Deliverance at Cardwell Ranch. B.J. Daniels

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      “My name’s Austin. Austin Cardwell. We met late last night after I came upon your car upside down in the middle of Highway 191.” He touched the wound on the back of his head where she’d nailed him. “You remember hitting me?”

      She looked horrified at the thought, verifying what he already suspected. She didn’t remember.

      “Can you tell me your name?” He’d hoped that she would be more coherent this morning, but as he watched her face, it was clear she didn’t know who she was any more than she had last night.

      She seemed to search for an answer. He saw the moment when she realized she couldn’t remember anything—even who she was. Panic filled her expression. She looked toward the door behind him as if she might bolt for it.

      “Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “The doctor said memory loss is pretty common in your condition.”

      “My condition?”

      “From the bump on your head, you hit it pretty hard in the accident.” He pointed to a spot on his own temple. She raised her hand to touch the same spot on her temple and winced.

      “I don’t remember an accident.” She had pulled her arms out from under the covers. He noticed the bruises on her upper arms. They were half-moon shaped, like fingerprints—as if someone had gripped her hard. There was also a cut on her arm that he didn’t think had happened during her car accident.

      She saw him staring at her arms. When she looked down and saw the bruises, she quickly put her arms under the covers again. If anything, she looked more frightened than she had earlier.

      “You don’t remember losing control of your car?”

      She shook her head.

      “I don’t know if this helps, but the registration and proof of insurance I found in your car, along with the driver’s license I found in the purse, says your name is Rebecca Stewart,” he said, watching to see if there was any recognition in her expression.

      “That isn’t my name. I would know my own name when I heard it, wouldn’t I?”

      Maybe. Maybe not. “You were wearing a watch...”

      “The doctor said they put it in the safe until I was ready to leave the hospital.”

      “It was engraved with: ‘To Gillian with all my love.’” He saw that the words didn’t ring any bells. “Are you Gillian?”

      She looked again at the door, her expression one of panic.

      “Don’t worry. It will all come back to you,” he said, trying to calm her even though he knew there might always be blanks that she could never fill in if he was right and she had a concussion. He wished there was something he could say to comfort her. She looked so frightened. “Fortunately a highway patrolman came along when he did last night.”

      “Patrolman?” Her words wavered and she looked even more terrified, making him wonder if he might be right and that she’d stolen the car, the purse and the watch. She’d said none of it belonged to her. Maybe she was telling the truth.

      But why was she driving someone else’s car? If so, where was the car’s owner and her baby? This woman’s fear of the law seemed to indicate that something was very off here. What if this woman wasn’t who they thought she was?

      “Where am I?” she asked, glancing around the hospital room.

      “Didn’t the doctor tell you? You’re in the hospital.”

      “I meant, where am I...?” She waved a hand to encompass more than the room.

      “Oh,” he said and frowned. “Bozeman.” When that didn’t seem to register, he added, “Montana.”

      One eyebrow shot up. “Montana?”

      It crossed his mind that a woman who lived in Helena, Montana, wouldn’t be confused about what state she was in. Nor would she be surprised to find herself still in that state.

      He reminded himself that the knock on her head could have messed up some of the wiring. Or maybe she’d been that way before.

      Her gaze came back to him. She was studying him intently, sizing him up. He wondered what she saw and couldn’t help but think of his former girlfriend, Tanya, and the argument they’d had just before he’d left Texas.

      “Haven’t you ever wanted more?” Tanya hadn’t looked at him. She’d been busy throwing her things into a large trash bag. When she’d moved in with him, she’d moved in gradually, bringing her belongings in piecemeal.

      “I’m only going to be gone a week,” he’d said, watching her clean out the drawers in his apartment, wondering if this was it. She’d threatened to leave him enough times, but she never had. Maybe this was the time.

      He had been trying to figure out how he felt about that when she’d suddenly turned toward him.

      “Did you hear what I said?”

      Obviously not. “What?”

      “This business with your brothers...” She did her eye roll. He really hated it when she did that and she knew it. “If it isn’t something to do with Texas Boys Barbecue...”

      He could have pointed out that the barbecue joint she was referring to was a multimillion-dollar business, with more than a dozen locations across Texas, and it paid for this apartment.

      But he’d had a feeling that wasn’t really what this particular argument was about, so he’d said, “Your point?” even though he’d already known it.

      “You’re too busy for a relationship. At least that is your excuse.”

      “You knew I was busy before you moved in.”

      “Ever ask yourself why your work is more important than your love life?” She hadn’t given him time to respond. “You want to know what I think? I think Austin Cardwell goes through life saving people because he’s afraid of letting himself fall in love.”

      He wasn’t afraid. He just hadn’t fallen in love the way Tanya had wanted him to. “Glad we got that figured out,” he’d said.

      Tanya had flared with anger. “That’s all you have to say?”

      And he’d made it worse by shrugging, something he knew she hated. He hadn’t had the time or patience for this kind of talk at that moment. “Maybe we should talk about this when I get back from Montana.”

      She’d shaken her head in obvious disgust. “That is so like you. Put things off and maybe the situation will right itself. You missed your own brother’s wedding and you don’t really care if they open a barbecue restaurant in Montana or not. But instead of being honest, you ignore the problem and hope it goes away until finally they force you to come to Montana. For once, I would love to see you just take a stand. Make a decision. Do something.”

      “I missed my brother’s wedding because I was on a case. One that almost got me killed, you might remember.”

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