A Trace of Memory Page 2

  “Emma! Who did that to you?”

  As she turned toward him more fully, tears tipped over her lower lashes and began to slide silently down her chapped, bruised cheeks.

  He could tell she was struggling to speak. Lifting his hand slowly, deliberately, he reached toward her and wiped away a tear with one finger, barely touching her as he did so.

  To his surprise, Emma grasped his hand, pulled his palm against her cheek and laid her head against it as if begging him to cradle her injuries.

  Travis was glad they were both restricted by their seat belts because if they had not been, he was afraid he might have dragged her into his arms at that moment despite their rocky past.

  Someone had hurt his Emma. And as soon as she told him who was responsible, he was going to see that justice was done. One way or the other.

  TWO

  Emma would have gladly told this kind man anything he wanted to know, if she’d been able. But she wasn’t.

  She bravely met his gaze, willing him to understand without having to spell it out. It was too soon to admit she was emotionally or mentally impaired—or whatever was wrong with her. There were instances when she felt back in control, yet, more often than not, she found herself floundering as if she were a little lost child.

  This was one such instance. Smiling, she sniffled and swiped at her tears before she said, “I’ve been on the road for at least twenty-four hours and I’m worn out. Can we please just go home?”

  “You really want me to take you to my place?”

  Emma nodded. She couldn’t have explained her trust in Travis if her life had depended upon it, which it very well might. She simply knew that this man would not hurt her the way others had. That was enough.

  “Yes. Please,” she said softly.

  “All right.” Straightening, he put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the roadway. The tension between them was palpable. She could tell he was upset, if not actually angry. And, if she really had jilted him in the past, she could understand why.

  He—Travis, she reminded herself—seemed like a caring person. One in whom she could safely confide. If nothing happened to change her mind she would eventually tell him all she knew. And maybe, by that time, there would be more to tell. She certainly hoped so because being in limbo, the way she currently was, was not how she intended to spend the rest of her life.

  However long that might be, Emma added, trembling. She felt relatively safe at the moment, but that was no guarantee that whoever had kept her prisoner and had shot at her as she’d run into the woods was no longer looking for her.

  How will I know my enemies?

  That question made her shudder and check the mirror again. The traffic behind the stock trailer looked innocent enough, but...

  Icy fingers of fear crept up her spine and spread along every nerve. How could she possibly protect herself when she didn’t even know who had hurt her? Or why. If she had treated a nice guy like Travis badly, as he claimed, what was to say she had not done other terrible things?

  Emma chanced a sidelong glance at him and caught him watching her. Judging by his expression he was less angry than he was puzzled. That made two of them.

  “You probably think I’m acting very strange.”

  His eyebrows arched. “Lady, that is the biggest understatement I’ve heard in years.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Undoubtedly. Well, we’re almost there, as you can see,” Travis said, making a turn onto a dirt road. “Maybe you’ll feel more like talking to Cleo.”

  Searching recent memory brought only confusion. “Cleo?”

  “My aunt. She stayed on with me after my dad and his brother Jim both died and I inherited the ranch. I needed help and Cleo needed a place to live where she felt useful.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  Emma closed her eyes, letting her thoughts drift. When she tried to focus on anything in the weeks prior to her flight from the locked door, dense clouds masked the memories like a fog bank lying in the bottom lands along the river on a damp Ozark morning.

  The truth was there somewhere. It had to be.

  All Emma had to do was wait until the mist lifted. Trouble was, she didn’t know where the haziness had come from or how long it was going to last. All she could hope for was that being with Travis Wright would heal the unseen damage to her emotions.

  If it did not, she didn’t know how she would survive in a world filled with shadows of menace that might cost her her life.

  * * *

  The sight of the familiar redbrick ranch house with its white metal roof lifted Travis’s spirits. It was always good to come home, even now, when he was probably bringing trouble with him.

  Given Emma’s current unpredictability, he was glad Cleo would be there, particularly because he was teetering on the edge of his self-control and getting far too close to making a fool of himself over Emma. Again.

  He drove past the barn and parked behind the house before he honked to add to the barking welcome his four dogs were giving him. As he had hoped, the sound of the horn brought his middle-aged aunt to the door.

  The salt-and-pepper-haired woman was wiping her hands on a kitchen towel as she stepped onto the porch. “What’s wrong, Travis?”

  “We have company.” After quickly circling the truck with the pack of dogs at his heels, he opened Emma’s door for her.

  “Oh, my stars!” Cleo sounded ecstatic. “What a wonderful surprise.”

  She was down the porch steps and hurrying toward Emma in mere seconds. When she got close enough to see the girl’s face, however, she stopped and stared, then looked to her nephew. “What happened?”

  “Don’t know. She was sitting in my truck when I finished at the auction. I have no idea where she came from or how she got there. She said she hitchhiked back to Serenity.” He made a face that mirrored his frustration. “Maybe you can get her to tell you more.”

  “Did you call the sheriff?” Cleo asked.

  Emma said her first word to the older woman then. “Don’t.”

