Amnesiac Bride

An injured woman in a wedding veil on Jack Colby’s ranch property? Jack has no idea who she is—and neither does she. “Kendra” doesn’t know her name, what the veil is all about or where she belongs. And since Jack’s entire life changed with the unwelcome discovery of a twin brother, he’s not in the mood for secrets or surprises. Like finding out that Kendra might be spoken for. Yet even as she helps him open his heart to his family, he finds himself praying for the opportunity to make new memories.

Enjoy a special 15th anniversary bonus story from Love Inspired Suspense, When Night Falls by Margaret Daley

“You were wearing this wedding veil when I found you,” Jack told her.

“Wearing it?” She stared at the wide, satin-covered headband to which the gossamer fabric was anchored then looked down at her jeans and athletic shoes.

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, that makes two of us. Maybe you were running from your wedding.”

“Why would I do that?” she demanded.

“Don’t know. You aren’t wearing an engagement ring.”

She checked her left hand. “I’m so confused.” Her thick brown lashes fluttered down, masking her fear.

Shaken, he got into the driver’s seat. He would keep his distance after he got her out to the ranch. She shouldn’t be around for long, anyway. Someone was bound to be missing a woman like her. Probably a man, a fiancé, maybe.

For some reason, the idea irritated Jack.

* * *

Texas Twins: Two sets of twins, torn apart by family secrets, find their way home.

Her Surprise Sister—Marta Perry

July 2012

Mirror Image Bride—Barbara McMahon

August 2012

Carbon Copy Cowboy—Arlene James

September 2012

Look-Alike Lawman—Glynna Kaye

October 2012

The Soldier’s Newfound Family—Kathryn Springer

November 2012

Reunited for the Holidays—Jillian Hart

December 2012

ARLENE JAMES

says, “Camp meetings, mission work and church attendance permeate my Oklahoma childhood memories. It was a golden time, which sustains me yet. However, only as a young widowed mother did I truly begin growing in my personal relationship with the Lord. Through adversity He has blessed me in countless ways, one of which is a second marriage so loving and romantic it still feels like courtship!”

After thirty-three years in Texas, Arlene James now resides in Bella Vista, Arkansas, with her beloved husband. Even after seventy-five novels, her need to write is greater than ever, a fact that frankly amazes her, as she’s been at it since the eighth grade. She loves to hear from readers, and can be reached via her website, www.arlenejames.com.

Carbon Copy Cowboy

Arlene James

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Love Inspired! We’re celebrating our 15th anniversary this month, and you’re invited to the party!

Love Inspired Books began in September 1997, offering readers inspirational contemporary romances. Fifteen years later, Love Inspired has never wavered from our promise to our readers; we are proud to publish short contemporary romances that feature Christian men and women facing the challenges of life and love in today’s world.

In honor of our anniversary, we are showcasing some of our top authors in September. Irene Hannon, Arlene James and Lois Richer were part of the original lineup in 1997, and we’re supremely blessed that they are still writing for us in 2012. Jillian Hart and Margaret Daley have been part of the Love Inspired family since the early 2000s. And newcomer Mia Ross rounds out the month. We hope you enjoy these sweet stories full of home, family and love.

As a special thank-you to our readers, each book this month contains a bonus story. Give them a try, and we know you’ll find our authors the very best in Christian romance!

Thank you for reading Love Inspired.

Blessings,

Melissa Endlich

Senior Editor

I am so blessed in my friends, especially

those upon whose prayers I can always depend.

Thank you, Joyce Powell, for the many years

of friendship and support—

and especially for the enumerable prayers.

God bless you, sweet sister.

DAR

* * *

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for,

but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us

through wordless groans.

—Romans 8:26

Special thanks and acknowledgment to Arlene James

for her participation in the Texas Twins miniseries.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

“That can’t be good,” Jack Colby said to his grullo stallion, Tiger. Tugging his hat low over his brow, he brought the horse to a halt and leaned an elbow on the saddle horn. He judged the speed of the sleek, ruby-red coupe as he visually tracked it across the Texas landscape. “Slow it,” he urged the unseen driver. “Slow it down.”

Everyone in the area knew that the sharp curve at the base of Blackberry Hill was a dangerous spot. More than one driver had missed the turn and careened off the road. Some cars flipped, and one had even flown right over the bar ditch and plowed into the massive hickory tree on the other side. Nearly all of the accidents happened at night or in poor weather, but unless this particular driver slowed down, they were going to have a crash in broad daylight on a warm Monday afternoon in early September.

“Lord, help whomever’s in that car,” Jack prayed, “before it’s too late.”

Sitting tall in the saddle now, he held his breath, hoping the car would brake. Instead, it dropped out of sight, plunging down the hillside at breakneck speed.

Jack heeled the slate dun and set off at a dead gallop over the ridge, his ears tuned for the screech of brakes. He heard only a muted, metallic thunk, enough to tell him that the car had missed the curve. He’d been following the fence line, checking the wire for breaks, when he’d first spotted the fast-moving red car. Riding fence, the hands on the Colby Ranch called the job, as had cowboys since the first wires were strung across the open grasslands. For Jack it was mostly a way to escape the insanity of his family life just now. Today it could be some accident victim’s blessing. If he found anyone alive and got to them in time.

The grullo’s powerful legs, the insides tiger-striped in shades of brownish gray, ate up the ground, flying over gullies and low bushes until Jack reined it back on its haunches. They mostly slid down the steepest part of the incline, coming to rest just before the three-strand fence. The car rested at an angle with its crumpled front fender on one side of the drainage ditch and a single rear wheel on the other. Standing in the saddle, Jack dropped the reins and vaulted over the barbed wire, hitting dirt on the opposite side with both booted feet. He then slid down the ditch and clambered over to the car. Despite its precarious position, the vehicle didn’t appear to have suffered much damage. A female with long blond hair slumped over the steering wheel and through the open window trailed what looked like a long, white wedding veil.

“Hey!” Jack called. “You okay?”

The woman lay still as death, her head all but wedged into the steering wheel. Finding that he couldn’t reach the driver’s window from the bottom or side of the ditch, Jack quickly ran around the car. He dragged a fallen tree limb over and positioned it so that he could ease out to the passenger door, which he thankfully found unlocked.

Tossing his hat to the ground, he carefully leaned inside to reach across the empty seat and push back the lady’s long hair. He intended to check her pulse, but the purity of her profile momentarily arrested his hand. In a blink, he took in the gently winged tip of her eyebrow, the delicate ridge of her nose, the prominence of her high cheekbones and the strong, clean lines of her chin and jaw. Then he saw the steady beat at the side of her slender neck and realized with great relief that she lived. A trickle of blood ran along the stitching of the leather-covered steering wheel, however, spurring Jack back into action.

Withdrawing from the car, Jack hopped down off the branch, and dug his cell phone out of his pocket. He swept his sweat-stained straw cowboy hat up off the ground and automatically plopped it down over his shaggy brown hair as he jogged toward the top of the hill. Halfway up, he picked up a decent signal and dialed the clinic in Grasslands.

“Yeah,” he said to the woman who answered the phone, “this is Jack Colby. I need the doc and an ambulance out here on Franken Road. Car missed the curve at the bottom of Blackberry Hill. Female driver’s alive but unconscious. Better send out a few extra fellows and some planking, too. Car’s straddling the ditch. No,” he said in answer to a question. “Got no idea who she is, but she’s wearing a wedding veil with her jeans.”

After assuring the receptionist that he wasn’t kidding, Jack got off the phone and made his way back down the hill. Whoever she was, he told himself, she could thank God that she was alive. He prayed that she wouldn’t wind up in a coma like his mother.

Belle Colby had fallen from a horse over two months earlier and remained unresponsive. Jack couldn’t help feeling guilty because he had argued with her about their mysterious past just before she’d jumped on her grulla mare, Mouse, and charged off. Belle had always kept the past shrouded in secrecy, limiting the family to just herself, Jack and his younger sister, Violet, but he had longed to know the truth about his forebears.

He’d wanted to know if they had a father out there somewhere. Cousins? Aunts? Uncles? What about grandparents? Belle had refused to answer those questions, saying only that she was doing what was best for her children. After her accident, Jack had vowed to forget the past. But then the past had come to visit them with a vengeance, in the form of his sister Violet’s identical twin, Maddie.

