Arlene James - Carbon Copy Cowboy

Finding bath salts in a pretty container on the side of the tub, she poured some into the steaming water before taking fluffy towels from a stack in the small linen cabinet. Making a note to get some rubber bands and clips for her hair, she twisted it up inside one of the towels and slid into the steaming water. A pleasant lethargy invaded her tired muscles, and she became aware of soreness in places she hadn’t realized had been strained, but she couldn’t quite seem to relax. She simply had too many questions circulating around and around in her mind.

The sun had set when she returned to the bedroom in her borrowed pjs. She sat in the window seat, staring down at the softly lit courtyard, trying not to cry. This was a beautiful place, and these were kind people, but this was not her place and these were not her people. Where did she belong? she wondered. With whom did she belong? And what if she never remembered?

Laying her head back against the wall, she whispered, “What is to become of me?”

She thought suddenly of Jack, of seeing his handsome face when she awoke at the clinic. The urge to talk to him came over her, but she shook her head, determined not to impose. She couldn’t cling to a man just because he’d been kind to her, no matter how handsome he was. Besides, Jack seemed to have enough troubles of his own. He didn’t need—or likely want—hers added to the heap. Curling into the window seat, she sighed and prepared to endure a long, lonely evening. She could only pray that it would not be a harbinger of evenings to come for the rest of her life.

* * *

The peace of early morning slowly invaded Jack’s troubled soul as he sipped from his coffee mug. The weather held a hint of fall at dawn, though he knew that the sun would blaze later in the day. Sitting in a comfortably cushioned chair beneath a spreading oak tree at the very edge of the courtyard, he let the coffee do its work and mentally went over his plans for the day.

He still hadn’t finished riding fence on the Franken Road section, and the boys had quarantined some cows that seemed to have a worm infestation. Some question existed as to the specific pest, and he needed to try to figure that out today, so he’d probably be taking a sample to the vet over in Wichita Falls. First, though, he had to feed all the animals in the barn.

Normally, Violet handled the farm, pecan grove and vegetable stand in town, Jack tended the ranch and cattle and their mother usually took care of the finances and the livestock at the compound. With Belle out of commission, however, Jack had taken over many of her duties. He wondered how much longer that would be the case. Unfortunately, when he’d called the nursing home before heading down to breakfast this morning, the charge nurse had told him that nothing had changed.

He closed his eyes, remembering with a pang the day that his mother had fallen. The argument had started at breakfast with Jack demanding to know why she objected so vociferously to answering his questions about the past. Growing up, he’d realized that other kids had fathers and grandparents, aunts, cousins...whole family trees. All he and Violet had ever had was their mother’s terse assertion that “knowing wouldn’t make any difference.”

She had ridden out to where he was working with a thermos of iced tea in an attempt to make peace, but he’d been stewing all morning that fateful day. “How,” Jack had demanded, following her back to her horse, “could knowing my father’s full name not make any difference?”

“Jack, drop this,” Belle had pleaded. “Trust me when I tell you that you’re better off not knowing.”

“How can I be better off not knowing my father or my grandparents?”

“Your grandparents are dead, Jack. You can’t blame me for not knowing them!”

“But there has to be other family,” Jack had insisted.

Belle had blown up at him then, throwing up her arms and bawling at him. “All I’ve ever done is protect and provide for you and your sister! Don’t you think that if I could give you more than I have, I would?”

“I don’t know, Mother,” Jack had responded coldly. “Would you?”

He had seen that he’d hurt her, but he’d closed his heart to her pain, determined to get some concrete answers for once.

“How dare you?” she’d breathed, gathering her reins into her hand. Sensing her distress, her grulla mare, Mouse, had shied, but Belle, an experienced horsewoman, had ignored the animal’s nervousness. “I gave up everything for you and your sister!” she’d declared. “And all you can do is complain that it isn’t enough!”

“So tell me, Mom,” Jack had harangued, “what exactly did you give up? And why?” She hadn’t answered him as she’d calmed the horse with a quiet touch. “Has it occurred to you that whatever you gave up, Violet and I were forced to give up, too?” he’d shot at her.

“Yes!” Belle had cried, throwing herself up into the saddle. “Of course I’ve thought of that, but I had no choice except to let it happen that way.”

“But why?” he’d demanded.

“I can’t tell you that,” she’d insisted.

He’d watched helplessly as she’d wheeled the horse and ridden away. Grinding his teeth, he had stamped his foot like a spoiled child as Mouse had stretched out with her long, graceful legs, racing across the ground. Belle and the horse were just tiny figures in the distance when suddenly the horse had stumbled, going to its knees. Jack remembered all too well the horror he’d felt as Belle had sailed over the horse’s head. He’d yanked out his cell phone and called for help even as he’d begun to run toward her. Thankfully, Doc had been close by that day, but Jack would never forget seeing his mother lying there in a crumpled heap, her head bent forward beneath her. She’d been in a coma ever since.

God, forgive me, and heal my mother. Please, please bring her back to us. I’ll never ask her another question about the past, I promise.

Sucking in a deep breath, he opened his eyes—and saw Kendra slip out of the living-room door into the courtyard. She wore the same shoes and jeans as the day before, but this time she wore a dark blue tank top beneath one of Violet’s chambray work shirts, the tail of which she’d tied in a knot at her waist. She’d rolled the sleeves, which were probably too short for her, to her elbows. Her long, golden hair waved buoyantly from a casual center part to flow across her shoulders.

She looked beautiful, achingly so, without a bit of makeup or artifice. Glancing around at the cool, terra-cotta tiling and outdoor furniture scattered about in groupings beneath hanging plants, she jammed her hands into her pockets and wandered deeper into the courtyard. Jack kept expecting her to spot him, but he must have sat too deeply in the shadow of the oak.

Drawing to a stop, she turned her face upward and prayed, “Father, I’m so confused and frightened. I have nowhere to go, nothing to do, not a cent to my name... What is to become of me?”

Jack didn’t have answers for her, but he felt compelled to let her know of his presence, so when she said nothing more, he chose an obvious topic and spoke up.

“Sleep okay last night?”

She jerked, her gaze targeting the tree. After a moment, she began to saunter slowly toward him. “Actually, I did. I had some weird dreams, but I can’t recall much about them now, and I do feel rested.”

“That’s good,” he said, adding offhandedly, “are you usually such an early riser?” Too late, he realized the futility of asking such a question.

Wincing, she sighed. “I wish I knew.”

“Sorry. Should’ve thought before I spoke.” That seemed to be a real problem with him lately.

“It’s not your fault,” she told him.