THE TEXAS TATTLER

All the news that’s barely fit to print!

Police Scour Sperm Bank Records

For Mother of Mystery Fortune Heir

A Red Rock “scandal avalanche” hit Texas last month when the results of a DNA test declared millionaire family man Dr. Matthew Fortune the father of a child abandoned and left in the care of his own famous ranching clan. Insider sources confirm that he and wife Claudia have separated.

Amidst the rubble of his marriage, Matthew holds firm to his assertion of marital fidelity and offers only his donation to a California sperm bank while in medical school as possible explanation. Records of sperm bank pregnancies have so far failed to provide a possible mother for the child, Taylor Fortune.

Also on the Fortune front…Ryan Fortune’s money-hungry, estranged wife, Sophia, was spotted in a heated lovers’ quarrel in the very public lobby of the Palace Lights Hotel…but not with her hubby. Looks like Ryan just stumbled upon some fuel for that inferno they’re calling a divorce.

Speaking of fire…the red-hot combustion between fearless man-in-blue Sheriff Wyatt Grayhawk and new-beauty-in-town Gabrielle Carter is sending smoke signals swirling around Red Rock. Too bad the only thing Gabrielle can remember is her name—but everyone’s calling her Grayhawk’s Lady!

About the Author

STELLA BAGWELL

sold her first book to Silhouette in November 1985. More than fifty novels later, she still loves her job and says she isn’t completely content unless she’s writing. Recently, she and her husband of thirty years moved from the hills of Oklahoma to Seadrift, Texas, a sleepy little fishing town located on the coastal bend. Stella says the water, the tropical climate and the seabirds make it a lovely place to let her imagination soar and to put the stories in her head down on paper.

She and her husband have one son, Jason, who lives and teaches high school math in nearby Port Lavaca.

The Heiress and the Sheriff
Stella Bagwell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Meet the Fortunes of Texas

Wyatt Grayhawk: The rugged sheriff didn’t trust strangers, especially the young lady who claimed to have no memory and found a haven on the Fortune ranch. But would Wyatt’s mission to uncover Gabrielle’s past be sidetracked by the allure of the mysterious beauty?

Gabrielle Carter: She didn’t know who she was or why she had come to Texas. Although she knew she shouldn’t fall for a man who doubted her intentions, she couldn’t deny the longings of her heart.

Clint Lockhart: He had a lifelong obsession for revenge on the Fortunes and he’d do whatever it took to get a piece of their family empire.

Hannah Cassidy: When Ryan Fortune proposed to Hannah’s mother, Lily, this daughter-of-the-bride decided to plan the perfect Texas wedding. Little did Hannah know that she would soon be meeting the groom of her dreams….

To my family, and all our unforgettable trips to Texas.

There have been many, and hopefully there will be many more.

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

Chapter Sixteen

One

Gabrielle Carter gripped the steering wheel, certain the next bend in the road would bring her in view of the Double Crown Ranch. But the curve only opened up to more gentle rolling pastures shaded with huge oaks and dotted with fat, sleek cattle.

She’d never been to Texas. The massive size of the state had surprised her—along with the heat. When she’d stopped earlier in San Antonio for gas, the humidity had been oppressive. Her blouse was still glued to her back, and she didn’t have to look in a mirror to know her hair was hanging in limp strands on her shoulders.

She probably should have stayed in San Antonio long enough to rent a room and freshen up before she presented herself at the Fortune family ranch. But she’d already been traveling for nearly four days. Now that her destination was so close she was determined to drive on.

Sweat slicked her palms and her mouth was so dry she could hardly swallow, but Gabrielle knew neither condition was caused by the heat outside the closed windows of her car. She was nervous. Desperately nervous. And as the rental car traveled deeper into the countryside, her mother’s words of warning continued to roll through her mind.

I forbid you to go there, Gabrielle! Those people—that family—they’re not what you think. They’re nothing to you! You’re only going to get yourself into a lot of trouble. And when you do, don’t expect me to come after you!

Gabrielle’s sigh was drowned out by the twangs of country music on the radio. Maybe the Fortunes were nothing to her, she mused. After all, she was a total stranger who lived more than a thousand miles away. Showing up on their doorstep unannounced was probably going to look strange.

Peculiar-looking or not, though, she had to take that chance. Gabrielle tried to swallow the growing lump in her throat.

The road made another slight bend around a group of ancient oaks, and her heart suddenly raced with anticipation. In the far distance she could see a group of buildings. It had to be the Double Crown Ranch. At last! Eagerly she leaned forward and pressed harder on the accelerator. Who was she finally going to meet? What would she say—?

The questions in her head roared to an abrupt halt. A black horse suddenly galloped out of the trees. It wore a saddle, but there was no rider to guide its crazy trek.

Oh, Lord, it was headed straight at her car!

A scream ripped from her throat. She stomped the brake pedal and jerked the steering wheel. Instantly the car spun into a wild skid, and broken images whirled in her vision. The black horse, the green grass and trees, the blue sky all blurred together like an abstract painting.

Frantically she twisted the wheel, any second expecting to hear the sickening thud of metal against animal flesh. Miraculously, the car managed to miss the startled horse. But Gabrielle could see the massive tree coming straight at her, and too late she remembered she’d not buckled her seat belt. The impact came before she had time to brace herself. She felt her whole body being pitched forward, and then something hard slammed against her forehead.

Seconds, or minutes, could have passed before Gabrielle returned to consciousness. Hot dusty carpet was pressed against her face. Her legs were twisted awkwardly beneath the steering wheel. Pain hammered behind her eyes and burned like a torch at the back of her skull.

With great effort she pushed herself upright until she was half sitting, half kneeling in the seat. Lifting a hand to her forehead, she tried to focus on her surroundings, but her vision was so blurry she could hardly make out her own fingers.

She’d hit her head. But how? she wondered. Where was she? The pain in her head was so great she could hardly think.

All at once her fuzzy brain managed to register the sickening smell of gasoline. It was all around her, robbing her breath in the tightly closed car.

It took Gabrielle three attempts to get the door open. Once it finally swung wide, she practically fell into the hot, humid air. Outside, she leaned for long moments against the crumpled fender while everything swam around her like an out-of-control carnival ride.

Even outside the vehicle the smell of gasoline was heavy. She had to get away from the foul stench. She had to find someone—anyone—to help her.

Grass, thick and deep, tangled around her ankles as she stumbled away from the car. With each step, her shaky legs threatened to give way, but she forced herself to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

By the time she reached a narrow dirt road, her vision had cleared somewhat, but the pain in her head was still just as fierce. She touched the pads of her fingers against her forehead and felt something wet and gooey. Blood? Had she been in a car wreck? Oh, God, someone help me, she prayed.

“Are you all right?”

The faint sound of a female voice penetrated Gabrielle’s terror, and she turned toward the sound. A petite, dark-haired woman was running toward her. She was panting heavily, and her dark eyes were glazed with fear.

“Who—are you? What happened to me?”

The woman stepped forward and took Gabrielle by the arm. “I’m Maggie Perez Fortune. Here, let me help you get to some shade. My horse bolted away from me and ran right in front of your car. You swerved to miss him and then your car went out of control.”

“My car?” she repeated vaguely.

Maggie Fortune motioned behind them. Gabrielle glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a car burst into giant flames.

“Oh, no!” she gasped.

“Oh, God!” Maggie cried. “I’ve got to call for help!”

The woman helped Gabrielle to the closest tree, where she sank to the ground and leaned weakly against the trunk. She watched the dark-haired woman punch numbers on a cell phone. Where was this place? Gabrielle wondered. She felt so lost, so totally blank.

Though her vision had cleared somewhat, everything was still blurred at the edges. She was obviously out in the countryside somewhere. The grass was green and long—a meadow. And the air was heavy and hot. Very hot.

She glanced back at the burning car. It was totally engulfed in fire now, the flames licking high enough to scorch the overhanging branches of the tree she’d crashed into.

Where had she been going? Where had she come from?