Jack still couldn’t quite believe that he had two sisters instead of only one. Most difficult of all to accept was the fact that he, too, had an identical twin, Grayson, whom he had yet to meet. Their supposed father, Brian Wallace, who had raised Grayson and Maddie, had conveniently disappeared just after Belle’s accident.

Shaking his head, Jack focused once more on the problem at hand. Clambering back down to the car, he reached in and clasped the young woman’s limp hand.

“Won’t be long now,” he promised her. “Help’s on the way.”

While he waited, Jack brushed her hair from her face again, pressed his bandanna to the cut on her head until it stopped bleeding and made a cursory search of the car. Unfortunately, he came up empty and didn’t find so much as a piece of paper, let alone a handbag. He noted, too, that she wore no rings, despite the wedding veil. Ten minutes later, a squad car showed up, followed by the area’s lone ambulance and Doc Garth’s pearly white pickup truck, which was adorned with a long, metal ladder and a couple of wide boards sticking out over the tailgate. Using the ladder to span the ditch, they laid the boards atop it, inside the rails.

After removing the bridal veil and tossing it into the backseat of the small car, the doc—dressed in boots, jeans, a plaid shirt and pale, straw hat—did a quick examination. Outside of the clinic, the stethoscope sticking out of his shirt pocket was often the only sign of his occupation, and many of the cattlemen in the area could attest that he was as good a cowboy as he was a doctor.

“Scalp laceration,” he announced. “Probably a concussion. No other obvious injuries, but she’s out cold.” He waved at the police officer and female nurse who served as EMTs for the Grasslands Medical Clinic. “Let’s get her out of here.”

While the pair worked to get the victim out of the car and onto a gurney, Jack watched from the side of the road with the fiftyish doctor and the sheriff.

“We need a warning sign up on that hill,” Doc Garth decreed, pointing.

“Kids hereabouts just keep stealing it,” George Cole, the Grasslands sheriff , reported laconically. A stout, balding fellow of midheight in his mid-forties, George was as laid-back as it was possible for a man in his position to be. He lifted off his tan felt hat and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his uniform shirt, saying, “But I’ll pull together some statistics and petition the county for a replacement any ol’ how.”

“Let me know if you need help with that,” Doc said, moving aside as the gurney rolled past him. “We’ve had way too many accidents out here, including some fatalities.” He trudged off toward the ambulance in his heavy, scuffed cowboy boots.

“I hear tell a whole family died back before my time,” George commented to no one in particular. “Well,” he went on, looking at Jack, “I reckon you better come into town and fill out a report, seeing as you’re the closest thing we got to a witness.”

“I’ll do that straightaway, George,” Jack promised, watching the EMTs cover the blonde’s pretty face with an oxygen mask. “What do you think the deal is with that veil?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” the sheriff replied, gingerly crossing the ladder to poke around inside the car. “We’ll ask her when she wakes up. Maybe she was running away from her wedding.”

“Maybe so,” Jack mused, rubbing the stubble on his chin, “but if that’s true, why isn’t she wearing an engagement ring or a wedding gown instead of jeans?”

“I got some more questions for you,” George said, backing out of the car. “Who is this gal? She’s got no ID at all unless it’s in her pockets. Hey, ya’ll,” he called out to the medical personnel, “check her pockets for a driver’s license.” He waved at the vehicle, adding, “Car’s got no tags, even. I noticed that right off.”

Jack walked around to get a look at the back of the vehicle, which was as bare as the chief had said. “Car’s a late model, though. Can’t be many around.”

George reached inside to turn the key in the ignition. “This baby’s brand spanking new,” he proclaimed. “Less than a hun’erd-fifty miles on the odometer.”

“Nothing here,” Doc called just then.

The sheriff parked his hands at his waist just above his gun belt and pushed out a sigh. “She’s a mystery, sure enough.”

Jack turned to watch as the gurney was loaded into the back of the ambulance. Lifting off his hat, he swept his hair out of his eyes. A beautiful mystery.

* * *

It felt as if someone had driven a spike into her head. She couldn’t imagine that to be the case, but she couldn’t think of anything else that could hurt like this.

A voice said, “She’s coming around.”

Despite having been spoken in soft, well-modulated tones, the words reverberated inside her skull like tolling bells. Moaning, she clamped her hands over her ears, aware that the movement awoke aches in other parts of her body.

“Is she all right?” asked a different voice, a masculine one that felt oddly familiar. Yet, when she tried to put a face and name together with the sound, she drew a blank.

“Back up,” ordered a third voice, also masculine and quietly authoritative. She sensed a presence hovering over her, then a finger lifted her right eyelid, sending a shaft of pain straight through her eyeball. She clapped a hand over the eye, only to have the procedure repeated on the left side, blessedly with less pain. “She’s conscious.”

Shuffling sounds followed. Then “Miss, I have some questions for you.” The words came out rough and gravelly.

“Leave her alone, George,” a woman snapped.

“I got a job to do,” the sheriff pointed out plaintively.

Cracking her eyelids open, she let the light bathe her retinas and sighed with the lack of pain from that quarter, at least. Emboldened, she opened up all the way and stared at the four heads bending over her. Two obviously belonged to medical personnel, the woman and a prematurely graying gentleman who was even then shrugging into a lab coat. A tag sewn to the white garment identified him as “Dr. Garth.” The third face, round and balding beneath a tan cowboy hat, bore the unmistakable stamp of a cop. The last face nearly took her breath away.

So handsome that he was almost pretty, despite the dark slash of his brows peaking out from behind unkempt chestnut hair and the shadow of a beard on his smooth jawline, he had unusual dun-colored eyes—light brown like the coat of a buckskin horse, ringed with dark lashes. Everything about him screamed Cowboy! From the style of his faded blue shirt to the battered, sweat-stained hat that he held in his wide, long-fingered hands.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She watched his dusky lips forming the words, and the sound of his voice told her that she ought to know him, but she didn’t. She didn’t know any of them. Suddenly alarmed, she jackknifed up into a sitting position.

“Where am I?” she began, but the pain exploding inside her head stopped all but the first word. Clapping both hands over her face, she felt the bandage that covered her forehead and held back her hair. Obviously, she had been injured. Gulping back the nausea that clawed at her throat, she fixed her gaze on the doctor and rasped, “H-how many s-sutures?”

“Ten,” he answered matter-of-factly.

She relaxed marginally. It couldn’t be too serious, then. Ten sutures in a human seemed relatively minor, though how she knew that, she couldn’t be sure. Still, she did know it. Even as she mulled that over, the pain began to recede to bearable levels. Her eardrums still throbbed, but she no longer felt as if someone had buried an ax in her skull.

“Now, then,” said the voice that belonged to George, “you up to answering some questions?”

She started to nod but thought better of that and croaked, “Y-yes. You’re police, aren’t you?”

“That’s right... George Cole, Grasslands sheriff.” He stuck out a big, soft hand, which she shook carefully.

“Where is Grasslands?”

“Why, it’s here, o’ course,” he said, glancing at the other occupants of what was clearly an examination room.

“What am I doing here?” she asked.

“That’s what we want to know,” he said, dropping his hands to the gun belt that circled his thick waist. Drawing up her knees to get more comfortable, she noticed a spot of blood on her pale yellow T-shirt.

“I don’t have a clue,” she told him, looking up. “Can’t someone tell me what’s going on?”

“You wrecked your car,” said the cowboy.

A car wreck. “I don’t remember being in an accident.”

“Jack here stayed with you until we could get the ambulance out there,” the doctor clarified.

The cowboy offered his hand then, saying, “Jack Colby.”

Just as she slid her hand into his, George prodded, “And your name would be...?”

She opened her mouth, but the words weren’t there. “Huh,” she said, frowning. “My name is...” A great void swamped her, a vast sea of absolutely nothing. “That’s ridiculous,” she muttered, straightening her legs again. “My name is...” She looked up, on the verge of panic, switching her gaze from one face to another until it came to rest on Jack Colby. “What is my name?” she asked, reaching out to clasp a handful of his shirt when he gave his head a short, truncated shake. “Please,” she pleaded, her voice rising.

“I didn’t find anything in the car with you,” he said apologetically, “no purse, no driver’s license, no registration papers, nothing.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” she exclaimed. As the full import of her situation hit her, she swung her legs off the hospital bed, letting them dangle above the floor. “I don’t know who I am. I don’t know who I am!”

“Nurse,” the doctor directed.

The patient quickly found herself lying flat on her back again while the doctor examined her and rapped out orders.

“I’m going to need a CT and a blood workup. Let’s start an IV and administer a sedative.”

