The Texan's Future Bride. Sheri WhiteFeather

but they can’t keep me in the hospital for that. Besides, my memories are supposed to return. It’s just a matter of when.”

      She didn’t know what to say. He was still as much of a stranger as he was before.

      He said, “The sheriff was here earlier. He took a report. He took my fingerprints, too.” He held up his hands and gazed at them. “If I’m in the system, they’ll be able to identify me that way.”

      He might have a criminal record? That wasn’t a comforting thought. “Do you think you’re in the system?”

      “I don’t know.” He lowered his hands. “But the sheriff doesn’t want Dr. Sanchez to release me until the results are in. So we’re waiting to hear. I guess the police want to be sure that there isn’t a warrant out for my arrest before they put me back on the streets.”

      “Do you mind if I wait until you hear something?”

      “Why would you want to do that?”

      Because she still felt responsible for him. Or was it because she was so doggone attracted to him? That wasn’t a comforting thought, either. Confused and covering her tracks she said, “I’m interested in knowing who you are.” And hoping that he was an upstanding guy.

      “At the moment, I’m no one.”

      “That’s not true. Everyone is someone.”

      He glanced away. Obviously her comment hadn’t made a dent in his amnesiac armor. She wanted to reassure him, but how could she, especially since he might be wanted by the police?

      Just then, double sets of footsteps sounded, and Jenna turned around in her chair. The stranger shifted in the direction of the approaching people, too.

      It was Doc, making a crisp-white presentation in his lab coat, and next to him was a tall, stocky lawman.

      As the air grew thick with anticipation, the stranger shot Jenna a quick glance.

      Trapping her in the moment they’d been waiting for.

       Chapter Two

      Amid the silence, Doc caught Jenna’s attention. She expected him to ask her to leave, but he merely nodded an acknowledgment. Maybe it was going to be okay. Maybe there was nothing to be concerned about.

      The lawman said to the patient, “I’m Deputy Tobbs. The sheriff assigned your case to me.”

      “Do I have a record?” the stranger asked bluntly.

      The deputy shifted his weight. “No, you don’t. Your fingerprints aren’t on file, but I’m going to investigate further. I’ll do my best to uncover your identity and discover what happened to you. I’ll be questioning everyone in the area, in case you work around here or were visiting someone.”

      “Someone who hasn’t noticed that I’m gone?”

      “It could have been a surprise visit and you never made it to your destination. It could have been a number of things. I’m inclined to think that you were assaulted and robbed, possibly carjacked, which would account for you wandering around on foot. But we’ll have to wait and see what turns up.”

      The stranger tugged a hand through his hair, stopping short of his injury. “It could be worse, I guess.” He addressed Doc. “Are you going to sign my release papers now?”

      “Yes, but first we need to figure out where you’re going to go.”

      The stranger replied, “Is there a homeless shelter in the area?”

      The deputy answered the question. “There’s one in the next county, about thirty miles from here.”

      “Then that will have to do, if they’ll take me.”

      “I can give them a call,” the deputy said.

      No way, Jenna thought. She wasn’t going to let him go off like that. She would worry about him. Still, did she have a right to intervene? Regardless, she couldn’t seem to hold back.

      She said to the stranger, “You can stay at the Flying B until you regain your memory or until Deputy Tobbs finds out who you are. We’re turning the ranch into a B and B, and we have guest rooms and cabins on the property.”

      “I can’t stay there.”

      Jenna persisted, especially now that she’d made up her mind about saving him, or whatever it was she was trying to do. “Why not?”

      “I just can’t. I shouldn’t.”

      “Sure you can,” Doc said, supporting her idea. “It would be a good place for you to recover.”

      “I don’t know.”

      Jenna frowned. “What’s not to know? Just say yes.”

      He frowned, too. “Are you always this insistent?”

      Was she? “Sometimes.” Considering from the time that she and Donna were kids, the one lesson their father had always taught was to go after what they wanted. “But Doc agrees with me, so you’re outnumbered.”

      “Consider it part of your treatment,” Doc said. “I could keep a better eye on you, and being surrounded by fresh air would be a heck of a lot nicer than being holed in a homeless shelter.”

      The deputy interjected. “Sounds like you’ve got it worked out.”

      “We do,” Jenna assured him.

      “Then I’m going to take my leave.” He placed his card on the rolling stand beside the bed. “Call me if you have any questions,” he told the man with amnesia. “And if I need to reach you, I’ll stop by the Flying B.” The deputy turned to Jenna. “You should introduce him to everyone at the ranch. It’s possible that someone there will recognize him.”

      “I will, just as soon as he’s feeling up to it.”

      He turned back to the patient. “You take care.”

      “Thank you,” came the polite reply.

      Deputy Tobbs said goodbye to everyone and left the room, a hush forming in his absence. Jenna wondered if Doc was going to depart, too. But he stayed quietly put.

      She said to the stranger, “You’re going to need another name, other than John Doe.”

      His dark gaze caught hers. “Some people have that name for real.”

      “I know. But it’s doubtful that you do.”

      “Then you can pick one.”

      “You want me to name you?”

      “Somebody has to.”

      Jenna glanced at Doc. He stood off to the side, clutching a clipboard that probably contained “John Doe’s” charts. Anxious, she crossed her arms over her chest. Doc’s silent observation created a fishbowl-type effect. But he had a right to analyze his patient’s reactions.

      Was he analyzing her, too?

      She’d been bothered by the John Doe reference from the beginning, but now that she’d been given the responsibility of changing it, she felt an enormous amount of pressure.

      Could Doc tell how nervous she was?

      She asked the stranger, “Are you sure you don’t want to come up with something yourself?”

      “I’m positive.”

      He sounded as if it didn’t matter, that with or without a makeshift name, he still considered himself no one.

      Reminding her of how lost he truly was.

      As he waited for the outcome, he thought about how surreal all of this was. He felt like a ketchup jar someone had banged upside the counter, with memories locked inside that wouldn’t come out.

      Emptiness.