The Heiress and the Sheriff (9 page)

At that moment Maggie returned and presented the small magnifying glass. Wyatt thanked her, then tilted it over the area of the newspaper.

“Why, it's the
San Antonio Star!
” Lily gasped.

“And the date is today!” Ryan added excitedly.

Matthew sagged against the table, his relief almost too great to bear. “Oh, thank God! Bryan is alive and well.”

Wyatt glanced up at the doctor. “Have you told Claudia about any of this?”

He shook his head. “No. We only received the note just before you arrived. I wanted to wait and see what you thought about it all before I told her. But now—this is even better news than I expected!”

“It is good news,” Wyatt agreed. “The fact that Bryan is alive and seemingly well taken care of after all these months makes me believe the kidnapper has no intention of physically harming him.”

“But we can't take that for granted, can we, Wyatt?” Dallas asked.

Wyatt glanced across the table at Matthew's younger brother. “No. We can't take anything for granted in this case. After all these months had passed without any more demands for ransom, I was beginning to think the kidnapper had decided he wanted a baby more than money. But now it's obvious he or she has an evil, greedy mind. They want a baby, money—or both. They already have the baby. Who knows what they'll do to keep him or get the money.”

“Since it is a San Antonio newspaper, do you think my son might be close?” Matthew asked him.

“Probably closer than we think,” he answered grimly.

Beside him, Gabrielle shook her head and blinked her eyes. The image of baby Bryan was blurring into streaks of color. Pain was gathering in her forehead and shooting through the top of her skull. Not wanting to interrupt, she quietly slipped away from the group and hurried down the hallway to her room.

Once there she switched on a small lamp at the head of the bed and shook out two of the pain capsules the doctor had prescribed. She swallowed them down with a drink of water from the bathroom, then lay down on the long leather couch.

A few minutes passed before there was a soft knock on the door, then Maggie entered the dimly lit room.

“Gabrielle, are you ill?”

“It's my head again,” she told the other woman. “Everything suddenly began to blur and then the pain started pounding.”

“I'm so sorry,” she said, coming to stand beside the couch. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

“No. I took my pain medicine. Hopefully, I'll feel better in a few minutes.”

“Wyatt noticed you were gone and asked me to come look in on you.”

Gabrielle sighed. “He's probably thinking I was feeling guilty and couldn't face all of you.”

“Guilty? About what?”

“The kidnapping. I'm sure he'll associate the note with me somehow.”

Maggie's short laugh was incredulous. “How could he? You were gone with him when it arrived.”

Gabrielle pressed her fingertips against her throbbing forehead. If only she could remember! “That will hardly make any difference to Wyatt. He'll have the idea I gave a signal to someone, or something like that.”

Maggie shook her head. “If it's any consolation, none of us Fortunes believe you're in cahoots with anybody.”

“It does make me feel better to know you all believe in me. But…”

“But Wyatt's opinion is what really matters to you,” Maggie finished knowingly.

A lump of tears formed in Gabrielle's throat. She hated herself for becoming so emotional. Now wasn't the time. She needed to be strong for this family and try to help them in any way she could.

“It shouldn't. I know,” she mumbled.

Maggie sat down on the end of the long coffee table and studied Gabrielle's troubled face. “I'm not sure what your feelings for Wyatt are, Gabrielle. But I must warn you. He eats young women like you for breakfast. You only have to look at him to know he has no problem finding a willing woman to satisfy his needs.”

And she'd almost been one of those “willing” women, Gabrielle thought miserably. Was he capable of simply using her, then tossing her aside?

Yes. For her own sake, she had to believe so.

“Maggie, do you think Wyatt has ever wanted a wife or children?”

Maggie contemplated her question for a moment. “I'm not really the one to ask. My husband knows Wyatt much better. You see Wyatt and the Fortune brothers grew up together. The Fortunes helped Wyatt get elected. They've all been friends for years. But as to what I think…well, if Wyatt ever wanted a wife or family he hasn't shown it. But then, he's not a man who wears his emotions on his sleeve either.”

Gabrielle didn't say anything, and Maggie regarded her more closely. “Are you wishing he was interested in you that way?”