“I don’t know who I am,” she repeated, trying desperately to find a way around that awful truth.

A hand fell on her shoulder. She turned her head to find the too-handsome cowboy, Jack, gazing down solemnly.

“It’s okay,” he told her gently. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll put out some feelers,” George said. “Even without a license plate on the car, we ought to get something off the VIN.”

“What? No license plates?” she asked. “How is that even possible?”

“That’s what we was hoping you could tell us,” the sheriff pointed out, adding, “you’re gonna need to stick around until we figure this thing out. I’ll see if there’s any stolen car reports or missing persons in the area that fit.”

“Stolen!” she gasped. “B-but I would never... That is, I can’t imagine...” Yet, how could she know what she’d do when she didn’t even know her own name?

“It’s just a formality,” Jack Colby assured her, looking pointedly at George, who waved a hand.

“SOP. Standard Operating Procedure. Now, why didn’t I think to bring along a camera? Doc, you got any way to take her photo so I can circulate it around?”

“Here, I’ll do it,” Jack said, pulling out his phone. While he snapped the photo, George grumbled about the city refusing to buy him and his deputies the latest smartphones. “What’s your email address?” Jack interrupted, saving the picture to his phone. George told him, and the cowboy sent the photo off with a swooshing sound.

“That’ll sure make things easier,” George told him. “Won’t even have to scan it up before sending it out.”

The subject of the photograph didn’t know whether to hope someone recognized her or not, considering that her likeness would be going out to law-enforcement agencies.

As if he sensed her dilemma, George smiled and patted her hand. Then he ruined the gesture by saying, “Just don’t leave the county, little lady, until I tell you it’s okay.”

Her eyes widened as a whole new problem emerged. “Where am I going to stay? Do I even have any money?”

“Didn’t find any,” Jack murmured sympathetically.

“You’ll be staying right here for the time being,” the doctor decreed. “I want you here for observation at least for tonight.”

“That’s good enough for now,” George decided. Turning to leave, he doffed his hat, saying, “I’ll be in touch.”

Her mind whirling, she closed her eyes. “Lord, help me,” she whispered fervently. “Lord, help me.”

She felt a warm, gentle touch at her throat and looked up to find Jack Colby fingering a small gold cross at the end of a delicate gold chain looped about her neck. Looking at that cross gave her a small sense of peace; yet she couldn’t recall ever having seen it before this moment.

“Well, you’re a believer,” Jack said, smiling crookedly. “That’s a help.”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “Yes, that’s a help.”

He dropped the cross. “I’ll say a prayer for you, then.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “Uh, f-for everything.”

“Aw, I didn’t do anything special,” he said, moving toward the open doorway. Pausing, he swept back his hair with one hand and plunked his hat down over it with the other. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I was you,” he said kindly.

“Your memory’s apt to return on its own at any time,” the doctor added helpfully.

“But what if it doesn’t?” she had to ask.

“George will figure it out,” Jack reassured her, “or somebody will come looking for you.”

She gulped, wishing that made her feel something less than terrified.

* * *

Well, that was that. Jack stepped out onto the graveled parking lot of the medical center. Car wrecks and amnesiac blondes made for an exciting first Monday of the month. He hoped this wasn’t a sign of how the rest of September would go, though. July and August had been dramatic enough, what with his mother’s accident, his sister Violet meeting her previously unknown twin Maddie, his own still-unknown twin Grayson off on an undercover assignment, their supposed father disappearing, a half brother he’d never met overseas with the military... Jack had more questions now than he’d had the day of his mother’s accident.

If all that weren’t enough, Violet had become engaged to Maddie’s former fiancé, and now Maddie was going to marry the Colby Ranch foreman, Ty. Jack couldn’t imagine why anybody in his right mind would get entangled in a romance under such circumstances—or any other, when it came right down to it. That way, as he well knew, lay heartache.

Automatically, his thoughts went to his former girlfriend Tammy Simmons, but then another face flashed before his mind’s eye. Taking out his phone, he tapped the photo icon. Her image instantly came up. She looked small and frightened with that bandage on her forehead and her big, deeply set hazel eyes begging him to tell her who she was. He didn’t think he’d ever forget how horrified she’d looked when she’d realized that she couldn’t recall her own name.

He knew a little of what she was feeling. He and his sisters had gone to Fort Worth in search of answers about their past. They all needed to understand why their parents had split up the family and kept it a secret from them. According to an old neighbor, Patty Earl, her late husband, Joe, was his and Grayson’s real father. It didn’t make sense for Brian to raise Grayson in that scenario, but Brian’s disappearance felt awfully convenient to Jack. A doctor, Brian had supposedly gone to South Texas on a medical mission trip and had somehow fallen off the face of the earth—just when there were questions to be answered.

If only his mother would wake from her coma and give them those answers. Jack doubted that he could accept them from anyone else, not even Brian Wallace. Now Jack had more questions than ever, and he had to wonder if he even knew who he was. Obviously, his last name wasn’t Colby, but it might not be Wallace, either. Jack found the whole situation maddening.

But maybe not as maddening as amnesia. Jack gazed down at the blonde whose photo he’d taken with his phone.

His heart went out to her. Even if she turned out to be a car thief or an escaped mental case, not knowing the truth had to be awful. And there again, he could relate.

He dropped the phone back into his pocket and walked out to the truck that he’d driven in from the ranch. After the accident, he’d ridden Tiger back to the barn at the main compound then come straight here to the Grasslands Medical Clinic.

Everyone around town referred to the clinic as a hospital, but in truth, it was nothing more than a converted house with a pair of examining rooms, a small lab, a couple of offices and four or five beds in a dormitory-type setting. Serious cases got transferred to Amarillo with long-term ones going to the skilled nursing center here in Grasslands, otherwise known as Ranchland Convalescent Home. It was more or less an old-folks’ home, a place where his vibrant, forty-three-year-old mother did not belong, but he was glad to have her closer to home now.

At least he and his sisters could function somewhat normally, and one or the other of them visited Belle almost daily. Jack stopped in there as soon as he left the clinic, anxious to tell her about his unusual day.

He could only hope that she would hear him.

Chapter Two

They had seen to it that Belle had a private room with all the monitoring equipment and nursing care that she needed, but if she even knew those things, no one could tell. Jack spoke to her as if she could hear him, telling her about the day’s adventure. She appeared to sleep peacefully through his monologue, her long auburn hair spread out on the pillow beneath her head, the gentle rise and fall of her chest the only sign that she lived. As always, Jack sat beside her bed and prayed.

Oh, Lord, please let her wake up and be well. Please. And the blonde lady, too. She obviously needs a helping hand right now.

He added pleas for clarity on the issues troubling the family before rising to kiss his mother’s smooth forehead.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” he whispered, for perhaps the thousandth time. “Please come back to us. We need you more than ever.”

Feeling low, he trudged out to his dirty, white pickup truck and slid behind the steering wheel. Then he started the engine and drove out to the ranch. As he turned the truck through the massive gate with its rock columns and metal arch displaying the Colby Ranch brand, Jack thought again of the lovely blonde back there in the hospital.

No doubt, she worried about where she would stay and how she would live until her memory returned. Without money, she really had no options. Grasslands didn’t have a homeless shelter because it didn’t have any homeless. She couldn’t stay at the clinic for long, either, but someone would surely take her in—someone with plenty of room.

Sighing as the imposing ranch house came into view, Jack mentally cataloged the house that he, his mom and two sisters occupied. There was room for her. That didn’t mean that he had to offer a bedroom to the pretty amnesiac, though, even if he had been the one to rescue her from a car wreck.

Of course, it didn’t mean that he shouldn’t, either.

He supposed they could open one of the old, unoccupied cabins on the place, but it didn’t seem wise for a woman with a head wound serious enough to cause amnesia to stay alone. Too bad the hotel in town was closed temporarily because the couple who owned and operated it had been called away on a mission of mercy to help family members who had been burned out by wildfires in the central part of the states. Jack went so far as to consider calling the pastor at the Grasslands Community Church to see if he could find a host for the woman, but in the normal course of things when temporary shelter was needed, the first phone call that the good reverend would make would be to the Colbys.

“Aw, come on, Lord,” Jack grumbled aloud. “Don’t we have enough trouble as it is?”

Unfortunately, the Lord, as was His habit, didn’t say a word. Jack heard Him, nevertheless.

