Chapter Two
The snap of his jeans seemed impossible and delicate under her frantic touch. The zipper was stubborn, refusing to budge despite her tugging and pulling. A wave of frustration washed over her as she struggled to remove his wet clothing.
Determined not to give up, Gretchen straddled his legs and hooked her fingers into his belt loops, using all her strength to pull down his jeans. They finally gave way, sliding slowly down his legs until they reached his knees.
Her eyes wandered over his toned stomach, admiring the definition of each muscle before trailing up to his chest. A light dusting of hair covered his very solid looking pecs. Her fingers tingled with an urge to trace along the lines of his chiseled jaw and explore the contours of his face.
But there was no time for distractions. With a sigh, Gretchen got up and finished removing his jeans, dropping them on the floor.
As she reached for his black boxer briefs, her gaze met his dark eyes that seemed to hold a hint of confusion. Their intense stare made her cheeks flush as she quickly stood up and tossed a blanket over him.
“I’ll wash your clothes in a minute, but your shirt is a loss,” she stammered, trying to regain her composure. She reached under the blanket and removed his boxer briefs.
“Where am I?” he asked, his voice hoarse and strained.
“In my cabin,” she replied, trying to sound calm despite her racing heart. “What’s your name? I couldn’t find any identification on you.”
His brows furrowed as he tried to remember. “It’s...” he trailed off, shaking his head in frustration. “I don’t know.”
“It’s okay,” Gretchen reassured him, feeling a pang of sympathy for his memory loss. “I’m sure it will come back to you. I’ll be right back.” She collected his clothes and tossed his jeans, socks, and underwear into the washing machine. She threw his shirt in the trashcan. Then she removed the heated blankets from the dryer before returning to his side.
He was huddled under the blanket, still shivering despite the warmth.
“Who shot you?”
He frowned, trying to recall the events that led to his injuries. “I... don’t know. I can’t remember anything. I have a splitting headache.”
“I’ll get you a couple acetaminophen,” Gretchen said sympathetically as she got up from the floor. “I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you,” he murmured gratefully, causing her heart to skip a beat at the sound of his deep and raspy voice.
She quickly retrieved the pills and a glass of water, along with a bowl of warm sudsy water, along with gauze, before returning to tend to his wounds. As she cleaned and dressed them with care, her mind raced with questions about who he was and how he ended up on her property in such a state.
But for now, all that mattered was helping this stranger in need. Once she finished cleaning and dressing his wounds, she sat back on her heels.
“Can you roll yourself onto the sleeping bag? You’ll be warmer.”
He nodded slowly, and rolled to his side, making the blanket covering him slide off. Her mouth dropped open when she caught a glimpse of his naked form, but quickly zipped the sleeping bag closed, and covered it with heated blankets before sitting beside him.
“Where am I?” he asked her again.
“I already told you. Try to remember.”
Gretchen watched him frown, then he looked at her.
“In your cabin,” he said.
“Right. I’ve got your wounds cleaned and bandaged.” She stopped him when he reached his hand up to touch the wrapping of gauze around his head. “No wonder you have a headache. You have one hell of a gash on the back of your head.”
“I don’t remember anything…” He shook his head, then winced. “My name, what happened, where I live. What I was doing out there. It’s all a blank.”
“You’ll remember. You’re in shock right now. I can’t take you to the hospital because the roads are closed.”
“Why?”
“A snowstorm is moving through, and it will be too hazardous to be out. You’re safe here.”
“Where is here?” He frowned. “I know it’s your cabin but where is your cabin.”
“Clifton, Montana.”
She watched a frown mar his brow.
“That doesn’t sound familiar to me.”
“Just don’t push it. Are you hungry? I can make you some soup.”
“I think I am.”
Gretchen smiled. “If you think you are, then a meal won’t hurt, right?”
“Right. What’s your name?”
“Gretchen Casteel.”
“Gretchen. That’s a pretty name. Thank you for saving me.”
“You’re very welcome. Lobo helped.”
“Lobo?”
“My dog. He found you. Lobo, come here.”
The big dog walked toward her and sat beside her.
“This is Lobo. He’s a four-year-old Malamute.”
