Chapter Seven
Chloe studied the coffee mug in her hand, trying to gather her thoughts after the unexpected turn of events.
Just fifteen minutes earlier, when the morning sun filtering through the blinds had lit the guest room, she’d stretched and yawned. Then she’d rolled to the side and glanced across the mattress, only to find the spot where Joe slept empty, the sheets and blanket tousled.
She’d caught the scent of coffee in the air and assumed he was in the kitchen, fixing breakfast. So she’d climbed out of bed and padded down the hall to her own bedroom. Since she’d showered last night, before turning in, she’d dressed quickly and run a brush through her hair.
Sometime during the wee hours of the morning, Joe had slipped his arms around her and drawn her close. Well, as close as the blanket between them would allow. That intimacy—as well as the memory of the heated kiss they’d shared earlier—urged her to find him, to talk to him.
Would he feel better about sharing the details of that nightmare with her in the light of day? Had the dream triggered any of his memories?
She’d entered the kitchen with a spring in her step and a smile on her lips. And when she’d spotted Sheriff Hollister seated at the table, talking quietly to Joe, her mood had soared. Her hopes, too, as she’d waited to hear the news he’d brought.
But as he told them why he’d come, what he’d learned, a dark cloud of emotion hovered over her. Grief, doubt, worry and even a splash of guilt, all weighed her down.
Dave was dead.
She could hardly believe it. She grieved for him, of course—for the loss of his life. But learning that he was never coming home troubled her for more reasons than one.
What was she going to do about the ranch? The bills had been mounting, and last year’s taxes had yet to be paid. She’d written to Dave, sharing her fears and hoping he’d offer some direction, telling her just what he wanted her to do in his absence.
But instead of an answer, her unopened letter had made its way back to the ranch. And now she knew why. The military must have assumed that Dave had gone home after his discharge. But somewhere along the way he’d died.
A nagging suspicion, a suffocating sense of remorse, threatened to drag her down even more. What if Dave had committed suicide? And what if Chloe’s rejection had contributed to the despondence that had led him to end it all?
His letter to her, the one Joe had delivered, had been cryptic, his parting words so...final.
But if you’re not interested in what we could have together, then I won’t bother you again. Goodbye. Dave.
Had he hoped that she’d go looking for him? That she’d tell him she’d changed her mind rather than risk losing him?
Chloe wouldn’t have done that. She hadn’t wanted to hurt Dave, but she would never marry a man she didn’t love. Yet that didn’t stop the grief—or the worry.
Maybe she should search the house to find a solution to the problems at hand. Had Teresa hidden money to use for a rainy day? If so, this would certainly be that day.
Teresa had also had a will. She’d told Chloe about it and had mentioned that her attorney, who had an office in Wexler, kept a copy of it in his files.
After her friend’s funeral, Chloe had contacted the man, and he’d guided her and Dave through the process of transferring ownership of the ranch to Dave. He’d also drawn up the paperwork that had given Chloe power of attorney so she could keep the ranch going until Dave returned from deployment.
Did Dave have a will, too? If so, that would give Chloe some idea who should be notified, who would be able to look after the ranch now.
But unless she could find someone to hand the reins to, she couldn’t very well leave. What would happen to Tomas and the other ranch hands? And what about the cattle and horses?
No, she needed to stay until the legalities were sorted out and settled. And while she really didn’t have a place to go, she did have plans and dreams.
And sadly, as long as she stayed on the Rocking C she’d never be able to pursue her degree in nursing or to get on with her life. She may have wanted to settle down in one place, but she didn’t want to be stuck there. And that’s how she was beginning to feel.
“Will you excuse me?” she asked Joe without waiting for a reply.
Then she took her coffee mug and headed to the den to see what she could find.
Joe watched Chloe leave the kitchen in somber silence. She probably needed to grieve and wanted to do so alone. He couldn’t blame her for that.
So he poured himself another cup of coffee and set about fixing breakfast—scrambled eggs and ham.
When it was ready and the table had been set, he went in search of her. He’d expected to find her holed up in her room, crying. But when he heard the sound of rustling papers in the den, he proceeded toward the open door.
He found her seated at the desk, where paperwork littered the polished oak surface. She had her back to him and was leaning to the side, digging through a drawer of files.