Gabrielle swallowed, then glanced at Maggie. She still couldn't see clearly, but enough to tell Maggie was looking at her with concern. “I don't know,” she whispered, her voice full of misery. “My home is in California. But I have no recollection of it. I suppose I'll have to go back there…to try to find my family. If I have any. Even if Wyatt did want me that way, I couldn't very well stay here without knowing about my past. It's all so frustrating.”

“I can't imagine what you must be going through. Not knowing if you have parents or siblings. And if you do, you wouldn't recognize them.”

Gabrielle was certain she wouldn't recognize anyone from her past. Her memory was too dead. “A few minutes ago when we were all looking at the picture of baby Bryan, I kept wondering if I have a mother somewhere, and if she's wondering and worrying about me. Or if…she doesn't give a damn where I am. Since Wyatt told me there's been no missing persons report filed on me, I have to think the latter.”

Rising to her feet, Maggie shook her head. “You're trying to think too much, Gabrielle. Your head can't heal with
such a jumble of thoughts whirling around inside it. Do you want Matthew to take a look at you?”

Gabrielle sat straight up. “Goodness, no! It's only a headache. He has far more important things to deal with now. Did Wyatt say anything else about the ransom note after I left? What does he think about it all?”

“Right now, I think he's viewing the whole thing cautiously. And he wants to discuss it all with the FBI before the drop-off date for the money. Which will be Saturday night.”

“It sounded like your father-in-law is adamant about paying the ransom.”

She nodded. “Ryan will do anything to get his grandson back.”

Gabrielle could only wonder if she'd ever been loved that much. Some vague feeling inside her said she'd never been a cherished family member. “I guess now there's not much for your family to do, but wait.”

Maggie smiled hopefully. “This time I'm keeping both fingers crossed and praying Bryan will be returned. It's about time something good happens to this family.” She started toward the door. “I'm going to join the others and let you rest. If you need me, yell.”

“Thank you, Maggie.”

Maggie's hand paused on the doorknob. “You know,” she said, glancing back at Gabrielle, “something just dawned on me. A few moments ago when you were talking about having a family, you mentioned wondering if you had a mother, but nothing about a father. Maybe subconsciously you know you don't have a father?”

Gabrielle's aching forehead puckered into a deeper frown as she tried to summon the merest flash of memory. “You could be right, Maggie. I might not have a father. For all I know, I might not have anyone.”

 

Rosita swatted at her husband Ruben's hand as he lovingly patted her round behind.

“I don't know why you're feeling frisky tonight, old man. You've been breaking yearlings in this heat all day. Maybe I've been feeding you too good.”

Ruben laughed and rubbed his midsection. He'd always been built like a bull, the only difference now that he was sixty-three was the slight paunch hanging over his belt. Eating his wife's good cooking all these years had taken its toll. His black hair had turned mostly salt-and-pepper, along with his beard and mustache, but he was still much of a man. And he loved his devoted wife. His desire for her had never waned during their long marriage. Ruben would be the first to admit his greatest pleasure in life was coming home in the evenings to her and their small home.

“Maybe you just look too good for this old man to keep his hands to himself,” Ruben told her.

Her face flushed with pleasure. “Ruben, I have to tell you what I saw today. At the ranch house.”

Ruben, who was used to his wife's predictions and visions, wasn't surprised by her urgent tone. “Hmm. What was it,
querida?
”

“Gabrielle. You know the young woman who can't remember—”

“
Si,
I know. What about her?”

“I went to her room this afternoon to speak with her. She was in the shower, and when she stepped out, I saw her hip. There was a birthmark on it—a crown-shaped birthmark just like the one that all the Fortunes have.”

Ruben looked at his wife. “What did you say to her? Did you question her about it?”

“No. I didn't let on like it was anything. I told her a
birthmark couldn't mar her beauty. What do you think, Ruben? Should I mention it to Ryan or Matthew?”

He frowned. “I don't know, Rosita. What good would it do if the girl can't remember? Do you think she doesn't know anything about the Fortunes having birthmarks like hers?”

Rosita firmly shook her head. “I'm certain she doesn't know anything. If she did, the amnesia has wiped it from her mind.”

