Finding Promise (6 page)

Chapter Six

Shorty had good news for Jake when he rode into camp a few hours later. “I just checked on her and she's moving.”

“That's the best news I've had all day. I'll watch her for a while,” Jake told him. He climbed in the back of the wagon, removed his hat, and sat on the side of her pallet. “Honey, Shorty tells me you moved today. I hope you wake up soon so you can have something to eat. Shorty is a pretty good cook, but don't tell him I said that.”

The words had barely left Jake's mouth when Shorty threw back the canvas opening and popped his head inside with a plate of food in his hand. “I'm more than good! I'm the best dang cook you'll ever find on a wagon train.”

“You'll get no argument from me there.” Jake accepted the plate Shorty shoved at him. “Thanks.” Shorty left and Jake turned back to the woman. “Honey, you need to wake up and have something to eat.” He shoved a spoonful of food in his mouth. “This is real good.” He looked over at her and this time he was certain he saw her eyelids flutter. Placing the plate of food aside, he leaned over her. “Sweetheart, are you awake?” He put his finger to her neck to feel her pulse. “Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes.” There was no question her pulse picked up when he spoke to her.

Promise heard someone calling her sweetheart. The voice sounded familiar, but she didn't know why. It was a deep, commanding voice, full of authority. But who was it? It wasn't . . . who? Why couldn't she think of anyone? She tried to open her eyes, but she felt so tired she couldn't seem to manage. Had she been ill? Where was she?

“Come on, honey, I see your eyes moving,” Jake coaxed.

Slowly, Promise blinked her eyes open. When she was able to focus, she found herself staring into the black eyes of a stranger calling her sweetheart.

Jake smiled at her. “Well, hello.” He'd wondered what color her eyes were, and when he finally got to see them he wasn't disappointed. Just like the rest of her, they were more beautiful than he imagined. They were a warm golden whiskey color and so large they dominated her small face.

Promise stared at his face. She didn't think she knew him, because she couldn't ever imagine forgetting such a formidable man. His darkly tanned face was very masculine with a strong, chiseled jaw, a straight nose, and intense black eyes. His penetrating stare might have been more threatening if not for the unbelievably long, thick lashes. As it was, she couldn't pull her eyes from his.

“Would you like a drink?”

She nodded, and he gently lifted her head with one hand. He didn't have anything else in the wagon to drink, so he put his cup of coffee to her lips. “Go slow.”

When she finished, she whispered softly, “Thank you.”

“Are you hungry?”

“No.” Her voice was raspy, like she hadn't talked in months. She continued to stare at him. “Who are . . . ?” She was so weak she couldn't finish her question.

“I'm Jake McBride. This is my cattle drive, and we're headed to my ranch in Wyoming.”

“Where are we?”

“Right now we are in Indian Territory.” He watched her as she processed that piece of information.

Her brows knitted together as she tried to remember . . . anything. Why would she be in Indian Territory? “Have I been ill?”

“You don't remember what happened to you?” The doctor's warnings smacked him in the face. He tried to remember how long he said she might not remember things.

“No . . . I don't remember.” Her lower lip started to tremble.

Jake hadn't wanted to consider the possibility that she would have no memory, and was at a loss how to respond. Considering her weakened condition, he didn't think it would be wise to mention the wagon train and all the folks that were killed. He'd give her time to regain her strength before he told her about the events of that day. With some luck, her memory might return soon and spare him that decision. “You were injured and I happened to find you. You've been unconscious for a few days. I had a doctor from Dodge examine you, and he said you might have some memory loss for a few days.” He made an effort to sound more positive than he actually felt.

“Dodge.” She repeated the word, but it didn't sound familiar. “Do you know who I am?”

Her question threw him. The doctor indicated some people might not remember how they were injured, but he hadn't mentioned she might not even remember her own name. He kept his surprise to himself, but decided it best to tell the truth. “No, honey, I don't.” He reached over, picked up her journal and handed it to her. “You had this with you. I admit I looked inside. I wasn't prying, I was just trying to find out who you are and where you were going. The inside cover says
Promise
. Does that mean anything to you?”

Tears filled her eyes as she looked at the book. She shook her head. Nothing was making sense to her. Why couldn't she remember her own name? Who was she? Was Promise her name? Something about that seemed familiar, but she couldn't remember why.

