Книга - Son of Texas

Son of Texas
Linda Warren


Caleb McCain, Texas Ranger, will always be a son of Texas - loyal to the badge, always working above and beyond the call of duty. Which means taking care of Belle Doe, a woman rescued from a horrible fate and left without any memories. But Belle is starting to remember. As Belle disappears, Josie Marie Beckett emerges, and Caleb knows he must back away to allow Josie to complete her healing.As they get closer to finding the person who tried to kill her, she recalls more of her past - including her fiance. Loyalty to his job means he must let her go. Loyalty to his heart means he wants to keep her close….






“What are you thinking about?” Caleb asked


“About the future. The person who shot me. My memory. And you.”

“Me?” He lifted an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Josie snuggled into him once again and his arm instinctively went around her. “And how much I’m going to miss you and your voice.”

“My voice?”

Josie told Caleb about the warm milk and how his voice made her feel, especially when she was afraid.

“You can always drink a glass of warm milk with chocolate in it when I’m not around.” He was trying to be flippant, but his heart felt heavy.

“It won’t be the same.” Josie looked at him and slowly kissed the corner of his mouth. “Kiss me, Caleb.”

He couldn’t resist. He took her lips with a fiery hunger fueled by a year of glances, touches and yearnings. For a brief moment he ignored the warning in his head and tasted her tongue, her lips, her mouth, and let himself feel everything that he shouldn’t. He couldn’t do this to her, to himself, to Eric. Once her memory returned, she would regret this lapse.

Josie belonged to someone else.


Dear Reader,

Thank you for the many letters asking about Caleb McCain and Belle Doe from Forgotten Son (Harlequin Superromance #1250). I’m happy to tell you that this is their story.

Many of you wrote asking who Belle Doe is. I have to tell you a secret. Her character just sort of evolved in Forgotten Son, and at the time I had no idea who she was or who had shot her. When I was faced with writing her story, I had a blank page. I knew I wanted her to be from south Texas. Other than that, Belle Doe really was Belle Doe—as mysterious to me as she was to you.

People often ask me where I get my ideas for stories. In this case, the process was simple yet very complex. I had to unravel the mystery of Belle Doe—the mystery I had created. I was halfway through the book and I still had no idea who had shot Belle. Her story kept changing as the characters took over. Luckily, I have a very understanding editor.

I had fun traveling to south Texas and solving this mystery. So come along and see what happens.

Happy reading,

Linda Warren

P.S. It’s such a pleasure to hear from readers. You can e-mail me at Lw1508@aol.com or write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805 or visit my Web site at www.lindawarren.net or www.superauthors.com. Your letters will be answered.




SON OF TEXAS

Linda Warren








To Pamela Litton, Christi Hendricks and Naomi Giroux—

the ladies who sat at my kitchen table many nights

munching popcorn and critiquing my first manuscript,

The Truth About Jane Doe. Thanks for helping make a

dream come true. This is book number fifteen.

Look what you started.




ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


One of the very good things about being an author

is that I get to meet a lot of nice, friendly people

who share their lives with me. One of those people is

Becky Wood, R.N. Thank you so much for your support

and for allowing me to share Chula with readers.

Another person is Viola Barker—Thanks for sharing your

interesting life, especially your home remedies.

It’s been a pleasure getting to know you.

Any errors in this book are strictly mine.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE




CHAPTER ONE


WHO AM I?

What’s my name?

The sharp probing questions jabbed at Belle Doe with the power of a professional boxer, but her mind fended them off like a pro as it did every day. Her memory was blank as a newborn’s, yet she wasn’t a baby waiting for a mind to develop. She was a grown woman struggling to remember her life.

Who am I? Why can’t I remember? Her therapist, Dr. Karen Oliver, said not to force herself, but at times she felt so frustrated and confused. Her memory loomed in front of her like a wall she couldn’t get through or over. Dr. Oliver said this was normal, a protective instinct for post-traumatic stress-disorder victims who’d survived horrific events. Eventually she would become stronger and allow the memories of her past to break through.

But when?

Sitting in the window seat at the home of Ms. Gertrude Parker, Belle slowly counted to ten to ease her frustration. She looked out at the beautiful spring day. A clear blue sky beckoned and suddenly a red robin landed on a hibiscus bush outside the window. The sight calmed her even more. She took note of lilies blooming, the lush live oaks, the brilliant new green of the St. Augustine grass that Wendell, the gardener, tended.

It had been over a year, that was as close as the authorities could figure the timeline, since she’d been rescued from a cult in the Texas Hill Country. Over a year since the doctors had found the bullet in her head. She had no name, no memory. She’d spent four months in the hospital and she’d now been with Ms. Gertie for almost eight. The authorities were unsure how long she’d been in Austin before the cult had found her. The cult members had found her walking the streets of Austin and had taken her in, named her Jezebel, made her a slave and beat her regularly. She was saved from that nightmare by a Texas Ranger, and another ranger helped her to face her fears and live again. Her Texas Ranger. That’s how she thought of Caleb McCain.

The FBI, the Texas Rangers, doctors and therapists tried to piece together what had happened to her. Seeing that she cringed when anyone called her Jezebel, Caleb insisted they rename her Belle and had the hospital records changed to Belle Doe. That was the first time she became aware of him. He cared. The others were doing a job, but Caleb actually cared about her. He was the first person she’d come to trust after her nightmare ended, and he’d been there for her ever since.

As she slowly began to recover from the physical violence, she was faced with being moved from the hospital to a mental institution until her memory returned. The doctors didn’t have a choice and had to abide by hospital rules. With no memory she knew the institution would be as bad as the cult—only in a different way.

Caleb spoke with the doctors and they agreed it would be best for Belle to live outside the hospital and establish the necessary framework for a normal, healthy lifestyle so she could function in the present. This would, hopefully, facilitate her memory’s return. But they didn’t have the resources to find someone to take her in. It was Caleb who went the extra mile.

He’d found her a job as a companion to Ms. Gertrude Parker, a widow who hadn’t remarried after the love of her life died in WWII. Living with Ms. Gertie had been a blessing. She was truly an angel in disguise and she and Belle had formed a bond that would never be broken. Dr. Oliver had said that the relationships Belle formed now would build a strong foundation of trust and deep roots, which would help strengthen an inner connection within herself. But the doctor also warned that once her memory returned, those foundations wouldn’t be as strong. Her old life, the person she used to be, would take precedence.

Belle lived cautiously, taking each day as it came, and was grateful for the kind people who now filled her world. Gertie was a wealthy eccentric of undeterminate age, but Belle guessed she was somewhere in her eighties. The woman had wrecked four cars in one year; her lawyer deemed it unsafe for her to drive. Ms. Gertie had resisted her loss of independence, firing chauffeur after chauffeur. Gertie was a cousin of Caleb’s stepfather and when Caleb heard about the problem, he thought Belle would be a perfect companion and helper.

And Belle desperately needed a home. Caleb had arranged for her to get a driver’s license and Gertie hired her at their first meeting. Now she had a home and she’d found a measure of peace in Ms. Gertie’s colorful world.

Gertrude’s Victorian home had been in her family for years. It was equipped with a pool and tennis courts, and filled with priceless antiques and artworks. She lived in the big house with two cats, Prissy and Prudy, and a Jack Russell terrier named Harry. Belle was sure she’d never lived in such opulence before. Despite the comforts of her present life, everything felt foreign to her, and she lived with this unsettled feeling every day.

She ran her hands through her long dark hair, then reached for the colorful band and tied it into a ponytail, then looped it again to make a knot so it wouldn’t bounce around. The action was natural, as if she’d done it many times before. This was an implicit memory, behavioral knowledge without conscious recall, as Dr. Oliver called it, just as Belle knew how to read and write but she couldn’t remember how she’d learned those skills.

From what she’d learned about her condition, parts of her memory should have returned by now. After a year, there was less chance of it returning at all. She feared she’d be in this limbo forever.

Sighing, she glanced at her watch—just after twelve. Gertie was resting as she did every day unless she had an appointment. This was the time Belle used to practice the exercises the doctors had taught her to help regain her memory.

Taking a deep breath, she asked out loud, “What’s my name?”

There was no answer, just a numbness of her mind and her spirit.

The sky darkened to almost black and Belle watched a thunderstorm roll in, chasing away the spring day. Crazy Texas weather. She didn’t know much, but she knew about the unpredictable weather in Texas, another implicit memory. Thunder echoed loudly and lightning zigzagged across the sky. Wendell, who’d been fertilizing the yard, hurried to the garages just as the skies opened up.

The rain made a drumming noise against the windows and lightning zipped across the grass with dangerous flashes of lights and spine-tingling sounds. Belle knew she should move, but something was happening in her mind. She could feel it.

In her sessions with Dr. Oliver she’d learned a current event or experience could trigger long-forgotten memories. Sounds, smells or other stimuli such as the weather had the capabilities of sparking her mind. And the memories could return bit by bit or all at once or not at all.

Thunder rumbled through her as continual flashes of the lightning streaked the sky. She shivered, watching the storm and waiting for a miracle. Rain poured down the windows in trails and she was mesmerized by the movement. She could almost feel it reaching into her—washing away. Washing away. She grabbed her head as it began to throb. Thunder blasted like a gun and memories, beautiful forgotten memories, floated to the surface.

“Tell Daddy your name.” The words were clear almost as if her mother was standing beside her.

“I scared. Don’t like rain. It’s too noisy.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. Mommy and Daddy are right here. Tell Daddy your name.”

“Don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. We practiced all day. Tell Daddy your name.”

“My name is Joscelyn Marie.” She said it proudly and loudly.

“Yes. Yes, it is. Now what’s your last name?”

“Beckett. My name is Joscelyn Marie Beckett.”

Her mother clapped. “Isn’t that wonderful for a two-year-old?”

Belle could feel her father’s arms as he held her and she could smell Old Spice, his favorite cologne. “My girl is getting big. What does Daddy call you?”

“Josie Marie. Josie Marie. Josie Marie.”

The storm ended and so did the memories. “No. No. No,” she cried. “Please let me remember more. Please.” But the blankness returned and all she was left with was a name. A name! After all this time, she knew her name.

Josie Marie Beckett.

She jumped from the window seat, eager to call Caleb. She should call Dr. Oliver, but she had to tell Caleb first. Hurrying toward the phone, she stopped in her tracks. Ms. Gertie came into the sunroom with a large hat on her head. That wasn’t unusual as Gertie was known for her hats. But in the midst of the bright flowers and feathers on the hat was a small birdcage with a live yellow canary inside. Prissy and Prudy trailed behind her, looking at the hat as if it might be their dinner.

“What do you think, Belle, darlin’?”

Gertie, a tall, big-boned woman, moved with an inherent grace. Her white hair was coiled neatly at her nape and she wore a purple suit to match the purple in the hat. As always there were pearls around her neck. But Belle kept looking at the little bird.