The questions made her head ache even worse, and she dropped her face in her hands and tried to calm the fear that was threatening to consume her.

Her name was Gabrielle Carter. She knew that much. Surely the rest would come to her when the pounding in her head stopped.

She didn’t know if she dozed or fainted, but some time later, the sound of Maggie’s voice roused her.

“Help should be here very soon.” Kneeling down beside her, the woman pulled a white handkerchief from her jeans pocket and dabbed away the blood on Gabrielle’s forehead.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so. My head hurts so badly I can’t think. Where am I?”

The woman’s lovely features, which looked to be part Mexican, crumpled into a frown. “You mean, you don’t know?”

Gabrielle shook her head. “I’m sorry. I—don’t. I have no idea where I am or where I’ve come from.”

“You’re on the Double Crown Ranch, in Texas. You don’t remember driving out here?”

She didn’t remember anything! The state of Texas meant nothing to her. Her mind was black, and she was terrified.

“No! Oh, God, what am I going to do?”

The woman gently took her hand and squeezed it.

“Please don’t worry. It will all come back to you, I’m sure.”

She had barely spoken the words when the sound of a siren wailed in the distance. Gabrielle watched with hopeless despair as a fire engine pulled to a stop near the burning car. Two firemen quickly spilled out of the cab, and in a matter of seconds they were dousing the flames with a high-pressure hose hooked up to a water tank.

“Here comes the sheriff,” Maggie said, sounding relieved.

Gabrielle looked away from her charred car to see a pickup—sheriff’s emblem emblazoned on the side door—roaring up the road. The vehicle pulled to a jarring stop a few yards from where she and Maggie stood in the shade.

A man wearing blue jeans, a white shirt and a black cowboy hat stepped down from the truck and approached them with long, purposeful strides. He was tall, with long muscular legs that strained against his jeans. His white shirt covered a broad expanse of strong shoulders, and his torso narrowed down to a flat waist and lean hips. Beneath the wide brim of his hat, his features were sharp and angular with high cheekbones and very dark skin. What little Gabrielle could see of his hair was black and cropped close to his head. She thought he looked Native American or Mexican—she wasn’t sure which. But she was certain of one thing. She’d never seen a more striking man. No woman could forget a man who looked like this Texas sheriff.

Without smiling, he nodded briefly at Maggie as though he knew her, then turned his attention immediately to Gabrielle. “I’m Sheriff Wyatt Grayhawk,” he informed her. “Can you tell me what happened?”

She felt, more than saw, his hazel-green eyes shrewdly sizing her up, and for an instant a flash of resentment joined the throbbing in her head. Couldn’t he see she was hurt? Wasn’t her physical well-being more important than the details of the accident?

“No. I didn’t know what had happened until Ms. Fortune came along and told me.”

He looked at the other woman. “You saw the accident?”

“I’m afraid I was the cause of it, Wyatt. I’d been riding down by the creek and had gotten off to rest and water my horse. I didn’t see the snake until it struck at him. He jerked away from me and ran off in a mad gallop across the field, and right in front of Gabrielle’s car. When she swerved to miss it, the car went into a spin and crashed into a tree. By the time I finally made it up here, she’d gotten out of the car and was wandering down the road.”

The sheriff looked back at her, and Gabrielle felt the hair on the back of her neck rise as though a thunderstorm was mixing in the air.

“Your name is Gabrielle?”

His voice was low, rough and timbered with a Texas drawl. She resisted the urge to shiver. “Gabrielle Carter.”

“Where are you from, Gabrielle?”

She swallowed as another wave of helpless fear swamped her. “I don’t know.”

His eyes, which seemed unusually light for such dark skin, narrowed with suspicion. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Surely you know where you live?”

“I don’t know,” she repeated.

Maggie Fortune said, “Wyatt, I think Gabrielle has hurt her head.”

He stepped closer, and Gabrielle had to force herself to stand her ground and endure a closer scrutiny of his unnerving gaze.

“Yes, that’s quite a cut you’ve got there. Let me grab my first aid kit.” He sprinted back to his truck and came back with the kit. “I’m no doctor, but I do know a little something about cuts and scrapes. Here’s some gauze with some antiseptic. It’ll do for now, but I definitely think you’ll have to go to the hospital.”

Maggie was grateful for his help, more grateful for the distraction from his rapid-fire questions. How come he kept looking at her like he didn’t believe she truly couldn’t remember anything? Why would she lie?

“So, Gabrielle, do you have any identification on you?”

Identification! She glanced down at her somewhat faded jeans, then quickly jammed her hands in all the pockets, searching for any scrap of paper. There was nothing. No coins or tissues or lipstick. Nothing.

She lifted shocked eyes back to his face. “No. I suppose my purse was in the car. Oh, and now it’s burnt!”

The young woman appeared to be genuinely distraught, Wyatt thought. But anyone would be after the jolt she must have taken when her car slammed into the oak. She was not a Texan. At first glance her appearance had told him that much; her voice had proved it. There was no wedding band, no rings of any sort on her fingers. In fact, the only jewelry she was wearing were slender gold hoops in her ears.

“Maggie, were the Fortunes expecting any visitors from out of state?” he asked.

The other woman shook her head at his question. “Not that I’m aware of. But then, people are always dropping in unannounced. You know that, Wyatt.”

He looked back at Gabrielle Carter. He’d been friends with the Fortune family for years, and he’d never heard the name Carter mentioned. And if he’d ever seen Gabrielle, he would have remembered. She was not a woman any man would likely forget. He was struck by her beauty, even in this disheveled state.

Her long brown hair was naturally streaked with gold from the sun. The silky strands waved about her shoulders and framed an oval face that was dominated by huge hazel-green eyes fringed with thick dark lashes. Full pink lips quivered as she glanced from him to the smoldering car. Her skin—and he could see plenty of it with the skimpy top she was wearing—was smooth and tanned to a deep golden brown. He tried not to think about the luscious curves beneath the jeans and ribbed knit blouse.

“Well, I think right now, Miss Carter, you’d better let me drive you to the hospital. We’ll deal with your identity later.”

Gabrielle stared wildly at him, then turned a helpless look on the Fortune woman. “I’m not sure I want to go to the hospital with him! I don’t know where I am! I don’t have any money—”

Wyatt held up a hand to halt her protest, while beside her the woman said gently, “Please let him take you. In my panic, I didn’t even think to call an ambulance. And don’t worry about the hospital bill, Gabrielle. The ranch’s insurance will certainly cover it. Especially with me being the cause of the accident. I really feel just awful.”

“You don’t have any choice in the matter, Miss Carter,” Wyatt Grayhawk informed her none too gently. “As sheriff, I’m required to see you get medical attention. It’s the law.”

Her heart pounded as she searched his dark, stern face. Something told her there was very little, if any, compassion behind his roughly hewn features. This man didn’t care if she was lost or terrified. In fact, the skeptical expression on his face said he’d doubted her story from the start.

“I guess there’s little else I can do then, is there?” she said quietly.

“Nothing else,” he agreed, then reached for her arm.

Gabrielle wanted to jerk away from him. But she didn’t have the strength. And he was the sheriff, she reminded herself. It wouldn’t help her cause to have him riled at her.

“Everything will be all right, Gabrielle,” the woman assured her as the three of them walked to Wyatt’s pickup.

“Wyatt will take good care of you.”

Gabrielle didn’t want to think about being under the sheriff’s care. He was harder to deal with than the pain in her head.

“Do you need a lift back to the ranch?” Wyatt asked the woman.

“No. I’m going to walk back,” she told him. “Maybe I’ll find my horse on the way. You will let us know about Gabrielle?”

“I’ll call the ranch and let you know something as soon as I can. In the meantime, you might let your father-in-law, Ryan, know what’s happened.”

“I will.” The woman waved and headed down the road in the opposite direction from the charred car.

Gabrielle suddenly felt even more lost and alone without her rescuer. At least with the Fortune woman, she’d felt she had someone on her side. With Sheriff Grayhawk she felt anything but safe.

