The Heiress and the Sheriff (17 page)

“There's also the document with Miranda's name on it,” Zane spoke up.

Wyatt frowned. “So she has an insurance policy with Miranda's name on it. There's nothing on the document linking her to the woman.”

“Wyatt is right,” Gabrielle had to agree. “There might have been some other motive for me having those things hidden in the Bible.”

A few steps away, Rosita paused as she carried a tray full of iced drinks to the coffee table. “There is proof Gabrielle is a Fortune,” she said to no one in particular. Then, directing her attention solely on Ryan, she said, “I'm surprised you haven't thought of the Fortune birthmark before now.”

Sudden dawning streaked across his face, and snapping his fingers, he jumped to his feet. “You're right, Rosita!”

Matthew turned stunned looks on his brothers. “Why didn't we think of our birthmark? If Gabrielle is a Fortune, she'll surely have one.”

“That's right,” Zane echoed. “We all do. Even Taylor. And we don't even know where he came from.”

“Gabrielle has the crown-shaped birthmark on her hip. I saw it on her some time ago,” Rosita said before Ryan could ask.

Gabrielle had never seen Ryan angry with the housekeeper before. He always treated the woman with fondness and respect, but now he was practically shouting at her. “Rosita! You saw the birthmark and didn't come straight to me?”

Rosita shrugged, clearly unalarmed by her boss's frustration. “I told Ruben about it, and we decided you had enough troubles to deal with besides wondering about a birthmark. And we figured if Gabrielle really was a family member, you'd find it out anyway.”

Dallas looked at his wife and groaned. Shaking her head, Maggie went to her mother and gently draped her arm around her shoulders. “Mother, don't you think Gabrielle might have wanted to know? She's been trying to get her memory back.”

“I warned Wyatt that I felt Gabrielle was connected to the family. I could feel a strong urge had drawn her here. Just like I told you about the striking serpent that caused her wreck. But you paid me no heed,” she told her daughter. “No one around here wants to hear what I know or see.”

“Mother—”

“Don't badger her, Maggie,” Dallas spoke up. “Your parents were only trying to mind their own business.”

Gabrielle glanced from one face to another. It seemed they'd all forgotten she was in the room. Except for Wyatt. His eyes were boring a hole straight through her.

Trying not to let his anger pulverize her any more than it already had, she spoke up in a voice loud enough to be heard by all. “If anyone is interested, I do have a birthmark on my hip. It looks almost identical to the brand you put
on your horses. When I saw it down at the corrals, I kept thinking how strange it was that I was marked with the Double Crown brand.”

Everyone stared at her with wide eyes and slack jaws. Everyone but Wyatt. A quick glance from the corner of Gabrielle's eye assured her he didn't believe any more of the story than he had ten minutes ago.

“Maggie, you and Gabrielle go to the bedroom where you can take a look for yourself,” Ryan said to his daughter-in-law. To Gabrielle he asked, “Would you mind?”

Quickly Gabrielle rose from the chair. “Of course not. I want to know about this as much as you Fortunes.”

As the two women left the great room, Wyatt got to his feet and walked over to the glass doors leading out to the courtyard. Not long ago, it seemed, he and Gabrielle had escaped to the hidden shadows among the gardens. At that time he'd been certain her need for him had been as feverish as his own for her. Now he could only wonder if everything about her had been a lie. Even the way she'd given her body to him.

Hell, what did it matter? She'd been planning to leave tomorrow anyway. And he'd been going to let her go. But when tomorrow came would he really have been able to see her walk away?

He didn't have time to consider the agony of that question. Behind him the two women had returned to the room, and things were in an uproar. Wyatt's long strides carried him to the midst of the commotion.

“The birthmark is there,” Ryan told him, his face wreathed in smiles. “Gabrielle is really a Fortune.”

Wyatt felt as if someone had knocked him sideways. “I don't believe it. Everybody has
some
sort of birthmark.”

“Not like ours,” Dallas insisted. “We're branded on the hip in a certain spot with a crown-shaped mark.”