“Ms. Gertie, there’s a live bird on your head.” Pointing this out seemed unnecessary, but she didn’t know what else to say.

“Of course, darlin’. We’re going to auction off this hat at the charity ball. They just delivered it and I think it’s a wonderful idea. A definite attention grabber.”

She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn’t even heard the doorbell. Josie Marie. She had a name.

“Wendell has a cage for the canary and before we go to the ball tomorrow night, Wendell will put him in the hat-cage again. The highest bidder will get the cage, the hat and all the food the little thing will need for a year.” Ms. Gertie made a face. “I just hate the thought of a bird pooping on my head. But I’ll do anything for charity—at least once.”

“Whose idea was this?” Belle asked, trying to keep her thoughts on the conversation.

“Mine, of course. No one else is that brilliant.”

“Of course not,” Belle agreed. One of the things she loved about living with Gertie was that she laughed a lot. And she needed that.

Prissy reared up on Gertie’s skirt, her eyes on the bird. Prudy, fearing Prissy might get the prize, joined her.

“Look at this.” Gertie sighed. “You’d think they were never fed. Get down, you spoiled cats.”

Prissy and Prudy crept to a corner, their feelings hurt.

“Oh, my babies. I didn’t mean it.” Gertie tried to soothe the cats. “You’ll get a special treat tonight.”

Harry raced into the room, barking at the hat. Just then the doorbell rang.

Gertie straightened the hat and her suit as if she knew who was at the door. Martha, the housekeeper, showed Caleb into the sunroom. Dressed in dark slacks, a white shirt and cowboy boots with his Texas Ranger badge proudly displayed over his left pocket, he smiled a welcome. Belle’s heart rate kicked up a notch as it always did when she saw him.

He was without his gun and white hat. He usually left those in the car when he was visiting. Tall and lanky, he had soft dark eyes and dark hair. He had to be the most handsome, kindest and caring man she’d ever met. Of course, she remembered nothing of other men she’d known. She suddenly wondered if there were many.

Shaking the thought away, she wondered instead what Caleb was doing here. His office was in a town outside of Austin, but he stopped by sometimes when he was in the city. Maybe this was one of those days. Or maybe he sensed that she needed him. In a way they had an uncanny connection.

“Caleb,” Gertie said. “Have a seat. I’ve been expecting you.”

She sagged at the revelation of Gertie’s words. Gertie had called him.

Caleb just stared at the hat on Gertie’s head. “Ms. Gertie, there’s a bird on your head,” he said in his deep voice that wrapped around Belle like warm sunshine.

“Yes, Caleb, there is. Tomorrow evening this hat and bird will be auctioned off at a charity ball and Belle and I need an escort. Are you free?”

“Yes, ma’am. It would be a pleasure.”

“Good. Be here at six and a limo will pick us up. Now I have to see if I can get this thing off my head. Martha,” she called, walking gingerly from the room, her animals following her.



CALEB LOOKED AT BELLE, her long black hair pulled back, her eyes as dark as the mysteries in her head. An olive complexion stretched over high cheekbones and he thought, as he had since the first day he saw her, that she was the most beautiful, striking woman he’d ever seen.

“Hi,” he said, unable to keep the warmth out of his voice. “How are you?”

“Fine. There’s never a dull moment around here.”

“Is she really auctioning off that hat-bird contraption?”

“You know Ms. Gertie.”

“Oh, yeah.” He watched her face. She seemed excited and he sensed it had nothing to do with Gertie. At times he could almost read her expressions—he knew her that well. The first time he saw her in the hospital she was curled into a fetal position and refused to look at him. His heart broke at what had happened to her and he just wanted to help. The doctor warned him about getting emotionally attached because Belle’s emotions were very fragile, but from the first moment he looked into her dark eyes he was trapped, captivated.

“I was going to call you.” Her words came out in a rush.

“Oh.” That was unusual. He was the one who did all the calling.

“Yes.” Her hands clasped her cheeks. “I remembered something.”

“Oh.” He took a seat on the wicker sofa, moving a green-and-white-flowered throw pillow out of the way. She’d been discovering little things—she loved chocolate and old movies, she knew how to work a computer and she liked the outdoors and exercise. She jogged five miles every morning. Every piece of information was building her personality and telling her who she was. But they didn’t have the full picture yet.

“I remembered my name,” she said in excitement. “I remembered my name!”

“What!” He was at a loss for words. This was big. This could help to place her back with her family.

“Yes. I was sitting in the window seat when the storm blew through. With the thunder and lightning, my head started to throb and I remembered something from when I was two years old. I could feel my mom’s and dad’s presence, their warmth and their love. I was saying my name to my dad.”

“What is it?” His voice was hoarse.

“Joscelyn Marie Beckett. Everyone calls me Josie.”

“Josie Marie Beckett.” He said the name slowly, trying it out, the feel and the taste of it.

“Yes. Yes.” She clapped her hands. “That’s my name. I know it is.”

He’d never seen her eyes so bright or her cheeks so flushed and he knew they were on the verge of finding her true identity, her family. He was happy about that. She’d been in limbo long enough, but a part of him was sad. This would be her first step away from him and he had to let her go. It was time.

He knew this day was coming and he should be prepared, but he wasn’t. Still, he’d do what he had to. As a Texas Ranger he could do no less. He’d taken an oath to protect the people of Texas, and as a son of Texas he’d never break that oath.

“I’ll run a background check right away. I should have more information on Joscelyn Beckett soon.” He got to his feet.

“You’ll call as soon as you find out something.” A shadow crossed her face.

“Yes.” He paused at her expression. “What is it?”

She closed her eyes for a second. “I feel as if I’ve been in this deep, dark hole and I’ve suddenly glimpsed a sliver of light. But I’m afraid of the brightness and what it will reveal. Will it burn me? Will it scar me further? Maybe it’s safer to bury myself in the hole where I can’t be hurt again. After all, someone tried to kill me.”

Walking to her, he looked into her troubled eyes. He was there when they brought her in with scars on her back from being beaten repeatedly. And he was there when the tests revealed a bullet in her head. After some investigation they determined that the people in the cult hadn’t shot her. Someone else had. He was with her through all those long weeks in the hospital when he didn’t think she’d ever make it back from the abuse she’d suffered. He was there to prepare her to testify against the cult members, but when the cult leader died, the others took a plea bargain. He was relieved that she wouldn’t have to go through a trial, but she’d been ready to do whatever was necessary to keep them behind bars. Belle Doe wasn’t a quitter. She was a fighter, a survivor—that’s why she was still alive.

“You survived because you have more strength than anyone I’ve ever met. Whatever we find out about your life, you’ll be able to handle. There’s no doubt in my mind. The fear is just a part of it. You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t afraid of the unknown. We all are.”

Her eyes glistened. “I don’t think you’re afraid of anything.”

Losing you. He’d been afraid of that for a long time now, and it was happening. He’d handle it just as she would—with courage.

“Ah, Belle. Don’t put me on a pedestal.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Give Dr. Oliver a call. She’ll be able to reassure you,” he finally said.

She nodded, her eyes catching his. “I’ll never be able to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Just be happy—that’s what I want for you.” He meant every word, even if that happiness wasn’t with him. “I better get going so I can make it happen.”

“Caleb.” She stopped him.

He turned to look at her and wished he hadn’t. Her sad eyes, her sweet face twisted his gut.

“I’m sorry you got recruited for another escort job.”

He grinned. “Oh. I’m looking forward to this. I want to see the fool who buys that hat.” He was being flippant, but it would be the last time that he’d go anywhere with Belle on his arm. She would soon become Josie—a completely different person.

She grinned back. “It should be fun.”

“It will be. We’ll dance the night away—probably the last time that I’ll be able to call you Belle.”

A pregnant pause followed his words; and emotions they’d been denying simmered close to the surface.

“You can always call me Belle. Right now Josie doesn’t seem quite right.”

“But it will.” They both knew that and they both were feeling that pang of change.

“Maybe.” Her eyes held his. “You’ll call as soon as you find out something?”

“Yes, and try not to worry.” He turned and walked out before his strength gave way.

Outside he took a long breath. Josie Marie Beckett. Who are you? Do you have a husband, a lover waiting for you? Those two questions were uppermost in his mind and he hated himself for that selfish reaction. He got in his car and headed for his office to find out the truth about Belle, putting his emotions aside and concentrating on her and her future.

He just wished he could get rid of the knot in his stomach, a knot that told him he was about to lose everything he’d ever wanted. But he would deal with it like a man—the man she wanted him to be. If he preached to himself long enough and hard enough, he might be able to pull it off.



BELLE IMMEDIATELY CALLED Dr. Oliver and told her about the memory. As Caleb had said, Dr. Oliver reassured her and Belle felt better knowing that finally her memory was returning. She held her name in her heart like a sacred pledge, so afraid it was going to slip away like the rest of her memories. Although she had told Caleb, and he’d make sure her future would now unfold.

She would face the light and the fears inside her. It was long overdue. Someone had put a bullet in her head and left her on the streets of Austin to die. Who had caused her all this misery? And who had hated her that much? No matter how hard it would be, Caleb would help her find the truth. It was time to stop being afraid and embrace her life—whatever it had been.

She knew she was a good person and made friends easily. Caroline Coltrane, the wife of Eli, the ranger who’d rescued her, was a very good friend, and her sister, Grace, was, too. They met for lunch every now and then and Belle enjoyed their company and their friendship. She wondered what type of friends she had in her old life. Belle was beginning to drive herself crazy with all the wondering, so she went in search of Ms. Gertie. After all, she did have a job. Some days that was hard to remember because Ms. Gertie tended to pamper her. But she wasn’t an invalid and she’d made that plain from the start.

She found Gertie in the pool, floating and relaxing. Harry paddled around entertaining her. Prissy and Prudy lay on the tiled floor watching, but not daring to get in the water. The pool and the hot tub were enclosed, so Gertie swam daily year-round.

“Do you need me to do anything, Ms. Gertie?” she asked.

Instead of responding, she answered with a question. “Did you have a nice visit with Caleb?”

“Yes.” She sat in a pool chair and Prissy jumped onto her lap. She stroked the cat for a moment, listening to her purr. “I wasn’t aware you’d called him to be our escort for tomorrow night.”

“If I’d told you, you would have said not to bother him. But it’s unseemly for a woman to attend functions without a male escort.” She paused, splashing water on Harry. “And I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Belle shifted uncomfortably. “Ms. Gertie, you know I can’t get involved with anyone. I don’t know who I am and that would be so unfair to Caleb.”

“Oh, Belle, darlin’. That doesn’t keep the heart from getting involved.”

She knew that all too well. But now that she knew her name, her feelings would change. Wouldn’t they? That’s what she’d learned in her sessions. Though her feelings for Caleb seemed strong now, once her memory fully returned those emotions would lose their strength. Her feelings for Caleb were based on her fears and insecurities. He was her security blanket.