Jack turned the truck through the gate in the wrought-iron fence that separated the main house from the rest of the compound, parked and climbed out, trudging into the house through the carport door. He’d barely set foot in the back hall before Lupita, the housekeeper and cook, stuck her head out of the kitchen.

“Dinner in five minutes.”

“Already?” he asked, hanging his hat on a peg fixed to the wall. He pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time. Man, this day had flown. “I’ll wash up,” he muttered, heading for his room.

For some reason, he swiped his thumb across the bottom of the screen on his phone and watched as the blonde’s photo popped up again. He stopped in the dining room, aware that his sisters—he still couldn’t get over the fact that there were two of them and how alike they looked now that Maddie had taken to jeans and boots—busily laid the table for the evening meal.

“Oh, good, you’re home,” Violet said, smiling as she placed a napkin beside a plate.

“Uh-huh.” Disturbed by his compulsion to stare at the picture on his phone, he tossed the small device down at his regular place. “Y’all ought to know that we could be having company soon.”

“Oh?” Maddie said, closing a drawer in the breakfront. “Who? Have you heard from Grayson?”

Jack made a face at the mention of his brother. “No, I haven’t heard from Grayson, and I don’t expect to. Why would I?”

“He is your twin,” Violet pointed out.

“So? I’m not talking about him. This is someone different.... A person was in a car wreck today.”

“Oh, wow!” Violet exclaimed. “Anyone we know?”

“Some woman who didn’t make the curve at the bottom of Blackberry Hill,” Jack answered carelessly. “She’s going to need a place to stay when Doc says she can leave the hospital.”

“When will that be?” Maddie asked.

He shrugged. “Soon, I expect.”

“Will she need nursing?” Violet queried apprehensively.

“No, nothing like that,” he assured them, more gruffly than he’d intended. “I’ll explain later. If it comes to it, I mean. She might stay somewhere else. Now, I better wash up.”

He walked off toward the back staircase. The very moment that he rounded the corner, he heard Violet say, “I might have known.”

Drawing to a halt at the note of concern in her voice, he retraced his steps to the doorway and saw that she’d picked up his phone and unlocked the screen. She and Maddie stood huddled together beside the dining table, as alike as two peas in a pod, staring down at the photo of the blonde woman now at the clinic.

“She’s probably tall and leggy,” Violet muttered, putting down the phone.

As a matter of fact, she is.

“What makes you say that?” Maddie asked, and Jack mentally echoed the question. Yeah, what makes you say that?

“Because,” Violet answered, “that’s the type Jack goes for.”

Jack darted up his forehead as Maddie surmised, “You’re describing the girl that broke his heart last year, aren’t you?”

Violet nodded. “Long legs, long blond hair, blue eyes.”

Hazel, Jack corrected silently, then he remembered that Violet was describing Tammy, not his car-wreck victim in the wedding veil.

“What happened there, anyway?” Maddie asked.

Jack leaned a shoulder against the door frame and prepared to listen to Violet’s thoughts on the subject, intrigued primarily because they’d never discussed the issue.

“Jack and Tammy dated all throughout high school,” Violet reported. “Then when Jack went off to college, she broke up with him.”

Not exactly. It had been a mutual decision at that point. Jack had wanted the freedom to enjoy his college experience, and Tammy hadn’t wanted to sit home waiting for him to graduate. It had seemed sensible at the time to give each other some freedom. They’d dated off and on over the next four years, then Tammy had gotten involved with someone else. They had broken up when he was transferred. Jack had assumed that she’d objected to moving away from Grasslands, but it had turned out that she’d been unwilling to trade one “nothing town” for another, as she’d put it.

“For a long time, everyone thought Tammy would marry the manager at the ranch supply store,” Violet went on, “but after he left town, she and Jack started dating again. When Jack started fixing up the old Lindley house, everyone thought for sure that they would get married.”

From the moment he’d seen that place as a teenager, Jack had thought he’d like to live there when he grew up and got married, and he’d said as much when his mother had bought the acreage after old man Lindley had died. He hadn’t realized how seriously his family had taken his plans to heart until now.

“That’s the one he’s been working on since I came here, isn’t it?” Maddie asked sadly, and Violet nodded.

Jack had taken refuge at the old house off Franken Road. Gutting the kitchen, replacing floorboards and squaring up the doorways had taken his mind off the turmoil that Maddie’s arrival in their lives had engendered, but he hadn’t meant to make her feel bad by disappearing. It was just his way. He wasn’t used to having two sisters, let alone his mom in a coma and all these questions about a family he hadn’t even known he had. Staying to himself and working hard kept his mind off those problems. He’d rebuilt the staircase after Tammy had left town, but that’s where he’d left it until his mother’s accident. Once it had become obvious that Belle would remain in a coma, Jack had torn out and replaced the bath fixtures at the old house.

“Yes, Jack’s always intended to live there,” Violet went on, “but apparently Tammy didn’t get that. Her parents, Gabe and Gwen Simmons, down at the coffee shop, say that Tammy had been telling them that she was getting out of Grasslands, either with Jack or someone else. Apparently, when Jack asked her to marry him, she told him that she’d marry him only if he took her away from Grasslands. He wasn’t about to leave here, so they broke up.” She sighed. “Not long after, she left town with a trucker who was passing through. We’ve heard that she’s in Houston now.”

It wasn’t quite that simple, Jack mused. He’d been fixing up the house as a surprise for Tammy. He’d bought a diamond ring and staged his proposal in front of the newly rebuilt rock fireplace in the front room, but when Tammy had realized that he’d meant for them to live there, she’d laughed at him.

“I’m not going to stay around here any longer than I have to,” she’d said. “Just tell your mother that you want your inheritance now, and let’s go someplace fun.”

Shocked, he’d informed her that he would never leave the ranch, at which point Tammy had declared that he could keep his ring. She’d been seeing the trucker all along, it seemed, and the guy had promised to take her somewhere exciting, someplace where “cowboys and cows were not the be all and end all.” She’d left him that day saying that she’d wasted enough time on him.

“No wonder Jack wants no part of love,” Maddie observed.

“I don’t know,” Violet said, staring down at his phone. “Maybe he’s ready to move on, after all.”

A picture of the girl in the hospital bed suddenly shimmered through Jack’s mind. He saw her beautiful eyes open, her gaze flicking around the room and coming to rest on him. She had smiled slightly, as if she’d recognized him. He’d had to restrain himself from stepping forward to touch her. Every protective instinct he possessed had risen to the fore, and he couldn’t have stopped himself from trying to reassure her.

He recalled the moment when she’d realized that she’d lost her memory. The panic and horror in her eyes had pierced him. He’d wanted to wrap her in his arms and promise her that all would be well. He’d never felt that way toward Tammy or any other woman outside of his mom and Violet.

Chills ran down Jack’s spine. He shifted away from the door frame and stepped back. What was he thinking? What was Violet thinking? Just because he felt a little protective toward an injured woman and had taken a picture of her for the local police, that didn’t mean he was interested in her personally. No way. Even if the woman hadn’t been in dire straits, the timing couldn’t have been worse. With his mom in a coma and all this upheaval in the family, romance was simply out of the question.

“We don’t know anything about this woman,” he heard Maddie caution. Jack snorted. No one knew anything about this woman. She didn’t even know anything about herself! “We need to pray about this,” Maddie added.

Sounded like good advice to Jack, very good advice. He’d pray for the mysterious young woman in the wedding veil and blue jeans and ask the Lord to meet her needs before the Colbys had to step in. That would be one problem solved, at least. The rest would resolve in time. Or not. He truly wasn’t sure that he even cared anymore.

Did it really matter why Belle and Brian had split up the family, including two sets of twins? His mother had been determined to keep the secret, and he should have let her. He shouldn’t have insisted that she tell him why they had no contact with any extended family. If he’d let it alone then, his mom might not be lying in that hospital bed now. As far as he was concerned, the whole matter should just be dropped.

Turning, he went to clean up before Lupita could catch him eavesdropping.

* * *

Sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, she curled one leg beneath her and smiled at the fashion dolls “walking” across the coverlet in the hands of little Emily Wilmon, the only other patient in the dormitory.

“I think you look like a Julia,” the child said, as if amnesia was some sort of game.

“Julia?” She laughed, shaking her blond head. “Why do you think that’s my name?”

Emily looked at the male doll in her left hand and changed her mind. “Kenna!” she decided. “I want your name to be Kenna!”

Struck by how right that sounded, she sucked in a deep breath, murmuring, “Kendra, maybe?”