He opened the door of the vehicle and helped Gabrielle up on the bench seat, then skirted around the hood and slid behind the wheel.

“Buckle up,” he ordered as he started the engine.

She pulled the straps of the seat belt across her lap, but her fingers were shaking so badly that she couldn’t make the two ends catch.

Suddenly two dark-brown hands were pushing her fumbling fingers aside. “Here, let me do it, or we’ll never get where we’re going,” he said gruffly.

She bit down on her lip and turned her face toward the window, but his closeness couldn’t be ignored. She could smell the faint scent of his cologne and feel the brush of his warm hands as he latched the seat belt against her.

He was a forceful man in looks and presence. And though her past was a blank, she had a feeling she’d never encountered anyone like him before.

“Thank you,” she murmured, once he’d straightened away from her and set the pickup in motion.

He didn’t acknowledge her words. Instead, he turned the pickup around and headed back toward what was left of her burned car. The flames and smoke had finally been doused, and the firemen were rolling up their hoses.

Wyatt stopped the pickup. “I’m going to talk to the firemen. I’ll be right back,” he said without glancing her way.

Through a blur of pain Gabrielle watched the tall, dark sheriff walk over to the two firemen. After a brief moment of conversation he returned to the truck.

“Is there anything left inside the car?” she asked hopefully.

“The metal is still too hot to search through the thing. I’ll come back later and see what I can find. Unless you want to tell me what all this is about right now?”

At the question, she snapped her head around, causing even more pain to crush the middle of her forehead. She frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

His brows arched and then he rubbed a hand over his face. “So, you’re still determined to play innocent with me. I thought once we got away from Maggie you might decide to come clean.”

Gabrielle realized she was in a partial state of shock from the accident, but try as she might she couldn’t unravel the strange things this man was saying to her.

“Come clean? I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned slightly toward him, her expression desperate. “Do you know who I am? If you do, why don’t you tell me?”

Her voice was rising as though she were very near to hysteria. If she was faking this whole thing she was doing a damn good job, Wyatt thought. But hell, most women were good actresses. Lying to a man came as naturally to them as breathing.

“Calm down, lady. If you’ve got a concussion, it won’t do you any good to get all excited.”

Gabrielle’s lips parted as she stared at him in stunned fascination. “Excited! How would you feel if your head was cracking and you didn’t know who you were or where you were? Oh, I’m sure a big strong man like you would take it all in stride,” she sneered. “It would probably be just another day in the life of a Texas sheriff.”

His nostrils flared as his eyes left the highway long enough to glance at her. “That ache in your head doesn’t seem to be affecting your tongue.”

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I don’t like being accused. And you were trying to accuse me of something!”

Except for a faint lift of his brows, his features became deceptively passive. “If you don’t know who you are, how can you be certain you aren’t guilty?”

She opened her mouth to defend herself, but then a slow, sickening realization struck her. She might be a criminal. She might be anything. She just didn’t know!

“You’re right. I can’t be certain of anything,” she said wretchedly, then dropped her head in her hands.

Behind the wheel, Wyatt tried not to let the despair on her face soften him. She was a hell of a looker, but she could very well be up to no good. In his work he had to be suspicious of everyone. Personally, as a man, there was no woman he trusted. And he was doubly on his guard because of all the trouble the Fortunes had encountered lately.

“You have no idea what you were doing on the road to the Double Crown Ranch?”

Gabrielle strained to remember, but all that came to her mind was waking up with the floorboard of the car pressed against her face and the smell of gasoline choking her.

“No. The name means nothing to me.”

“Does the name Fortune register with you?”

She looked at him hopelessly. “If I’ve ever heard of it, I don’t know it now. Who are these people? Could I have been going there to do a job?”

His lips thinned to a grim line. “That’s what I’m wondering.”

The sarcasm in his voice stung her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said bluntly. “We’ll talk about it later. After you’ve seen a doctor.”

That was fine with her. She was more than a little tired of his innuendos. The pain in her head was making her nauseated, and thinking more than ten minutes into the future was terrifying. She simply wanted to close her eyes and forget the laconic sheriff beside her. She didn’t want to be reminded of the fact that she knew nothing about Gabrielle Carter.

A few moments later, his deep voice jerked her out of her jumbled thoughts. “I wouldn’t go to sleep if I were you.”

She opened her eyes, but didn’t bother to lift her head from the back of the seat. “Why?”

“If you’ve got a concussion you shouldn’t sleep.”

“I thought you said you were no doctor.”

“I’m not. I’m just a lawman.”

Her gaze lingered on his rigid profile. “Grayhawk,” she repeated. “Is that a Native American name?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Finally he said, “My father was Cherokee.”

“And your mother?”

“White. Like you.”

Even through the haze of her pain, Gabrielle picked up a sharp bitterness in his words. She wondered why, then just as quickly told herself it didn’t matter to her if he hated white people, or women, or even her. He was just one man in a big world. Once her memory returned, Sheriff Wyatt Grayhawk would be well and truly out of her life.

Two

The remainder of the trip passed in silence. At the hospital Wyatt escorted Gabrielle into the emergency unit and grabbed the attention of the first nurse he came upon.

“Can he come with me?” Gabrielle asked as the nurse helped her into a wheelchair. She didn’t know why she wanted the sheriff to remain at her side. Only minutes ago, she had wished him out of her sight. Yet he was the only familiar face around her, and even if he was unfeeling about her plight, his presence was steadying.

The nurse glanced at Wyatt. “Is he your husband?” she asked Gabrielle.

“No. But—”

“Then it would be better if he didn’t. If he’s needed, I’ll come after him.”

He cast Gabrielle a dry glance. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

Even though the tone of his words was far from gentle, his promise calmed her somewhat. She nodded jerkily at him, and then the nurse wheeled her away.

Wyatt watched her disappear down the hallway, then through a door on the left. For a brief second he almost followed and told the nurse he was going to stay with Gabrielle whether she liked it or not.

Hell, Wyatt, what are you thinking? he asked himself. The woman doesn’t need you. Yet, just for a moment, when she’d looked at him with those big pleading eyes, she’d reminded him of a little lost lamb about to go to slaughter.

With another silent curse, he turned and headed to a busy nurses’ station across the room. He showed them his badge and asked one of the nurses to page Dr. Matthew Fortune.

She quickly complied and he thanked her, then headed to the waiting area. Even though he didn’t want to go there. The frightened look on Gabrielle’s face when the nurse had taken her away was lingering in his mind, and oddly enough he was still fighting the urge to go back to the examining room and make sure she was all right.

Forget it, Grayhawk, he muttered to himself. She wasn’t a child. Although she was young, he figured she was at least twenty-one or two. And for all he knew that frightened look could have been an act. Just like the loss of memory.

With a tired sigh, he went over to the coffee machine and filled a cup. The strong burnt smell assured him it had been made hours ago, but he took a sip of it anyway. He’d been going since three o’clock this morning—he needed something to fortify him.

Ignoring the vinyl chairs and couch where several people sat flipping through worn magazines, he walked over to a plate-glass window and stared out at the parking area stretching away to the city street. It wasn’t often Wyatt personally hauled someone to the hospital. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the accident happening on Fortune land, he would have sent a deputy out to handle the investigation.

But the Fortune boys had been his closest friends since childhood. They had stood behind him when others had shunned him for being a half-breed. Without their solid support, he never would have been elected sheriff. And now that trouble had fallen on the family, he was personally checking out every movement on or near the Double Crown Ranch.

In the background, he could hear the nurse on the intercom paging Matthew to come to Emergency. He was still sipping on the bitter coffee when the doctor’s voice sounded behind him.

“Wyatt! What are you doing here? Has something happened to Claudia or Taylor? Have you heard something about Bryan?”

Wyatt turned to see the tall, dark-haired doctor hurrying into the waiting room. Wyatt desperately wished he could tell the oldest of the Fortune brothers that he’d located his missing son. But the sad truth was that he was no closer to finding the baby now than he had been six months ago.