In her mind, she recognized the logic of that. In her heart she wasn’t so sure. Caleb, with his kind and gentle ways, was a part of her. She knew his smile, that crooked grin and the way his brows knitted together when he was deep in thought. But most of all she knew his voice—that deep soothing tone that had brought her so much comfort. And his touch. For so long she jumped if anyone touched her.

Slowly and surely Caleb’s gentle touch had shown her that not all people were bad. Caleb was good to the core and she couldn’t imagine loving anyone the way she loved him. But that was her private secret. She had no right to love Caleb or to give him hope that one day there could be a future for them. Until she regained her memory, she had no future.

But now she had a name. In a few hours Caleb might be able to tell her where she was from, if she had a family, a husband. The thought ran through her with anticipation and dread. Once she found that out, Caleb would become a part of her past and she wasn’t ready to let go—not of Caleb.

She was smart enough to realize that everything Dr. Oliver had cautioned her about was true. Her attachment to Caleb was hindering her memory recall. She had to let go and allow herself to remember. She wasn’t in love with Caleb, she only thought she was. How many times would she have to say that to herself before she believed it?

“Belle, grab Harry. He’s getting tired.” Ms. Gertie’s voice penetrated her thoughts and she jumped up, Prissy growling at the interruption of her sleep. Belle grabbed a towel and gathered Harry into her arms, drying him thoroughly.

When she put him down, she knew exactly what he was going to do. He shook his whole body, splattering her with remnants of water.

“Harry,” she scolded, but laughed at his anguished expression. She picked him up and rubbed him again until he was panting with delight.

“I better get out. I have a dozen phone calls to make.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Belle asked again.

“Yes. Make sure Martha has that canary locked in the dining room. I don’t want the girls having a feast of him tonight.”

“The girls never leave your bed.” Gertie called the cats her girls and she treated them as such, too.

“Oh, but temptation is sometimes too great.” Gertie stepped out and wrapped a towel around herself. “Think about that, Belle. Sometimes it’s good to give in to temptation.”

“Ms. Gertie.” She was shocked.

“I’m not talking about the girls. I’m talking about Caleb.”

“Ms. Gertie!” She was even more shocked.

“I’m going to change, then I’ll be in my study.” She walked off, not saying another word, the animals marching behind her.

Belle went to check on the canary, trying to ignore the message behind Gertie’s words. She knew how Belle felt about Caleb. Everybody probably did, but Caleb. And she never wanted him to know. It would only complicate things.



CALEB SPENT THE AFTERNOON searching for every piece of information he could on Joscelyn Marie Beckett. Before long, he knew a lot about her. She was born in Corpus Christi, Texas to Brett and Marie Beckett. She attended school in Corpus and went on to Texas A&M at Corpus and eventually became a police officer. A police officer! That threw him and angered him. How could a police officer disappear without anyone knowing? But it would explain her strength and courage.

He forced himself to continue. Later, she was on the police force in Beckett, Texas. Caleb had heard of the town, but looked it up on the map to get the exact location. South Texas—between Corpus Christi and Laredo.

None of this was making sense. She was a police officer and no one had reported her missing. And no one had answered the ads asking for information about her that were plastered in all the big newspapers. Why?

A little more checking and he discovered she’d never been married. That was a relief for now, but Belle had a whole life out there that didn’t include him. He shoved the thought aside. Her parents were dead, killed in an auto accident and she had a grandfather who lived in Beckett. Even Caleb had heard of Boone Beckett and the Silver Spur Ranch. Cattle and oil wells made Boone a formidable figure in Texas, especially when it came to politics. His backing could almost guarantee a win.

So why hadn’t a man like Beckett searched for his granddaughter? There were so many unanswered questions and he knew the only way to find the answers was to go to Beckett, Texas.

First, he had to talk to Belle. It wasn’t going to be easy to explain that her parents were dead. Or that her grandfather hadn’t cared enough to report her missing.

He grabbed his hat, knowing he had to be honest with her, but he wasn’t looking forward to the conversation.




CHAPTER TWO


BEFORE CALEB DID ANYTHING, he called Dr. Oliver and she asked him to come to her office. He was glad to do so. He didn’t want to do anything to impede the return of Belle’s memory.

“Howdy, ma’am.” Caleb placed copies of the information he learned about Belle on Dr. Oliver’s mahogany desk. Removing his hat, he took a seat across from her. The room was done in soothing pastels, and calming water sounds played softly in the background.

“Ranger McCain, I’m glad you took the time to come by and bring the information,” Dr. Oliver replied. Somewhere in her fifties, Dr. Oliver’s hair was short and completely gray and she spoke as softly as the sounds wafting from the intercom.

“We’ve been waiting for this and I wanted you to have all the details.”

“Thank you. Remembering her name is very good, but it is only the start.”

“So how much information should I give her?”

Dr. Oliver flipped through the papers. “Tell her the basics. Ask questions and let her fill in the blanks. No pressure. If she asks a question, answer as little as you can. Let her strive for the complete picture.”

“Okay.”

Dr. Oliver continued to read through the papers. “A police officer? Never would have guessed that, but she’s very independent and strong, so that fits.” She looked up, her eyes thoughtful. “And no one reported her missing. That’s a puzzle. When you feed her this information, do it slowly.”

His eyes narrowed. “Do you think it’s wise to tell her any of this?”

Dr. Oliver looked at him over the rim of her glasses. “Ranger McCain, we’re not keeping secrets from her, but with a little coaxing I’m hoping she’ll remember it on her own.”

“I see.” He leaned forward. “Do you think going back to Beckett would be good for her?”

Dr. Oliver folded her hands. “In my opinion, it would be very good for Belle to be around familiar sights and sounds. That might be the stimulus she needs for a full recovery. There is no such thing as a quick fix when it comes to healing from trauma, but Belle has made remarkable strides. She’s established a healthy lifestyle and she functions very well. She’s strong enough to cope with integrating the present and memories of the traumas with her other memories, as they reveal themselves.”

Caleb ran his thumb along the rim of his white Stetson. “I hear a ‘but’ in your voice.”

“I’m going to be straightforward.”

“Please do.”

“We’ve talked about this before.”

He knew what was coming—Belle’s attachment to him.

“Belle’s emotional state is very fragile. She trusts and leans on you, and in the beginning that was very good because she’d lost all trust in people. From the fragments she recalled while in the hospital, we’ve ascertained there is a man in her life. Once her whole memory returns she won’t need to lean on you. She’ll become a fully functioning person again with an old life and a new life. If she’s torn about hurting you, it will make things very difficult for her. And I know you want the transition to go smoothly and for Belle to recover without any guilty feelings over misleading you.”

He stood and held his hat in his hand. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care for Belle, but everything I do I do with her best interest in mind.”

Dr. Oliver stood also. “I know. That’s why I haven’t asked you to back away from her. You’ve been good for Belle and you’re probably the reason she’s recovered so well. But the day is coming when she won’t need you. Don’t make her feel guilty about that. It could compromise her full recovery.”

“I would never do anything to compromise her recovery.” He placed his hat on his head. “Any advice on what to expect?”

“She’ll continue to have headaches, some severe, confusion and some dizziness. Just be patient and let everything happen naturally. Bits and pieces of her life may come back gradually, like this morning, or she could be flooded with memories all at once. Other times, she may not be aware she’s remembering. The information will just come out in something she says. I have an appointment with Belle in the morning and we’ll thoroughly go over the details, but she’s read so much and studied PTSD that she’s well aware of what’s happening. She’s become so strong, a pale comparison to the shell of a woman I first saw in the hospital. I have no doubt she’ll overcome all of this.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I hear another ‘but.’”

“Memory loss related to traumatic experiences may serve as a protective function. If Belle feels a strong secure attachment in the present she may never allow herself to remember.”

He swallowed. “So make it clear that we are only friends?”

Dr. Oliver nodded. “Yes. That would help her tremendously. She may not realize it now, but she will later.”

How will he feel later? Hurt and alone. But he’d known that from the start and he wouldn’t change anything he’d done for Belle.

As if sensing his thoughts, Dr. Oliver added, “I know you care deeply for Belle and she was lucky to have someone so unselfish and caring on her side. She has basically overcome the physical abuse of the cult—painful flashbacks and dreams are normal and Belle knows that. But once she becomes aware of the reason why she was shot she has to be able to cope. And I believe she can.”

“Me, too. Thanks for being so honest.”

“Belle’s future is in her hands.” She scribbled a number on the back of a business card. “That’s my cell. Call if you feel you need me, but Belle trusts you and you’re probably the best person to reveal tidbits about her past.”

Caleb tipped his hat and walked out, wondering exactly what the future held—for Belle. And him.



WHEN HE REACHED the Parker house, Belle was waiting for him. He followed her into the living room. Gertie was upstairs.

She turned to him. “Did you find my family?”

He removed his hat and sat on the sofa, trying to find the right words. “Sort of.”

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

He patted the spot beside him. “Sit, and let’s take this slow.”

“Okay.” She did as he asked.

Her dark hair hung down her back and her eyes were bright. How could he tell her? How could he douse that light from her eyes? He had no choice. Taking a long breath, he said, “Your parents’ names are Brett and Marie Beckett.”

Her frown deepened and he waited. Her hands framed her face, her eyes heavy with memories. “Yes. My parents.” Suddenly tears filled her eyes. “They’re dead. I remember the awful car accident. I remember. Oh, no! Oh, no!” She wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked to and fro, her hair obscuring her face.

Caleb’s stomach churned with a sick feeling, but he didn’t interfere as she dealt with her parents’ deaths all over again. He wanted to touch or hold her, but he knew it was best not to. So he just gave her time.

Slowly she wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “They were too young to have their lives cut tragically short. And they were so much in love.”

“Did you live with them?” Dr. Oliver wanted him to ask questions, so that’s how he started.

Her brow wrinkled in thought and she touched her forehead. “No. I had my own apartment. Daddy didn’t like it, but Mama said I was grown up and since I was a…” Her voice halted as another memory surfaced.

Her eyes grew big. “I was a police officer. Oh, my God! I was a police officer!”

“Yes,” he acknowledged. “In Corpus, then in Beckett, Texas.”

Her eyes became even bigger. “It’s my name. Beckett. Beckett.” She repeated the name, testing it, running it through her brain. “My grandfather lives there.” She frowned. “I worked there?”

“Can you remember?”

Her frown became fierce. “Why would I work in Beckett? My parents didn’t even live there. Oh, wait.” She held her head in a vice as memories tortured her. “After my parents died, I went there at my grandfather’s invitation. His name is Boone Beckett.”

“Yes,” Caleb confirmed. “Can you remember anything else?”

She jumped to her feet. “No, and I don’t want to.”

He stood facing her. She was barefoot and she barely came to his shoulder. “I know this is painful, but it’s what you wanted—to know the truth about yourself.”