Jake saw tears welling in her eyes. “Now there's no need to get worried. The doctor said this is a common thing when you've suffered a head injury.” He might have made it sound a bit more common than the doctor indicated, but he didn't want her getting upset. “I was a U.S. Marshal, and we will figure this out. I know you are from back East and headed to Colorado. I just don't know where in Colorado, and it's a big place, so I planned to take you to Wyoming with us. I figured that would give you time enough to recover. Then we'll know where you were headed, and I'll take you there.” He thought of something that might help her. “Hold on a minute, I'll be right back.”

He climbed out of the wagon and raced to the supply wagon. He threw open her trunk and pulled out the drawings. He almost pulled out the oil painting of her husband but changed his mind. He took the drawings back to the wagon. “I found these in a trunk that I think belongs to you.” He opened the folder for her and handed her the first drawing, the one of her horse. He watched her closely as she looked at the drawing.

She stared at it for a long time, and even ran her fingertips softly over the drawing, almost reverently. Her gaze drifted to him. “Did I do this?”

“I think you did. In that journal you wrote about drawing and painting. From what I read, I think that is your horse.”

“He's beautiful. Is he here?”

He should have realized she would ask that question. “No, he wasn't with you.” He quickly showed her some of the landscape drawings, but nothing jogged her memory. He avoided showing her the drawings of the people on the wagon train. He didn't know what else to do, so before she could ask more questions, he decided to get some food in her. “I'm going to get you something to eat.”

She watched as he moved to the opening, taking in every detail of his muscled frame before he deftly jumped from the wagon. It was hard to judge from her position, but he looked quite tall. On his right hip he wore a pistol; on the left, a large, lethal-looking knife was sheathed. He appeared to be a nice man, and since he said he had been a U.S. Marshal, it seemed he would be a good person to trust. She'd obviously been safe with him, and he'd cared for her since . . . since whatever had happened to her. What was her alternative to staying with him? She didn't know where she would go. Nothing made sense. How could she not know who she was? She tried to keep calm, telling herself it served no purpose to get upset.

She glanced around the interior of the wagon, and her eyes landed on the dress and undergarments hanging in a corner. Lifting the quilt covering her, she saw she was dressed in a man's shirt and nothing else. The clothing must belong to her, but who had undressed her? Maybe they had women with them. Or perhaps the doctor undressed her to examine her. She preferred that option to ease her mind. She looked back down at the drawing of the horse. How she wished she had him with her right now.

As Jake filled a plate of food for her, he made a mental note to tell the men not to mention what had happened to the people on the wagon train, once she was able to leave the wagon. He didn't see that any good could come of her finding out about that too soon. Juggling the plate, coffee, and water, he hoisted himself back inside the wagon, where he helped Promise into a sitting position. “Do you mind if I call you Promise?”

“I don't mind.” She reached up to push her hair out of her face and felt the bandage on her temple. “Did I hit my head?”

Sitting beside her, Jake held the two cups in the air. “Coffee or water?” He was buying time, trying to figure out the best way to answer her.

“Water, please.”

Go with the truth
, he told himself. “I think a bullet grazed you.”

“A bullet?” She looked at him with eyes wide. “Why would someone shoot me?” She dropped her face to her hands. “Nothing makes sense,” she whispered. When she lifted her face, tears were streaming over her cheeks.

Jake didn't know what to do, but her tears were breaking his heart. He moved closer and put the plate of food aside so he could pull her into his arms. He couldn't imagine how frightened she must feel. “Honey, we'll figure this thing out. Don't you worry, it will all work out. You'll be safe with us, and I'll find out where your family is located.”

She buried her face in his shirt, terrified, but at the same time thankful this man was so kind to her. “Thank you.”

He took her chin in his fingers and lifted her face to his. Lord, she was a beauty with those whiskey-colored eyes. “Now you need to eat a little.”

She nodded. “I'll try.”

The only thing he had to offer her to wipe her tears away was the bandanna in his pocket, but it was clean. He fished it out and handed it to her. “Wipe your tears so you won't ruin Shorty's food. Shorty is the cook, and he's also been tending you.”

Giving him a shaky smile, she did as he requested, and Jake handed her the plate. He pointed to the dress hanging in the corner. “Shorty washed some of your clothes, so they are clean. Your trunk is in the supply wagon, and it's filled with dresses.” He took a sip of coffee and watched her pick at her food. “When you feel up to it, maybe reading what you wrote might help you remember some things.” Considering what she had written in the journal about her husband, he questioned whether he should have told her to read it right now. But he would have to tell her sometime, and he knew if he were in her position, he'd want to know as much as possible to help sort things out.

She ate a few bites and drank some water before she set the plate aside. “I thank you for all you've done for me.”

