Whirlwind Cowboy. Debra Cowan

      “Yeah.” The memory still had the power to make him wince.

      Bram fought the urge to knee Scout into a run, get away from Deborah as quickly as possible. But the last thing he needed was for her to be plastered to him, holding on for dear life.

      Especially after being cooped up with her overnight and feeling her lithe curves against him all during the ride. She was too near, her eyes too soft with a vulnerability that made him want to take care of her.

      He ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached, and he urged Scout forward.

      The packed trail gave way to hilly grassy pasture. Evergreen trees and brush spotted the rolling landscape. Vibrant patches of wildflowers bloomed across the field.

      In the distance, he spotted two of his ranch hands rounding up stray cows. After stopping to speak to them and leave Cosgrove’s injured mare, he and Deborah continued on.

      When they finally topped the rise near her home, Bram pointed to the log structure at the bottom of the slope. “There’s your house.”

      Her hand tightened on his waist. “I don’t recognize it,” she said tremulously.

      He looked over his shoulder at her, his hat grazing the top of her head. Her pert nose was slightly sunburned, but it was her eyes that held his attention.

      The sharp disappointment in the blue depths razored through him. She appeared lost and he saw hope seep out of her, like water from a leaky pail.

      When her gaze met his, tears welled in her eyes.

      “Oh, hell,” he muttered.

      “I’m sorry. It’s just that I really thought I would remember my own house.”

      “It’s okay.”

      “I— What if they don’t want me?”

      Bram stared at her. She had likely been thinking such things during the entire ride. The more distance he had put between them and the cabin, the more heaviness he had sensed from her.

      A strange feeling unfurled in his chest. “Of course they’ll want you.”

      “Thank you for bringing me … here. And for helping me.” She made as though to slide off.

      Bram grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing?”

      “You said this was my house.”

      “Yes, but you don’t have to go down there alone.” He couldn’t just deposit her like a bag of laundry and leave. His voice was gruff. “I’ll explain everything.”

      “You will?”

      He nodded.

      “Thank you,” she said softly, relief plain on her face. “Thank you.”

      The small whisper of her breath teased his lips and his gaze dropped to her mouth.

      He was aware of the rapid flutter of her pulse in the hollow of her throat. The black satin of her hair gathered back in a ponytail that slid over her shoulder. Hair he wanted to free and bury his hands in. Mixed in with that awareness was the infernal protectiveness he couldn’t shake.

      It frustrated the hell out of him. Pulling his attention from her, he guided Scout into the yard. Bram threw one leg over the gelding’s neck and slid to the ground, then turned to help Deborah dismount.

      He lifted her down, his hands closing on her taut waist. Her breasts brushed his chest and her hips pressed to his as he slowly set her on her feet. Bram bit his cheek against the urge to pull her full into him. He couldn’t let himself get tangled up in their past.

      For a long moment their eyes held. A rosy flush stained her cheeks.

      She looked away, appearing confused and overwhelmed. And frightened, Bram realized. She had worn the same expression when he had come upon her in the cabin.

      His chest ached as he asked quietly, “You okay?”

      “I think so.”

      He lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face.

      “Deborah!”

      She started and so did Bram. Together, they turned to face the tall woman rushing toward them.

      “That’s your mother, Jessamine.”

      Three younger women burst out of the house, excitement and relief plain on their faces as they moved in Deborah’s direction.

      “Oh, thank you for bringing her home, Bram!” Mrs. Blue said. “I didn’t know you were going after her.”

      “I didn’t.” He removed his hat. “I found her at the cabin on the other side of the Circle R.”

      “The cabin? Why?” Jessamine frowned, her blue gaze shifting to her oldest daughter. “Your note said you were going to Abilene.”

      “There’s an explanation,” Bram said. He wondered if her family would have as much trouble with it as he had at first.

      “I should hope so.” The older woman leveled a look on Deborah. “You’ve never lied to me before.”

      Deborah’s fingers curled into the loose shirt fabric at Bram’s waist. He glanced at her. If she was holding on to him so tightly, she had to be afraid. He noted the paleness of her skin and the alarm on her face. She didn’t recognize her mother or sisters.

      Without thinking, Bram stepped slightly in front of Deborah, shielding her. “Hold up a minute, Mrs. Blue. We have a problem.”

      The older woman stilled, as did Deborah’s sisters. Jessamine’s dark hair was threaded with gray, but the younger women were all raven haired like Deborah. Jordan’s eyes were the same sky-blue, but the two younger sisters, Michal and Marah, had silver eyes like their older brother. All of them fixed anxious gazes on him.

      “Something’s happened,” he said.

      Jessamine looked around him to her daughter. Her eyes widened. “You’re hurt! How badly?”

      “She’s bruised some.” Bram couldn’t stop a fresh rush of fury at Cosgrove.

      As succinctly as possible, Bram explained how he had been on Cosgrove’s trail and tracked the thief’s horse from Monaco to the Ross cabin. There Bram had found Deborah instead of the outlaw. He ended with the information that Deborah had no memory.

      “No memory?” Confusion clouded the older woman’s eyes. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

      “Neither have I.” Bram dragged a hand down his face. “But I think it’s true.”

      Deborah’s fist tightened on his shirt.

      Jessamine asked quietly, “Is Cosgrove the one who hurt her?”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      Jordan, closest in age to Deborah, looked at Bram, her gaze steady and troubled. “She doesn’t remember anything or anyone?”

      He shook his head.

      “She’ll remember me.” The youngest girl stepped forward. “I’m Marah and this is Felix.”

      The girl reached into the pocket of the apron covering her yellow dress and pulled out a field mouse. Bram knew she had made the animal her pet more than a year ago. Cupping it in her hand, she held the rodent up to Deborah. The mouse blinked.

      Deborah’s eyes filled with tears and she pressed closer to Bram. “I don’t. I apologize.”

      “But …” Marah’s gray eyes flashed with uncertainty as she looked at their mother.

      Michal stood quietly, her eyes wide and watchful.

      Bram was hit with the need to ease Deborah’s way. “She’s been through hel—an ordeal. Give her some time, okay?”

      “Of