Matthew’s baby, Bryan, had been taken from his crib during his christening party at the Double Crown nearly a year ago. A special FBI agent had been sent in to handle the case and he’d recovered a baby and the ransom money. But when he’d gotten the child home, everyone was shocked to discover the baby wasn’t Bryan. They’d kept the other baby though, since a blood test showed he had the rare Fortune blood, and had named him Taylor.

Wyatt tossed the cup in a nearby trash bin and crossed the small area of the waiting room to greet the other man. “Don’t get upset, Matthew. This isn’t about Claudia or Bryan or Taylor. Or at least I don’t think it is. Do you have a few moments?”

Matthew gestured toward the double doors leading out to the parking lot. “Of course. Let’s go outside.”

The two men walked out into the heat and took refuge under the shade of a sycamore.

“The reason I’m here, Matthew, is that I brought a young lady into Emergency a few minutes ago. She’s had a wreck on the Double Crown. Her car burned, and she has no idea who she is. Or so she claims.”

Matthew’s finely chiseled features were suddenly frozen with shock. “Oh, my Lord! Was she hurt badly?”

“I don’t think so. There was a small cut on her forehead, and she was complaining of a severe headache.”

“Didn’t she have any identification?”

Wyatt shook his head. “It must have been in the car. I’m going to search it after it cools down, but I doubt there’s a chance in hell I’ll find anything. Your sister-in-law, Maggie, saw the accident. She was still with the young woman when I got out there to investigate.”

“Maggie didn’t know her?”

“No. The woman says her name is Gabrielle Carter. I thought it mighty odd she could remember her name but nothing else.”

“Gabrielle Carter,” the young doctor repeated. “The name doesn’t ring a bell with me. Do you think she might have some connection to my son? Maybe the kidnappers sent her to the ranch for some reason?”

Losing baby Bryan had put a strain on the whole family, but Wyatt could see it was beginning to crush Matthew and Claudia’s marriage. Especially now that the DNA testing to determine paternity of Taylor had shown Matthew was the father. Matthew claimed it could only be the result of a sperm bank donation he’d made years ago, but Claudia was distraught and skeptical. Wyatt was checking out the sperm bank lead, though.

“I can’t rule that possibility out, Matthew. Or she might even have some connection to Taylor. We really won’t know until she comes clean with her memory or I can find out who she really is.”

“Then you think she’s lying?” Matthew asked.

Wyatt grimaced. “I don’t know. I just have a gut feeling something’s not quite right. But I could be wrong. You’re the doctor—is it possible the accident caused her to lose her memory?”

Matthew thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “It’s possible, though amnesia is certainly not something that happens routinely. You say she has a head injury?”

“Her forehead was cut at the hairline and she was complaining of a headache. Could you examine her, Matthew? I’d like to have your opinion before I do anything. And who knows—you might recognize the woman.”

The young doctor glanced at his watch. “I’m not due for rounds for another thirty minutes. Let’s go in, and we’ll see what we can find out.”

The two men left the shade and as they approached the entrance of the building, Wyatt placed his hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “Matthew, when you first see this woman, don’t let on that you’re a Fortune. I want to see if there’s any sign of recognition on her face.”

Matthew frowned. “You sure are a suspicious cuss.”

“I have to be.” Wyatt grimaced. “And you should be, too, after all that’s been happening to your family.”

The doctor sighed. “Yes, I know. I just hate all this mistrust. Every time a stranger comes to the ranch, I look at them and wonder if they know where my son is, or if they know something about baby Taylor. I’m even starting to look for clues with my patients here at the hospital! And Claudia—you know what all these unanswered questions are doing to her.”

Wyatt squeezed the other man’s shoulder. “Believe me, Matthew, I understand how hard all of this has been on you. But you can’t give up hope now. This woman might just be the lead we’ve been looking for.”

Back in Emergency, the two men discovered Gabrielle had been admitted to the hospital and taken up to the fifth floor. They headed up together.

Much to Wyatt’s surprise, when they walked through the door of her room, she gave absolutely no outward sign of recognizing Matthew. Rather, she planted an accusing look on Wyatt as though he were the direct cause of her being restricted to a hospital bed.

“I take it you haven’t done enough to me?” she asked Wyatt. “You’ve come up here to take my fingerprints or something?”

Wyatt went to the head of her bed and stared down at her. The cut on her forehead had been covered by a bandage, but he could see the whole spot had begun to swell and redden. Someone had undressed her and put her into a flimsy hospital gown. He tried not to notice the shape of her bare breast beneath the thin cotton. But it was next to impossible to keep his gaze from dipping to the full roundness pushing against the fabric.

“Or something,” he said, while fighting the odd urge to reach down and brush the tangled hair away from her cheek. He’d been around a lot of pretty women in his thirty-one years—Texas was full of them. But there was something different about this one. Something that, God help him, made him want to protect her.

“I told you I wouldn’t leave. What did the doctor say?” he asked.

Sighing, her gaze dropped to the sheet spread across her legs. “He said I had a concussion and that I’ll have to stay in here for observation. At least until tomorrow.”

“Have you remembered anything?”

“No. But he thinks everything will start coming back to me soon.”

She glanced to the foot of the bed where Matthew was busily scanning her chart. “Who are you?” she asked him.

He glanced at Wyatt, then to Gabrielle. “I’m—one of the staff doctors here at the hospital.”

“Are you going to be my doctor?”

He smiled gently at her. “That depends.”

She motioned to the chart in his hand. “What does that say?”

“It says you’ve had a trauma to your head. But you’re going to be all right.”

She looked up at Wyatt and flashed him a crooked smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, Sheriff, but the doc here says I’m going to live.”

She was obviously trying to be flip and indifferent, but Wyatt didn’t miss the quiver at the corner of her lips. She was as frightened as hell. But whether it was from her loss of memory or because she was up to something, he had no way of knowing.

He pulled his gaze from hers and glanced at Matthew. “Have you seen enough?”

“Yes. I’ve got to start my rounds.” He came to stand by Wyatt and looked down at Gabrielle. “Has your vision cleared any, Miss Carter?”

Her eyes squinted as she tried to focus on the doctor’s face. “At times it’s clear, and then it gets fuzzy again. Right now you look a little blurred.”

“That’s understandable.” He slipped a penlight out of his lab coat and shined it in each of her eyes. “I imagine you’ve got quite a headache.”

“They gave me something down in Emergency. It’s beginning to ease a little.”

“That’s good.

She swallowed nervously as her gaze vacillated from one man to the other. “Doctor, what if I don’t remember tomorrow? Is there something you can give me or do to me to make me remember?”

Matthew patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry about your memory, Miss Carter. Just rest and let your body try to heal itself. Right now that’s the best thing you can do.”

She nodded, and Matthew made a motion to Wyatt that they should leave the room.

“I’ll be back later, Gabrielle,” Wyatt promised. “After I’ve searched your car.”

He saw her study his face, then deliberately turn her head toward a window to her right. The light coming through the slatted blinds spread a soft glow behind her, and the sight of her tender profile hit a spot smack in the middle of Wyatt’s chest.

“It’s a cinch you’ll know where to find me,” she said quietly.

He cleared his throat while mentally shaking himself. “Just make sure you don’t try to sneak off from this place. I’ll find you wherever you go.”

Outside in the hallway, Wyatt deliberately put several feet between them and Gabrielle’s door before he questioned his friend. “Well, what do you think, Matthew?”

“I think you were rather hard on her.”

Wyatt’s eyes widened with surprise. “Hell! I already know I’m not a pleasant man. What I need to hear from you is whether Gabrielle Carter is faking her memory loss.”

“I don’t think so.”

Wyatt let out a long breath. He’d never wanted to believe anything so much in his life. But several reasons held him back. The biggest one being Gabrielle was a woman. And a white one at that. “You think. You can’t say for certain?”

“No. Like I said before, amnesia isn’t something doctors encounter routinely. And even when it’s genuine, it’s tricky to deal with.”