Wyatt glanced at the other man without really seeing him. “I understand all you Fortunes have the same birthmark. But did you ever consider it could be copied? Think about it. People will do a damn sight more than put a mark on their bodies to get into the money you Fortunes have!”

“What do you mean, copied?” Gabrielle spoke directly to Wyatt for the first time since they'd left the courtyard.

“I mean that mark is probably a fake. A tattoo.”

“It didn't look like ink to me,” Maggie remarked.

“Matthew is a doctor. He can verify whether the birthmark is real or fake,” Ryan said.

Wyatt looked around at the faces in the group, wondering how they could all be so trusting and accepting after the heartache they'd been through this past year. Were they crazy, or was it him?

“Forget it! You all want to believe Gabrielle is a Fortune, so go ahead—take her into your family. Just don't forget I warned you.”

The room went terribly quiet. Gabrielle was certain she could hear her heart breaking, shattering into a million pieces on the tiled floor at her feet. Without even glancing her way, Wyatt stalked away from the group and toward the door.

“Wyatt, are you leaving?” Ryan called.

Wyatt glanced over his shoulder. “I've got work to do and it's obvious I'm wasting my time here.”

As he disappeared into the entryway, Maggie put her hands on Gabrielle's shoulders and gave her a little nudge. “Go after him, Gabrielle.”

Her eyes full of pain, Gabrielle shook her head. “He doesn't believe me,” she said hoarsely.

“He's in shock,” Mary Ellen suggested gently.

Maggie nudged her again, and this time Gabrielle's heart
refused to listen to the logic in her head. She raced across the room and out to the front steps.

“Wyatt!”

Without turning to look, he paused on the walkway. She hurried down the steps to join him.

“If you came out here to plead your case with me, forget it,” he said tightly.

Moving in front of him, she looked up at his dark face. His features were so rock hard, he didn't appear human.

“I didn't come out here to plead my case, Wyatt. I don't know what my case is,” she said softly. “For all I know, you're right about me. I could be a con artist, a gold digger who came here to get money from the Fortunes any way I could. If I had my memory, I might be able to defend myself. As it is I can only hope you're wrong.”

A sneer twisted his features. “You're going to milk your amnesia story for all it's worth, aren't you? Do you honestly still expect me to believe your memory was lost when you crashed into that tree?”

Shadows of pain filled her eyes as she continued to search his forbidding face. “It was.”

“Hah!” he scoffed bitterly. “I think you've lied to all of us from the very start. Unfortunately, the Fortunes are still believing you. But I'm not.”

Moving closer, she gripped his forearm as her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “Do you think I was lying when I made love to you? I was a virgin, Wyatt! You know that!”

For a split second she thought she saw regret flicker in his eyes. But then he deliberately picked her hand from his arm, and dropped it back at her side as though her touch was abhorrent to him.

“Like I said before. People will do anything for money.”

She wanted to slap him. But why bother? He'd made up
his mind about her, and she couldn't think of one thing that might change it. Besides, she could feel the throb in her head growing to the size of a bass drum beat. Sweat was beading on her forehead and upper lip, and trickling in rivulets beneath her shirt. The hysterical thought struck her that her head was going to burst right along with her heart.

“I'm sorry for you, Wyatt. Truly sorry,” she whispered brokenly, then pressing her hand against her forehead, she turned away from him and hurried back into the house.

By the time she staggered into the great room, she was on the verge of collapsing. Her legs were shaking and intermittent explosions of pain were going off behind her eyes.

Mary Ellen was the first one to notice her return. The woman rushed over to her and took hold of her arm. “Gabrielle, what's wrong?”

“I…I'm getting sick. My head is pounding.”

“Oh, this has all been too much for you, honey. To learn who you are would have been traumatic enough, but to learn you're a Fortune, well, I can't imagine what you must be feeling.” She brought her arm around Gabrielle's back and urged her forward. “Come along, and I'll help you down to your room.”

When the others spotted Gabrielle and Mary Ellen slowly making their way toward the kitchen, the whole family rushed over to them.

“Gabrielle, what happened?” Maggie cried in dismay.