“He’s a big dog.” The man started to put his hand, but inhaled sharply at the pain, then reached out toward the dog with his left hand. Once Lobo stepped closer, the man rubbed his head. “You’re a good boy, Lobo. I’d still be out there if not for you. I promise you, once I get better, you will get a sixteen-ounce steak.” He winced when Lobo barked.
“Lobo, hush. I’m sorry. He barks when he’s happy. I’ll try to keep him quiet. I know that bark hurts your head.”
Gretchen tore her eyes away from him. The man was incredibly handsome. She couldn’t help but think, if he couldn’t remember anything, maybe that was for the best. He could be a bad person on the run. Maybe police shot him, but that didn’t make sense. Law enforcement would continue to track him, even after he was shot.
“I don’t think you were shot where we found you.”
“Why not?”
“Because if you were running from the law, they would have tracked you, and possibly came here to see if I had any information. You were on my property but that’s not where you were shot. There was no blood around where we found you, only from where your head was in the snow. If someone put you there, any trail of blood is under the snow.”
“I’m not running from the law,” he said, then frowned. “Am I?”
“Like I said, don’t push it. Your memory will return in its own time.” She glanced toward the kitchen when she heard the washer signaling it was done. “I need to put your clothes in the dryer. I have a pair of sweatpants that belonged to my uncle.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“After I do that, I’ll make you some soup. That will warm you up.”
“I can’t thank you enough for all you’re doing for me.”
“What was I supposed to do? Leave you out there to freeze to death?”
“No, ma’am, I suppose not.”
“Just rest. I’ll be back with your soup in a few minutes.”
Once the soup was ready, she carried the bowl into the living room to see him sitting with his back against the bricks of the fireplace. She almost dropped the bowl. His chest was amazing. His pecs could have been carved from stone, and the dusting of hair made her mouth water, but that six-pack stomach had her wanting to lick it. Such a good-looking man. She wondered about his family.
She set the bowl down, pulled the coffee table over closer to him, then placed the bowl on it. He looked at her and smiled and she felt like a giddy teenager.
“I’ll get those sweatpants for you. I have a flannel shirt that would fit too. I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Gretchen headed to her bedroom, pulled the blue sweatpants out of the drawer, then found the flannel shirt hanging in her closet. Making it back to the living room, she placed the clothes on the sleeping bag.
“Thank you.”
“Are you married?” she asked.
He looked at his left hand. “I don’t think so. You said I didn’t have any ID on me, right?”
“Yes, nothing at all. No coat, hat, wallet, cellphone, nothing to tell me who you are or who to get in touch with.”
“I would have frozen to death out there,” he said quietly, then looked at her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Eat. I do have a spare bedroom you can use. I’m sure you don’t want to sleep on the floor.”
“The fire feels good though, but yeah, I’ll take the bed.”
The buzzer rang on the dryer, so she left the room to check his clothes. They were dry and clean.
Gretchen carried his clothes back to him and set them on the coffee table.
“I had to throw your T-shirt away, but you’ll be more comfortable in the sweats and flannel shirt, or I could get you a T-shirt that would fit you.”
He looked her up and down. “I doubt that.”
She grinned. “It was a gag gift. It’s extra-large. I’ll get it for you. You can wear it under the flannel shirt until you warm up.”
“Alright.”
She quickly made her way to her bedroom, opened the drawer, and pulled the T-shirt out and held it up. She laughed but carried it out to him. She placed it on his lap, but when he tried to hold it up to look at it, he swore and grabbed his right shoulder.
“Damn, that hurt.”
“Be careful. You have to remember you’re hurt. Give me the shirt.” He handed it to her, and she held it up so he could read what was printed on it.
“Cowboys stay on longer?” he asked with a grin.
Gretchen laughed. “A friend of mine knows I have a thing for cowboys. She got it for me for my birthday.”
“Maybe I’m a cowboy,” he murmured.
“Well, you were wearing cowboy boots.” She pointed to them sitting on the hearth.
“I honestly don’t know.” He shook his head, then winced.
“I don’t even know what name to call you by.”
“I wish I knew what to tell you.”
“I can’t say hey you, every time we talk.”
“Call me John for now. John Doe.” He smirked.