“Yeah, Kendra.” Emily beamed.

“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.

* * *

I ought to let Doc examine my head while I’m here. Jack was walking beside “Kendra” across the clinic parking lot. His mood pretty much matched the overcast day. He couldn’t help feeling somewhat responsible for her, and with the only hotel in the area temporarily closed, he had no choice but to take her home with him until George said she could leave. That didn’t mean he was happy about it, though. He would have felt better about the underling if he hadn’t had her on his mind the entire day long. For once, he couldn’t seem to focus his thoughts where he focused his energies, and that bothered him. He told himself that it was because of the unusual circumstances. Amnesia! How often did that happen? At least she wasn’t in a coma.

Turning off thoughts of his mother, whom he’d visited before walking over to the clinic, he opened the passenger door of the truck for Kendra—he really had no other way to think of her—and handed her up inside, making sure that she didn’t bump her head along the way. Tucking the small plastic bag of bottles and tubes into the floorboard, she murmured her thanks and reached for her safety belt.

“You okay with this?” he asked. When she gave him a blank look, he turned toward her. “I had a buddy who crashed his car back in college,” Jack explained. “It was weeks before he could bear to ride in the front seat of a vehicle again.”

“I don’t remember the crash, so it doesn’t bother me,” she said with a shrug.

“Right. Well, that’s one good thing about amnesia, I guess.”

She frowned, looking so sad that he wanted to bite his tongue.

He searched his mind for something helpful to say and came up with “My sisters can lend you some things to wear. But, um, not jeans, I imagine. You’re pretty tall.”

“Am I?” she asked, looking down at herself.

Man, if she was faking amnesia, she was doing a good job of it. Jack couldn’t quite believe that to be the case, however.

“You’re for sure taller than my sisters,” he told her, his gaze sweeping down the length of her legs. Long, slender legs. “I’d say five-eight, maybe five-nine.”

“I see.”

“We can stop by the ranch supply store and pick up some things, if you like.”

She shook her head, long blond hair cascading against her shoulders. “I’d rather wait until I can pay.”

“Whatever you say,” he told her doubtfully.

“Let’s wait another day or two, anyway,” she decided. “In case the police come up with something.”

He told himself not to be too pleased that she hadn’t jumped at his offer to buy her some new clothes. Still, that made her more believable.

Her slender brows drew together. “Did anyone look in the trunk of my car for a suitcase?”

“Not while I was there,” Jack answered. “You feel up to going to take a look now?”

“Oh, yes. Please,” she said eagerly.

“Car’s over behind the gas station,” he said, closing her door. He hurried around the truck and got in behind the steering wheel, thinking that maybe seeing the car would jar loose her memory of herself. Maybe the Lord was just waiting for her to see that sleek red car before He opened the door to her past.

And maybe, just maybe, God had something else in mind entirely.

Chapter Three

“Grasslands is such a small town that we don’t have a real police impound,” Jack explained.

“Grasslands,” she echoed thoughtfully.

“Does that sound familiar?” he asked, starting up the engine.

“I don’t know,” she said as he backed the truck around, “but I keep wondering why I was headed here.”

“Are you sure you were?”

She heaved a great sigh. “I just don’t know, but George said that the road I was on doesn’t go anywhere else.”

“Well, it’s true that Franken Road dead-ends right here in town, but there are other roads leaving town, you know.”

“So maybe I was just passing through,” she muttered.

“Could be.”

They discussed where she might have been going, if not Grasslands, but none of it really made any sense. If she had been headed for Lubbock or any point in between, there were much more direct routes. Same for Childress and Wichita Falls. She’d been traveling in the wrong direction for her destination to have been Amarillo, Dimmitt or Muleshoe.

When they got to the gas station, which was also a convenience store and mechanic’s shop, Jack pulled around back. As he suspected, the car had been left unlocked. He found the remote trunk latch inside and popped it.

“Nothing,” Kendra announced, sounding deeply disappointed.

Jack reached into the backseat and grabbed the veil to show her. “There’s this.”

“This was in the car?” she asked with a frown as she reluctantly took the long, sheer piece of lace-edged fabric into her hand.

“You were wearing it when I found you.”

Her jaw dropped as the gossamer material filtered out of her hand and wafted on the breeze. “Wearing it?” She stared at the wide, satin-covered headband to which the fabric was anchored, then looked down at her jeans and athletic shoes. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, that makes two of us. Maybe you were running from your wedding.”

“Why would I do that?” she demanded.

Jack shook his head. “Don’t know. You aren’t wearing an engagement ring.”

She checked her left hand, verifying the truth of his statement. “I’m so confused.”

“You don’t recognize the car, even?”

Walking slowly around the driver’s side of the bright red coupe, she shook her head, but when she came to the front, she stopped and stared at the crumpled bumper.

“Was I in the backseat?” she asked after a moment.

“No. You were driving.”

Her eyes grew wide. “No! I—I remember being in the backseat! And there were other people in the car.”

“Not this car,” Jack stated firmly. “You were alone, behind the wheel and wearing that veil when I got to you.” He pointed to the fabric now crumpled in her arms.

“Maybe they ran away before you got there,” she proposed.

“No way. I arrived right after the crash. Besides, the car was suspended over a ditch. No one could have gotten out of this car without help. Doc had to make a bridge from a ladder and planks to get to you.”

She gulped. “But I had this flash of... I could see the backs of their heads, and the car was sliding so fast.”

“Could be you imagined it,” he surmised, “or maybe it’s a memory of another accident. Think back. Who are these people you remember?”

Frowning, she seemed to turn her gaze inward. After a moment, she shook her head. “I don’t know. It was just a flash. Two people in the front seat and me in the back.” Her face screwed up with the effort to remember. “There’s nothing else. Nothing.”

She looked so helpless that he had to quell the urge to slip a comforting arm around her. Instead, he said, “We ought to get on our way. Lupita will have supper ready soon.”

“Lupita?” she asked in a dull voice.

“Our housekeeper and cook.”

“Hmm.”

She barely seemed to notice that he turned her toward his truck and opened the truck door for her. He had to take her by the arm and all but lift her up into the seat.

“You’ve been very kind,” she said suddenly, fixing those hazel eyes on him.

He felt like he was staring straight into her frightened soul. Then her thick brown lashes fluttered down, masking her fear.

Shaken, he once again moved around the truck and got into the driver’s seat. He told himself as they drove through town that he would keep his distance after he got her out to the ranch. His sisters and Lupita could take care of her, make her feel welcome. She shouldn’t be around for long, anyway. Someone was bound to be missing a woman like her. Probably a man, a fiancé, maybe.

For some reason, the idea irritated Jack. But, then, he reasoned, everything irritated him lately.

* * *

Watching the storefronts pass by on the tree-lined main street, Kendra felt an odd sense of familiarity. Yet, she could not recall ever having seen any of the businesses before this moment, not the Grassland Coffee Shop or the Ranch House Bakery or the Corner Drug Store, not the Grasslands Bank or the library or the school. She stared at the Grasslands Community Church as Jack brought the truck to a brief halt at the four-way stop sign on the edge of the small-town green.

The sanctuary was a modest building of all white, from the tip of its tall steeple to the painted concrete steps leading to the white-paneled door tucked beneath a peaked overhang. She stared, transfixed, at the stately chapel, which sat in simple splendor among the pecan trees and graveled walkways on the green lawn. Behind it stood a more modern building, and between the two lay graveled paths winding through a garden of shrubs, rosebushes and flowerbeds. A prayer garden, she surmised, judging by the white cross that rose between a pair of crepe myrtles. Kendra felt a sudden, wrenching need to kneel there and beg God to return her memories to her, but Jack had already started the truck on its way again.

Had this, then, been her destination? But if she had been on her way to Grasslands when she’d wrecked the car, why didn’t someone here recognize her?

She looked down at the veil in her hands and shivered. Had she been running from someone or something? But who or what?

Did someone out there miss her, need her, want her? Or was she as alone in this world as she felt? Alone, except for the cowboy behind the steering wheel. Suddenly, Jack Colby had become her lifeline in a cold and tumultuous sea of confusion.

* * *

“Your ranch is farther from town than I thought,” Kendra remarked.

Jack cocked a shoulder in a truncated shrug. “It’s a big ranch.”

“I see.”

A big ranch apparently required a big gate, for they soon came upon one. Slowing the truck, Jack turned it between the square, head-high rock columns and guided it over the cattle guard beneath the metal arch with a circle at its apex. Inside the circle, three Cs intertwined.