He rubbed his mustache thoughtfully. He had worked for the Fortunes for many years. He owed them much and thought of them as family. He didn't want to cause them any more problems than they already had. “It could just be a coincidence. If she is some long-lost relation, they'll find out sooner or later anyway.”

Rosita grimaced. “That's what I was thinking. Besides, they've already got so much trouble to deal with. What with Claudia and the baby moving out, and Ryan trying to get rid of that hell-cat Sophia. No,” she added more firmly. “I'm going to keep what I saw to myself. If Gabrielle really is a part of the Fortune family, it'll all come to light. Anyway, they think I'm a crazy old woman.”

F
or the next few days Wyatt barely had time to eat, much less sleep. Most of his waking hours had been spent on the phone with the FBI. The special agent assigned to the case had finally agreed to allow the ransom money to be dropped. He and Wyatt were still making preparations as to how to handle the switch. In the meantime, two more federal agents had been posted on the Double Crown for security reasons.

Along with the Fortunes' problem, there had been several local arrests that had required Wyatt's attention, and he'd testified in court at two different trials. There was also the ongoing search for Gabrielle's background, which had so far turned up no further information. He'd questioned her landlord and neighboring tenants, but none of them knew anything about Gabrielle's personal life. Nor had any of them seen or heard anyone at her apartment. Wyatt had decided there wasn't much left to do in her case but hope her memory returned.

If she ever lost it.

He tried to ignore the nasty voice in the back of his mind, but it was difficult to do. Especially when he was this tired and his brain was on the verge of overload. All week he'd been trying to make some sort of sense of everything that had happened on the Double Crown this past month. Gabrielle's wreck and supposed amnesia. The anniversary of
baby Bryan's kidnapping and then the ransom note delivered to the ranch on the same night.

Was it all only coincidence? Did Gabrielle just happen to show up at the same time the kidnappers decided to yell for money? After months of silence?

He didn't know what to think anymore. When Gabrielle entered his mind, his desire for her got in the way. He knew that where she was concerned, he was placing his neck on the chopping block.

The ransom note had arrived four days ago. He hadn't seen Gabrielle since she'd left the kitchen that night. Maggie had told him she'd suffered another episode of blurry vision and headache and had gone to her room to lie down. By the time he'd finished discussing the ransom note with the Fortunes, it had been too late to stop by her room.

The next day Wyatt had called the ranch. Without having to ask, Rosita had informed him Gabrielle was still in her room with a headache. After that he'd gotten too busy to call. Yet Gabrielle had not left his thoughts for more than five minutes. And this evening he decided he had to see her for himself. Fool or not, he missed her.

 

Gabrielle stood outside the huge round pen watching Ruben hold a branding iron over a spray of freezing nitrogen gas, then stick it to a young horse's hip.

“Aren't brands supposed to be hot, Ruben? I thought cowboys built a fire and heated the iron in the coals.”

Beside her, the old ranch hand smiled patiently. “That's the only way it could be done in the old days,
chica.
Most cattle are still branded that way, and a few big ranches still burn-brand their horses too. But a freeze-brand is much prettier. And it doesn't harm the animal's hide. In about six weeks the hair will turn white in the exact shape of the brand.”

A double crown, Gabrielle noticed. How strange! The brand was almost identical to the birthmark on her hip. If she was a horse or cow, the cowboys wouldn't have to bother marking her. It was as if she already belonged to this ranch.

But how could that be? She didn't belong here on this fabulous ranch. She wasn't sure she belonged anywhere, or to anybody. The birthmark had to be an odd coincidence. She couldn't think of a more reasonable explanation.

The sound of a vehicle pulling to a stop behind them had her twisting her head. Through the smoked lenses of her sunglasses, she watched Wyatt step out of his pickup. He was dressed as a sheriff this evening in a khaki shirt and blue jeans, a revolver strapped to his hip. As he approached them with long purposeful strides, her heart kicked into a happy rhythm.

Silly.
She was downright stupid for allowing her body to react to him the way it did. But as she turned to greet him, she wasn't at all sure it was just her body that was succumbing to the hard sheriff. She was desperately afraid her heart was becoming involved too. And that would never do.

“Hello, Wyatt,” Ruben greeted him with a friendly grin.

“What brings you down here to the ranch yard? Decided you want to do some real work?”

