The Cattleman And The Virgin Heiress. Jackie Merritt

she used her plane ticket to Grandview, so she has to be somewhere in Texas.”

      “Unless someone else used her ticket,” Madelyn replied.

      It was that possibility that gnawed at reason for Kate and Madelyn. Hope’s long trip from Massachusetts had included several stops and plane changes. How could they conclude unequivocally that whatever had befallen Hope had taken place in Texas?

      Kate had some worries that she hadn’t yet expressed to anyone, but she knew that she couldn’t keep such basic concerns to herself for long. Was Hope, the sister Kate had only recently met and just barely knew, the kind of woman to disappear for a week or so, perhaps with a man, and not give a whit what anyone might think about it?

      “Mother, would Hope decide to…to, uh, take a little side trip without…without informing anyone?” Kate posed the question as tactfully as she could, but embarrassment over broaching their mother with a query that cast Hope in a bad light caused Kate to stammer.

      “Hope has always been a very considerate person. I could never believe that she would do anything to hurt or worry her family,” Madelyn said quietly.

      The cold wind of reality that had been almost constantly buffeting Kate since Hope’s disappearance washed over her again. Her throat suddenly filled with tears and prevented an immediate answer.

      “No,” Madelyn continued, “wherever Hope is, she’s not there by choice. Not her choice, at any rate.”

      “Then, someone else’s choice?” Kate said hoarsely.

      “It’s the only thing that makes any sense, Kate. Hope has been kidnapped.”

      Kate gasped. “Oh, Mother, if that really is the case, why hasn’t anyone been contacted for ransom?”

      “Kate, the only reason I’m staying in my own home in Massachusetts instead of hightailing it to Texas is that Hope’s kidnappers could try to contact me. Brandon and I are financially well off, but our wealth is peanuts compared to the Stockwells’ fortune. I’ve thought so much about it, Kate, and there are so many possibilities, and perhaps Hope’s kidnappers are from these parts and don’t know about the Stockwells. My name and photo are often in the art section of the new England and New York City newspapers, and an idiot inclined to get something for nothing could easily think that Brandon and I are fair game.

      “Anyhow, that’s the reason I’m sticking close to my telephone. But in case I’m miles off the mark, you and your brothers should be alert to any possibility. The culprit could very well be from my side of the country, but he or she could also be from Texas. Be particularly cautious with the children.”

      Kate froze. “You think the kidnapper might strike again?”

      “I don’t know what to think, Kate. Just be careful. All of you.”

      “You, too, Mom,” Kate whispered. She needed to talk to her brother Rafe, who was a U.S. Marshal, and get his professional input on Hope’s disappearance. The whole family was concerned, Kate already knew that, but maybe their concern was more confused than focused.

      Yes, she definitely had to talk to Rafe. He would know what they should all be doing.

      Hope awoke to the steady patter of rain on the roof. It seemed to her to be a softer, gentler rainfall than before, but even without its former fury, Hope felt weighted down by the determination of this storm to never end.

      Her thoughts abruptly moved from the storm to last night, and she recalled that terrible nightmare and then how she’d snuggled against Matt and begged him to not leave her alone.

      “Oh, no,” she groaned as her mind dredged up some very personal details of his comforting embrace and her clinging method of expressing gratitude for his understanding. “What must he think of me?” They hadn’t kissed, nor had there been intimate caresses between them, and yet, lying together, with bodies tightly interwoven and arms around each other, hadn’t there been quite a lot of unnecessary movement that could only be described as a type of sexual foreplay?

      Matt had known it, too, because he’d asked her for more room. In other words, Hope thought miserably, he’d known where that much togetherness could lead and didn’t want it to go there. You should have known yourself what was really going on, you dolt! That wasn’t a cucumber you felt—and enjoyed feeling—in his shorts!

      And you hardly know the man. How could you behave so…so imprudently? You could already be involved with someone you can’t remember, someone who this very minute could be walking the floor and worrying himself sick over your disappearance.

      Hope stared at the ceiling and wondered what time Matt had gotten up and left her bed. She heaved a sigh. Maybe she’d behaved badly last night, but at least she hadn’t felt so alone and lost while Matt was holding her. And if there was a man somewhere—more than likely in Massachusetts—who loved her enough to worry about why she was out of touch, he would understand and even thank Matt for taking care of his beloved.

      That perfectly logical conclusion made Hope’s mouth get dry. He would understand, wouldn’t he? Matt had probably saved her life! And her memory loss certainly wasn’t anyone’s fault, especially Matt’s.

      Moaning in misery, Hope turned her face to the pillow and wept. Why couldn’t she remember anything? What if there was a man somewhere that she loved with all her heart? Would her body respond to another man if she was in love with someone else? Why was she thinking even now how incredible it had felt to lie in Matt’s arms last night?

      “You have got to stop this,” she said out loud, angry with herself for dwelling on things better ignored. She got out of bed and realized that she felt much stronger. Except for her amnesia and just the barest amounts of stiffness in her muscles and joints, she was in good condition.

      “Great!” she exclaimed, meaning it wholeheartedly. First she went looking for her underwear and shoes that Matt had told her were in the laundry room. Then, in the bathroom, she received a very pleasant surprise: the electricity was back on. She had pushed the light switch without thinking and the flood of electric lighting in the small room seemed to be a miracle that no one should ever take for granted.

      After a shower, she got dressed in the jeans Matt had given her and she’d cut off to fit the length of her legs, along with a blue T-shirt that was much smaller than she’d expected. Probably shrank in the wash, she decided. From the small cache of cosmetics in her purse, she heightened the color of her cheeks with blusher and applied a light coating of lipstick. Her hair, she realized, was straight when wet and slightly wavy when dry. Except for some wispy bangs, she brushed it back and tucked it behind her ears. She was still cautious around the cut on the back of her head, but it really didn’t seem to be a problem.

      Hope then searched drawers and cupboards until she found a piece of heavy twine that she wound through the belt loops on the jeans. Satisfied that the makeshift belt would keep the jeans in place, she went to the kitchen for something to eat.

      The small amount of food in the cupboards and refrigerator surprised her, but after thinking about it she reasoned that the men working on this ranch must eat elsewhere and Matt probably took his meals with them.

      Accepting that explanation and almost immediately letting it slip from her mind—it was hardly significant to her, after all—she took eggs, butter and cheese from the refrigerator. After looking for and locating a few other ingredients in the cupboards, she set to work making her breakfast.