Matthew stepped forward and quickly scanned her pale, sweat-dampened face. “Is your head hurting?”

She nodded. “Terribly. Worse than it ever has.”

Matthew glanced at Mary Ellen. “Help her to bed, and I'll go get my bag.”

“Do you need help?” Lily asked Mary Ellen.

“I'll go with them,” Maggie said as she hurried around to support Gabrielle's other side.

“Don't worry about anything, Gabrielle,” Ryan said.

“You might have lived in California before, but you're home now. We'll take care of you.”

Gabrielle thanked him, then the two women helped her back to her room and into bed.

“I'm so sorry you're ill,” Mary Ellen said as she smoothed the sheet across Gabrielle. “We were getting ready to celebrate.”

“I'm sorry I spoiled the evening,” Gabrielle said in a voice tight with pain.

Mary Ellen smiled gently. “Oh, my dear, you haven't spoiled anything.”

“You're the first happy news we've had in a while,” Maggie added. “We'll celebrate when you're feeling better.”

Gabrielle squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingers against her forehead. If it turned out she was truly a Fortune, she would be glad. Yet the pleasure would be shadowed by the heartbreak of knowing Wyatt didn't believe in her. And most of all, that he didn't love her.

“Wyatt doesn't believe I'm cause for celebration. He'd jail me if he could find a legal reason.”

Maggie came to stand by the end of the bed. “Wyatt isn't behaving like himself,” she said. “He's always been a tough nut to crack, but he's usually not so hard-nosed or unreasonable.”

Mary Ellen reached down and patted her shoulder. “He's just afraid he loves you. That's the only thing wrong with Wyatt.”

Her eyes filled with pain, Gabrielle glanced up at Mary Ellen. “He thinks I lied to him.”

“He'll see the truth of things eventually,” Mary Ellen
tried to reassure her. “Now, forget about Wyatt and try to get some rest.”

A light knock sounded on the door and the three women looked around to see Matthew entering the room. He quickly took Gabrielle's blood pressure and pulse, then examined her eyes with a penlight.

“I don't think the concussion you suffered last month is connected to this headache. I'm inclined to believe it's an old-fashioned migraine brought on by nerves.” He reached into his bag and brought out two pain capsules. “Take these,” he said, handing them to Gabrielle. “If it doesn't let up in about an hour, we'll do something else. The best thing you can do now is turn off the light and try to sleep.”

“Matthew,” Maggie began as he put his things back into his medical bag, “since you're here, why don't you take a look at Gabrielle's birthmark. It might ease her mind to have a doctor confirm whether it's real or not.”

He glanced questioningly at Gabrielle. “I'm perfectly satisfied with Maggie's opinion, but if you want me to look, I will.”

Wyatt's mistrust had affected her so deeply that she was still doubting herself. If Matthew could give her the truth, she needed to hear it. As for exposing her hip to the man, he was a doctor, and the area he had to see was small and not anywhere embarrassing.

“I would appreciate your opinion, Matthew,” she told him. “I believe Maggie is right. I'll feel better knowing one way or the other.”

He motioned for Maggie to flip on the overhead light, and Gabrielle slipped her pajama bottom down just far enough for him to see the mark.

Leaning closer, Matthew peered at the distinctive crown on her hip. “Hmm. This is really something,” he murmured.

Fear clutched Gabrielle's heart. Maybe Wyatt was right. Maybe she was really a gold-digging con artist. “What is it?” she asked frantically.

He glanced at her and smiled. “We're bona fide cousins, Gabrielle.”

After the doctor and the two women left her room, a long time passed before Gabrielle truly digested the news Matthew had given her. The birthmark wasn't ink or dye. It hadn't been put there artificially to gain access to the Fortunes' millions. She
was
a Fortune! As much as were Dallas and Matthew and Zane and all the children belonging to Cameron and Ryan. It was amazing.

Eventually the drug Matthew had given her began to dull the pain. As sleep crept closer, she wondered what Wyatt was going to think when he heard the news. He might admit he was wrong about her. But it was hardly enough to make him love her. Somehow she was going to have to make herself accept the fact that everything between them was over.