“Have you ever seen this woman before?”

Matthew shook his head. “Never. I’m sure of it. But Wyatt, I really think you’re barking up a wrong tree here. Miss Carter hardly seems the sinister type. I can’t imagine her being connected to Bryan’s kidnapping, or even to Taylor’s winding up on the ranch.”

“You couldn’t imagine your own child being stolen from its crib either!” Wyatt bluntly reminded him. Then, muttering a curse under his breath, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I know I’m scratching at a wound that hasn’t healed, and I don’t want to hurt you any more than you already have been. But we can’t afford to trust this woman. At least, not until I find out more about her. It might turn out she’s the mystery mother of baby Taylor.”

Matthew quickly shook his head. “Her chart reads she’s a virgin. Apparently she told the admitting doctor she had some abdominal pain. Since she couldn’t remember her medical history, she agreed to a full physical—including a gyn—just to make sure there were no internal problems. So it’s clear the woman hasn’t even had sex with a man, Wyatt. Much less given birth to a child.”

For some reason Matthew’s words spread a dull flush over Wyatt’s dark face. The idea of Gabrielle Carter being pristine and untouched had never occurred to him.

“That doesn’t make her innocent in other ways.”

The young doctor sighed as he pinned Wyatt with a regretful look. “You’ll never trust women, will you?”

“Not in this lifetime.”

Matthew threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“All right, Wyatt, so what if you find out Miss Carter was up to no good when she headed out to the ranch? What are you going to do—arrest her on suspicion?”

Gabrielle’s pale, haunted face crept into Wyatt’s mind, but he pushed it out. If he wasn’t careful, that lost, vulnerable look in her pretty eyes would lead him right down a path to ruination.

“I don’t know,” Wyatt answered. “I’ll have to see what tomorrow brings.”

Gabrielle could leave the hospital. The doctor had given her the release a few minutes ago. But what was she supposed to do? The only things she possessed were her jeans, top and a pair of clunky sandals. She had no money or car. No home to call for help. At least, if she did, she couldn’t remember who her family was, or where they were.

At the moment Gabrielle could only think of two options. Walk until she found a shelter. Or throw herself on the mercy of the Department of Human Services. Neither choice held any appeal. But she had to have some sort of shelter until her memory returned, or until she could find a job and care for herself.

There was a telephone beside the head of the bed. She supposed she could use it for local calls. But there was no directory that she could find. And besides, she had no one to call.

You could call Sheriff Wyatt Grayhawk.

She cringed at the sound of the little voice inside her head. The man had promised he’d be back, but it was nearly noon and she hadn’t seen him yet. It was pretty obvious he’d decided she wasn’t worth bothering about. Besides, she’d rather ask a stranger on the street for help than ask that man.

“Gabrielle! Great—you’re up and all ready to go!”

At the young woman’s voice, Gabrielle swung around from her spot at the window. Maggie Fortune stepped into the room.

Relief flooded through Gabrielle. “I’m so glad you came! The doctor has released me and I need a ride to some sort of shelter. Would you mind dropping me off?”

The dark-haired young woman walked over to Gabrielle. “I would mind very much. I wouldn’t think of allowing you to go to a shelter.”

Gabrielle’s brow puckered with confusion as she looked at the other woman. Maggie Fortune was casually dressed in white slacks and a red blouse, but Gabrielle could see her clothes were expensive, as was her wedding ring and the rest of her jewelry. She was obviously well-to-do. Surely she wasn’t going to suggest that Gabrielle go with her!

“I have to do something, Ms. Fortune, until I get my memory back. And so far it’s no better than it was yesterday.”

“Call me Maggie. Does your head feel any better?”

Gabrielle nodded. “It still aches, but the throbbing isn’t fierce like it was yesterday. The doctor read my brain scan this morning, and he says there is no serious injury.”

“But what about your memory? Can’t he do something about that?”

Gabrielle grimaced. “He believes it will gradually come back to me on its own after my brain gets over the shock of the accident. That’s why, for now, I’ve got to find a place to stay.”

“Of course you do. That’s why you’re coming out to the Double Crown Ranch with me.” Gabrielle opened her mouth to protest but Maggie was waving her hand before she could utter one word. “Don’t argue, Gabrielle. I’ve already talked it over with my husband and father-in-law. They and the rest of the family want you to come. We all feel guilty about putting you in this awful situation.”

Feeling suddenly weak, Gabrielle walked over to the bed and sank down on its edge. “I—don’t know what to say. From what you said, the whole thing was an accident. I certainly don’t hold you or your family accountable.”

Maggie smiled gently at her. “I told them all that you would feel this way. And I also assured them I wouldn’t come home without you.”

“But…I’m sure I’ll be able to stay a few days at a shelter. And by then I’ll probably remember everything and be able to go home. If not, I can surely find a job somewhere.”

Maggie shook her head. “You can’t work in your condition. You need time to recuperate.” She walked over to Gabrielle and gently squeezed her shoulder. “I promise—my family is nice. And the ranch house is so big you won’t possibly be in the way. Now get your things and let’s go.”

Gabrielle suddenly chuckled and held up her empty palms. “I don’t have any things. Whatever I had with me must have burned in the car.”

“Oh, my goodness! I wasn’t thinking. You poor thing, you don’t even have a toothbrush. Well, never mind, we’ll go shopping for whatever you need.”

“Oh no! I—” Gabrielle’s words halted as a knock sounded on the door.

Both women turned to see Sheriff Grayhawk entering the hospital room. Today he was dressed more like a lawman. A revolver in a hand-tooled, leather holster was strapped low on his waist. His shirt was khaki with a sheriff’s department emblem on the sleeve. On the pocket over his heart was a shiny round badge with a star in the center.

Gabrielle had thought he looked tough yesterday. Today, he was formidable.

“Hello, Wyatt,” Maggie greeted him.

Not bothering to remove his black Stetson, he nodded at the woman, then planted a direct stare on Gabrielle. “I see you’re dressed. Are you leaving the hospital?”

Her heart pounding madly, she nodded at him.

Maggie spoke up, “Gabrielle has been released by the doctor, so I’m taking her out to the ranch.”

“Is that what you want to do?” he asked Gabrielle.

She opened her mouth to speak, but once again Maggie beat her to it. “She wanted me to take her to a shelter. But I wouldn’t hear of it.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed on Gabrielle’s newfound friend. “Does the rest of your family know of your intentions to take Gabrielle out to the Double Crown?”

He made it sound as though she were a leper who should be banished to a dark cave somewhere, Gabrielle thought.

Maggie frowned at him. “We discussed it last night. Ryan and Dallas insist on it. They think it’s the least we can do to help Gabrielle. And so do I.”

“I see,” he said.

Did he? Gabrielle wondered, then choked back a sigh as he glanced at her, then back to Maggie.

“I want to talk with you alone for minute,” he told Maggie.

She excused herself, and Wyatt ushered her out of the room.

Gabrielle remained on the bed, staring at the door he’d carefully closed behind him. She had no idea what, if anything, he’d discovered in her car. But two things were becoming very clear to her: he still mistrusted her, and he did not want her going to the Double Crown Ranch.

But why? she asked herself. What was going on out there that could possibly involve her?

Neither Wyatt nor Maggie appeared too happy when they returned to the room, and Gabrielle felt even worse than she had before the Fortune woman had shown up to help her.

“Look, Maggie, I don’t want to cause any problems for you. I’m sure Sheriff Grayhawk agrees that I should stay at a shelter and—”

“Don’t worry about Wyatt,” she said to Gabrielle. “He understands the situation. In fact, he’s going to drive you out to the ranch himself while I go do some shopping. So I’ll see you in a little while.”

Maggie quickly left the room, and Gabrielle’s eyes flew to the sheriff’s face. His dark, chiseled features were stoic, giving her no clue as to what was going on behind his intense eyes.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She slipped from the bed, but was instantly swamped with dizziness. Her hand instinctively shot out for something to steady her and landed smack in the middle of Wyatt’s chest. She jerked back as if she’d touched fire.