She didn’t appear to be grieving, as he’d expected. Instead, she seemed to be looking for something.
“What’s up?” he asked.
She stiffened, as though he’d caught her in the act of...well, hell, he didn’t know what.
“Oh!” She lifted her head and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes wide, lips parted and cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
She’d been too intent in her search, he supposed.
“I fixed breakfast,” he said. “It’s ready whenever you are.”
She glanced at the paperwork on the desk, then turned her gaze back on him. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Looking for something?”
She bit down on her bottom lip. Was she wondering if she could trust him with the answer? Or was she feeling guilty for sifting through the ranch files?
“Just some paperwork,” she said.
“Need some help?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
He nodded as though it made perfect sense. And in a way, he supposed it did. She’d been holding down the home front while Dave was away. And so she worked in here. Still, she’d looked a little sheepish when he’d found her.
Unable to quell his curiosity, he asked, “Does this have anything to do with the letter he wrote?”
“No. It’s just ranch business.”
He waited a moment, hoping she’d say something about the letter, about the contents. He wanted to know what was so important that he’d made a possible deathbed promise to deliver it.
When she didn’t respond, his curiosity morphed into suspicion, although he couldn’t exactly say why.
He nodded toward the doorway. “Well, since you’re busy, I’ll head back into the kitchen and leave you to your work.”
“Thanks. I’m about done here.”
As Joe turned to go, he couldn’t quite shake his uneasiness. But then again, what did it matter? His amnesia had left him unsettled about a lot of things.
Joe had barely returned to the kitchen when Tomas arrived, bringing corn husks and the masa his wife had made.
Joe thanked the foreman and paid him the cost of the needed items. Then he placed the dough in the refrigerator so he could make the tamales later in the day. Next, he fixed breakfast for two.
He’d just scooped out a heaping spoonful of scrambled eggs onto his plate when Chloe returned to the kitchen.
“That sure smells good,” she said. “I still think you may have gone to culinary school.”
Unfortunately, Joe had no clue about whether he had or hadn’t. He took a slice of ham from the skillet, then carried his meal to the table. Chloe joined him and they ate in relative silence.
As she picked up their empty plates, Joe asked, “Do you mind if I borrow the ranch truck for the day?”
Her motions slowed to a stall. “The sheriff suggested that you stay on the ranch. And as far as I know, he didn’t say anything about that changing. Where did you want to go?”
“To Houston. I’d like to do a little recon work on my identity.”
“Did he provide you with any more to go on while the two of you were outside?”
“No. But I want to follow through on the military lead.”
“That makes sense. And with Houston being nearly two hours from here, it’s not likely anyone from Brighton Valley will see you. So sure. Go ahead.”
“Thanks.”
He turned to leave the room, but she reached for his arm and stopped him. “Would you like me to ride with you?”
He probably ought to tell her he’d rather be alone. But that wasn’t true. For some reason, it seemed as though he’d spent the bulk of his life alone. And he wanted that—no, he needed that—to change.
So he offered her a smile. “Sure, why not?”
When she returned his smile and gave his arm a gentle squeeze, he realized that he was actually glad to have her come along.
Twenty minutes later, she’d changed into a pair of black slacks that rode low on her hips, a white blouse and a pale green sweater. She’d woven her long hair into a twist that was held by a silver clip and had applied lipstick.
Looked like the cowgirl had morphed into a stylish lady who’d blend in nicely with the city folk.
No, someone as pretty as Chloe would stand out in a crowd, no matter what she did to her appearance.
“Thanks for waiting,” she said. “You ready to go?”
“Yep.”
As she headed for the back door, he followed her and watched as she snagged the key ring off the hook on the mudroom wall. Once they were both outside, she led the way to the ranch pickup and opened the driver’s door.
He could have asked her to let him drive, but he sat back and let her take the wheel. Being the passenger would give him a chance to check out the scenery and to see if something along the way would jog his memory.
He didn’t like the idea of taking the old ranch truck such a long distance in case it broke down.
He considered suggesting that they stop by the county impound lot to pick up his rental car, but on the outside chance that someone was actually looking for him, they’d be watching for a nondescript four-door sedan.
So it was Ol’ Greenie that chugged along the county road, which would lead them to the interstate.