W
yatt was sitting on the couch in his living room, staring into the darkness, when the telephone rang. He cursed as the sound intruded on his anguished thoughts. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to see anyone.

But he was the county's sheriff. He couldn't neglect his duties. And the call could very well be an emergency from his office. He leaned over and picked up the receiver, then grunted a greeting.

“Hello,” a woman replied. “Is this Wyatt? Wyatt Grayhawk?”

The female voice was unfamiliar and hesitant. Wyatt answered a bit warily. “Yes, this is Wyatt Grayhawk. And if you're selling something, lady. I don't want it.”

“Wyatt.”

She said his name again in a choked voice, and Wyatt was suddenly gripping the receiver with full attention. “Are you in trouble, lady? Don't dally around. Tell me, dammit!”

“No. I'm sorry. I just don't know what to say.”

Without warning his heart started to pound. He stood, then swallowed. “Who…who is this?” he asked, his voice suddenly going very quiet.

“This is…Marilyn. Your mother.”

Wyatt was certain the room was tilting around him. His throat was too tight to speak, then when he finally thought he could get a word out, he didn't know what to say.

“Wyatt? Are you still there?”

“Yes. Yes, I'm here.” His heart was still pumping like a locomotive and his hands had started to shake. “I…how did you know—how did you get my number?”

“Information. I received a letter from Ruby Mendoza. She told me you wrote to Berle Atkins hoping he'd know how to contact me. Ruby used to work at Berle's and she still kept in touch with me and Berle. I—I didn't know what to think. I couldn't believe it.”

He swallowed again. Just hearing the woman's voice was so strange and yet somehow achingly familiar. “I wasn't even sure you were still alive,” he admitted in an awed whisper.

“Oh, Wyatt. Oh, Wyatt. I'm so…you can't imagine how much I've thought of you. How much I've missed you. Are you—I guess you're all grown up now,” she said with a tearful laugh. “And I know you must be handsome. You were a gorgeous little boy.”

Like clawing hands, regret tore at him. “I'm the sheriff of Red Rock now. That's what I do for a living.”

“Oooh! Oh, that's…that's wonderful,” she said, her voice full of surprise and pride. “I knew you'd be a success. I prayed you would be. And prayed that…”

She didn't go on and Wyatt quickly prodded, “What?”

“That you wouldn't turn out to be like Leonard,” she confessed, then followed the words with a deep sigh.

He didn't have to ask her what she meant. He'd lived with Leonard for eighteen years, far longer than Marilyn had. As for being like his father, Wyatt could have assured her he didn't drink heavily nor was he lazy. But was he mean and embittered? Had he allowed himself to become that much like Leonard? He couldn't bear to admit it, even to himself.

“What are you doing? Where are you living?” he asked her.

“I'm in Kingman, Arizona. I own a little café here. It's doing pretty well.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to picture her there in the desert town. “I don't understand…I guess the reason I wanted to contact you—” He stopped, drew in a deep breath and started again. “Why did you leave all those years ago? Why did you leave me?”

Once that last question died away, the line went quiet, and then he realized he could hear the muffled sound of sobbing. Finally she spoke, although her voice quivered badly, “I had to go, Wyatt. Your father beat me, then put a gun to my head and ordered me to pack and leave.”

He suddenly thought of Gabrielle and how close she'd come to guessing the truth. “But why? I know the bastard was mean, but—”

“Because he threatened to harm you if I didn't leave,” she interrupted. “He knew you were the one thing I truly loved, and he used you to hurt me.”

“You never came back,” he accused.

She gasped and lowered her voice as though she were still afraid Leonard might hear her. “I didn't dare. He promised if I ever returned to Red Rock, he would be waiting to kill me and you both. I couldn't take that chance, Wyatt. I knew as long as I stayed away, he wouldn't harm you. He didn't, did he? Please tell me he didn't beat you.”

“No. He wasn't much of a father, but he didn't beat me. He…he always said you didn't want me because I was a half-breed. He said you were pregnant and had to marry him. And that you blamed him for ruining your life.”