Jake thought her voice was already sounding stronger, and some color was in her cheeks. He realized she probably needed to see to her other needs. “If you need to . . . uh . . . well . . .”
Why couldn't she be a man? This would be a lot easier.
He took a deep breath and started again. “If you need to see to your needs, I'll take you outside.”

“Thank you. Is there a place where I could wash?”

He should have realized that would be one of the first things she would want. “I'll have Shorty warm some water and we'll bring the tub in here.”

“I think that would make me feel much better.” She wanted some time alone to think things through.

Jake left to find Shorty, to tell him to warm the water while he lugged the tub to the wagon. He told Shorty about her lack of memory, and asked him to pass the word among the men that no one should mention the wagon train or the killings.

 

 

A short, wiry little man with a frizz of white hair opened the flap to the wagon and handed some pails of hot water to Jake.

After Jake introduced him, Shorty said, “If you need anything, ma'am, you just holler for me.”

“Thank you, sir. And thank you for your care.”

“Everyone calls me Shorty.” He pointed to the corner of the wagon where he'd put the bars of soap with some of her delicate underthings. “I found the soap in your trunk.”

Jake and Shorty left the wagon to get the rest of the water. Once they were some distance from the wagon, Shorty turned to Jake. “She's just about the prettiest thing I ever laid eyes on.”

“That she is.”

“Did you hear how she talked? She must be from the South,” Shorty added.

“Uh-huh.” Jake thought she did have a Southern lilt to her voice.

“You don't think you should tell her about her husband?”

“Not right now. Besides, I'm not positive it was her husband. I figure when she's had time to get her bearings, and get some of her strength back, I'll tell her then if she hasn't remembered.” Silently, he hoped he was making the right decision.

“That makes sense. It's gonna be a lot for her to face, however she finds out.”

Chapter Seven

Jake was sitting outside the wagon when Promise stuck her head outside. “Mr. McBride?”

“Right here.” He'd been sitting against the wagon wheel, listening to her splashing in the tub for what seemed like an eternity. He hadn't even noticed that the rain had slowed to a drizzle. He did notice the fragrance of her soap drifting from the wagon, reminding him how long it had been since he'd seen a woman bathe. The way he saw it, watching a woman attend to her nightly toilette was one of the most exciting ways a man could spend an evening. He'd been lost in his thoughts and didn't realize she was finished until he heard the flap being tossed open. Jumping up, Jake saw that she was dressed, so he lifted her to the ground.

She was wearing one of the dresses Shorty had washed for her. He wondered if she would be able to walk with the weight of that dress, she was so weak. “Feel better?” he asked, thinking how good she smelled. He reminded himself of his brother's dog, Bandit, the way he was sniffing her.

“Yes, thank you so much. I hate to ask, but would you have a comb? I washed my hair and I'm in need of one.” She pulled her long hair over her shoulder and tried to run her fingers through the wet tangles.

“I found one that I think is yours. It's over in the supply wagon, if you feel up to walking with me.” He glanced at her wound and saw how nicely it had healed.

“I'd like to walk, if it's not too far.” She lifted her skirt to keep the hem from dragging in the muddy earth.

“Not far at all.” He took hold of her elbow and steered her away from the men milling about. He wanted to give her time to get comfortable with her surroundings before she was overloaded with questions and stares from cowboys. They weren't accustomed to seeing a woman on a cattle drive, and as pretty as she was, she was sure to receive a lot of attention.

“How did you happen to find me, Mr. McBride?”

Uh-oh
, Jake thought. “I just happened to be riding in that direction,” he responded. He pointed to the cattle grazing in the distance. “Do you think you've ever seen a cattle drive?”

She couldn't believe the number of cattle. “Oh my! How many cattle do you have, Mr. McBride?”

“Call me Jake. We're driving twenty-five hundred head to Wyoming.”

“Oh mercy, that many?”

He smiled to himself. She did have a very pronounced Southern accent that he found charming. “Yes, ma'am. If we're very lucky we will get there with most of them.”

“How long will it take to get to your ranch?”

“We should be there sometime in August.”

“August,” she repeated. Jake caught the look on her face. It seemed like mentioning the month stirred something in her memory. She frowned. “What month is this?”

That question made him realize the magnitude of her condition. He couldn't imagine how she felt, being unable to remember anything and at the mercy of complete strangers. “June.”

Reaching the supply wagon, he opened the flap and pointed to the trunk at the back. “I think that is your trunk.”

She looked at the trunk, but like everything else, it didn't seem familiar.

Shorty came around the corner of the wagon and Jake asked, “Shorty, did you find a comb?”