“I can’t believe whoever it was took everything from you. They didn’t want you to be identified for some reason. Did you have a weapon?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, as I said before, it will come back to you.”
“Are you sure about that? Because I’m not. Some people never regain their memories, but I hope I’m not one of them.”
“I wonder where it was you were shot. This land is posted, so if anyone was hunting, they were doing it illegally, but there is public land not far from here.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“I’ve lived in Clifton my entire life, but as for the cabin, I’ve lived here almost three years, it was left to me by an uncle. I fell in love with it, but I had it restored and modernized.”
“It’s nice. I’m glad you were here. Are you married?”
“I’m divorced. I have been for a little over three years now. Casteel is my maiden name. I took it back.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m an artist. That’s one reason why I put a lot of time into this place. I need the solitude when I’m painting.” She pointed to several easels in front of the window.
“That’s a lot of easels.”
“I paint several at the same time.”
“How?”
Gretchen smiled. “I’ll be painting and get an idea for another one and start on it. A lot of artists who do oil-based paintings do more than one at a time.”
“I don’t know how you don’t get confused, but of course, you see what you’re painting.”
“Right.”
He spooned some soup into his mouth. “This is so good. I don’t know when I last ate,” he said. “Literally.”
Gretchen laughed. “I can’t argue with that. I have more if you want it.”
“I think I’ll have more, but later if that’s alright with you. My head feels like it was hit with a sledgehammer.”
“At first, I thought you might have a concussion, but you’re talking coherently, so it’s probably not one. Either someone hit you on the back of the head or you fell and hit it on a rock or something. I can get you some more acetaminophen in about another hour.”
“Yes, ma’am. I appreciate it.” He placed the empty bowl on the table and lay back down.
“Get some rest, it’s the best thing for you. I can show you to the bedroom, if you’d like.”
“Could I just stay here for a while? The fire feels good and I’m still a little cold.”
“Of course. Let me get a pillow for you.” She got up, walked to the spare bedroom and removed the pillow from the bed, then went back to the living room.
“Do you think you could sit up again? I’ll help you with the shirt. There’s no way you’ll be able to get it on yourself.”
“Okay.” He grunted as he sat up then clenched his jaw and took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. How do you want to do this?”
“Let me slide the sleeve up your right arm, move it over your head, then you can put your left arm into it.”
“Okay.”
After getting the shirt on him, she could see sweat beading on his forehead from the pain.
“Do you want to try to put the sweatpants on or do you need my help?” Please say no!
“I’ll try in a little while.”
“Take your time,” she said. “I should make a sling for your arm too. I’ll be right back.”
As he nodded, she placed the pillow on the sleeping bag. She could see that he was still in a lot of pain. His skin was ashen, and he tightened his jaw anytime he moved. She couldn’t comprehend the pain he was in. From being shot, and the gash on his head.
After making a sling, she carefully put it under his forearm, pulled the ends together and tied them over his left shoulder. She was hoping it would help with the pain and remind him not to try to use it. He grit his teeth as he lay back down and closed his eyes. She quietly added logs to the hearth and watched as the flames flickered around them. She hoped he slept well.
Gretchen turned on the TV, keeping the volume low, and watched a movie. She’d wake him up when it was time for pills. She smiled when Lobo lay next to the man. If her dog trusted him, shouldn’t she?
She woke him up later for a pill, then sat on the sofa and watched him sleep. Her eyes grew heavy, so she went to bed with Lobo following her.
She awoke with a start, unsure of what had disturbed her slumber. She sat up in bed and listened, until she heard moaning from the living room. Quickly putting on her robe, she walked toward the source of the noise to find the stranger moving around in the sleeping bag, groaning in pain. With caution, she approached him, squatted beside him and gently shook his shoulder, only to be pushed onto her back as he rolled over on top of her, then swore at the pain.
“Stop!” she shouted as panic set in. “Lobo!” Gretchen shouted for the dog, who promptly snapped at the man’s shirt sleeve.
As he lifted his head and looked at her, Gretchen could see that he was still not fully awake. He closed his eyes and rolled onto his back, covering his eyes with his arm.
“Lobo, let go,” Gretchen commanded, and the dog obediently released his grip before sitting by Gretchen’s side and keeping his eyes on the man.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I was having a nightmare.”