“Oh, God, how terrible,” she said with a groan. “That couldn't be further from the truth. I was planning to take you with me. But he found out about it,” Marilyn said.
“The crazy thing was, though, he thought I was going to run off with one of the men who came into the café every morning. He was convinced I was having an affair and that was his way of hurting me—banishing me from my own son.”

Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to tell himself it was useless to hate and blame his father now. The past had already happened. It couldn't be changed. And he supposed in the end, Leonard had suffered more than anyone else.

“Were you having an affair?” Wyatt asked.

She gasped. “No! Though God knows I wished I had. Maybe some man could have helped me smuggle you out of there. As it was, I couldn't defend myself against a drunk maniac.”

Wyatt could understand her fears back then. But twenty-six years had passed. She might never have contacted him if he hadn't started to search for her. “I realize you were frightened of Leonard all those years ago. But you…never tried to get in touch with me after I was grown.”

“I couldn't!” she cried, and then in a voice full of dismay went on, “I mean—isn't Leonard still there in Red Rock?”

To think she was still so terrified of the man was pitiful, and proved how powerful abuse was over a woman or child. Wyatt supposed that in her mind, she pictured Leonard as he was back then, still capable of being a tyrant to mother and son. “No. He's been gone for about twelve years now.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere in Oklahoma. I'm not sure. I really don't give a damn. Do you?”

“Lord, no. But I figured he was still there. I don't want
him to know I've talked to you, Wyatt. He might still try to hurt you.”

It was then that he realized the true depth of her fear, and realized, too, that it was all for him. “Oh, Mother, the man can't hurt me now. He's gone from our lives.”

The fact that he'd called her “Mother” must have affected her, because she began to cry again. “I wish I'd known, Wyatt. I wish I'd been brave enough to come back. I loved you so. I still do,” she said brokenly.

His own voice was husky when he spoke. “I thought you'd deserted me.”

“I guess I did, Wyatt,” she said regretfully. “But not in my heart. Never in my heart.” She sniffed and drew in a calming breath. “Every day after I left I wanted to come back for you, but I couldn't find a way. And no one really wanted to help me. All my friends were even more frightened of Leonard than I was. None of them wanted to get involved. Finally I decided there wasn't anything I could do. And as more time began to slip away…I figured you probably already hated me. That you wouldn't want to be with me anyway.”

“I've tried to hate you,” Wyatt admitted. “But I can't. I think we both need to forget the past and try to start over again. Is there any way you might come to Red Rock for a visit? I want to see you.”

Marilyn sniffed again, but this time Wyatt could hear happiness through her tears. As for himself, a warm sort of peace he'd never felt before poured through him.

“Are you certain Leonard won't hear about it and cause trouble?”

“I'm certain he'll never show his face around here again. I'm the sheriff now, Mom.”

She suddenly laughed with relief and a great amount of pride. “Yes. I must remember my son is the sheriff. And
I'll find a way to get there,” she promised. “I have a friend who can run the café a few days without me. Is next week too soon?”

“I'll send you a plane ticket by courier, and when your flight arrives at the airport in San Antonio, I'll be waiting to pick you up. In the meantime, you have my number now. Call me if you need anything,” he told her.

The line went quiet again, and he realized she was too choked up to speak. It amazed him how much his heart went out to her, how easy it was to allow his mother back into his life.

“Mom? Are you okay?”

“Yes. I just wanted to say, I don't know who or what prompted you to hunt for me, but I thank God you did.”

He suddenly smiled. “I'll tell you all about it when you get here.”

“Yes. Goodbye, son. And…I love you.”

Wyatt swallowed and closed his eyes. “I love you too.”

 

When Gabrielle woke a few hours later, the pain in her head was mercifully gone. But where was she? Totally disoriented, she leaned up on her elbow and looked around the dim shadows of the long room. This wasn't her apartment….

Oh, dear! Oh, God! It was the Double Crown! Her memory had returned!