“Is that your brand?” she asked, referring to the letters inside the circle above their heads.

“Yep. The three Cs are for my mom, me and my sister, Violet.”

“I thought I heard you say ‘sisters,’ plural.”

“Uh-huh. The other is Maddie.”

“But she’s not part of the ranch?”

Jack shifted in his seat. “Well, she lives here,” he said vaguely.

Kendra wanted to ask why the brand didn’t have four Cs then, but she decided to keep her comments to herself as the truck accelerated along the straight, graveled drive, barbed wire flanking it on both sides.

A number of structures came into view. First, a corral built of metal pipe on the left. Straight ahead stood a magnificent two-story house constructed of native stone and brown brick. All graceful arches and mullioned windows with a porch across the front, it sat surrounded by mature trees and a wrought-iron fence. Behind it stood a number of cottages, some in better shape than others, several sheds and a large metal barn sprouting corrals and pens on both sides. Sand-colored with a green roof, the barn drew Kendra’s eye. She felt an odd yearning and wondered what animals resided within.

“I see that you keep horses in the barn,” she ventured eagerly.

Jack nodded. “Personal stock, mostly.”

“Cows, too, I imagine.”

He gave her an odd look. “Two at the moment, an ailing calf and a late springer.”

A late springer. “A heifer giving birth later than normal,” she muttered, wondering how she knew that.

“You’ve been on a ranch before?” Jack asked, turning the truck through a second gate, a smaller version of the first one.

“It would seem so,” she told him. “I don’t remember it, though. Do you have any other animals around?”

“Sure,” Jack said. Ignoring the sweeping gravel drive in front of the house, Jack guided the truck around to the side of the building. “Pigs, chickens, goats. We try to be as self-sufficient as possible.”

She nodded, thinking about that. “Are you using the goats for cheese and milk or butchering?”

“Cheese and milk.” He brought the truck to a halt beneath a large covered parking area that sheltered a trio of other vehicles. “You’ve been around animals.” A statement, not a question.

“It would seem so,” she agreed.

“Well, you’re in the right place, then,” he told her, nodding at a dog that trotted into view. “That’s Nipper.”

“Brindle Australian shepherd,” she said, amazed that she knew these things.

A young woman with long auburn hair caught in a ponytail at the nape of her neck followed the dog into the carport, slapping a pair of leather gloves against one jeaned thigh.

“That’s my sister, Violet,” Jack said, opening his door.

Feeling suddenly shy, Kendra slowly slid from the truck to the concrete floor of the carport.

“Hey, y’all,” Violet greeted them as Nipper trotted over to give Jack a doggy grin. He bent to ruffle the dog’s fur.

“Sis, this is our new guest.”

“Call me Kendra,” she said, putting out her hand.

Violet gripped her hand with her own smaller one. “Hello, Kendra. Nice to meet you. Welcome to the Colby Ranch.”

“Thank you. I’m very grateful for the invitation.”

“I understand that you were in an accident.”

Kendra glanced at Jack. “Yes.”

“She doesn’t remember anything about it,” Jack said, avoiding Kendra’s gaze.

Violet lifted her slender brows. “That might be for the best. I hear a lot of folks don’t remember accidents. Things just happen too fast to register sometimes, I guess.”

“Actually,” Kendra said hesitantly, looking to Jack again, “I don’t remember anything at all.” Realizing that he hadn’t told his sister about the amnesia, she quickly added, “About myself, I mean. I—I don’t even remember my own name. I don’t know where I’m from, why I was on that road.... Nothing.”

Violet stood with her mouth open for several heartbeats, then she suddenly lurched forward and wrapped her arms around Kendra. “You poor thing!”

Kendra blew out a breath, relieved beyond words. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done if your family hadn’t invited me to stay here.”

Violet abruptly backed up, turning her chocolate-brown eyes on her brother. “Yeah. Huh.” She smiled at Kendra. “No problem. Come on in. Dinner will be ready soon.”

Jack lifted a hand to indicate the door, still not meeting Kendra’s gaze. She followed Violet through a hallway tiled with large white squares and on through an open doorway into a kitchen the size of a small airplane hangar. Outfitted with rich, dark woods, pale granite and stainless steel, it boasted a work island easily twelve feet long. Various pots bubbled and simmered on a six-burner, professional-quality stove, watched over by a small, brown-skinned woman, presumably the aforementioned Lupita, with long, dark, silver-streaked hair.

One end of the room opened to an octagonal breakfast area with a large, square table at its center. A carbon copy of Violet with shorter hair stood over a young girl seated at the table, schoolbooks spread out before her.

“Maddie and Darcy, this is Kendra,” Violet said.

“Twins,” Kendra blurted as the woman looked up at her.

The girl, who appeared to be about eight, had a brown ponytail and brown eyes. She smiled at Jack, who winked at her.

Maddie laughed. “Yes.” She nodded at Jack, saying, “He’s a twin, too, you know. He and our brother Grayson.”

Kendra looked at Jack, who frowned before muttering, “I’m gonna get washed up.”

“Dinner in fifteen minutes!” the Hispanic woman at the stove called.

Jack nodded and walked out of the room. Kendra watched him go with a sinking heart. Feeling lost and alone, she smiled awkwardly at the two young women watching her with curious, identical eyes.

“After dinner, I’ll show you to your room,” Violet said to her. She then lifted a hand toward the stove. “This is Lupita. She takes care of us all.”

“Hola,” the woman greeted her.

Kendra smiled. “Hola, Lupita. Por favor llámeme Kendra.”

“You speak Spanish!” Lupita returned with a wide grin.

Apparently, she did, but she couldn’t think where or how she’d learned. “A little,” she murmured self-consciously.

“More than a little, I’d say,” Violet commented. “Maybe you can help Lupita dish up while I set the table in the dining room and Maddie makes sure Darcy gets her homework finished before her dad comes for her.”

“I’d be glad to,” Kendra said, moving toward the stove, from which delicious smells animated. One she recognized. “Fried okra.”

“Sí, Señorita Kendra. It is one of Jack’s favorites.”

“It’s one of my favorites, too,” Kendra said, but then she knew that was not quite right. It was the favorite of someone else, someone close to her, but when she tried to think who it could be, she got nothing. Shaking away the troubling thought, she took the slotted spoon that Lupita offered her and began dipping out the crisp, golden rounds from the fat simmering in a large cast-iron skillet on the stove. “You use a combination of cornmeal and flour for the breading, I see,” she noted.

“But dip the cut okra in egg first,” Lupita confirmed with a pleased nod.

“I do the same,” Kendra murmured, wondering how she could know these small things about herself and not know the important ones.

Swallowing, she concentrated on frying the next batch of okra while Lupita forked a stack of ham steaks onto a platter and began making gravy. Checking the other pots on the stove, Kendra found green beans and boiled potatoes.

“Should the potatoes be mashed?” she asked Lupita.

“Yes. I use the electric mixer on the counter. Milk and butter in the refrigerator.”

Setting to work, Kendra drained the potatoes, added the milk and butter and whipped the lot into a thick, creamy consistency. As she turned the creamed potatoes into the serving bowl that Lupita set out for her, she heard heavy footsteps behind her, then Jack asked, “What are you doing?”

She glanced over her shoulder then back to the objects in her hand. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Miss Kendra knows her way around the kitchen,” Lupita announced proudly, but a glance showed Kendra that Jack’s frown had only deepened.

“She’s not here to work.”

Baffled, Kendra set down the pot in which she’d mixed the potatoes and pivoted around. “Why shouldn’t I help out? What else am I going to do? I certainly don’t want to sit around all day worrying about what I can’t remember.”

Jack grimaced then pointed to the bandage on her head. “Don’t forget that you’re still injured.”

She lifted a hand to lightly finger the adhesive bandage. “This is minor. It doesn’t even hurt.”

“It did enough damage to cause amnesia,” he grumbled. “That’s not what I call minor.”

Aware of Lupita’s interested gaze avidly moving back and forth between them, Kendra nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jack just looked at her, his hands sweeping from the side pockets of his jeans to his back pockets, as if they couldn’t quite decide where to light. Then his gaze fell on the platter of ham steaks waiting on the island. Without a word, he picked it up and carried it out of the room. Kendra turned back to the chore at hand, only to find Lupita leaning to one side in order to send a look around her to Maddie, her eyebrows slowly lifting.