“Yessir, I did.” He scrambled into the wagon, opened the trunk and pulled out a brush, comb, and mirror and handed them to Promise.

She looked at the silver design on the back. It bore the engraved initials
PS.
An older man's image flashed before her eyes. He was handing her a wrapped present. Just as quickly as it came, the memory disappeared. It occurred to her she didn't know what she looked like, so she turned the mirror over to see her reflection.

Jake and Shorty exchanged a quizzical glance as she inspected her face.

“Are you as pretty as you remember?” Shorty asked.

A soft blush colored her cheeks. “I couldn't remember what I looked like.”

“Well, you're about the prettiest gal I ever saw.” Shorty was sincere with his praise. He couldn't imagine ever seeing a prettier gal.

“Thank you.” She held the back of the mirror for Jake to see. “My name must be Promise.”

Jake glanced at the initials and nodded. “There are other personal items in the trunk if you need them.”

“This is all I need right now.” Glancing inside the wagon, she saw the many dresses hanging from nails. “Are all of those dresses mine?”

“We think so. They all looked like they fit you.”

She lifted the skirt of the dress she was wearing. “I hope all of them are not as heavy as this one.”

Shorty looked at Jake to see if he was going to mention the money, but saw he wasn't going to comment. “Boss, are we covering a few more miles today?”

Jake looked down at Promise. “Do you think you're up to traveling? It's a lot of jostling in that wagon.”

“She can ride on the seat with me if she doesn't want to stay in the back of the wagon,” Shorty offered.

“Please don't let me hold you up, Mr. McBride. I'll be fine.”

“Jake, remember.” Jake glanced at Shorty. “Tell the men we'll pull out in thirty minutes.”

Promise excused herself to see to her personal needs, but Jake remained nearby. He felt like he was walking a fine line, trying to give her some privacy and protect her at the same time. He didn't want her to be alone, and he instructed Shorty to stay by her side every minute when he wasn't around.

 

 

Promise listened patiently as Shorty talked nonstop as she rode beside him on the seat of the wagon. It seemed his preferred topic was Mr. McBride, and he had many stories about the tall cowboy. Shorty didn't hide his admiration for the man, spending hour after hour discussing him. She was grateful that he talked so much; it was a pleasant diversion, keeping her mind off of her dire situation. It occurred to her that he was intentionally avoiding any conversation regarding her circumstances for fear of upsetting her.

Shorty revealed that Mr. McBride had stayed with her throughout the night while she was unconscious, and he would hear him talking to her. That must be the reason Jake's voice seemed so familiar when she awoke. Several times today she'd seen him at a distance riding toward the rear of the drive, but he never stopped at the wagons. His size and the way he sat in the saddle made him easy to distinguish from the other men. When she questioned why Jake rode back and forth, Shorty explained that he was checking on the drag rider because, next to the point rider, that man was the most isolated person on the cattle drive. Watching the men with the cattle, she was awed by how hard they worked. They were always in motion, attuned to the movements of the cattle, and dedicated to averting dangerous situations. Several times over the course of the day, Shorty mentioned Jake worked harder than any man, and she'd seen that for herself. The man didn't stop.

When it was time to make camp for the night, Shorty and one of the men constructed a tent so they could keep a fire going, and everyone could have a place to sit to eat their dinner out of the rain. Promise kept busy helping Shorty prepare the evening meal. Every time a rider rode into camp, she found herself looking up to see if it was Mr. McBride. Long after most every man had eaten, Jake finally rode into camp. She noticed him glancing her way as he cared for his horse. Once he walked to the fire, she prepared a hot plate of food and poured a cup of coffee for him.

Jake had thought about hot coffee all afternoon, but seeing the plate of food, he realized how hungry he was. “Thank you. This looks good.”
Funny how seeing a beautiful woman in camp made me forget about the long day in the saddle.

“It's better than good. God sent us an angel who can make a perfect biscuit,” Shorty told him. “I think she wants my job.” He shoved a plate into Promise's hand. “You need to sit down for a while and eat. You've done too much for your first day on your feet.”

“Did you forget we've been sitting all day?” she replied in a teasing tone.

Shorty laughed. “Yes, ma'am, but that wagon will wear you out, and you haven't eaten all day.” He overturned a pail next to Jake's saddle, for her to use as a seat. “We rough it out here, missy.”

“Thank you, Shorty.” She took her seat, and Jake sat on his saddle.

“Boss, we know one thing about her already. Cooking over a campfire seemed natural for her,” Shorty said.