Wyatt instantly grabbed her by the shoulder. “What’s wrong? Are you going to faint?” he asked roughly.

She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for the spinning in her head to stop. It would be bad enough to faint. But to helplessly wilt in front of this man would be totally humiliating. “No. I’m a little dizzy. Just give me a moment.”

“This is a hell of a way to be leaving the hospital,” he muttered. “You can’t even walk down the hallway. Who is the idiot doctor that signed your release papers? I’m going to go find him—”

“I’m all right!” Her eyes flew open and she straightened away from him with a weak jerk. “There’s no need for you to get so angry.”

Her words brought him up short. He wasn’t angry, but he supposed he probably appeared that way to her. Well, that was okay with him. It wouldn’t do to let her think he was actually concerned about her. She needed to know he was a hard man, who wouldn’t blink an eye about cuffing her hands behind her back—if she turned out to be a criminal.

Three

“Stay here. I’ll get a wheelchair,” he ordered.

Moments later Wyatt was back, and Gabrielle had no choice but to allow him to push her to the elevator, then out to the sidewalk to his waiting truck.

As they traveled away from the hospital, Gabrielle focused her attention on the passing buildings and streets, hoping something might spark her memory. But after several blocks whizzed by, her spirits sank to her feet. Nothing about the city looked familiar.

As though he were reading her thoughts, he asked, “Recognize anything?”

“No. But I have a feeling I don’t recognize this place because I’m not from around here.”

His expression remained unmoved as he negotiated the pickup truck through heavy traffic. “I could have told you that yesterday.”

She thrust a heavy wave of hair back from her face before fixing him with a stare. “How?”

“You hardly sound Texan. Californian, I’d wager. You have that West Coast look about you, too. Tanned skin, sun-streaked hair.”

“I’m sure there are tanned women with streaked hair around here,” she pointed out.

“Yeah. But you’re different. And I think you know it.”

She was different because she had amnesia! she wanted to yell at him. Instead, she asked, “What did you find in my car?”

The pickup was a four-wheel-drive vehicle with a shift stick in the floor. She watched the corded muscle in his arm work as he shoved the stick into a lower gear. She instinctively knew he was a strong man. She could still feel the grip of his fingers on her shoulder when he’d steadied her in the hospital room.

“It’s in that sack beside you. That was all I could find. I’d say the only reason it didn’t burn was because it was sheltered by the metal glove compartment. Also I managed to find the VIN number on your car,” he said. “It’s being run through a computer.”

“What will that tell you?”

“Where the vehicle came from. Who owned it.”

A pent-up breath whooshed out of her. “Then you might find out who I am.”

His lips twisted as he glanced at her. “You said you’re Gabrielle Carter. Is that not true?”

He saw her fingers grip the paper, saw her gaze at the clump on her lap as though it was the only thing she possessed in her life. And maybe it was, he thought. The notion bothered Wyatt. Way too much.

“I am Gabrielle Carter,” she said resolutely. “But who is she?”

He motioned toward the sack. “Maybe that will give you your answer.”

Slowly, she unrolled the top of the brown paper bag and peeked inside. “A book?”

“More than just a book.”

Gabrielle carefully lifted the article out of the sack. The leather cover was charred around the edges and streaked with smoke, but the words on the front were still visible: Holy Bible. What had she been doing traveling with a Bible? she wondered. Was she a religious zealot? She didn’t feel like one. Then again, she was obviously spiritual. Several times in the past two days she had found herself silently praying. Perhaps the book was a family heirloom that she hadn’t wanted to part with.

Trying to ignore Wyatt’s watchful eye, she quickly opened to the front pages of the book where a family tree would normally be registered. Her heart sank when she saw the entry lines were empty.

She rubbed her fingers back and forth across her forehead. “What do you think I was doing with a Bible?”

“Who knows? Maybe you came here to do missionary work.” His gaze cut a skeptical path from her neck all the way down to her feet. “But in that getup, I very much doubt it.”

Her face flaming from his blatant inspection, she looked down at herself. Even though her black ribbed top had a scooped neck and no sleeves, there was nothing indecent about it. Nor about her jeans. The sandals were a little funky and the heels a bit high, but from what she’d briefly seen on a few women in the hospital lobby, they were in style.

“You have a certain image of a missionary woman?”

The faint smile on his face was more smirk than anything. Gabrielle wished she had the strength and the nerve to reach across the seat and slap his jaw—lawman or not.

“Yeah. And it sure doesn’t fit you.”

She breathed deeply and tried to stem her rising temper.

“Why don’t you want me to go to the Double Crown Ranch?”

“Are my feelings that obvious to you?”

“Very.”

They were finally leaving the city behind. Wyatt reached to shove the gearshift into overdrive, and, once again, Gabrielle watched the rhythmic movements of his body. For the first time she noticed there were no rings on his fingers. A watch with a silver band encrusted with squares of green malachite circled his left wrist, but other than the distinctly Native American piece, he wore no jewelry. She was not surprised at the absence of a wedding band. There was nothing about the man that said he belonged to a woman. Or ever would.

“The Fortunes are my good friends,” he told her. “I don’t want them to be taken advantage of.”

His words stung her hard. Why, she didn’t know. What this arrogant sheriff thought of her shouldn’t matter one iota. But it did. “Do I look like an ax murderer or something?”

“Or something.”

She wanted to scream at his short, noncommittal answers. “What does that mean?”

“The Fortunes have had their share of troubles lately. I don’t want your presence adding to them.”

Still gripping the Bible, she squared around in the seat to look at him. “What sort of troubles?”

“I’ll let them tell you.”

She sighed and turned her gaze back to the passing landscape. They were in the countryside now. The land was gentle and rolling with thick green pastures shaded by large hardwood trees. Cattle and horses could be seen on either side of the highway. Cowboy country. Sheriff Wyatt Grayhawk certainly looked like one.

“You’re not a man of many words, are you?”

He glanced at her, and Gabrielle was instantly bowled over by the grin on his face. His teeth were a startling white against his dark skin, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with faint amusement. She couldn’t imagine how potent he would look if he were to really smile.

“Sometimes it takes more than words to get your point across,” he said.

Well, he’d certainly been getting his point across to her loud and clear. In his opinion she belonged in a police lineup rather than as a guest at the Double Crown Ranch.

Sighing, she put the Bible back in the paper sack. “So this is it? This is the sum of what I have in the world.”

“It was a miracle the Bible survived the heat. Count yourself lucky you were conscious enough to have gotten out when you did.”

She’d been so busy concentrating on her memory that she hadn’t thought much about the accident. Wyatt’s suggestion reminded her just how blessed she’d been to survive the fiery crash.

“I do. And I will remember…everything. Eventually. The doctor said I would. And when I do I’m going to take great pleasure in telling you so.”

His brows lifted skeptically. “Telling me what, Miss Carter?”

She drew in a deep breath, then heaved it out. “That I—I’m not a criminal!”

He shrugged. “I never said you were.”

The drawled words had her teeth grinding together. “You didn’t have to. I could read it all over your face.”

Beneath the brim of his hat, she could see his dark brows arch ever so slightly.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Miss Carter. You might just read me wrong.”

Her gaze was drawn downward to the chiseled lines of his lips and she wondered how many women had looked at this man and wanted him. Plenty, no doubt. His long lean body and hard-edged features oozed with sensuality. But Gabrielle knew a sexual romp was all any woman would get from this man.

“What does that mean?”

He flipped on the turn signal, then glanced at her with narrowed eyes. “It means you’d better not try to second-guess me.”

“You’re infuriating!”

His smile was menacing. “I’ve been called much worse things. And most of them by women. Your words can’t hurt me, Miss Carter.”

She suddenly felt sick and cold inside, and it had nothing to do with the ache in her head or the freezing air blowing from the vents on the dashboard. It wasn’t right for any human to be as hard as Wyatt Grayhawk. Surely beneath the badge pinned to his breast was a beating heart. There had to be something or someone in this world he cared about. But so far she could see no sign of compassion in the man.