“Yes.” She looked him in the eye. “Did my grandfather report me missing?”

This was the hard part. He shook his head. “No. No one has reported you missing.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“All I have are facts, no concrete answers. To find those you have to go back to Beckett.”

Fear flashed in her eyes and he was quick to tell her, “I’ll go with you.”

“You will?”

“Yes. I’ll stay with you until your full memory returns.”

“Thank you. I’d like that.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure I could do it alone.”

“You don’t have to.”

“When can we go?” she asked, her voice anxious.

“How about the morning after the charity ball? That will give you time to get your thoughts together, talk to Dr. Oliver and explain to Gertie.”

“Yes.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’ll hate to leave her. She’s been so good to me.”

“She’ll understand. We all want you to regain your memory.”

“Yes,” she replied in a melancholy voice.

He restrained himself from touching her wet cheek. “Try not to think about it too much. We have the ball tomorrow night and then we’ll find the answers you need.”

Her face softened. “I’m sorry you got roped into that.”

“Aw, shucks, ma’am. I’d never have any fun if I didn’t squire Ms. Gertie around town.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now get some rest.”

“Caleb.”

“Yes?”

She licked her dry lips. “How old am I?”

“Thirty.”

“Oh. Yes, that feels right.” She swallowed then asked, “Am I married?”

He saw the worry in her eyes and didn’t think it would hurt to tell her. “No.”

She heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Talk to you later,” he called on his way out the door, feeling the same way she did.



THE NEXT MORNING Belle spent an hour with Dr. Oliver and felt good about the visit.

“I’m so glad it’s finally happening,” Belle said, curled up on the peach sofa.

“Yes,” Dr. Oliver agreed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Do you have any questions?”

She shrugged. “No. Not really. I believe we’ve covered everything about a hundred times.”

Dr. Oliver smiled. “You’ve been one of those patients who desires to know everything and you’ve researched PTSD thoroughly. Just be patient and let your memory unfold. You may not even be aware of it at times, and at others you may be flooded with events and scenes. Dreams and flashbacks are normal. So are the headaches, but once your recall is complete they will be less frequent, then may disappear completely.”

Belle uncurled her legs. “Caleb is going with me to Beckett.”

Dr. Oliver paused in writing notes in a file. “I know.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t object to that,” she said with an impish grin.

“You’ve been confused many times with my cautionary words about Caleb.” Dr. Oliver looked directly at her. “When your memory is complete, you’ll understand them. They are for your own peace of mind. And that’s what I want for you—for you to be at peace with your past and your present, not torn between the two. Less trauma is what you need now.” She returned to her notes. “You trust Ranger McCain and so do I. I’m relieved that he will be with you.”

“He’s a wonderful man.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Dr. Oliver looked up. “And there’s probably a wonderful man waiting for you.”

“Mmm.” She chewed on her lip, wondering about the man she’d mentioned in the hospital. He wasn’t her husband. So he had to be a boyfriend. Yet, she couldn’t bring up his face. All she could see was Caleb. She wouldn’t tell Dr. Oliver that. She would handle her feelings in her own way because she knew them for what they were. That was the main thing.



THAT NIGHT BELLE had a restless sleep, tossing and turning as parts of her life flashed through her mind like a frenetic video. She was a little girl running to meet her father when he came home from work, then she was older and her mother was teaching her to cook and how to set the table. They were on a family trip to Six Flags Over Texas, laughing and having a good time. Then school and showing her parents her report card—all A’s and she was proud. Her parents were even prouder. Friends, Cathy and Gilda, stayed over and tried on makeup and they did each other’s hair. They talked about boys, dating and the prom. Graduation and smiles then college. Texas A&M at Corpus was close so her parents were thrilled with her choice. She had to make a decision about a career and it was easy. She’d go into law enforcement like her father.

Finally the video stopped and she fell into a deep sleep. She woke up refreshed as some of the fogginess had left her. She had a happy childhood and she’d remembered so many things that her head hurt from the reel running in her mind. Her memory was returning just as Dr. Oliver had said. Now she had to wait and the rest would fall into place. Soon she’d know the face of the person who’d shot her.

She quickly dressed in shorts and a tank top, making sure her back was covered. She had deep welts there from the beatings she’d received at the hands of the cult. The racist leader said she was evil because her skin and eyes denoted her lineage was from a group not acceptable to their faith. She had to be beaten to drive out the demons and this had gone on for months.

Now her life was within her grasp. She just had to keep remembering.

She hit the front door running, taking her usual route through the affluent neighborhood. It was barely six so everything was peaceful and quiet on this April morning. Birds chirped and she could hear an occasional plane or car, but otherwise she was alone. She kept her mind blank as she jogged down the sidewalk in front of the large two-story homes and manicured lawns. The fragrance of blooming flowers wafted to her nostrils and she sucked in the scent, but didn’t pause to admire the view. She needed the exercise more than the scenery or the elusive memories that were surfacing faster than she could take them in.

An hour later she jogged back through the door breathing heavily and walked through the house to the pool area, where she quickly changed. She dived in and swam until she was completely exhausted, then she crawled out, grabbed a towel and collapsed into a lounge chair. The sky roof was open and the early-morning sun poured in. She felt at ease and at peace for that moment. Prudy hopped onto her lap and Belle knew Ms. Gertie was awake. Strange, but she still thought of herself as Belle. She wondered how long that would last. How long before she made the journey back to who she used to be and accepted it totally?

“Morning, Belle, darlin’.” Ms. Gertie, in a blue flowing silk robe, took a lounge chair next to hers.

“Morning, Ms. Gertie.” Belle knew she had to tell Gertie she’d remembered her name.

“I told Martha we’d have breakfast out here. It’s such a beautiful day.”

“Yes, it is. I ran this morning and the yards are looking so nice and there’s a scent in the air that’s indescribable.”

“It’s spring, darlin’, and there’s pheromones in the air. Turns a head to thinking about love.”

Belle stroked Prudy, smiling. “Ms. Gertie, you’re a natural born matchmaker.”

“Mmm. Too bad I didn’t do too good with myself. Living alone is not much fun, but without Harry, there’s not much fun, either.”

Harry, hearing his name barked loudly. Gertie had named her dog after her husband. She said it brought her comfort.

Gertie reached down and picked up Harry, cuddling him. “So, Belle, my darlin’, don’t let real love slip by.”

Maybe if Ms. Gertie knew her memory was returning she’d stop her matchmaking with Caleb. “I have to tell you something.”

Martha laid a tray of bran muffins, fruit, coffee and juice on a small table between them. “Thanks, Martha,” Gertie said, reaching for a cup of coffee. “Now, darlin’, what do you have to tell me?”

Belle reached for a glass of juice. “I remembered my name.”

Gertie’s head jerked toward her. “Oh, that’s marvelous.”

“Yes,” Belle agreed. “And Caleb found out a lot of other information, too.”

“So what is your name?”

“Joscelyn Marie Beckett, but everyone calls me Josie.”

“Beckett?” Gertie’s fine eyebrows crinkled in thought. “Any relation to the Becketts of South Texas?”

“Boone Beckett is my grandfather.”

“Oh, my goodness. I think I need something stronger than coffee.”

“Do you know him?”

“Darlin’, everybody in Texas knows Boone, the old scoundrel, reprobate, womanizer without a scruple to his name.”

“Sounds as if you know him very well.”

“I’ve run into him over the years at political fund-raisers and political events. Never saw eye to eye on much of anything. It’s hard to believe that someone as sweet as you could be his granddaughter. Evidently you don’t have much of your grandfather in you.”

“My memories of him are vague, but Caleb and I are leaving for Beckett in the morning to find answers.”

“Oh, darlin’. I don’t like the thought of you leaving me, and I like the thought of you getting hurt even less.”

“I’ll be fine, Ms. Gertie, but I hate deserting you on such short notice.”

“Don’t give it another thought. You just get your life back, and if that life doesn’t appeal to you, you always have a home here.”

“Ms. Gertie, you’re truly an angel.”

“Oh, darlin’, don’t look too closely or you’ll find the horns.” She rose, Harry comfortable in her arms. “I’ll get dressed and meet you in the study. We have a lot to get done before the ball.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m right behind you.”

In her room, she called Caroline to let her know what had happened.

“Oh, Belle, that’s marvelous,” Caroline said. “But I’ll miss you.”

Caroline had been a true friend when she’d needed one and Belle would never forget that. “I’ll miss you, too, our talks, our lunches. Both you and Grace. Please tell her for me.” Grace was Caroline’s sister and they were very close. They both had made Belle feel not so alone and she was grateful for that.

“Sure,” Caroline agreed. “I’m glad Caleb is going with you. I won’t worry so much. He’ll take very good care of you.”

“Yes, he always does that.” Belle bit her lip, realizing not for the first time how kind people had been to her since her ordeal.

“Mmm.”

Belle didn’t miss the hint in Caroline’s soft voice—that there was more than friendship between Belle and Caleb.

“Promise you’ll call and visit Eli and me often.”

“I will.” Belle would be forever indebted to Eli, who’d rescued his future wife, Caroline, and Belle from the cult.

“Be happy, Belle, that’s what Eli and I want for you.”

“Thanks, Caroline, and thanks for being a good friend.” Tears welled in her eyes.

“This isn’t goodbye forever,” Caroline said. “I won’t let it be.”

“Me, neither.” She’d never forget her friends in Austin.

“Bye, Belle.”

Belle. Belle. Belle. But she wasn’t Belle. She was Josie Marie Beckett.

She hung up the phone, feeling sad. In Austin she had friends, people who cared about her. What awaited her in Beckett, Texas?



CALEB STARTED HIS DAY by calling Jeremiah Tucker, a friend and fellow ranger, to see if he’d cover for Caleb while he was away. Tuck was affable and hardworking and he readily agreed, wishing Caleb all the best in placing Belle back with her family.

Then he headed for Waco to tell his parents in person. Andrew Wellman was his stepfather, but he was Caleb’s father in every way that counted. Joe McCain, his biological father, never claimed Caleb or acknowledged his existence. Joe was an angry, controlling, jealous man and he’d put Caleb’s mother, Althea, through hell. The only place he’d let her go alone was to church and there she found the courage to get out of a rotten marriage.

Jake and Beau, Caleb’s older brothers, were supposed to go with her, but Jake, the oldest, refused to go and stayed with his father. Jake believed all the lies his father had told him about his mother—that the baby she was carrying was the bastard son of Andrew Wellman. Althea grieved for her oldest son, and Caleb grew up with her heartache. But five years ago Althea and Jake had finally found each other again and Caleb had found his brother. They were now a family.

Joe McCain had fathered four sons, but he hadn’t been a father to any of them, not even Jake, the one son he acknowledged. The oldest, Eli, was a son by another woman and Joe never claimed him, either. But Eli found his own kind of peace in the arms of Caroline—a woman who loved him just the way he was.

