But I think it’s true.”

Deborah’s fist tightened on his shirt.

Jessamine asked quietly, “Is Cosgrove the one who hurt her?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jordan, closest in age to Deborah, looked at Bram, her gaze steady and troubled. “She doesn’t remember anything or anyone?”

He shook his head.

“She’ll remember me.” The youngest girl stepped forward. “I’m Marah and this is Felix.”

The girl reached into the pocket of the apron covering her yellow dress and pulled out a field mouse. Bram knew she had made the animal her pet more than a year ago. Cupping it in her hand, she held the rodent up to Deborah. The mouse blinked.

Deborah’s eyes filled with tears and she pressed closer to Bram. “I don’t. I apologize.”

“But …” Marah’s gray eyes flashed with uncertainty as she looked at their mother.

Michal stood quietly, her eyes wide and watchful.

Bram was hit with the need to ease Deborah’s way. “She’s been through hel—an ordeal. Give her some time, okay?”

“Of course,” Jessamine said. “Oh, my dear girl, I’m so sorry.”

She came forward slowly and held out a hand to her daughter. After a moment, Deborah released her hold on Bram, stepping up beside him.

“Come inside,” Jessamine coaxed. “We’ll get you a bath. After that you can sleep or eat, whatever you want.”

Deborah glanced up at Bram, 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.

Chapter Five

“What do you mean, you found Deborah Blue and forty thousand dollars?” Whirlwind’s sheriff, Davis Lee Holt, shoved a hand through his dark hair, his blue eyes narrowed on Bram.

Bram pointed to the saddlebags he’d brought inside the jailhouse and dumped beside the other man’s scratched oak desk. “Take a look in there.”

Sunlight glittering off his badge, Davis Lee knelt and flipped open one pouch, then the other. He let out a slow whistle. “Forty thousand dollars. This is from the Monaco robbery.”

“Yeah.”

His friend rose. “What’s this about Deborah? I didn’t know she was missing and needed to be found. When you left Whirlwind and headed to Monaco, I thought you were going after Cosgrove.”

“And that’s what I did,” Bram said. “But he isn’t who I found.”

Staring out the window toward the smithy next door, he explained how he had come upon the woman he’d hoped to marry. The woman who didn’t even know who he was!

Davis Lee eased down on the corner of his desk. “Deborah’s note said she was going to Abilene to meet with the school board about her teaching position. How did she end up with Cosgrove?”

“She says she doesn’t know.”

The lawman barked out a laugh. “Then who would?”

“She can’t remember anything or anyone.”

“Not even her family?”

Bram shook his head, lifting a hand to greet Ef Gerard, the black man who owned the smithy. Ef gave a broad smile and returned the greeting.

“Or you either?” Sobering, Davis Lee eyed Bram consideringly.

“That’s right.”

“How can that be?”

“Evidently I’m not all that memorable,” Bram muttered. Which blistered him up good.

“How does someone lose their memory?”

“I have no notion.”

“Have you talked to Annalise?”

“Not yet.” Bram planned to visit the doctor before he left town. Annalise Fine was a lifelong friend who had recently returned from back East. She and Matt Baldwin had reunited after seven years apart.

Bram bet Annalise would never forget the man she claimed to love.

He turned back to the sheriff, bracing one shoulder against the wall beside the window. “Deborah’s hurt, too. She has a cut on her temple, and her face and back are bruised.”

Davis Lee’s jaw firmed. “Did Cosgrove rough her up?”

“Could be. She was with him.”

“Doesn’t sound like it was willingly.”

Bram wanted to believe it wasn’t. He shrugged. “Who knows?”

The lawman arched a brow. “I’d think you might know, seeing as how close you two are.”

“Were.” He didn’t know anything. “How close we were.“

“I thought the pair of you—”

“No.” Bram cut him off.

His friend studied him for a moment. “Cosgrove could’ve made her write the note to her family to keep anyone from knowing she was with him. And to keep anyone from coming after them.”

Three weeks ago Bram had been so furious upon reading her words that it hadn’t even entered his mind to wonder if things weren’t the way they seemed. Had he missed a clue because he was angry that she’d left? He didn’t think so, but he wanted to see the note again.

He glanced at Davis Lee. “Deborah also could’ve written the note of her own free will, too. For the same reasons.”

“True, but I don’t think she would go anywhere with Cosgrove willingly. Do you? I mean, do you really think so?”

Yes. But Bram didn’t want to get into an argument over this with the sheriff. “I’m keeping my mind open to the possibility until I get some proof one way or another.”

“She’s sweet on you. Why would she run off with that bastard?”

She’d been so sweet on him that she’d refused to marry him.

“She’s not all that sweet on me.” Done with talking about Deborah, he said, “I assume Jericho isn’t back from New York City or Mrs. Blue would’ve told me.”

“That’s right.”

Deborah’s sisters had overwhelmed her enough. Bram had no idea how she would’ve reacted to her older brother. Though quiet, the former Ranger was big and had an intimidating presence until you got to know him.

Davis Lee stroked his chin. “Do you think we should send a wire letting him know what’s happened?”

He thought a moment. “There’s no point in it. Mrs. Blue said she wrote him that Deborah had gone to Abilene to see the board about her teaching position. Jericho never knew his sister might have been in danger. All we could tell him is that she was possibly abducted and now she’s home safe. There’s nothing he can do about it.”

“You’re right. You can just tell him when he returns from New York.”

Bram nodded.

The other man’s gaze went to the saddlebags on the floor. “You planning to turn in this money? Want me to wire the Monaco Bank and let them know it’s been recovered?”

“No.”

Davis Lee studied him. “Cosgrove will come for that money.”

“I’m counting on it.” Bram’s voice hardened.

The lawman stood. “That will put Deborah in danger.”

“That’s why I’m sticking to her like a burr to a saddle blanket.”

“And when Cosgrove shows up, you’ll trap him.”

“Right.” Hate for the man bubbled up inside him.

“I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on the man,” Davis Lee said.

“First come, first served.”

“I don’t like the idea of the bank not knowing their cash has been recovered.”

“If I return the money, Cosgrove might not show unless he has another reason to.”

“You mean, if Deborah has or knows something he doesn’t want her to,” the other man finished.

“And until or unless she remembers what happened, we won’t know if that’s the case. The only way to make sure Cosgrove comes back to Whirlwind is to keep the money. Or let him think we have.”

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