“No. I’m sure they don’t,” she murmured as she deliberately turned her gaze away from him and fixed it on the narrow country lane they were now traveling. “A person has to feel to be able to hurt. And I can see you’re not capable of either.”

She felt, more than saw, him look at her. But he said nothing. After a moment she felt something inside her wilt like a thirsty flower. Whatever happened in the future, she knew she would never forget this man. His dark stern looks, the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand had all burned themselves into her wounded memory.

Less than five minutes later Wyatt parked the truck outside a large house surrounded by a wall built of sandstone. Except for a few shade trees, the structure sat on flat, open land. In the distance, she could see a large barn of weathered wood and another long building that appeared to be horse stables. Nearby were several working pens and numerous outbuildings.

Since she had no memory, she had no way of knowing if she’d ever been on a ranch before. But in any case, she could see this place was a grand-scale operation.

“Is this the Double Crown Ranch?” she asked, as Wyatt helped her down from the cab of the pickup.

A southwest wind was blowing, wet and hot. It tugged at her hair and fluttered the leaves of a nearby cottonwood. She pushed the pestering strands from her face, then glanced at him as she waited for an answer. As usual, she found his hazel eyes watching her, weighing her reactions.

“Yes. This is the Double Crown Ranch. It’s the Fortune family homestead.”

From what she could see of the house, it was a huge structure with sand-colored adobe walls. Several stone chimneys jutted above the flat tiled roof. In this heat she couldn’t imagine needing fireplaces, but maybe Texas didn’t always feel like a sauna.

They passed through a wrought-iron gate fastened beneath an arched entryway connecting the sandstone walls. As they walked along a curving stone walkway, she was immediately struck by the lush plants growing all around them. Roses as big as saucers hung from thick green bushes, while clematis and honeysuckle vines draped the heavy beams that thrust from the eaves of the roof.

Gabrielle hadn’t thought she was nervous about coming to this ranch, but as she and Wyatt crossed a covered entryway and approached a large, antique wooden door, she realized her mouth was dry and her pulse was racing.

Nothing about this beautiful place seemed familiar, but for some odd reason, she felt a connection to it. As though she were supposed to be here, but didn’t know why.

“Maybe someone here will recognize me.” She spoke the thought out loud.

Wyatt punched the doorbell. “I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“You don’t say very much, and when you do it’s always pessimistic. Are you always this way? Or am I the only one who sees this side of you?” she asked.

“I’m not pessimistic, Miss Carter. I’m realistic.”

Her lips pressed together. “You know, I don’t think it would hurt anything if you called me Gabrielle. ‘Miss Carter’ makes me sound like a dowager.”

“I only call my friends by their first name. And I don’t know you at all.”

Gabrielle felt as if he’d actually struck her across her face. She was alone and lost. Any sort of warmth from him would have been welcome, but it was very obvious he didn’t care about her feelings. To him, she was nothing but an unfinished job.

She quickly looked away from him and tried to swallow the hurt. The pain was oddly familiar, as though she were used to rejection. By her family? she wondered. Or a sweetheart? Or maybe, God forbid, she didn’t have anybody. No parents or siblings. No boyfriend or lover.

“No. I don’t guess you could know me. I don’t even know myself,” she said quietly.

He was being a bastard. Even he knew it. But something about this young woman was different. She made him itch in all the wrong places, and he couldn’t afford to let himself get friendly with her.

Still, the crushed look on her face left him feeling like he’d been kicked in the gut. He didn’t want to hurt her. He just didn’t want her getting close.

“Look, Miss Carter, I—”

The massive door suddenly swung open and a short middle-aged Mexican woman peered across the threshold at the two of them.

“Good afternoon, Wyatt. I see you’ve brought our new guest.”

“Hello, Rosita. This is Gabrielle Carter. She’s just been released from the hospital. Maggie assured me you’d be expecting her.”

Except for one white streak at her temple, the plump woman had very dark hair that was pulled to the back of her head in a heavy bun. She had what looked to be a maid’s uniform on; so Gabrielle assumed she must be a housekeeper of some kind. She stepped up to Gabrielle and studied her with keen but kind eyes. “Yes. We’re expecting Ms. Carter,” she said to Wyatt, while continuing to regard her new houseguest. To Gabrielle she said, “I’m Rosita Perez. My daughter Maggie tells me you’ve lost any possessions you may have had, that everything was burned in the car. I’m very sorry to hear it.”

Gabrielle nodded down at the paper sack she was clutching in one hand. “All Sheriff Grayhawk found was my Bible. I think I’m just lucky to be alive.”

“I think you are lucky, too,” she said, then glanced at Wyatt. “I’ll show Gabrielle to her room. Did you want to see Ryan?”

Wyatt shook his head. “No. I won’t bother him now. I’ve got to get back to the office.” He glanced at Gabrielle, who looked even more pale and worn since he’d picked her up at the hospital. “I’ll be back later. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

Gabrielle nodded that she understood, and extended her hand to him. “Thank you, Sheriff Grayhawk, for bringing me out here.”

He hesitated only for a second, then reached to clasp her hand in his. Her fingers were small and soft and cool against his warm palm, and for one wild second, he wanted to draw her to him, nestle her cheek against his chest and assure her everything was going to be all right.

But that was the last thing he could allow himself to do. Gabrielle Carter might not be entirely innocent. And even if she was, he couldn’t let himself care. He’d been hurt too many times to chance another slap in the face by a woman.

“You’re welcome, Miss Carter,” he murmured, then glanced at Rosita. “If you need me, call me. Otherwise, I’ll let you know what the VIN number turns up.”

Wyatt turned and left through the door they had just entered. The housekeeper said to Gabrielle, “Come along and I’ll show you where you’ll be staying. Then you might want lunch.”

“Thank you,” Gabrielle told her, then followed her ample figure out of the entryway and into a large great room.

Without a memory, she had no way of knowing what sort of house or apartment she’d been living in before the car accident. But something told her it hadn’t been anything like the Double Crown ranch house. One whole wall was dominated by an open rock hearth. The ceiling was high and supported by rough oak beams. The walls were stucco and decorated with numerous paintings and prints, most of which depicted scenes of the Old West. The floor was polished tile, and covered here and there with woven rugs in Mexican and Native American patterns.

Across the room, directly in front of them, a pair of curved, wooden-framed glass doors opened out to a courtyard. Like the front entrance to the house, it was beautifully landscaped with blooming sage, tall clumps of ornamental grass and climbing rosebushes.

“My daughter told us you have amnesia. She feels very guilty about the accident. She wishes she had never gone riding yesterday. I warned her not to go. The night before I had dreamed of a striking serpent.” The older woman shrugged and lifted her palms in helpless acquiescence. “I am her mother, but she paid me no more heed than anyone else around here.”

Gabrielle wondered if the older woman considered herself some sort of psychic. Frankly, she didn’t think she believed in such things. But if the housekeeper had truly dreamed of a striking snake, it would be an awfully eerie coincidence.

Gabrielle followed the woman into a large kitchen. Something spicy and delicious smelling was simmering on a large gas range. Gabrielle’s stomach gnawed hungrily—the dry oatmeal and cold toast at the hospital had been too horrible to eat, and last night’s fare hadn’t been much better.

“Maggie is my youngest. She’s married to Dallas Fortune,” Rosita said, clearly in an effort to strike up a safe conversation.

“Is this their house?”

The housekeeper chuckled as she motioned for Gabrielle to follow her down a hall off to the left of the kitchen.

“No. Dallas and Maggie live in another house on the ranch. It’s a whole lot like this one, just not as big. This is Ryan Fortune’s home. He’s the father of Matthew, Zane, Dallas, Vanessa and Victoria. But I don’t expect you know any of them.” She made a tsking sound of regret. “Pobrecita, you don’t even know yourself.”