All the McCain men had scars and Caleb knew his ran deep. Andrew gave him everything he needed, but he could never explain why his father didn’t want him. He had a good life with good parents, but at the oddest times he would think about his biological father and wonder if he’d ever have any good feelings about the man.

He drove around to the garages of the two-story colonial house he’d grown up in, and entered through the breakfast area. Andrew and his mother were sitting at the table, eating. His petite mother had salt-and-pepper hair and brown eyes like all her sons. Andrew was thin and tall with a thatch of gray hair. They both smiled as he walked in.

“Caleb.” Althea ran to hug him. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Andrew gave him a bear hug. “Good to have you home, son. If you have a while, we can get in a round of golf.”

“Andrew, give him a chance to take a breath,” Althea scolded. “Have a seat and I’ll fix you some breakfast.”

Andrew winked at him. “She just wants to cook for someone other than me.”

His mother loved to cook. She always had and her children were the center of her world. And now that she had Jake and his family back, she was happier than Caleb had ever seen her.

“We’re having waffles and bacon, but I can fix you anything you like.”

“That’s fine, Mom.” Caleb removed his hat and took a seat.

Andrew sat beside him. “You look a little down, son. Something wrong?”

Andrew knew him so well and their bond was close, as close as blood, and Caleb loved the compassionate, kind man. A lot of people who didn’t know Caleb wasn’t Andrew’s biological son said Caleb took after him. Caleb considered that a compliment. Andrew had been the best role model, and everything that he’d learned he’d gotten from him.

“I’m fine, Dad,” he replied. He’d always called him Dad because he was the only father he’d ever known. It had taken Beau a while, but he called Andrew Dad, too.

Althea placed coffee, maple syrup and a plate of waffles and bacon in front of him. He dived in, realizing he was hungry. His parents watched him as they would a two-year-old—with love and affection.

Caleb laid his fork down. “I just came by to tell you that I’ll be gone for a few days.”

Andrew took a sip of coffee. “Oh. An important case?”

“Belle has remembered her name and I’m taking her back to her family.”

“Oh, dear, that’s wonderful,” Althea exclaimed, then her face grew somber. “Are you okay with this?”

“Of course. Her memory is returning and that’s what I’ve wanted—for her to find her way back from all the pain.”

Althea covered his hand on the table. “Caleb, my son. I know how you feel about her. Maybe it would be best if someone else escorted her home.”

“Mom.” He patted her hand. “I’m not a kid. I’m the one who has to do this. I have to know that she’s happy.”

“I’m just worried about you.”

“Thea,” Andrew intervened. “Caleb is a grown man and we’ll support him in whatever he chooses to do.”

“Of course, dear.” Althea took Caleb’s plate to the sink, her expression saying more than words. She was worried about her son.

“What’s her name?” Andrew asked.

“Josie Marie Beckett.”

Andrew lifted an eyebrow. “Any relation to Boone Beckett?”

“He’s her grandfather.”

“Now isn’t that something.”

“Do you know him, dear?” Althea asked, returning to the table.

“Met him a few times in the nineties when I was helping Gertie with some fund-raisers. He’s quite a character, opinionated and mule-headed, but he comes from oil money so people put up with him.”

“Oh, dear, he doesn’t sound like Belle at all. Does she remember anything about their relationship?”

“No. But bits and pieces are coming back to her and the doctor feels that being in Beckett will help to restore all her memory.”

“Be careful, son.”

“I will, Mom, and don’t worry.”

“Oh, please.” Althea gave an aggravated sigh. “The older my sons get, the more I worry.”

“Anybody home?” Beau shouted a moment before he walked in with a black-and-white puppy in his arms. “Hey, Caleb.”

“Morning, Beau.”

Beau was the second son of Althea and Joe McCain. He was a family man to the core and he kept them all bound together with continual lunches and gatherings. Beau had the biggest heart of anyone Caleb had ever known. He got that from his mother—always caring for others.

“What have you got there?” Althea asked, kissing Beau’s cheek.

“An orphan. Do you know anyone who needs a puppy?”

Caleb laughed. “Don’t tell me. Another one of Macy’s rescues.”

Macy was Beau’s neighbor and had been most of his life. She lived down the street when they were kids and now she lived in the condo next to Beau. Macy was an animal lover and she rescued more animals than the animal shelter. She and Beau had been friends all their lives, but neither was willing to take their relationship to the next step. Caleb didn’t think they ever would.

“Yes.” Beau stroked the small dog. “He has some scars on his stomach. Someone did a number on him. Since Macy works nights at the hospital, I’ve had him two nights in a row. Macy can’t seem to find a home for him so I’m lending a hand.”

“I’ve lost track of the number of dogs and cats Macy has conned you into taking. You’re such a sweet man.”

“Yeah, Mom. That’s me.” A slight flush stained Beau’s cheeks and Caleb saw his pain. Caleb wondered if they were both destined for broken hearts.

Althea took the dog from Beau. “Poor little thing,” she cooed.

Andrew joined her. “Look at those big brown eyes, Thea.”

At that moment, the puppy licked Althea’s face. “Oh, Andrew, he’s so cute.”

While they were cooing over the dog, Beau went to get a cup of coffee and Caleb followed. “You planned that brilliantly, didn’t you?”

Beau took a swallow of coffee. “Thought it might work.”

“Beau,” Althea said. “We’ll keep him.”

“Yeah,” Andrew added. “We’ll buy him a doghouse and put it in the backyard.”

“Backyard?” Althea seemed offended. “We’ll put it on the patio or in the garage.”

“Yes, dear,” Andrew replied. “There’s a box in the garage and we can make him a bed until then.”

The two disappeared out the door.

Caleb leaned against the cabinet and told Beau the news about Belle.

“Wow. That’s great.” Beau paused, watching Caleb. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes. I knew this day was coming.”

Beau patted his shoulder. “Love is hell.”

Caleb shook his head. “What do you know about love? You spend all your time with a woman you won’t even ask out.”

Beau grimaced. “Don’t start about Macy. We’re just friends.”

“Oh, Beau.” Caleb sighed. “For such a brilliant lawyer, you can sometimes be very dense.”

They heard a squeal of delight from the garage and they knew who it was—Katie, Jake’s four-year-old daughter. Althea kept her while Elise worked as an English professor at the university. Their son, Ben, was already in school.

Katie walked slowly into the breakfast room, carrying the dog. Jake was behind her. “Look, Uncle Beau and Uncle Caleb, this is Bandy. Grandpa called him that cause he’s got a white Band-Aid over his eye.”

Caleb swung her up in his arms, kissing her cheek, and shaking Jake’s hand. “Morning, brother.”

“Morning. Didn’t know we were having a family meeting.”

All the brothers were tall with brown hair and eyes, but Jake and Caleb took after their father with lean, lanky frames. Beau had more meat on his bones, as Althea put it.

Katie got down to play with the puppy and Caleb told Jake about Belle. “That’s good news. I hope it turns out well for her—and you.”

Caleb caught that note of concern in his voice. “I’m fine really, so you, Beau, Mom and Dad can stop worrying about me.”

Jake punched his shoulder playfully. “That’s what families are for, little bro.”

“Yeah,” Caleb smiled in his easygoing way, realizing he was getting a bit sensitive.

“Wait a minute.” Beau saw the extra plate in the sink. “Caleb, did you have waffles this morning?”

“Sure did. The best Mom ever made.”

Althea walked in, hearing the conversation. “Sit down, boys, and I’ll make a fresh batch.”

Caleb kissed his mom. “I’ve got to run and I’ve already had waffles. Guess I’m the favorite.”

Guffaws followed that.

“Now, boys,” Althea said, but she was smiling.

Caleb hugged his dad. “Son…”

“I know, Dad.” Caleb hugged him tighter. “I’ll be careful.”

“I’ll let everyone know when I get back.” He gave Katie a quick hug and a kiss and walked out. Jake and Beau followed him.

They embraced before Caleb got in his car. “If you need anything, just call us,” Jake said.

“Even if it’s in the middle of the night,” Beau added.

“I will, and thanks.”

“Have you talked to Eli?” Jake asked.

“I spoke to Tuck, but I’ll call Eli when I get to my office. Being a newlywed, I didn’t want to intrude on his morning.”

Caleb drove away knowing whatever happened he had the love and support of his family. And he had a feeling he was going to need it.




CHAPTER THREE


WHEN CALEB REACHED his office, Eli, his half brother, was waiting for him. Tuck was Eli’s foster brother and had told him the news. Because he’d been the one who’d rescued Belle, at times he felt responsible for her life.

“How is she?” Eli asked, a note of worry in his voice.

Eli was a big muscular man and the only son who had Joe McCain’s blue eyes.

“She’s scared.” There was no reason to lie.

“She’s been scared for a long time.”

“Yeah. But this is different.” He sank into his chair. “I think I’m a little scared, too.” That wasn’t easy for him to admit.

Eli watched him. “Let me take her back. End the relationship now and spare yourself the pain.”

Caleb slowly removed his hat. “Would you have let me help Caroline?”

“Hell, no.”

“My answer is the same.”

Eli nodded. “Then I’ll go with you. Between the two of us, we can protect her and make sure no one gets the chance to hurt her again.”

Caleb lifted an eyebrow. “What about Caroline?”

“She’ll understand.”

She probably would, Caleb thought. They both cared and worried about Belle. But something held him back.

He laid his hat on his desk, running his finger over the rim of the Stetson. “I have to do this alone. I have to do it for her—and for me.”

Eli nodded, understanding as Caleb knew he would. “Just nail the bastard who put her through hell.”

“I intend to.”

“And Caleb…”

“What?” Caleb saw the concern in Eli’s eyes and knew exactly what the concern was about. “I’ll be fine, Eli.”

“But it won’t be easy.”

“No.” It wasn’t going to be easy to return Belle to another life—a life without him in it—and Eli understood that. Even though they’d only known each other a short time, their bond was close—as brothers should be.

They talked a bit more then Eli left for his office. Caleb took care of things that needed his immediate attention before the trip, then he headed home, packed his clothes and dressed for the ball.



BELLE WAS IN A RUSH all day and didn’t have time to dwell on a lot of painful thoughts. Gertie had a hundred things for her to do and she was glad to soak in a hot tub before she dressed for the evening. She stared at the black gown with a V-neck and long sleeves. Sequins decorated the bodice and glistened like tiny stars. The pencil-slim skirt had a slit up the side, showing off her leg and ankles. The dress was expensive and she’d balked at the extravagance when she’d first started working for Gertie. But Gertie insisted it was part of the job. Belle had to dress the part, so she acquiesced. But she was sure she’d never worn clothes like this before. They didn’t feel familiar.

