A Cowboy's Honor. Lois Richer
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see them. Maybe then I could remember.”
It was the last thing Gracie wanted to do. Her very soul rebelled. But she could hardly refuse. He was still her husband, he was alone and he was obviously troubled.
She glanced at her watch, battled to do the right thing.
“I can drop you there,” she agreed finally. “But I won’t be able to stay. I’m supposed to be back at the ranch by four.” Her conscience pricked but she ignored it, began gathering up the remains of their lunch.
“The ranch?”
“The Bar None. It’s a ranch for disabled children. I’m working there for the next six months.” She wasn’t going to tell him more. Not yet.
Not until she had to.
“But you said you had a practice with your father.”
“No, I said I worked with him six years ago. He died.” The punch of loss had weakened after all this time. “I had to sell his practice.”
“Oh.” Dallas waited.
Gracie refused to say more, declined to relive those black days now. Maybe in the future she could drag out all that had passed, but even then she wasn’t sure she could explain without demanding to know why Dallas hadn’t been there to help her survive.
“I’m parked over here.” She pointed, stepped forward, then paused. “Do you have any belongings we need to pick up from your hotel?”
Dallas turned so she could see a small backpack. “Everything I own is in this.”
“Okay, then. Let’s go.” Gracie hurried away from her favorite spot, pausing briefly to toss out the lunch she hadn’t been able to finish. As anniversaries went, this one would at least be memorable.
Once inside the truck Dallas automatically fastened his seat belt. He’d always been careful to do that, said he’d seen too many accidents in his travels.
Was that what had happened to him? An accident?
“You don’t look like a veterinarian.”
“What do vets look like?” she countered.
He’d said nearly the same thing the first time she’d met him in this park during her college spring break. She hadn’t been a vet then, only a trainee, but she’d yearned, dreamed of being more. Eventually, she’d poured out all those hopes and fears to Dallas, as he shared his with her. By Christmas they were secretly engaged.
“I guess I thought a vet would look sort of horsey.” He tilted his head to one side, studied her. “You look more like a kindergarten teacher. Or a mother.”
Gracie clenched the steering wheel, her palms damp.
“What did I say? Something bad? Are you okay?” Dallas examined her too closely.
She could only imagine how hard it must be to tiptoe around, trying not to offend, without really knowing the another person. No wonder he’d been afraid. Dallas had nothing to guide him.
“I’m fine.” She faked a smile. “Just the traffic. It’s, ah…been a while since I’ve driven this way.”
It’s been six years since I drove to your parents’ home, but I remember every corner, every signpost. Her head hammered in time to the engine’s sputter.
“It’s pretty weird—I can’t even remember my own wedding. I can see you as a bride, though. All in white, wearing one of those fluffy bridal dresses, like a ballerina.” He met her glance and a hot wire of emotion singed Gracie’s heart. She focused on the street ahead.
They were getting close. Too close.
“Is that what you wore, Gracie?” Dallas prodded.
“What? A ballerina dress?” She shook her head. “White cotton sundress and sandals. Nothing fancy. Couldn’t afford it. You and I eloped, got married by the J.P., then came to the park.” Where they’d held their own private ceremony, promising never to stop loving each other.
Had Dallas honored that promise?
“What did I wear at our wedding?” he asked several moments later.
“What you always wear—wore. Cowboy boots, black pants, white shirt and a Stetson.”
Dallas stared at his sneakered feet in disbelief. “I used to wear cowboy boots?”
Though her arms ached from gripping the wheel so hard, Gracie couldn’t help her smile. “I don’t think I ever saw you in anything else.”
“It seems like you’re talking about someone I don’t know. A person I’ve never met.”
She didn’t respond, was too busy quashing the fear spreading like a virus through her.
“This is it.”
Gracie drew up to the curb, shoved the gearshift home and flicked off the engine. She forced air into her lungs, the metal taste of fear coating her tongue.
“This is what?”
“This was your parents’ house six years ago.”
“I lived here?” Dallas surveyed the big colonial with its massive lawns.
Gracie gulped, nodded. The place had changed. The abundance of flowers was gone, but perhaps his parents had grown weary of their gardening hobby. The shutters and trim had been painted recently, and were now a vivid green instead of the stark glossy black she’d remembered.
Dallas pushed his door open. He glanced over one shoulder expectantly. Only his quick breath gave away his jitters.
“Aren’t you coming?”
Gracie shook her head. “I’ll wait here till they let you in. Just to be sure everything’s okay. Then I’ve got to get back to the ranch. The Bar None. You can call me there whenever you want.”
They’d rejected her once. They wouldn’t get a second chance.
“Go ahead, Dallas. I promise I’ll wait till you’re inside.”
His frown testified that he wasn’t pleased, but he didn’t argue. He nodded once, vaulted from the truck and strode across the lawn.
Gracie swallowed a jagged little pill of fear as the familiar stride carried him so easily to the house where her dreams had crashed and burned.
Why, God? Why now, when I’ve just begun to put the pieces back together? Why not five years ago, when I needed him so badly?
The question died unanswered as Dallas rang the doorbell. Gracie held her breath when the big front door opened. But instead of embracing him and pulling him inside, the woman behind the screen shook her head and kept talking. Eventually she closed the door.
Dallas ambled slowly back toward the truck, his expression perplexed.
Fear’s stranglehold relaxed.
Safe. Could it be that simple?
“What’s wrong?” Gracie pressed back against her seat, preparing herself.
“The Hendersons, my parents, moved about four years ago. She didn’t know where they moved to, only that they sold the house and talked of leaving the country.” He climbed into the cab of the truck, his eyes tormented. “She thought they mentioned India.”
So they were out of her life. But if Gracie found a way to contact them, to tell them Dallas was back, they’d return and nothing would be safe.
And if she didn’t…Dallas stared down at his fingers, his posture showing defeat. That’s when compassion pushed aside fear.
She was his wife. She had to do something.
It was risky. With no memory and no viable means of support, Dallas wasn’t a threat.
Not yet.