  “All right, honey. First we’ll get you showered and into some clean clothes. Then we can have a bite to eat. You’ll feel more like yourself after that.”

  With a sheltering arm around Emma’s shoulders, Cleo guided her toward the house while Bo, an arthritic, aged bluetick hound, tagged along.

  “Bring her suitcase,” Cleo called back.

  “There isn’t one. What you see is all you get,” Travis said flatly. “If you don’t have any clothes that will fit her, I can make a run into town.”

  “I think you’d best stay here for now.” His aunt shot him a look of concern before adding, “Just in case.”

  Travis could understand Cleo’s trepidation because he shared it. Whatever was wrong with Emma was not simple; nor was it likely to pass quickly. He didn’t know much about the workings of the human mind, but he’d seen plenty of animals who had never recovered from being ill-treated.

  One of the mixed-breed dogs he’d rescued from the local shelter was like that. Normally, she acted just like the rest of the farm’s pack, but accidentally do something that set her off and she’d start to tremble uncontrollably.

  He and Cleo had never laid a hand on that dog. It didn’t matter. There was a scar in the canine’s mind that overrode all the kindness they had shown since they’d adopted her.

  Travis covertly studied Emma as he followed the women toward the house. Emma was damaged, too. Perhaps severely. And it was going to be up to him to help her heal.

  “With the Lord’s help,” he muttered. “I don’t think I can be objective enough to do it alone.”

  His musings were disturbed when the three dogs that had stayed outside with him suddenly leaped off the back porch and raced around the house, barking.

&nb
sp; Travis stiffened. The pack sounded angry, defensive rather than excited about chasing prey the way they did when one of them scented a raccoon or a possum.

  Anyone who had owned dogs could tell the difference in their barks. And anybody who lived in the country knew better than to venture out unarmed when his dogs sounded an alarm like that.

  Travis burst into the kitchen, startling Cleo and Emma. Only old Bo, the dog that had stayed with the women, seemed aware that something was amiss.

  “Stay in here and lock the doors,” Travis ordered. He reached onto the top of a kitchen cabinet for a pistol and checked that it was loaded. “I’m going to go see what’s got the dogs so upset.”

  “Be careful,” Cleo warned. “Could be a two-legged skunk.” She pulled Emma closer. “Isn’t that right, girl?”

  The last thing Travis saw as he ducked back out the door was tears pooling in Emma’s wide, blue eyes.

  * * *

  Emma was desperately worried about Travis. She didn’t let herself be shepherded out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the second story until Cleo suggested they’d have a better view of the surrounding terrain from up there.

  The older woman proceeded to a bedroom window and beckoned. “Take a look from over here.”

  As soon as Emma was by her side, Cleo began to point. “There’s the lane you came up just now. Beyond the creek is the Hall place. A lot of their kin live hereabouts, too.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t remember,” Emma said softly.

  “That’s okay. It’ll come back to you.”

  Leaving that room, Cleo led Emma to the opposite side of the house and raised the bedroom blinds. “Down there’s the barn and Travis’s rig. See? I keep my town car in the barn so’s it won’t get dusty.” She smiled. “Not that that helps a whole lot around here.”

  “Where’s Travis? I don’t see him.”

  “Maybe out behind. Depends on where those fool dogs led him.”

  “You don’t seem very worried.”

  “My nephew can take care of himself. It’s you I’m concerned about.” She lowered her voice in spite of the fact they were alone in the house. “Are you just embarrassed to speak of it or have you really got amnesia?”

  “I can’t remember much,” Emma admitted. “Some things are crystal clear, like knowing Travis by sight when I saw him in town. If I had amnesia, I wouldn’t have known that, would I?”

  “Beats me. I’ve got a nurse-practitioner friend who might be able to say. How about if I call her?”

  “Maybe later. I’d like to clean up and rest first, if you don’t mind.”

  “’Course. Where’s my manners? I’ve got a brand-new jogging suit that should fit you. My sister sent it to me last Christmas,” Cleo said, taking a clean towel out of a linen closet and handing it to Emma. “I’ve never worn the outfit and probably never will. It’s just not my style.”

  She pointed. “Make yourself at home in this bathroom. Take as long as you need. I’ll leave the clean clothes on the bed right outside this other door and you’ll have all the privacy you want.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “All you need to think about now is taking care of yourself, honey. Don’t worry about later. If my nephew gets too nosy, I’ll put him in his place.”

  “I wish I...”

  Cleo laid a gentle hand on Emma’s arm through the sleeve of the gray sweatshirt. “Hush. Leave your dirty clothes outside in the hall and I’ll see that they’re washed and dried in a jiffy.”

  Touched, Emma brushed her bangs off her forehead with a shaky hand. “Thank you.”

  “No thanks needed. Just doin’ my Christian duty. I’m glad you’re a believer, too. It’ll help you get better.”

  Was she? Emma wondered. She supposed she wouldn’t have thought to pray before if she didn’t believe in God, but she couldn’t recall having been in a church for a long, long time.