She braided her hair, entwining a sparkly ribbon through it, and coiled it into a knot at the back of her head, curling several loose tendrils around her face. She’d done her hair like this before. When she was small, her mother had done Josie’s hair the same way. Many times. Marie would brush Josie’s hair until it shone, then she would braid it to keep it out of her eyes. As Josie grew older Marie would interweave a colorful ribbon to match Josie’s clothes. For the prom, Marie had done Josie’s hair just as it was now.

Belle’s cheeks felt warm from the memory of her wonderful mother. She was remembering more now and her heart hammered so fast she had to take a deep breath.

Later she would relive the memories until they were permanent, never to be forgotten or destroyed again. But now she had to concentrate on the evening.

She slipped on sandaled heels and buckled the strap across the ankle. Standing, she felt light-headed from the height. Good grief, how was she supposed to walk in these things? Wearing heels this high obviously wasn’t a part of her daily life. After a few trips around her bedroom, she went to help Gertie.



CALEB WAS AT GERTIE’S on time and when he saw Belle, his heart stopped. She was more than beautiful. She was radiant, and Caleb felt privileged to have her on his arm.

The night was melancholy. Caleb and Belle were both aware that tomorrow their lives would change. Caleb put it out of his mind and enjoyed the evening. The ball was in full swing and Caleb held her close as they danced the slow tunes and laughed as they cut up during the fast ones. They didn’t talk much. They didn’t need to.

They circled the dance floor to “Moon River,” his hand at her back, her head on his shoulder. Through the thin fabric of her dress, his fingers felt the scars on her back. He forced down the anger in him, not wanting any reminders of what the cult had done to her.

“I like to dance,” she said.

“I know.” They’d been dancing several times in the past year.

“Some things you just don’t forget.” She raised her head, her eyes twinkling. “We dance so well together, Caleb McCain. I must have known you in another life.”

He just smiled, wishing that was true—that he was the man in Belle’s life. But he was her protector, her friend, and another man was waiting for her. Of that Caleb was certain. But tonight she was his.

Several other men asked Belle to dance and he stood on the sidelines trying to let go. He was just amazed at the change in her. A few months ago Belle was a frightened woman, not wanting anyone to touch her. She was now unafraid of human touch, but she still had issues about her back and didn’t want anyone to see the scars. When Josie surfaced completely, he wondered how she would deal with it.

The auction started and Belle and Caleb took their seats. Gertie’s bird-hat was a big hit and Caleb almost choked when it sold for ten thousand dollars. Gertie had obviously gotten the word out.

It was after midnight when they returned to the Parker house. Gertie retired to her bedroom and Caleb lingered for a moment in the living room, not wanting this night to end.

“Are you packed?” he asked Belle.

She sat on the sofa, removing her heels. “Yes. What time do you want to leave?”

“How about eight?”

“That’s fine.” She rubbed her feet. “I know one thing. I didn’t wear heels a lot as Josie.”

He grinned. “Probably not as a police officer.”

She leaned back. “I can’t remember anything about that.”

“You will.”

“Yes.”

There was an awkward pause as they both dealt with an uncertain future.

Caleb was the first to speak. “I better go so you can get some rest.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Belle.” He said her name slowly, reverently, and probably for the last time. As he walked out, he jerked off his tie. Tomorrow she’d find her family and answers. Tomorrow she might recover her memory completely.

And Caleb would return alone.



THE NEXT MORNING Belle was up early, her few meager belongings packed into a suitcase. She said a tearful goodbye to Gertie and her pets, then went downstairs to wait for Caleb.

Within minutes she was in Caleb’s Tahoe headed out of Austin to Beckett. She felt a sense of foreboding and couldn’t shake it. Conversation was slow as they took I-35 then the I-410 Loop toward Corpus Christi.

“Have you remembered anything else?” Caleb asked, sensing her nervousness and wanting to put her at ease.

She shrugged. “Not much. Just bits and pieces from my childhood.” She turned in her seat to face him. “The rest of it is there and even though I’m still afraid, I’m ready for it all to unfold.”

He knew she was. He suddenly realized that his issues with his father were nothing compared to what she’d been through and had yet to face. And he’d never leave her. Until she asked.

“Did you tell your parents where you were going?” she asked, and he knew she wanted to change the subject.

“Yes. I saw them yesterday and they’re very happy you’re regaining your memory.”

She smiled slightly. “You have very good parents.”

Belle had met them on several occasions and his parents liked her. She got along well with people. He returned her smile, knowing his parents were great.

“You were lucky to have Andrew for a father instead of Joe McCain.”

She always seemed to know what he was thinking.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I hope I never forget that.”

“You won’t.” She was quiet for a moment and he glanced at her. Her brow was creased in thought. Suddenly she said, “I had good parents, too.” Her eyes were distant. “My father loved my mother since they were kids. My mother’s father worked on the Silver Spur Ranch and when my mom was old enough she started working in the main house as a maid.”

Caleb didn’t think she even realized she was remembering, so he let her talk.

“My father went off to college and it broke my mom’s heart, but he came back often to see her. When he graduated, Boone said it was time for him to get married and start producing heirs. He had the bride all picked out and it wasn’t Marie Cortez. My father was torn between family loyalty and my mother. In the end, he married Lorna Caraway and my mother left the ranch and never returned.”

Caleb waited, but she didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t sure how much to push. “Was your mother pregnant when she left?”

Belle shook her head. “No. My father couldn’t stay in the arranged marriage so he left to find my mother.”

“What happened to the first wife?”

She frowned deeply. “She was very angry at my father for leaving her. She was four months pregnant at the time.”

There was a tangible pause and Caleb went on pure instinct. “So you have a half sibling?”

She gripped her head. “I suppose. Why can’t I remember?”

“Don’t get stressed out,” he cautioned, turning on US 281 toward Three Rivers. “How about something to eat and drink? I didn’t have a thing but coffee this morning. How about you?”

“I had a muffin and fruit with Ms. Gertie, but I’d love a cup of coffee.”

They stopped at a small diner in Three Rivers. The trip was three and a half hours and they were more than halfway. Caleb ordered coffee and they sat in a booth.

Belle pulled a Snickers out of her purse. “Want a candy bar?”

“No, thanks.” He hid a secret grin at her chocolate fetish. She never went anywhere without chocolate.

The waitress brought coffee and Belle nibbled on the bar, licking her lips. He watched as if mesmerized.

“Her name is Ashley,” Belle said suddenly.

“What?” Caleb wasn’t sure what she was talking about. He was totally absorbed in her mouth and tongue.

“My half sister, that’s her name.”

“Oh.”

Caleb took a sip of coffee and waited for her to continue.

“That doesn’t feel right, though.” Belle clutched her cup, and her turmoil tightened his gut.

“Don’t push it. We’ll be in Beckett soon and hopefully some of your questions will be answered.”

Her eyes suddenly sparkled. “You and I have something in common. We both have a half sibling.”

“Yeah.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her face, that light in her eyes.

“I hope my sister is as nice as Eli.”

Caleb wished that, too, and he wished all her memories would unfold like a fairy tale. But the stark truth was someone tried to kill her, possibly someone in her own family.

“Lorna is my father’s ex-wife.” Belle seemed to be remembering tidbits at her own pace. “And I have an uncle—Mason is his name, I believe. And I remember Caddo.”

“Who is Caddo?”

“I don’t know. I just remember the name and I get a good feeling inside when I do. I must have liked him.”

Caleb toyed with his cup. He knew she wasn’t married, but little things pointed to a boyfriend, a fiancé maybe. When she’d started remembering in the hospital, she’d said that he’d bought her Egyptian cotton sheets and she’d told him they were too expensive. She could never pinpoint who he was, and she hadn’t mentioned him since. Maybe Caddo was the man she’d been talking about.

He pushed his jealousy down, keeping her best interest uppermost in his mind. “Could Caddo be a boyfriend?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s not that kind of feeling. It’s more of a friendship reaction.”

That was a relief, but Caleb knew if it wasn’t Caddo, it was someone else. And he had to accept that.

Soon they left and Caleb held the door for an elderly man, puffing on a cigar. Belle twitched her nose as they walked to the car. “That cigar is so strong.”

“They’ll probably make him put it out,” Caleb remarked, getting into the truck.

They turned onto US 59 toward Beckett. The land was flat with scrub oaks, bushes, mesquite and plenty of cacti. This was farming and ranch land enclosed with barbed wire fences.

“Are you okay?” Caleb asked after she remained quiet for several minutes.

“I’m remembering all these names, but I don’t feel a connection to any of them.”

“You said you came to Beckett after your parents died. The report said you’d been there less than a year so you probably didn’t get to know anyone very well.”

“Well enough that someone put a bullet in my head. I keep asking myself why. Why would someone shoot me? And why did I wake up in Austin? That’s three and a half hours from Beckett.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.” Caleb had no answers for her, he only had the same questions. She was so sweet, so completely enchanting. He couldn’t imagine anyone having a grudge against her or wanting to hurt her.

“Yeah.” She glanced out the window

“Do you remember anything about your grandfather?” That bothered Caleb the most. How could a powerful man like Boone Beckett not report his granddaughter missing?

The scent of the cigar triggered a memory. “He’s a controlling manipulative person.” Belle watched the barbed wire fences flash by and Boone suddenly filled her mind. She closed her eyes as a scene became vivid.

“I’m Boone Beckett, Brett’s father.” The bear of a man standing in her parents’ living room introduced himself. He puffed on a cigar and the smoke spiraled around his face. The wind left her lungs and she couldn’t speak.

“Did you hear me, girlie?” His voice boomed and she had the urge to step back. But she didn’t. Her father had never backed down from him and she wouldn’t, either.

She swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“I’m here to take my son’s body home to Silver Spur.”

“What about my mother’s?”

His eyes darkened. “Her body will never rest on the Silver Spur. She took him away from his heritage, his family, and I’ll never forgive that.”

Anger welled in her chest. “She didn’t take him away. You forced him to leave by manipulating his life and not allowing him to marry the woman he loved.”

“He could have had any woman he wanted,” Boone shouted.

“He wanted my mother,” she shouted back.

Boone glared at her through narrowed eyes. “Listen, girlie, I’m not arguing with you.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. “Sign this and our business is over.”

“What is it?”

“Form to release your father’s body to me.”

She raised her head in defiance. “My father stays buried next to my mother—forever. That’s it.”

“What’s it going to take. Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? Tell you what—I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars and you sign the paper and we’re done.”

“Get out,” she screamed. “Get out and take your money with you.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to, girlie?”

Her eyes blazed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

He stuffed the paper in his pocket. “Since you’re Brett’s daughter I was trying to be nice. Figured you could use the money. But Brett’s body is going home to Silver Spur with or without your approval. All I have to do is get a court order and no judge is going to say no to me.”

“Get out and don’t come back,” she seethed between clenched teeth.

He inclined his head. “You got guts, girl. I’ll give you that, but it’s always smart to know when to cut your losses.”

