The Ranger and The Rescue. Sue Swift

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СКАЧАТЬ machine hummed. “So you have some modern conveniences,” he said.

      She smiled. “Did you suppose I used kerosene lamps and cooked food over an open fire?”

      “I can’t see a TV or a radio.”

      “I live simply, not stupidly. With electricity, I have the modern conveniences I choose. I don’t want mass media.” She refilled his glass with tea. “The outside world is…disturbing to my meditations.”

      “What do you mean?”

      Serenity shrugged. “The news seems to consist of foreign wars and local crime. TV and movies are full of car crashes and shootings. Why distress myself with such violence?” Forks and napkins in hand, Serenity set the table.

      “Do you get a newspaper?” The enticing aromas of oregano and garlic began to fill the kitchen. His mouth watered.

      Amnesia sure was crazy. He remembered that he liked lasagna but didn’t know his own name. Crazy.

      “Not a daily. There’s a weekly paper that covers local matters. That’s enough for me.” The microwave buzzed. She took out the food. “Lost Creek is my little world.” She removed the wrap from the plates, releasing a fragrant, steamy cloud.

      He sniffed appreciatively. “Most people have broader interests, don’t they?”

      Serenity handed him his meal, then sat opposite him. “Do they?” Her eyes held a quizzical gleam.

      He dug into the tofu lasagna. The piping-hot square of pasta, oozing spicy-smelling red sauce, didn’t look unusual. But how would he know? He blew on his bite before hesitantly placing it on his tongue. It tasted as good as it smelled, maybe better. He chewed and swallowed, then said, “Lordy, but this is good. Whatever else you might be, you’re one heck of a good cook.”

      “Thank you.”

      Why did Serenity go all red? “You act as though nobody ever complimented your cooking.”

      Her gaze dropped to her plate. “I’m surprised you appreciate natural food. Few men do.” Serenity toyed with her fork before eating a bite.

      “What’s so natural about it?”

      “The pasta is whole wheat and the sauce is made from organic tomatoes and herbs. Instead of meat, I used crumbled tofu.”

      “Tastes like normal lasagna, maybe a little better than most.” He took another hearty, yummy mouthful.

      “That’s what’s great about tofu.” Serenity’s eyes sparkled. She waved her fork in the air for emphasis as she warmed to her subject. “It’s practically flavorless. If you put it in salsa it tastes Mexican and makes a great taco filling. With tomatoes, garlic and oregano, it’s Italian. And no fat whatsoever. Tofu’s the best protein around.”

      Was she the kind of woman he usually dated? He hoped so. He’d hate to regain his memory only to discover he detested this charming, likable person. But was that how amnesia worked? He frowned.

      “What’s wrong?” she asked.

      “Nothing. I’m…thinking.” He ate another bite of lasagna while considering the situation.

      Who was Serenity? She must be the key to his identity, he realized. Why else could he remember only her?

      She must know who I am. But why won’t she tell me? What’s her game?

      He glanced up from his plate. Serenity sat, calmly eating her supper. She didn’t look like a person with secrets. But why would she welcome a stranger into her home?

      Maybe she was just friendly. “Are you sure you don’t know me?”

      She looked up. “Never seen you before in my life.” After finishing her portion, Serenity carried her plate to the sink and poured him more iced tea. She filled another glass with water.

      “You don’t want tea?” He gestured with the glass. “It’s delicious.”

      “No. It’s a healing tea, remember? I don’t need it. You do.”

      Replete, he leaned back into his chair with a satisfied sigh. “That was great. Thanks, Serenity. I think you saved my life.”

      Her answering smile was ready, yet nervous. “You’re very welcome.”

      “Now, I think I should go to town and maybe try to contact the authorities.”

      Reaching across the table for his empty plate, her nose crinkled. “Uh, um, do you want to clean up a little before we go? You might cause some comment if you don’t.”

      “Do I really look so bad?”

      Her eyebrows lifted. “Come with me.”

      He followed Serenity through the living room, then down a narrow hallway to a bathroom. Upon seeing his strange image in the mirror, he couldn’t restrain a shocked gasp.

      Short, black hair stuck up in filthy spikes on top of his head. The gash on his temple needed rinsing. Bloodshot brown eyes. A two-day beard. “Oh, man. I could scare a prison gang right out of their tattoos.” No wonder she didn’t tell him anything. He looked like a pretty tough customer. “Why’d you let me in your house, lady?”

      “Your aura is pure.” Serenity smiled at his reflection. “Do you recognize yourself?”

      “I’m not sure.” He watched the mirror as the unfamiliar mouth, narrow and a little mean-looking, scowled. “I don’t know if I like my appearance.”

      “The soul is what matters, and yours is a sweet one if your energy is any indication.”

      “Uh, well, thank you kindly.” I guess.

      “Why don’t you shower? Cleanse the outer body to match the inner spirit. Meanwhile, I’ll wash your clothes.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” He grinned, figuring that he’d now learn if she used the rocks-in-the-stream method of laundry.

      The bathroom door opened a slit and the stranger’s sinewy arm, dusted with dark hair, thrust out a bundle of dirty clothes.

      “You can use my razor. It’s in the shower.” Serenity grinned, wondering what he’d make of her pink-flowered shaver. “And there’s a new toothbrush and some antiseptic under the sink.”

      She took the clothes to the laundry room. Located off the kitchen, it contained an old-fashioned washer and a broken dryer that Serenity’s cheap landlord refused to fix. Anyway, Serenity preferred the scent of clothes dried on the line in the desert sun and wind.

      Fingering the heavy jeans, she chuckled to herself as she tugged his leather belt free. The pants would take all night and part of the next day to dry, at least. Another day keeping the stranger in her home away from the authorities—such as they were—in Lost Creek. The next day, Sunday, would find the Lost Creek Police Department deserted. Two days of security gained. Two more precious days during which she’d decide what to do about the threat posed by the amnesiac cowboy.

      Lucky СКАЧАТЬ