Ripping back the bedcover, she raced over to the dresser and switched on a lamp. For some reason she expected to look different. And she did look somewhat changed from the young woman who'd been working her way through college as a waitress.

Shoving back her tousled hair, Gabrielle peered more closely at the image in the mirror. A few hours earlier she'd gone to sleep with a fierce headache. Now she was wide
awake. And she remembered! Everything! Her mother, Miranda. Her older brother, Kane. Her father—the faceless rodeo rider, Lloyd Carter, who'd abandoned the three of them even before Gabrielle had been born.

She'd come here to Texas hunting the family she'd never had, and the family her mother would never speak about. And if it had been left up to Miranda, Gabrielle would never have found them. If she hadn't picked up the newspaper in the diner and noticed the article about Bryan Fortune being kidnapped, she would still have been in the dark about her heritage.

Gabrielle sank onto the dressing bench as she remembered back to the day she'd confronted her mother with the newspaper article. The name was Fortune—the same name she'd found on one of her mother's old insurance policies. The family lived on a ranch in Texas, and the kidnapped child had a birthmark described as exactly the same as Gabrielle's and her brother Kane's.

At first Miranda had laughingly called it an odd coincidence and nothing more. But Gabrielle had felt certain there was some sort of connection to the family back in Texas. She'd pushed her mother for more direct answers, and when Miranda had refused to give any, Gabrielle had informed her mother she was going to Texas to find out the truth for herself.

Miranda's reaction had been close to hysteria. She'd demanded Gabrielle to stay in California and forget her wild ideas. She'd warned her daughter that she would only find trouble in Texas. And when she did not to call her mother for help.

Why? Gabrielle wondered. For years, she had asked her mother about her family. But all Miranda would tell her was that she'd been raised on a ranch in Texas and hadn't
gotten along with her parents, so she'd run away to California.

Well, that part pretty much matched what Ryan had told her earlier tonight. Still, it was hard to understand why Miranda had stayed away from these people for so long. Especially when they had millions, and she'd struggled to raise two children alone, waitressing and working odd acting jobs. Sometimes she'd landed a part in a local play, or once in awhile she'd lucked out and gotten a part in a low-budget film.

Even so, money had always been a scarce commodity for the Carters. Gabrielle had never minded living modestly, but she knew her mother had always wanted to live the high social life more fitting of a movie star. Gabrielle groaned at the idea. Her mother never had been, nor would be, a movie star.

Oh, Lord, what was Wyatt going to think of all this? He'd never in a thousand years believe her! And she seriously doubted the Fortunes would. All of them would think she'd used the wreck to fake her amnesia and to gain sympathy and a foothold with the family. They might even have the idea that Miranda sent her here as a way to gain part of the Fortune millions she'd deserted so long ago! As for Wyatt, he'd probably take great pleasure in denouncing her as a gold digger.

Groaning with misery, Gabrielle dropped her head in her hands. What was she going to do? What
could
she do?

As far as she could see, she had two choices. One, she could go wake the family, tell them everything she'd remembered, and hope they would all believe she'd come here with sincere intentions. Or two, she could pack a few things and leave without letting anyone know.

She tried to swallow down the pain that had started in her chest and was rising up in her throat. There really was
no choice, she told herself. The Fortunes were too kind to cause them any more problems. If she slipped away and never came back, they would all see she didn't want money from them.

As for Wyatt, he didn't want her around anyway. He'd labeled her as trouble from the start. It didn't matter that she loved him. He would never return her feelings. The best thing she could do now was go back to the world she'd come from—and try to forget him.

A tear brimmed over her eye and slid down her cheek. She couldn't forget Wyatt. He was in her heart to stay. She'd simply have to go through the rest of her life wondering how things might have been if she'd come here under different circumstances, and if he'd been a man who could trust her.

In less than ten minutes, she'd changed into the clothes she'd worn from California and thrown a few essentials into a denim carryall. All the nice things Maggie and the rest of the Fortunes had given her were packed away in boxes to be sent to the Red Cross. As for the money Ryan had loaned her, she put all of it—except enough for bus fare and food—into an envelope, then added a short note.