“Maybe if I have a chance to see some of these people, I might remember something,” Gabrielle said hopefully. “I had to be headed to this ranch for some reason. Sheriff Grayhawk thinks I was up to no good. But I don’t believe that. I don’t feel like a bad person inside—and I think I would if I were really bad. Does that make sense, Mrs. Perez?”

The woman opened another heavy wooden door carved deeply with Spanish designs, and gestured for Gabrielle to cross the threshold before her. The room was massive with more stucco walls and heavy beams supporting the ceilings. On one end was a bed, dresser and chest all made of yellow pine. At the opposite end was a sitting area furnished with a large couch and stuffed armchair covered in tan leather. Like the great room and kitchen, the floor was also tiled; the scattered woven rugs filled the room with deep, rich colors.

With a wag of her finger, the housekeeper said, “No. No. I’m not Mrs. Perez. I’m Rosita. And I’ll call you Gabrielle, okay?”

At least Rosita wasn’t going to be like Sheriff Grayhawk, Gabrielle thought, but then no one could be like that man.

She smiled warmly at the woman. “Yes. I’d like that.”

“Good. And I wouldn’t worry about Wyatt Grayhawk. He thinks all women are up to no good.”

“Why is that?”

Rosita shrugged and tapped her finger against her chin in contemplation. “He’s a half-breed. His Indian blood is always at war with the white part of him. He’s never happy. But he’s a good man.”

Deciding she’d talked long enough, Rosita quickly headed out of the room. “Look around and make yourself comfortable,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll come after you in a few minutes when lunch is ready.”

After the housekeeper had closed the door behind her, Gabrielle wandered over to the king-size bed and trailed her finger over the coarse spread woven in a southwestern-style pattern. The rich turquoise, burgundy and copper colors were just the right contrast to the varnished pine and light-colored walls.

On the long dresser, there was a matching comb, hair-brush, and hand mirror, but nothing else. As Gabrielle glanced around her, she noticed there were no family photos anywhere in the room, so she assumed it was probably used only by guests on the ranch.

The sitting area was equipped with a small television, stereo and bookcase filled with several hardback and paperback selections. But at the moment she had no need for entertainment. Her thoughts were whirling with all that she’d seen and heard since she’d arrived, and her headache had increased to a steady pounding behind her eyes.

She found the bathroom, which to her surprise was fitted with a huge old claw-foot tub. At the end, a wooden bench was loaded with stoppered bottles filled with oils and salts and bath gels. The idea of filling the tub with warm water and bubbles and soaking for a long while was a tempting one, but Rosita had already warned her that lunch was nearly ready. Gabrielle would have to postpone the bath for now.

Back in the sitting area, she walked to the long windows overlooking the courtyard and discovered one of them was a door. She didn’t open it, but stood gazing out at the beauty of the gardens surrounding the massive house.

“Knock, knock! May I come in?”

Gabrielle turned at the familiar sound of Maggie’s voice to see the woman’s smiling face poking around the edge of the door.

“Of course! I was just waiting for your mother to call me for lunch.”

Maggie stepped into the room carrying two giant sacks with twine handles. The logo of a prominent department store was embossed on the glossy paper.

“She said we could take five minutes and then to come. So hurry and look at what you can,” Maggie told her.

“Look at what? What is all this?” Gabrielle asked.

Maggie lugged the two sacks over to the bed. When she dumped the contents, wrapped packages spilled over the mattress.

“It’s most everything you’ll need for a few days. We’ll go back and get the rest whenever you’re feeling stronger.”

Gabrielle’s hand lifted to her throat as she stared in stunned fascination at the pile of packages. “This is all for me? An extra pair of jeans and a top would have been plenty!”

Maggie’s smile was gentle. “We don’t know how long it will take for your memory to return. You’ll need several changes. And a woman has to have makeup and toiletries and lingerie.”

Gabrielle was still too overcome to move, so Maggie took the initiative and opened one of the boxes. “Look at this! I thought it was darling. See if it will fit, and you can wear it for lunch.” She thrust a pale blue flowered dress at Gabrielle.

“Oh, do you dress up for meals here?” she asked, then glanced down at her jeans and top. Wyatt’s implication that she more or less looked cheap was still a fresh wound. “I guess I do look pretty awful.”

“You don’t look anything of the sort. I just thought the dress would lift your spirits. Anyway, we hardly ever dress up for meals around here—everything is casual. Everyone is always so busy that no one knows who is going to show up. Unless there’s some sort of special occasion going on. But parties have been pretty few and far between here lately. Wyatt doesn’t think they’re a good idea.”

There was a dressing screen in a corner between a chest of drawers and the bed. Gabrielle went behind it and quickly began to shed her clothes. “Wyatt? You mean the sheriff?” she asked Maggie, wondering why he would have any say about this family’s social life. It didn’t make sense.

“Yes.”

Gabrielle tried to digest the response as she smoothed the long cotton shift down over her thighs. The dress was sleeveless with a scooped neck and slit up one calf. It fit as though it had been made for her.

“I know this will probably sound silly,” Gabrielle spoke up from behind the dressing screen, “but I don’t understand why the sheriff would care if you had parties.”

Maggie remained silent for a few moments, then she said, “Well, it just wouldn’t be safe. It would be inviting more trouble.”

Gabrielle stepped out from behind the screen, and Maggie smiled with approval at the dress.

“You were saying something about more trouble,” Gabrielle went on. “Are you talking about my car accident?”

The other woman quickly waved her hand. “Oh, no, Gabrielle. My nephew Bryan was kidnapped from this house nearly a year ago. So far the law officials haven’t been able to find him. And Wyatt is afraid the person or persons responsible for the act might try to strike again.”

Gabrielle was frozen by the woman’s disclosure. Wyatt had told her the Fortune family had been having some trouble, but she hadn’t expected it to be this serious or sinister! And he suspected her of being involved in some way! Dear God, the idea of stealing a baby from its own home was repulsive to her. She couldn’t have been involved, could she?

“Gabrielle, are you all right? You’ve gone so white.” Maggie rushed across the small space separating the two women and firmly gripped Gabrielle’s elbow. “Are you going to faint?”

Gabrielle shook her head and passed a hand over her face. “I—I’m fine. What you just said—it’s terrifying. No wonder Wyatt didn’t want me coming out here. For all he knows I might have been involved. I don’t even know myself,” she said desperately.

Maggie patted Gabrielle’s arm in an effort to soothe her. “I’m willing to bet you have nothing to do with baby Bryan’s disappearance. Or with baby Taylor’s arrival.”

Gabrielle’s face puckered with a bewildered frown. “Baby Taylor? You mean there’s something else going on about another baby?”

Maggie nodded. “The kidnappers demanded fifty-million dollars in ransom for the baby’s safe return. But my brother-in-law Devin, who’s an FBI agent foiled their attempt. The kidnappers escaped, but he did manage to get the money and the baby back. Or so everyone thought, until he got the baby home. We were all shocked when we saw the child wasn’t Bryan. None of us had ever seen this baby boy before. But stranger still, he’s turned out to be a Fortune.”

Gabrielle’s eyes widened. “But how could that be—if no one knew the child? Did one of the Fortune men have an affair that produced a baby no one was aware of?”

Maggie grimaced. “That’s what Bryan’s mother, my sister-in-law Claudia, is starting to think. Even though her husband, Matthew, swears he’s never been unfaithful. But the DNA tests prove he’s the child’s father.”

“So one baby is still missing and the other one is not yet identified? I can see now how my sudden appearance might cause suspicion.” She groaned with regret. “I just wish I could remember something—anything that might tell me why I was driving toward this ranch.”

“Don’t worry, Gabrielle. Wyatt is a good sheriff. He’ll sift through every possible clue to find your background.”

Gabrielle could certainly believe that. She got the impression he’d leave no stone unturned to put her behind bars, or, at the very least, out of the state of Texas.

What had she gotten herself into? Try as she might, she couldn’t see how she was going to get herself out of Texas—and away from Sheriff Wyatt Grayhawk.

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