“That's good news. Did you remember cooking before?” He was hoping some details of her life were coming back to her. All day he'd worried that she might ask him more questions about how he found her. He wasn't inclined to lie to her, though he didn't relish telling her about her husband.

“I didn't think about it, I just wanted to lend assistance to Shorty.”

“She made those biscuits, and they're a whole lot better than mine,” Shorty said.

“It's nice to eat them warm and dry. I'm glad I listened to you, Shorty, and brought these tents with us. They've been a big help,” Jake said.

“I told you we would need them, boss.”

Several men joined them around the fire, each filling his cup with fresh coffee. Since most of them had already eaten, Jake was certain they were there just to get a look at Promise. It was probably a good thing for him that she was such a looker. That alone would keep the men from grumbling about having a woman on the drive.

Cole walked over and took a seat on a nearby stump. Having heard Shorty's comment on the food, he said, “I agree, Shorty, these biscuits are better than yours.”

Jake knew Cole would come sniffing around Promise as soon as he could. Cole would always find a way to finagle an introduction to a pretty woman. “Promise, this is Cole Becker. He was a U.S. Marshal too, and we rode together for ten years.”

Cole stood again and tipped his hat. “Ma'am.” Getting his first good look at her, Cole couldn't stop staring. Jake had told him she was almost as pretty as his brother's wife, but the way he saw it, this gal wouldn't play second fiddle to any woman.

“You are no longer a marshal?” Promise asked Cole.

“No, I decided I like Wyoming. When Jake told me his plans, I decided it might be time for me to settle down, and Wyoming sounded like as good a place as any. Besides, he would just get into trouble without me,” Cole teased.

Jake glared at him. Why did he have the feeling Cole had never thought of settling down until he took one look at Promise? He wouldn't have been surprised if Cole started quoting Shakespeare, like Jake's big brother. Cole told him if quoting Shakespeare helped Colt win a woman like Victoria, he was going to borrow his books.

Jake glanced at Promise to gauge her reaction to his glib-talking friend. To his surprise, Promise had her head bowed in prayer over her meal. Jake removed his hat, and the men followed his lead and waited for her to finish. Jake had never seen his men stop eating or drinking their coffee for anything before. It shamed him that his own manners needed polishing, and he didn't think he'd said a prayer over a meal since he was a boy.

Once she finished praying, Jake introduced her to the rest of the men. When he came to Rodriguez, the vaquero came forward, removed his hat, and bowed before her like she was a queen. “It is my great pleasure to meet such a beautiful lady in such a dreary place.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips.

Promise barely felt his lips brush over the top of her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez.” She didn't know what to make of the well-mannered, regal-looking man. There was a vast contrast between Rodriguez and the other cowboys on the drive. She gazed up at him through her dark lashes, taking in his perfect white teeth gleaming under a thick, black mustache.

“Rodriguez Ruiz Dominguez Santoya,” he said, bowing again. “It would be an honor if you would call me Rodriguez.”

When her eyes slowly met his, she had another surprise. Clear blue eyes were staring back at her. He was smiling at her as if he knew what she was thinking.

“My family is from Spain.”

“Of course,” she responded shyly.

“I am sorry for your troubles, señorita. If there is anything I can do for you, do not hesitate to ask.”

“That is very kind, Rodriguez.” All of the men were so kind to her that she found herself becoming emotional. She refused to allow herself to wallow in self-pity, reminding herself that God had sent Mr. McBride and these wonderful men to find her. She should consider herself blessed.

As much as he wanted to stay and talk to her, Rodriguez knew every man was listening. “Good evening.” He gave another slight bow before he walked away.

Promise watched him walk into the darkness. She had the feeling he was not the usual kind of man that would be found on a cattle drive. He seemed almost aristocratic in his manner, reminding her of someone she might meet . . . where? There were memories on the edge of her mind that continued to elude her.

Jake noticed Promise watching Rodriguez. He figured she'd been taken by his good manners, and the vaquero had them in abundance.

After a moment, Promise turned her attention to Cole. “Do you also have a ranch in Wyoming, Mr. Becker?”

Cole liked the sound of her soft Southern voice. “Call me Cole. Not yet, but I found a place I like.”

That was news to Jake. He listened to them talk until he couldn't take anymore of Cole's flirting. Forcing his mind back on business, Jake pointed to four men. “Take first watch with me. He glanced at Cole, saying, “The rest of you can relieve us in four hours.”

Ready to retire for the night, Promise stood and said good night to the men in camp. Shorty offered to walk with her to the wagon, but Jake nixed that idea when he jumped up. “I'll see her to the wagon.”