With that the memory dissipated. She opened her eyes, staring out at the long expanse of highway. Her thoughts were inward, troubled. Had Boone removed her father’s body from the cemetery, from her mother, in Corpus to the Silver Spur Ranch? Think. Think. Think. Did Boone separate her parents? She had to know and she struggled to remember what had happened next. But nothing was there.

“Dammit. Dammit. Tell me.” She gripped her head with both hands.

“Are you okay?”

Caleb’s concerned voice reached her. She blinked, realizing she’d been talking out loud. “Sorry. I was having an insane moment trying to remember something.”

“What?”

“When my parents died, Boone came to Corpus, wanting to take my father’s body back to the Silver Spur Ranch. He demanded that I sign the papers to release the body. I refused and we had words.” She swallowed. “You see, he wanted my father to be buried at Silver Spur, but not my mother. I told him to leave and never come back.”

She paused. “I couldn’t bear the thought of separating my parents. They were so much in love, yet at times there was a sadness in my father that neither my mom nor I could assuage. He loved the Silver Spur and he missed it every day of his life, but Boone made it intolerable for him to live there. My mother was a Mexican and not good enough for a Beckett.”

“Evidently Boone came back.”

“I guess. That’s what I was trying to recall—if he had my father’s body moved away from my mother. I couldn’t live with that.”

“Do you know how you came to live in Beckett?”

Her head felt heavy with all the memories rushing in. “Yes. I was at loose ends after losing my parents. I needed to get away. Boone kept at me about my dad’s body, but I never gave in. Finally he said he’d make a deal with me. He wanted me to come to Silver Spur to see the heritage my father had left behind. If I came and stayed for a while, he’d stop his efforts to move the body. So I went. I wanted to see this place my father talked about all my life.” She took a ragged breath. “Boone didn’t separate my parents, but we were still arguing about it. Boone and I didn’t have the best relationship, and Lorna and Mason seemed to hate me. But I stayed. I’m not sure why.”

“Did you live on the Silver Spur?”

“No. I lived in town with a friend of my mom’s, Lencha Peabody. My mother’s mother died when she was five and Lencha helped raise her. Lencha and her family lived next door. Oh.” She rested her head against the seat with a slight smile. “It’s so nice to remember Lencha. She’s Mexican with a bit of Karankawas Indian. She’s known as a healer and sometimes a witch, but to my mom she was like a mother and I grew up hearing stories about Lencha and her colorful personality. Lencha married a white man, as she called him, Henry Peabody, who was twelve years older and worked on the Silver Spur. He died a few years ago and Lencha was glad to have Marie’s child to fuss over and I felt at home with her.” She lifted her head. “I’m sure she was worried about me. I wonder why she never reported me missing.”

“A lot of this isn’t adding up.”

She frowned. “Do you think I’m remembering it wrong?”

“No. I think you just have a lot more to remember.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist. “The unknown is so scary.”

“But it’s what we’ve been waiting for—to identify the unknown. Then it won’t be so scary.”

She looked at him. “I’m so glad you’re with me.”

His eyes met hers. “You can count on that.”

“You’re so nice, Caleb McCain, and I’m sure a Texas Ranger isn’t supposed to spend this much time on one case.”

“We don’t stop until the bad guys are caught and in jail and soon the person who shot you will be in jail.”

“Oh. This is Beckett,” she said, glancing back at the city limit sign. “Barely fourteen hundred people live here.”

Caleb turned toward the business area. The town was small, with one main street where all the businesses were located. There were no fancy retail stores, just old-fashioned storefronts that had been there for years. It was like a scene from the 1950s with parking in front of stores and parking meters. A blacksmith shop, feed store and beer joint had weatherworn boards that had stood the test of time. The only new building was the post office.

“Until I can do some checking it’s probably not wise to let people know you’re alive.”

“I agree. We can go to Lencha’s. I trust her.”

“Which direction?”

“Turn left then take Tumbleweed. Lencha’s is about a mile on the right.”

Caleb followed her directions to a small white frame house with a chain-link fence around it.

“Go around back to the garage,” Belle instructed.

Caleb stopped in front of the double garage that had a small truck parked inside. Belle gasped.

“What is it?” Caleb asked.

She pointed to the garage. “That’s my parking spot and my car’s not there.”

Caleb looked at her pale face.

“Evidently I drove away from Beckett.”

“Seems like it.”

“I need to see Lencha.” She opened the door and got out. Caleb followed.

The yard was well kept, but the house needed painting and some outside boards were rotten. There were no close neighbors. Lencha lived on several acres. Farther down were some brick homes then a trailer park.

It was noon, but no one was about. Belle opened the gate and they walked up the back steps. A pleasant scent greeted Caleb and he noticed all the flowering bushes and plants in the flower beds. A huge greenhouse was in back and he glimpsed a large garden filled with all sorts of vegetables and more plants.

Belle knocked but no one answered. “Lencha sometimes gets lost in her own little world,” she said, and opened the door. They went into a utility room that held more plants in pots, then into the kitchen. A birdlike woman in jeans and a chambray shirt was at the sink washing dishes. Long gray hair hung down her back. A squirrel climbed down her back then up again to rest on her shoulder. Caleb blinked, wondering if he was seeing things.

When the squirrel noticed them, she scurried down Lencha’s back to the floor, standing on her hind legs making funny noises.

“What’s wrong with you, Chula?” Lencha asked, looking down at the squirrel. “You’ve had your lunch, so be quiet. I’m not giving you any more corn. You’re fat as a pig now.”

Belle smiled at Chula, Lencha’s pet squirrel. As she stood in the room, soaking up the familiarity, that sense of belonging that she hadn’t had until now—Chula, the hardwood floor, the Formica table and chairs, the sunflower curtains and the scent of herbs and lavender—all were familiar. Lencha grew lavender in the yard and it drifted to her nostrils and saturated her body. A metamorphosis began to happen. She could feel it. It was like shedding a skin and letting new life in. For so long she’d felt like a mismatched piece of furniture that she’d been trying to fit into rooms where she didn’t belong. But this was a part of her and a part of her family.

“Lencha,” she said quietly, almost afraid to speak.

“Lawdy, lawdy, will it never stop?” Lencha dried a dish. “People call me a witch and I’m beginning to believe them. How else could I conjure up her spirit and hear her voice so clearly?”

Lencha didn’t turn around or acknowledge her presence. She put the dish in the cabinet as if Belle wasn’t even standing there.

“Lencha.” She tried again.

Chula scratched at Lencha’s legs.

Glancing down at Chula, Lencha caught sight of Belle, taking in Caleb behind her. “Lawdy, now she’s got a man with her.” Lencha shook her head as to rid herself of the image. “How long will I continue to see her? I’m too old for my mind to be this active.”

Belle finally understood. Lencha thought she was seeing things. She walked closer. “Lencha, it’s me. I’m real and I’m alive.”

Lencha shook her head. “Go away, Josie, and stop torturing an old woman.”

Belle touched her and Lencha jumped back, her eyes big, then in a trembling voice, she asked, “Josie? Josie Marie?”

“Yes, Lencha. It’s me.”

“Heaven above. Santa Maria madre de Dios.” Lencha grabbed her and held her tight. “Josie Marie, you’re back. My precious child, you’re back.” She drew away and stroked Belle’s face. “You’re back.”

“Yes.” She gripped the old lady as tight as she could. Lavender was all around her and a peacefulness came over her. The past connected to the present just that easily. She wiped away an errant tear and stared at Lencha. “Josie Marie is home.”

In that moment she became Josie Marie again. New strength surged through her and the shackles of fear slipped away. Her memory hadn’t completely returned, but it would and she could sort out the rest of her life on her own.

Looking at Caleb, she saw a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. Weak, defenseless Belle Doe was no more. She disappeared the instant Lencha called her Josie, and Caleb knew that. She saw it in his gaze.

A moment of dejection swept over her. She brushed it away with a flicker of remorse. She was Josie Marie Beckett, police officer, looking for the person who’d tried to kill her. She wanted justice for what she’d been put through and she’d find all the answers she needed one way or another. Revenge was such a harsh word, but she wanted revenge or something to explain away the nightmare.

Her eyes settled on Caleb. Surviving her parents’ deaths, being shot and living without a memory seemed minimal compared to what she had to do now. How would she say goodbye to a man like Caleb?




CHAPTER FOUR


WORDS FELT LIKE A WAD of cotton in Belle’s throat and she couldn’t force them out. Her eyes clung to Caleb’s and she memorized every line of his honed, lean face, the sensual curve of his mouth, the dark hair, neatly trimmed, and those incredible warm eyes.

Before she could speak, Lencha stroked her face, her hair. “Child, where have you been? Why did you leave like that?”

Belle stared into Lencha’s gray eyes and saw the worry and concern. She would talk to Caleb later. Now she had to tell Lencha what had happened to her.

“Lencha, this is Caleb McCain, a Texas Ranger.”

Lencha turned to Caleb, Chula on her shoulder. She studied him openly. “Texas Ranger, hmm? Had a cousin who was a ranger back in the old days when a ranger was all the law we had out here. Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you, too, ma’am.” He glanced at Chula. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen a pet squirrel before.”

Lencha scratched Chula. “Found her as a baby in the backyard. Must have fallen out of a nest. I fed her with an eyedropper and she’s been a pet ever since. She’s like a cat, but I can’t leave her alone in the house or she’ll tear up everything.” Her eyes narrowed. “So what are you doing with my Josie?”

Josie took Lencha’s arm and led her to the kitchen table. “It’s a long story….”

Josie told her everything about her ordeal—waking up on Austin’s skid row, the bullet in her head, the cult, the memory loss, the struggle back to reality and the kind people who helped her.

“Santa Maria madre de Dios!” Lencha made the sign of the cross. “Child, are you okay?”

“Partly. I still don’t remember how I ended up in Austin or what made me leave Beckett.”

Lencha jumped up. “Ojo.”

“No, Lencha…” But Lencha was already out the door.

“Ojo?” Caleb asked with a lifted brow.

She sighed. “It’s the eye. The evil eye. It’s Mexican—if a person looks at your child and thinks things, good or bad, about them, it can cause high fever, crying or fussiness or something like that. I’m not up on this stuff, but when I was small I had a real high fever and the doctors couldn’t keep it down. Mama was worried and called Lencha and she came to Corpus. My mom and dad scoffed at a lot of Lencha’s rituals, but were willing to try anything. After Lencha did her thing, my fever was under control within thirty minutes.”

Lencha hurried back in, her gray hair everywhere, making her look like a witch. In her hands she carried a brown egg, a sprig of rosemary and a bottle of brackish greenish liquid. She filled a glass with water and brought everything to the table. Saying a prayer in Spanish, she rubbed the liquid all over Josie, even her clothes.

“Lencha!” Josie protested, twitching her nose at the strong scent.