“What?” Kendra couldn’t help asking. Lupita just folded her hands, a blank look on her face. Kendra turned to Maddie, but she, too, had put on a bland expression.

“Oh, nothing,” Maddie said. “I’ve just never seen Jack carry food to the table before.”

Lupita snorted. “He sits, he eats, he leaves.”

Kendra didn’t know what to say to that or if it even warranted comment. After all, he wouldn’t have carried that platter just to keep her from doing it. Would he?

* * *

Ty Garland, the ranch foreman, came for Darcy just as the family began gathering around the long plank table in the dining room. The girl turned out to be his daughter, and from the way he and Maddie interacted, Kendra deduced that they were romantically involved. Maddie introduced Ty to Kendra then urged him to stay for the meal. He acquiesced readily, before disappearing into the hallway to “wash up.” Maddie followed, and Kendra could hear Jack grinding his teeth as they waited for the pair to return. Darcy giggled when they reappeared, holding hands and smiling at each other. Clearing his throat, Ty folded his tall frame into the chair beside Darcy. Maddie took the seat on the girl’s other side.

Kendra automatically bowed her head. Beside her, Violet did the same. Jack sat at the end of the table. After a moment, he began to speak the blessing.

“Lord, we thank You for the bounty of this land that feeds us, and for all those, past and present, whose labor blesses us. Keep us ever mindful of Your tender mercies and generosity.” He paused briefly then added, “And heal Mom. Please let her come back to us soon. Oh, and help our guest get her memory back and everything squared away. In Jesus’s name, amen.”

Kendra quietly thanked him for including her in the prayer. She wanted to ask what was wrong with his mother, but she didn’t want to pry. Perhaps she could ask later in private. As the food passed and plates piled high, Maddie began to fill in Ty on Darcy’s day. The girl had apparently just started school. He listened quietly, occasionally nodding his head and smiling. Once, he reached over and patted Darcy’s hand. The girl paused eating long enough to beam a smile up at him. Maddie went on to say that she’d talked to her “other boss” about doing a regular column on the school.

Violet mentioned that Maddie worked part-time at the local newspaper, as well as taking care of Darcy. Talk then turned to a brand of shirts that both Violet and Maddie liked. A certain style had apparently gone on sale. Obviously pleased, Maddie said she’d take a look the following morning.

“I hope they still have that turquoise plaid,” Violet mused. “If they do, will you get one for me? I’ll pay you back.”

“Sure, which one do you prefer, the one with gold thread or silver?”

Violet waved a hand dismissively. “You get one, I’ll get the other. Then we can trade as we like.”

“My thought exactly.” Maddie’s eyes twinkled.

Kendra smiled, intrigued and a little envious of the two. She didn’t know if she had a sibling. “It must be fun being twins.”

“You know, it kind of is,” Maddie said, grinning at Violet.

Jack dropped his fork with a clunk. “I don’t know what’s fun about it,” he snapped. “I’m not sure I even want to meet my so-called brother.”

Kendra gasped. She’d give anything to know if she had family somewhere, anyone at all, really, even a great-aunt or second cousin. While little Darcy watched avidly, Violet and Maddie exchanged troubled looks. Ty stilled as if waiting for Jack to say more, but he did not look up from his plate. After a moment, Jack picked up his fork again and started to eat. The rest of the meal passed in silence.

Kendra found that her appetite had fled with his words. She wondered what she’d walked into here—an ill mother, twins who had never met... She found it all very confusing.

Jack excused himself and left the table without so much as a glance in Kendra’s direction. She worried that he might be angry with her. Perhaps they all were. She looked to Violet, on the verge of an apology, but the other woman beat her to it.

“I’m sorry, Kendra. Don’t mind Jack. He’s got a lot on his mind right now.”

“We all do,” Maddie added.

“You see,” Violet went on, “Jack and I didn’t even know until a couple months ago that Maddie, Grayson and our other brother Carter existed.”

Kendra switched her shocked gaze back and forth between Violet and Maddie. “How...?” She bit off the question, fearing that to voice it would be rude.

“We don’t know,” Maddie said flatly.

“And until our mother wakes up...” Violet began.

“Or we find our father,” Maddie supplied.

“We won’t know why they split the family and raised us apart,” Violet finished.

Kendra shook her head, overwhelmed. “That’s...that’s...” She swallowed the word awful, a question occurring. “You said, until your mother wakes up?”

Violet’s whole countenance fell. “Mom’s in a coma,” she whispered. “She fell off her horse.”

“Oh, wow,” Kendra said, impulsively clasping Violet’s hand with hers. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know....”

“No reason why you should,” Violet told her, squeezing her hand.

Kendra took her hand back, exclaiming, “I shouldn’t be here! You have enough troubles without me bringing mine into the mix.”

Both Maddie and Violet rushed to reassure her.

“No, no,” Violet said. “It’s no bother.”

“It might even be a good thing,” Maddie said at the same time. Ty cleared his throat, and she instantly subsided. Kendra could only wonder what that might be about, but she had no time to ponder the matter as Violet suddenly rose.

“You must be tired,” she said, “after everything you’ve been through. Let me show you to your room.”

“I’d like to help clean up first,” Kendra insisted, aware that she really had no choice but to stay the night here at least.

Violet waved that away. “Lupita will have cleaned up everything but what you see here.”

“Ty and I will clear the table and load these things into the dishwasher,” Maddie volunteered. Ty lifted an eyebrow but said not a word. He was certainly a quiet type, good-looking, too, almost as good-looking as Jack.

Kendra got up. Suddenly exhausted, she felt herself sway. Violet instantly reached out.

“You poor thing! You haven’t recovered at all.”

“I’m fine,” Kendra said with a wan smile, “just a little tired is all.” Straightening, she lifted her chin and took a deep breath.

“You come on with me now,” Violet instructed, taking Kendra by the arm.

“Do you have any things to be brought in?” Maddie asked, looking to Ty.

“I left a bag of toiletries in Jack’s truck,” Kendra said, just then remembering. “Other than that, I only have what I’m wearing.”

“I’ll run out and get the bag,” Maddie told her, hurrying away from the table. “Then I have some things you can borrow.”

“We’ll get you all fixed up,” Violet promised.

Embarrassed, Kendra could do nothing but smile and follow her hostess from the room.

Chapter Four

Violet led Kendra into the living room, a large space beautifully decorated with overstuffed leather pieces and Native American fabrics. They crossed the floor to a sort of open hallway, from which a pair of identical stairways ascended to the second floor from opposite sides of the house. Kendra gazed through a wall of windows to an enclosed courtyard until the stairs turned. They came out on a narrow landing above.

“You’ll be just at the head of the stairs,” Violet explained, “and I’m at the other end of this landing.” She opened a door for Kendra, saying, “Make yourself at home. I’ll just run and grab some things for you and be right back.”

Kendra wandered into a spacious room with sage-green walls and cream-colored woodwork and carpet. A queen-size bed with a tall, wrought-iron headboard stood against the center of the far wall, its silky, quilted bedspread echoing the sage-and-cream palette with strips of coral pink highlighting the geometric pattern. Marble-topped wrought-iron tables flanked the bed, each holding an identical pottery lamp. A pair of deep window seats, framed by coral-pink drapes and strewn with fluffy pillows, centered each of the side walls, one looking out over the compound, the other over the courtyard below. A small desk and an overstuffed chair in a complementary flower print comprised the only other furnishings, giving the room a clean, airy feel.

Violet returned, her arms full of clothing, the plastic bag of toiletries and the bridal veil, which she dumped on the bed. “Shorts and tops,” she announced, “and a few other essentials. The closet is through the bathroom.” She pointed to a door beside the one through which she had just entered. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you. You’ve all been very kind.”

“It’s no problem,” Violet told her in her soft drawl. “Do you mind if I ask how you came to meet my brother?”

“I’m told that he came on the accident right after it happened and called for help.”

“I see. Funny, he never mentioned that part.”

“The first time I remember seeing him was when I woke up at the clinic yesterday.” Kendra looked inward, remembering that moment. He had seemed so familiar, and yet she hadn’t known him—or anyone. “At first, I thought he must be someone connected to me personally. But then I realized that wasn’t the case.”

“It must be so awful to lose your memory,” Violet said, shaking her head. “You don’t remember your family, even?”

“No.”

“A boyfriend?”

“No one,” Kendra said solemnly.

Violet dithered for a moment before saying, “There is that bridal veil.”

