Deb Kastner - Her Forgotten Cowboy

“Right.” A cloud of discouragement formed in his chest. It seemed to him like she remembered everything except him. Was God punishing him for something? Because that’s what it felt like right now.

They entered the barn and he hesitated, waiting to see if she would pick out Calypso from the five horses he’d stabled for his little test.

Rebecca walked from stall to stall, pausing to look at each of the horses. After a moment, she turned back to Tanner.

“They’re all very nice,” she said hesitantly. “I feel like this is all faintly familiar. Do I like riding?”

“Very much,” he assured her. “You used to ride nearly every day. Do you have any idea which horse is yours?”

Her gaze widened and she shook her head.

“One of them is mine?” Her eyes lit with excitement and then darkened with frustration.

His heart dropped into his stomach. This must be incredibly traumatic for her. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the stress she must feel. And here he was selfishly dwelling on his own problems.

“You rode most afternoons after school to wind down and clear your head. I thought you might recognize your mare. This is Calypso.”

He led her to Calypso’s stall and she opened the gate, sliding in next to her mare and running a hand across her neck.

“Hello, Calypso. It’s nice to meet you—again.”

* * *

Rebecca felt just the slightest flash of recognition after Tanner had introduced her to her mare. It was so short she couldn’t grasp on to it and hold it, and she suspected it wouldn’t have happened at all if Tanner hadn’t outright told her which horse hers was.

She grabbed a soft-bristle brush from the wall and groomed Calypso, starting at her neck and working her way down. The act was both soothing and familiar. She hadn’t remembered Calypso, but yet she instinctively knew how to take care of her. Tanner didn’t have to tell her what to do.

“How do you know how to groom Calypso?” he asked. “You didn’t start riding until after we were married. You can’t remember anything about that time, or which horse is yours, but you know how to use a brush to groom Calypso?”

“I can’t answer that,” she said, putting the brush aside and affectionately running her hand down Calypso’s muzzle before exiting the stall.

“There are certain things I know how to do, like driving a car or grooming a horse, but I can’t remember people, or places—or specific animals, evidently. It must be some kind of muscle memory when it comes to doing certain things.”

His gaze narrowed on her and studied her closely. She started to feel like a trained monkey in a circus. In a way, she was no better than that, performing acts she had no idea why she knew how to do but somehow just came naturally to her.

She locked her eyes with his so he’d know she wasn’t lying or perpetrating some kind of elaborate hoax. Amnesia made no sense. The rules were that there were no rules. That was maybe what frustrated her the most.

“Let me show you the goats,” he said. “Maybe they’ll ring a bell for you.”

The goats were up against the front porch and Tanner swept his hat off, waving it around to get the goats to disburse farther from the house. “Your little herd keeps the grass down around the house, so they aren’t completely worthless. I don’t ever have to bring out the mower.”

“I like goats?” She watched a large black-and-white goat butting a much smaller tan one. It appeared to Rebecca like the larger was picking on the younger, and it made her wonder why she would want an animal like that in her yard.

Tanner grinned and nodded. “It was your idea to get them. You had to talk me into them. Mackenzie likes them, too.”

Rebecca had reached the edge of the herd of goats and she hesitated, putting her hands in the front pockets of her jeans so she didn’t have to touch them. They looked kind of mean with their little horns and slit eyes.

“Oh,” she gasped, when one of the goats butted her leg, sending her off-balance. Tanner snaked his arm around her waist with lightning speed, steadying her until she could stand on her own two feet and back away. The bigger her son grew in her womb, the more klutzy and off-center she felt, like one of those penguins in Antarctica.

“It’s okay,” Tanner assured her with a chuckle. “He’s just playing with you.”

“What about that big one over there? It looks to me like he’s picking on the little one.”

“Naw. They’re just playing.”

Tanner had assured her that she liked goats. That he’d bought the herd because she’d asked him to.

And now they scared her and she wasn’t sure she would ever find the guts to interact with them.

Everything frightened her. Would it always be this way?

“I’ve saved the best for last,” Tanner said.

“There’s more?” she asked, hoping he wasn’t going to show her his cows. She didn’t know how it had been in the past, but at the moment, she had zero interest in bovines. They had long tongues and licked their noses, and just—eww.

Now how did she manage to remember such inconsequential facts as those and yet was unable to remember she even had a husband, much less all the history between them? She was so frustrated she wanted to throw something, preferably something breakable.

He led her to the far side of the house where a small fenced pasture lay. Inside were fluffy creatures with long necks and enormous brown eyes.

“Llamas?” she guessed. It was one of those words that just popped out from the back of her mind. She’d probably learned about llamas in elementary school.

Tanner leaned on the gate, but Rebecca held back.

“Close. That was a good guess. These are alpacas. This herd is not only your favorite hobby but your pride and joy.”

“My...hobby? But don’t they spit?” Another useless piece of trivia.

He laughed. His smile lit up his whole expression, softening the stress lines, and Rebecca’s stomach did a little flip. She wished her response was from a glimmer of true recognition, but no. She couldn’t go so far as to call it that.

It was physical chemistry. She could certainly understand why she’d been attracted enough to this cowboy to marry him. Even now, she found herself inexplicably drawn to him, though her brain refused to offer up why. He was handsome, and as he’d mentioned earlier, rugged, in a way that really captivated her.

“Alpacas spit sometimes. Llamas spit more often and they can be mean. Alpacas are for the most part gentle creatures. You use their wool to knit. You love everything about the whole process, from shearing their fleece to knitting hats and mittens for the homeless out of their wool. Do you remember how to knit?”

She nodded. She remembered how to knit, although she didn’t recall knitting for the homeless. And she definitely didn’t remember anything about the alpacas, nor any of the processes needed to turn fleece to knittable wool.

One of the alpacas spotted her and came at her at a dead run. She gasped and stepped back, even though she wasn’t leaning against the gate like Tanner was.

The alpaca screeched to a dead stop just short of the gate and chewed her out with the strangest honking noise she’d ever heard.

Tanner laughed. “They kind of sound like geese, don’t they? Betty here is wondering why you haven’t come to see her in so long.”

“She looks like she needs a haircut,” Rebecca said.

“Yeah. We’ll have to do that soon if we’re going to get you and your mom knitting in time for Christmas.”

“Right.” Rebecca hoped Tanner wasn’t expecting her to do the shearing, although he’d said that was something she’d done in the past.