“What is that?” Caleb asked, and Josie met his eyes, not sure how to explain Lencha and her healing methods. But she knew she didn’t have to. Caleb was very open-minded, understanding… The pungent smell of the herbs filled her nostrils and stopped her thoughts.

“Basil, rosemary and rue. A limpia, a cleanser to expunge evil forces,” Lencha replied, taking some liquid in her mouth and spitting it over Josie.

“Lencha,” Josie protested again, but Lencha paid no attention to her. She held Josie’s head with both hands and said another prayer.

Then she took the egg and rosemary in one hand and rubbed it over Josie’s head and body.

“Lencha, this is for babies,” Josie protested, “and I’m beginning to stink.”

“Shh.” In Spanish she said another prayer and broke the egg into the water. “See, the albumen is milky and murky. The evil has been extracted. She made the sign of the cross. “Now, we’ve broken the spell.”

“Lencha…”

Lencha wagged a finger in her face. “Don’t scoff at the old ways. They work. This might be a little different, but it will work, too. Someone looked upon you with envy or malice.” Lencha touched her face. “How could they not? You’re so beautiful, just like my sweet Marie.” She took a seat and held Josie’s hands. Lencha was known for her healing remedies and Josie suspected that most of the time she made a lot of them up. Belief was a powerful thing, though. Lencha had told her that many times.

Josie glanced at Caleb. He didn’t seem surprised or shocked at Lencha’s methods. Just interested. After a minute, he spoke. “Maybe you can help us in other ways, too. When was the last time you saw Bell…I mean Josie?”

Lencha nodded. “Remember it well. I do midwifing when I’m needed. Lot of Mexicans here are illegal. The Garcia’s daughter went into labor and they called me. They’re illegal and didn’t want to go to a hospital, afraid of being sent back to Mexico. I was there all night. She gave birth about five and I got home around seven. Josie’s car wasn’t in the garage and I thought she was at work, but her room light was on and the door was open so I went in. A suitcase was on the bed with some clothes thrown into it and her gun and badge were on the nightstand. I thought that was peculiar so I called Eric and he said Josie left work yesterday to go visit with her grandfather and…”

“Who’s Eric?” The name created a mass of confusion inside Josie and she had to know. Or it could be the herbs were clearing her sinuses.

Lencha looked perplexed, then patted Josie’s hands. “Child, he’s your fiancé. Tall, blond, good-looking guy. Eric Hanson’s a lieutenant on the police force here. You two hit it off the moment you set eyes on each other.”

A fiancé? She was engaged to be married? To Eric…Hanson. She closed her eyes and tried to see his face, but all she could see was Caleb’s. The only man who’d occupied her mind totally. She gritted her teeth and forced Caleb away, but nothing was there. Why couldn’t she remember this man she’d loved and was planning to spend the rest of her life with? Panic took root and she slowly calmed herself.

“When was the last time you saw Josie, Mrs. Peabody?” Caleb’s soothing voice brought her back to the conversation. For a long time now, she thought of his voice like a glass of warm milk. When she was small and she’d have nightmares, her mother would give her a glass of warm milk and it would calm her and make her feel safe. That’s what his voice did—made her feel safe and secure. As a child, she needed the warm milk. As an adult, she needed Caleb. But soon that dependency would fade. She had to stop leaning on him and accept her life. Accept Eric.

“I saw her that morning before she left for work. She was happy, energetic and excited about finding a girl who was missing. She went to work and I never saw her again.” She reached out and touched Josie’s face. “Oh, child, I thought I’d lost you like I’d lost your mother.”

Even though Marie had never returned to Beckett, Lencha visited often and she’d been one of the reasons Josie had come to Beckett. She was the only link to her mother’s family and she wanted to be around someone who’d loved her parents, who had understood what she was going through.

“That old buzzard had something to do with this. I know he did.” Lencha’s voice turned cold and accusing.

After Boone had pressured Brett into a loveless marriage and Marie had left Beckett, Lencha and Boone had become bitter enemies. Lencha had put several curses on him, but her curses never fazed the indomitable Boone Beckett.

“Mrs. Peabody…”

Lencha held up a hand. “Please call me Lencha. Mrs. Peabody died when my husband did. I’m just Lencha now.”

“Lencha.” Caleb inclined his head. “You said Josie was excited about finding a missing girl. Do you remember the girl’s name?”

Lencha shook her head. “No. Josie never talked about her cases and she’s not one to gossip.”

Josie listened with a surreal feeling, as if they were talking about someone else. Nothing was ringing any bells. Except Eric.

She swallowed. “I was going to see my grandfather. What happened after that?”

“Eric said you had a big argument with Lorna and was very upset. You called him and said you were leaving Beckett and never coming back and that you’d call as soon as you reached Corpus. He tried to talk you out of it and asked you to wait until he was off duty, but you wouldn’t listen. You even called Dennis Fry, the police chief, and told him you couldn’t stay in Beckett any longer.”

Complete silence followed those words. Caleb looked at Josie and her olive skin was a sickly white. He wanted to stop the questions, but he couldn’t. It was time to keep the answers coming.

“I called your parents’ house in Corpus every day, sometimes three times a day, and there was never an answer. Finally the phone was disconnected and I knew something was wrong. You always kept up with the bills.”

“Did you do anything?” Caleb asked.

“You better believe I did.” Lencha snorted. “Eric and I went out to Silver Spur and confronted the biggest, meanest buzzard around. The type of buzzard who’ll pick your bones before you’re dead. Big Boone said Josie got a little upset with Lorna and in a few days she’d calm down and come back. When she didn’t, I filed a missing person’s report with Dennis, but never heard a damn word. I didn’t give up, though. Kept bugging the hell out of him.”

“And nothing happened?”

“Not until a few minutes ago when Josie walked in. All those potions and spells I’ve been weaving kept you alive and my precious child is back.” Lencha grabbed Josie and they hugged again.

Caleb stood, knowing nothing was adding up. If a missing person’s report had been filed, then it should have been in the system. They would have known who Belle was months ago. There were some shady dealings going on and he intended to get some honest answers.

“Do you remember the date Josie left?”

“Sure do. February twentieth.” Lencha pulled an old calendar out of a drawer and opened it. “See, I wrote it down.”

He stared at the date circled in red. They had the timeline almost correct. Belle had said it was very cold when she’d been taken to the cult’s compound. The area had experienced a freezing winter last January and February. She’d been with the cult until mid-April when Eli and the FBI had infiltrated the group. The time from the twentieth until the cult had found her was still a mystery. It couldn’t have been long, though—days at the most. It had been almost fourteen months since she’d been missing.

Time to find more answers.

While Lencha was fixing something to drink, Caleb pulled Josie aside. “I’m going over to the police station to see what I can find out, then I’ll head out to the Silver Spur Ranch.”

“No,” she said in a strong voice. “It’s time for you to go. I can sort out my life now and I have to stop depending on you.”

He saw that determined expression, the stubborn set of her jaw, but he wasn’t leaving. “No way.” He shook his head. “I said I’d stay until your full memory returned and it hasn’t. You know me well enough to know that I always keep my word.”

“Yes.” She bit her lip.

“I’m not leaving you until we know who tried to kill you. It’s not safe until then. Your memory is returning so that shouldn’t be too much longer.” He touched the frown on her forehead. “Besides Gertie’d have my hide if I left without knowing you were completely safe.”

“Okay.” She gave in with a slight smile. “I wish I could go with you, but I know it’s best if no one sees me for now.” She looked down at herself. “And I really need to get cleaned up. I’m beginning to smell.”

Caleb grinned. “I thought Gertie was eccentric.”

She met his grin with one of her own. “Lencha’s a colorful person. Some people call her a witch, but she’s not. She just knows how to cure a lot of ailments with remedies from her grandmother. I’m not sure about the evil stuff, and my mother wasn’t, either. My mom loved her dearly, but said Lencha liked to put on a show.”

Unable to resist, he tucked a stray tendril behind her ear. “Get reacquainted with Lencha and try not to worry.”

A pained expression came over her face. “I don’t remember Eric and I should. Why…”

“Belle…Josie, please, don’t stress over it. It’s all going to come back to you.” He had the hardest time calling her Josie, but he was trying.

“I suppose.”

“See you in a little while.” He walked out the door, turning into an investigating ranger, instead of a man whose heart was dangerously close to breaking.



THE POLICE BUILDING was easy to find, a redbrick structure on the end of Main Street with two police cars parked in the side lot. He went in through the front door into a reception room. A green-eyed blonde, somewhere in her thirties, sat at a small desk, answering phone calls.

She hung up. “May I help you?”

“Caleb McCain, Texas Ranger. I’m here to see Chief Fry.”

“Oh, oh.” She pointed to a door. “He’s the first door on the right.”

“Thank you.”

He walked into a larger room with several more desks. Two police officers dressed in traditional blue were working there. One was blond and Caleb knew he had to be Eric. A hard knot formed in his stomach as he knocked on the appointed door. When he heard an answer, he went in.

A balding man in a starched white shirt was writing in a file at his desk. He raised his head as Caleb entered.

“What can I do for you?” The chief laid down his pen.

Caleb walked forward with his hand outstretched. “Caleb McCain, Texas Ranger. I’m working a case and could use some help.”

Dennis stood and shook his hand. In his forties, medium height with a slight pouch, Dennis had a friendly smile.

“Chadwick is the ranger in this county so you must be from another area. Have a seat.”

Caleb settled his frame into a vinyl chair. “Yes, I am. I’ve notified Chadwick that I’m in the area.” Rangers were respectful of each other’s territory and they worked well together. There was nothing stronger than the ranger bond and brotherhood. Caleb had had a long talk with Chadwick before leaving Austin and if he needed any help all he had to do was call him.

Dennis eased into his chair, the springs creaking from the weight. “What can I help you with?”

Caleb pulled a small photo of Josie from his pocket, one that Gertie had taken. He pushed it across the desk, watching the man’s face. “Do you know this woman?”

“Well, I’ll be damned. That’s Josie Marie Beckett. She used to be on the police force.” Dennis leaned back, a sly grin on his face. “But you knew that, didn’t you, Ranger McCain?”

Caleb retrieved the photo and slipped it back into his pocket. It was the only photo he had of Belle and he wasn’t parting with it. “Yes. I knew she worked here. I’m trying to find out what happened to her.”

“I’d sure as hell like to know, too. Damn good officer. She called me at home and said she had to leave and that she was sorry. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of her since.”

“Did you try to find her?”

“Boone was in here every day demanding results. We sent out bulletins and checked the house in Corpus. Nothing. Josie had a big blowup with the Becketts and I guess she just didn’t want to be found.” He leaned forward. “So Boone’s got the Rangers involved. I hope you find her. It’ll get a lot of people off my back, including Lencha Peabody and her curses and her spells.”





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/linda-warren/son-of-texas-42459539/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.