  That probably didn’t matter to Him, she reasoned, calling to mind scraps of scripture promising faithfulness toward confessed believers. She could even picture herself, at a very young age, standing before her peers and reciting the week’s memory verses.

  Emma was smiling slightly as she turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror over the sink.

  Her jaw dropped. Who was that weary, bruised waif looking back at her? There were dark circles and puffy half-moons beneath her reddened eyes. Her skin was unnaturally pale—except where a bruise as big as a fist colored one cheek. And her hair!

  “Cleo was right,” Emma muttered, embarrassed and averting her gaze. “I’m bound to feel better after I shower and put on clean clothes.”

  And then what? What was she going to say when she finally emerged and rejoined the little family that had taken her in? How could she explain anything when her thoughts were as jumbled as the letter tiles in a spelling game, as tempest-tossed as dry leaves in an Arkansas tornado?

  Fear of the unknown coursed through her. Not remembering being hurt might have given her temporary respite but now it was detrimental. As long as the face of her abuser remained lost in the labyrinth of her mind she was in continuing danger.

  He—she was certain it had been a man—could walk up to her and she wouldn’t recognize him. Or would she? There was no way to tell unless the meeting actually took place, and given the damage he’d already inflicted upon her, being face-to-face was the last thing she wanted.

  Perhaps her reaction would be as instinctive as it had been when she’d seen Travis again. In the case of her nameless nemesis, she hoped and prayed she’d be aware enough to either flee or defend herself.

  That thought reminded her of her race through the forest and the coarse shouts she’d heard behind her right before the shooting started.

  That event was crystal clear. So why was she having so much trouble with the hours and days immediately preceding it?

  Time will tell, Emma insisted. It had better.

  * * *

  Travis whistled his dogs out of the woods adjoining his main pasture and back to heel. They were panting, wagging their tails and obviously pleased with themselves.

  “Too bad you guys can’t talk,” he told them. “I’d sure like to know what you were chasing out there.”

  Patting his thigh to bring them along, he’d just turned and started back toward the house when he heard the rumbling echo of a motor. It didn’t sound like a tractor or an ATV, more like a pickup truck, perhaps one with a diesel engine.

  He and the dogs all froze. They looked west so he did, too. It was difficult to see far into the forest, even this early in the spring before the oak, sycamore and hickory trees leafed out.

  Travis squinted against the rays of the setting sun. Something glinted in the distance before rising dust obliterated it.

  Okay, so there was a vehicle out there where it didn’t belong. That might be nothing more than a hunter training a dog or one of the neighbors chasing a loose cow. Many of the outlying areas weren’t fenced. Anybody could have wandered onto his property without realizing they were trespassing.

  If it hadn’t been for Emma’s paranoia he would have dismissed the incident.

  Because of her, however, he jogged back to the house, penned the dogs to keep them safe, fired up his ATV and returned to where he’d glimpsed the reflection.

  Dismounting, he bent over to examine the rutted dirt track, hardly more than a wide path through the forest. There were fresh tracks, all right. Looked like the tires of a heavy pickup with dual wheels in the rear. They led to a narrowing of the spaces between the trees where they stopped and reversed, thereby obliterating any crisp imprints.

  Travis followed the trail for a short distance on foot. Sunset was near. His ability to spot the truck or anything else would soon be gone. But somebody had been there, just as his dogs had
indicated.

  And whoever it was had not been a local or he would have known that the trail he was on was impassible in a full-size vehicle. Therefore, the interloper had to have been a stranger. Could he have been after Emma, as she’d feared?

  Only one thing was certain. While Emma was under his personal protection, he was going to make sure nobody got another chance to hurt her the way she had been before.

  He set his jaw. After he sorted out all the details involved in keeping Emma safe from outsiders, he was going to have to face the roots of his own motives. Considering the way he instinctively reacted every time he saw her, he was afraid his protective urges were not as innocent as he’d been telling himself they were.

  Pondering that emotional uncertainty, Travis returned to the ATV, fired it up and revved the engine. Its loud, rattling roar echoed through the otherwise silent forest.

  Astride, he dropped the small vehicle in gear and took off for home. Before he had gone fifteen feet he sensed an imbalance and stopped to get off and check.

  One of the two rear tires had gone flat. “Terrific. Just what I needed—a long walk home.”

  He crouched, expecting to spot what he’d carelessly run over in his haste to get back to the house.

  The nearby trail was clean. No sharp rocks, no broken stubs or branches, nothing.

  Before Travis could straighten again he heard the pop of a small-caliber rifle, followed by the singing whine of a bullet.

  He ducked. Heard the shot impact the ATV. The flat tire was no accident! And now somebody was trying to flatten him!

  Staying low, he duck-walked into the brush, then turned and headed cross-country instead of sticking to the normal trails. In the fall it might be possible for a foolish hunter to make the mistake of shooting at another human being because of the thick cover, but not this early in the year. Whoever had been taking potshots at him had meant to do harm.