“It’s okay,” Gretchen reassured him. “You just startled me.”
“Well, I’m glad your dog is protective and well-behaved,” he said, sitting up and rubbing his head. “I don’t think I would have hurt you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I thought you were going to use the bed?” Gretchen asked.
He smirked. “That bed is way too small. I’m more comfortable here.”
“Do you remember what you dreamed about?”
He scrunched his eyebrows together. “I was in the woods with a gun, and two men were in front of me. I shouted something at them.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Then they turned around, raised their rifles, and that’s all I can recall.”
“Maybe your memory is slowly coming back.”
“Possibly. Sorry for waking you up and pouncing on you. I must have still been half asleep.” He rubbed his arm. “I’m glad Lobo didn’t break the skin.”
“He wouldn’t unless I gave him the command to bite. I had a feeling you were having a nightmare, so I didn’t want to add a dog bite to your other injuries.”
“I appreciate that. Will he be okay around me now?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? He looks like he wants to devour me whole.”
Gretchen laughed. “Lobo, be nice.” The dog laid down and rested his head on the man’s lap. “See? I wish I knew what to call you though. You don’t look like a John to me; Doe or otherwise.”
He tilted his head. “What does a John look like?”
“I couldn’t tell you, but it’s not how you look.” Gretchen gasped suddenly. “Oh, my goodness! What if your name really is John?”
He chuckled. “It doesn’t seem right.” He furrowed his brow. “I need to leave here soon.”
“And go where?”
“I have no idea, but something tells me people are searching for me. Whether they mean well or harm, I don’t know.”
“But you can’t go anywhere right now; the snow is still falling heavily. You’re stuck here for the time being. Even if someone is trying to find you, they won’t be able to go anywhere either.”
“That’s true, but once the weather clears up, I need to go.”
“As I said, go where? Without your memories or any contacts, you have no idea where to go or who to turn to.”
He laid back down. “This is frustrating. I can’t believe I can’t remember anything.” He shook his head. “Why did I even have a gun?”
“I think fragments of your memory are coming back, but I have no explanation for why you would have a gun. Do you feel like you could be a police officer?”
He looked at her and laughed. “What does a police officer feel like?”
“You’re having fun testing my theories.” She smiled.
“Well, they have been a bit unconventional. I don’t look like a John and do I feel like a police officer. Do you want to give it another go?”
“Not really, but why were you out in this weather?”
“Who were those two men?” He shook his head. “There are so many questions, and I can’t answer any of them. Who am I?”
“From what I can gather, you were either running from someone or chasing after them. If the men were ahead of you and you called out to them, I’d say you were in pursuit. It adds up. They pointed their rifles at you, ready to shoot, and they did hit you. You were shot at, at least twice; one grazed your temple, the other went under your collarbone. I heard three shots. But then what? You weren’t shot where Lobo found you. Did you make it there on your own or did they carry you there after taking all your identification? They probably assumed if they stripped you of your coat and identification, you’d freeze to death and if you were ever found, no one would be able to identify you. So, they left you there. Somehow, though, you might have managed to drag yourself to where we found you. And they took all your items with them. And let’s face it; it would have been spring before anyone found you... if the animals didn’t get to you first.”
“Maybe.”
Gretchen stood up. “Get some rest now. It’s three in the morning and sleep will do wonders for your recovery. We’ll talk more later. Come on, Lobo.”
She walked down the hallway with the dog following close behind her. Once she reached her room, she closed the door, shed her robe, and climbed into bed. Lobo hopped up onto the bed and snuggled close to her. She stroked his ears.
“Thank you, baby.” She let out a sigh, rolled onto her side, and drifted off to sleep.
****
As the sun slowly rose, its warm rays spreading across the quiet cabin, he wearily rose to his feet and made his way to the kitchen. He rummaged through the cupboards in search of coffee, his bleary eyes struggling to focus on the labels. Finally, he found what he was looking for and turned toward the sleek coffee maker, only to freeze when he saw Lobo sitting at attention, staring at him with big brown eyes.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, a jolt of fear coursing through him. “Hey boy,” he said, and sighed with relief, as Lobo wagged his tail and nuzzled his hand.