Laughing, Wyatt reached to shake the older man's hand. “If I only had the time, I'd love to work you down, old man.”

Ruben chuckled. “You'd never get it done, son.” He poked at Wyatt's flat belly. “You young bucks are just too soft. After an hour in the heat, you wilt like a morning glory.”

Wyatt slapped Ruben's thick shoulder. “You might be
right at that, Ruben. It's hot enough out here now to singe a scorpion's tail.”

He glanced at Gabrielle, who'd been silently watching the friendly interaction between the two men. A sleeveless white blouse exposed her slender arms, and blue jeans hugged the curves of her hips and long legs. A wide-brimmed straw hat shaded her face while a pair of sunglasses hid her eyes. She looked wan and pale, but never more beautiful to him.

“You must be feeling better,” he said.

“Today I do,” she said. “And Ruben kindly offered to let me ride down here to the ranch yard with him for a few minutes.”

“She's gonna turn into a mushroom if she keeps staying in that house,” Ruben spoke up as he glanced affectionately at Gabrielle. “And she's too pretty to let that happen. If you don't find her folks soon, Wyatt, I think me and Rosita are gonna adopt her. We'll have an even half-dozen then.”

Gabrielle smiled at him. “Once you got me, Ruben, you might want to get rid of me pretty quick. Everyone says girls are a lot of trouble. I'm sure Wyatt would agree to that.”

Ruben laughed as he glanced back and forth between Wyatt and Gabrielle. “Wyatt doesn't know half of what he thinks he knows about girls. Now me, I've raised four beautiful daughters. And now that Maggie's married and moved out of the house, it would be a pleasure to have another one.”

Wyatt watched Gabrielle reach for the older man's hand and give it an affectionate squeeze. It was a natural, father-daughter exchange, yet for some reason he was envious. Though he wasn't sure why. Unless it was because he knew Ruben honestly would like Gabrielle to be his daughter.
And maybe, deep down, he wished that his own father could have been the kind, hardworking man Ruben was. That Leonard could have loved Wyatt the way Ruben had loved and nurtured his own five children.

“Ruben, can you help me with this gelding's shoe?” A wrangler called to him from across the ranch yard. “I think he's about to lose it.”

Shrugging, Ruben grinned at Wyatt and Gabrielle. “A cowboy's work is never done. Can you see that Gabrielle gets back to the house?” he asked Wyatt.

“Sure,” he answered. “We'll see you later, Ruben.”

Gabrielle watched the old ranch hand tug at the brim of his beat-up straw hat, then walk across the dusty work yard to where the young wrangler waited.

“You know,” she said to Wyatt, her gaze still following Ruben, “Maggie is a very lucky woman.”

“Why? Because she married a millionaire?”

She shot him a disgusted look. “No. Because she has Ruben for a father and Rosita for a mother.”

He noticed she rarely mentioned the Fortunes' wealth, nor did she make reference to money in general. From the report his police friend in Los Angeles had given him, Gabrielle's address was in a clean, but very modest part of town. A small apartment with no yard, pool, or anything more than a parking lot. Just rooms connected to more rooms of neighboring apartments. He had not told Gabrielle that he knew what her home was like. He saw no point in it. Especially when Matthew had suggested it would be better for her to remember these things on her own.

“Who knows? You might have parents just as kind and loving as Ruben and Rosita,” he said.

She shook her head and glanced away from him to a pen of yearlings. Two of the young horses were reared on their hind legs, pawing at each other. Gabrielle wondered if they
ever hurt one another with their rough play. Like siblings in a backyard wrestling over a ball or a bike. Would it simply be wishful thinking to imagine she had a brother or sister? she wondered.

“No. I don't think I have parents like the Perezes.”

He glanced at her sharply, but her pensive profile told him little. “Why? You say you have amnesia. You don't know if you have parents or not.”

“You're right. I can't be certain,” she agreed. “But more and more I'm getting these feelings.”

He grimaced. “Feelings? What are you talking about?”

Her gaze settled back on his face. “I don't know. Maybe I've been around Rosita so much I'm getting psychic too. But I've come to the conclusion that I either didn't have parents to begin with, or don't get along with them for some reason.”