Kendra closed her eyes. “I don’t remember anything about that. Jack says I was wearing it when he found me, but...” She waved a hand at her casual clothing. “That doesn’t make any sense. Nothing makes any sense.”

“Well, don’t you fret about it now,” Violet advised, patting her shoulder. “We’ll pray on it, and it’ll all come back to you.”

Kendra nodded, doing her best to smile, but she couldn’t be quite so certain as Violet sounded. What if she never figured out who she was or where she belonged? What if she’d run away from an ugly past?

She shook her head, thanked Violet again and watched the other woman leave the room.

“Now you rest,” Violet said, gently closing the door behind her.

Kendra stood for a long moment, feeling so very alone.

Oh, Lord, why is this happening to me? What if my memory never returns? What will happen to me? As kind as they had been, she couldn’t expect Jack’s family to offer her shelter forever. Please return my memories to me, and please don’t let there be anything in my past to shame You or me.

She ended her prayer a few minutes later, and once again loneliness swamped her. Desperate to shake it off, she grabbed the plastic bag of toiletries and carried them into the bathroom. Creamy white with splashes of sage and coral, it offered ample storage, a small shower and a lovely tub. The closet had built-in drawers, where she stowed her borrowed clothing and the puzzling veil. Picking out a pair of soft knit shorts and a sleeveless top that could be worn as pajamas, she decided to run a tub of water and take a long, hot soak.

Finding bath salts in a pretty container on the side of the tub, she poured some into the steaming water before taking fluffy towels from a stack in the small linen cabinet. Making a note to get some rubber bands and clips for her hair, she twisted it up inside one of the towels and slid into the steaming water. A pleasant lethargy invaded her tired muscles, and she became aware of soreness in places she hadn’t realized had been strained, but she couldn’t quite seem to relax. She simply had too many questions circulating around and around in her mind.

The sun had set when she returned to the bedroom in her borrowed pjs. She sat in the window seat, staring down at the softly lit courtyard, trying not to cry. This was a beautiful place, and these were kind people, but this was not her place and these were not her people. Where did she belong? she wondered. With whom did she belong? And what if she never remembered?

Laying her head back against the wall, she whispered, “What is to become of me?”

She thought suddenly of Jack, of seeing his handsome face when she awoke at the clinic. The urge to talk to him came over her, but she shook her head, determined not to impose. She couldn’t cling to a man just because he’d been kind to her, no matter how handsome he was. Besides, Jack seemed to have enough troubles of his own. He didn’t need—or likely want—hers added to the heap. Curling into the window seat, she sighed and prepared to endure a long, lonely evening. She could only pray that it would not be a harbinger of evenings to come for the rest of her life.

* * *

The peace of early morning slowly invaded Jack’s troubled soul as he sipped from his coffee mug. The weather held a hint of fall at dawn, though he knew that the sun would blaze later in the day. Sitting in a comfortably cushioned chair beneath a spreading oak tree at the very edge of the courtyard, he let the coffee do its work and mentally went over his plans for the day.

He still hadn’t finished riding fence on the Franken Road section, and the boys had quarantined some cows that seemed to have a worm infestation. Some question existed as to the specific pest, and he needed to try to figure that out today, so he’d probably be taking a sample to the vet over in Wichita Falls. First, though, he had to feed all the animals in the barn.

Normally, Violet handled the farm, pecan grove and vegetable stand in town, Jack tended the ranch and cattle and their mother usually took care of the finances and the livestock at the compound. With Belle out of commission, however, Jack had taken over many of her duties. He wondered how much longer that would be the case. Unfortunately, when he’d called the nursing home before heading down to breakfast this morning, the charge nurse had told him that nothing had changed.

He closed his eyes, remembering with a pang the day that his mother had fallen. The argument had started at breakfast with Jack demanding to know why she objected so vociferously to answering his questions about the past. Growing up, he’d realized that other kids had fathers and grandparents, aunts, cousins...whole family trees. All he and Violet had ever had was their mother’s terse assertion that “knowing wouldn’t make any difference.”

She had ridden out to where he was working with a thermos of iced tea in an attempt to make peace, but he’d been stewing all morning that fateful day. “How,” Jack had demanded, following her back to her horse, “could knowing my father’s full name not make any difference?”

“Jack, drop this,” Belle had pleaded. “Trust me when I tell you that you’re better off not knowing.”

“How can I be better off not knowing my father or my grandparents?”

“Your grandparents are dead, Jack. You can’t blame me for not knowing them!”

“But there has to be other family,” Jack had insisted.

Belle had blown up at him then, throwing up her arms and bawling at him. “All I’ve ever done is protect and provide for you and your sister! Don’t you think that if I could give you more than I have, I would?”

“I don’t know, Mother,” Jack had responded coldly. “Would you?”

He had seen that he’d hurt her, but he’d closed his heart to her pain, determined to get some concrete answers for once.

“How dare you?” she’d breathed, gathering her reins into her hand. Sensing her distress, her grulla mare, Mouse, had shied, but Belle, an experienced horsewoman, had ignored the animal’s nervousness. “I gave up everything for you and your sister!” she’d declared. “And all you can do is complain that it isn’t enough!”

“So tell me, Mom,” Jack had harangued, “what exactly did you give up? And why?” She hadn’t answered him as she’d calmed the horse with a quiet touch. “Has it occurred to you that whatever you gave up, Violet and I were forced to give up, too?” he’d shot at her.

“Yes!” Belle had cried, throwing herself up into the saddle. “Of course I’ve thought of that, but I had no choice except to let it happen that way.”

“But why?” he’d demanded.

“I can’t tell you that,” she’d insisted.

He’d watched helplessly as she’d wheeled the horse and ridden away. Grinding his teeth, he had stamped his foot like a spoiled child as Mouse had stretched out with her long, graceful legs, racing across the ground. Belle and the horse were just tiny figures in the distance when suddenly the horse had stumbled, going to its knees. Jack remembered all too well the horror he’d felt as Belle had sailed over the horse’s head. He’d yanked out his cell phone and called for help even as he’d begun to run toward her. Thankfully, Doc had been close by that day, but Jack would never forget seeing his mother lying there in a crumpled heap, her head bent forward beneath her. She’d been in a coma ever since.

God, forgive me, and heal my mother. Please, please bring her back to us. I’ll never ask her another question about the past, I promise.

Sucking in a deep breath, he opened his eyes—and saw Kendra slip out of the living-room door into the courtyard. She wore the same shoes and jeans as the day before, but this time she wore a dark blue tank top beneath one of Violet’s chambray work shirts, the tail of which she’d tied in a knot at her waist. She’d rolled the sleeves, which were probably too short for her, to her elbows. Her long, golden hair waved buoyantly from a casual center part to flow across her shoulders.

She looked beautiful, achingly so, without a bit of makeup or artifice. Glancing around at the cool, terra-cotta tiling and outdoor furniture scattered about in groupings beneath hanging plants, she jammed her hands into her pockets and wandered deeper into the courtyard. Jack kept expecting her to spot him, but he must have sat too deeply in the shadow of the oak.

Drawing to a stop, she turned her face upward and prayed, “Father, I’m so confused and frightened. I have nowhere to go, nothing to do, not a cent to my name... What is to become of me?”

Jack didn’t have answers for her, but he felt compelled to let her know of his presence, so when she said nothing more, he chose an obvious topic and spoke up.

“Sleep okay last night?”

She jerked, her gaze targeting the tree. After a moment, she began to saunter slowly toward him. “Actually, I did. I had some weird dreams, but I can’t recall much about them now, and I do feel rested.”

“That’s good,” he said, adding offhandedly, “are you usually such an early riser?” Too late, he realized the futility of asking such a question.

Wincing, she sighed. “I wish I knew.”

“Sorry. Should’ve thought before I spoke.” That seemed to be a real problem with him lately.

“It’s not your fault,” she told him.

She, of course, didn’t know about his temper, and he found that he didn’t really want her to know. He decided to change the subject.

“How’s your head?”

“My head?” Her hand lifted to the bandage on her forehead. “It’s fine. I don’t even remember it’s there most of the time.”

“That’s good.” Lifting his mug, he said, “Lupita won’t start breakfast for another hour or so, but there’s coffee in the kitchen, if you’re interested.”

“Maybe later,” she told him, gesturing at a chair near his. He waved a hand and shrugged to let her know that she could sit anywhere she liked. She sank down, rubbing her hands over her thighs and knees. “Your sisters are wonderful.”

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