“I told you he was fine,” Gretchen said from behind him as she entered the kitchen.
“Thank God,” he sighed, turning to face her with a grateful smile. “I wasn’t sure there for a minute.”
“How are you feeling?” she asked with genuine concern etched on her features.
“Tired,” he admitted with a yawn. “I didn’t get much sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“It’s alright,” she reassured him. “It was just a bad dream.” She busied herself making her own cup of coffee when his finished brewing. “Are you hungry?”
“Actually, I’m starving,” he confessed with a grin.
“Do you like pancakes?” she asked curiously.
“Yes... I think,” he replied hesitantly, furrowing his brows in concentration.
“Well, I guess we’ll find out,” Gretchen said with an amused grin.
“Okay, is there anything I can do?” he offered.
“Would you mind going out and getting some logs for the fire?” she requested. “They’re stacked on the porch. I’m sure your boots are dry. There’s a bag to carry them in beside the fireplace. Just don’t use your bad arm.”
“Sure,” he agreed, picking up his boots and settling onto the sofa to put them on.
“Just bring in a few,” she instructed. “I like to keep the fire going in case the power goes out.”
“Alright,” he nodded. Then stood, picked up the bag, and headed toward the door. As he stepped outside, the freezing cold air hit him like a slap in the face, causing him to mutter curses under his breath.
As he gathered a few logs and put them into the bag, he turned to head back inside, but paused to listen. The only sound was the soft thud of snowflakes gently falling to the ground. For a moment, he wondered how he had ended up close to this secluded cabin and if those men were still after him.
Shaking off his thoughts, he re-entered the warmth of the cabin and made his way to the living room. He set the bag on the floor, then placed the logs into the bin before removing his boots and adding a couple of logs to the crackling fire.
“Come eat,” Gretchen called from the kitchen. He eagerly obeyed, sitting down at the table and gazing at the stack of golden-brown pancakes before him. With a generous helping of butter and syrup, he took a bite and couldn’t help but let out a satisfied groan.
“I’d say I definitely like pancakes.” He chuckled.
Gretchen laughed along with him; her eyes shining as she looked at him. He couldn’t help but admire her beauty, but quickly diverted his gaze to avoid making her uncomfortable.
For now, all that mattered was enjoying this simple breakfast in this cabin, far away from whatever dangers may be lurking outside.
Later, after breakfast and helping Gretchen clean up, he sat on the sofa watching TV as she sat in the recliner. As he flipped through the channels, he stopped on the news. Maybe something would trigger his memory.
As he sat there watching, nothing popped out at him. He frowned as he tried to think about who he was. With a frown, he leaned his head back, closed his eyes and dozed off.
He jerked awake, sat up, then stood. “Kian,” he said and swayed when he got lightheaded and quickly sat down.
“What?” Gretchen asked him.
“My name. It’s Kian.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, but that’s all I remember. I don’t know my last name or anything else.”
“Kian. That’s different, but I’m glad you remembered that much, at least.”
“Kian who, though? What do I do? Where am I from?”
“Give it a little time. It looks like it will come back to you. You can’t force it.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m just frustrated.”
“I’m sure. Just relax. I’ll make dinner soon.”
“Dinner? We just had breakfast.”
Gretchen smiled. “Hours ago. You fell asleep.”
“Well, now that you mention it, I am hungry.” He grinned.
“I’ll heat up some stew.”
“Alright. Do you mind if I take a shower?”
“If you think you’re strong enough to stand.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Let me take the sling off, first.”
Kian nodded. Gretchen untied the sling and slowly removed it. Kian picked up his folded clothes, she had put on the arm of the sofa, then strode down the hallway and entered the bathroom.
As he stood under the showerhead, he placed his hand on the wall and dunked his head under it. Kian. Something kept nagging at him and he couldn’t quite grasp it.
Someone had to be looking for him. He was sure he had a job. Hell, he didn’t even know what day it was.
He looked at his left hand and there was no indication of a wedding band. Even if whoever shot him took it, there wasn’t a white circle around his finger from wearing one. He didn’t feel married, but that didn’t mean anything. He didn’t feel anything right now about himself. He hoped more of his memory would come back, but for now, his name was a start.