Wyatt was surprised she would admit such a thing to him, and it made him wonder if he'd been judging her wrongly from the start. It could be that everything about her story was true.

But women are born liars,
a voice inside him shouted back.
You'd be a fool for believing everything Gabrielle said.

The dejected look on her face bothered him, though. In spite of all his doubts about her being here on the ranch, Wyatt wanted to see Gabrielle happy.

“You're only guessing, Gabrielle. And until you remember the past, that's all you'll be doing.” He reached for her arm. “It's too hot out here for you. Are you ready to head back?”

She wasn't. But she wouldn't argue. He was a busy man and she didn't want to push her luck and risk another hammering headache by trying to walk the half-mile back to the ranch house.

“Yes. Were you stopping by the house anyway?” she asked.

His fingers remained on her elbow as he guided her across the hard dusty ground to his truck. “I need to discuss some things with Ryan,” he told her. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No. Rosita normally doesn't have the evening meal ready until six-thirty or seven. It's only six now.”

“While I talk to Ryan, change your clothes. When I'm finished we'll go eat.”

She glanced at him with mocking surprise. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

His expression aloof, he helped her into the cab of the truck. “I'm telling you we'll have a meal together. If you don't like the idea, you can stay home.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you ever
ask
a woman rather than tell her?”

His hand on the door, he paused and looked at her with eyes full of hard resolution. “It's been a long time. These past few years I haven't been guilty of asking a woman for…anything.”

Gabrielle didn't reply to that. She felt that he was most likely telling the truth. And though she wondered why he had such a barbaric attitude toward women, now was not the time to question him.

“I'll need at least ten minutes,” she told him. “And then I'll be waiting in the great room.”

Once they reached the ranch house, it took Gabrielle three minutes to shower, one to slip into a cool cotton shift, and five to dab on a meager amount of makeup and wind her hair into a French braid. By the time she fastened silver hoops in her ears and grabbed up her handbag, she was in danger of passing the ten-minute mark.

However, when she stepped into the great room, Wyatt
was nowhere around. Only Mary Ellen was there, sitting on the couch, staring vilely at the telephone on the coffee table.

The day after the ransom note had arrived, a complicated listening device and tracer had been placed on the instrument. But so far the kidnapper had not attempted to communicate over the telephone or any other way.

“I really hate this intrusion on our lives,” Mary Ellen said, gesturing to the telephone. “Those FBI agents think it's nothing to have your telephone tapped and bodyguards crawling all over the house. They've even got the phone over at my house tapped, just in case.”

“They're only trying to help,” Gabrielle tried to reassure her. “And it would be awful if someone else were taken from the family.”

Mary Ellen gave her an apologetic smile. “Of course you're right, honey. I'm sorry for sounding so haggish.” She sighed wearily and ran her fingers through her red hair. “I just wish things around here could be normal again.”

Gabrielle eased down on the couch a couple of cushions away from Ryan's sister-in-law. Though she lived in her own home on the ranch, about two miles away from Ryan's, Gabrielle had seen her often. During her stay here, Gabrielle had learned Mary Ellen had been married to Cameron Fortune, a man who was the total opposite of his younger brother, Ryan. The man had spent most of his time enjoying women and booze, and the wealth that their father, Kingston, had left them. From the story Gabrielle had been told, Cameron Fortune would have floundered long before he died in a car crash more than five years ago, if it hadn't been for Mary Ellen's hard work and sharp mind taking care of her husband's business holdings. As for Cameron's adulterous ways, Mary Ellen had apparently turned her
back on his behavior and focused her love and attention on raising her children instead.

The pretty redhead wasn't the least bit pretentious, and she never looked down on Gabrielle as the pitiful waif with amnesia. She was a respected woman both in and out of the family, and Gabrielle had grown very fond of her.

“I have the impression there's always something going on in the Fortune family,” Gabrielle told her.

Mary Ellen chuckled. “That's certainly the truth,” she agreed, then frowned. “But I'm worried about this whole thing with the ransom and getting Bryan back. I have bad vibes about it all.”

“You sound like Rosita now.”

She tried to smile. “Well, God knows, I'm not going to let Ryan hear my concerns. He has enough to worry about.”