Lone Star Christmas Rescue. Margaret Daley

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Lone Star Christmas Rescue - Margaret Daley Lone Star Justice

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doing, ma’am?” a deep male voice asked in a Texan drawl.

      A vaguely familiar tall, large man, dressed in tan slacks and a white cowboy hat, stood only a few feet away. Her attention riveted on the silver star pinned to his long-sleeved white shirt. Police? Why was he here? Her head pounding, she grappled for the call button and pushed it while scrambling to the far side of the bed, the railing trapping her where she was. That sensation skyrocketed her distress.

      “Who are you?” she asked in a quavering voice. Where had she seen him before? Confusion greeted that silent question.

      He smiled, two dimples appearing on his tanned face. “I’m Texas Ranger Drake Jackson. I found you in Big Bend National Park yesterday afternoon.”

      “Alone?” escaped her mouth. An image of him leaning over her flashed into her mind. The picture vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Why did she think they hadn’t been alone?

      “No. Do you know your name?”

      The dream that woke her up materialized in her mind. A baby in her arms? Sun beating down on them? Bright lights shining in her face? People around her? Was that real or her imagination?

      “Did I have a baby with me?”

      “Yes. Can you tell me your name? I’d like to contact your next of kin.”

      She had a baby with her. Did she have a husband? She rubbed the place where a wedding ring should be if she was married. Nothing. “I—I don’t know my name.”

      His blue eyes dimmed. “What do you remember?”

      Before she could answer, an older nurse entered her room. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. I’ll contact the doctor. In the meantime, do you need anything, miss?” The nurse approached her bed on the opposite side of the Texas Ranger, checked her vitals, then shined a bright light into her eyes.

      She delved into her mind, trying to recall anything that would lead to her identity and why she was in the hospital. But all she encountered was a blank slate, as though she’d never existed until now. “Where are my clothes?” Maybe they would indicate who she was.

      The nurse crossed to a closet and withdrew a paper sack. “Everything you had with you is in here. Do you want to go through it?”

      “Yes, please.” When she reached for the bag, her hand shook. Awareness of the large man on her other side, watching her, caused her to clutch the paper bag and quickly draw it to her chest, feeling what little was inside. Was this all she had of her past?

      She bowed her head and squeezed her eyes closed, desperate for any memory of who she was. She pictured herself standing on a mountaintop, scanning the valley below. Where was she? She couldn’t tell. Was it a real place or merely her imagination?

      A void held her, like an insect in amber. Caged. She felt empty, with no past to tell her who she was. The sensation of being in the middle of an ocean with only miles and miles of water surrounding her flooded her mind. Nothing for as far as she could see.

      Her heartbeat raced, and her breathing shortened until she panted for each swallow of air.

      “Miss, are you all right?” the nurse asked while the Texas Ranger moved closer.

      His nearness surprisingly didn’t frighten her. Instead, it comforted her as she sucked in gulps of the oxygen-rich air. She couldn’t lose it. That wouldn’t help her find out what happened. “I’ll—be—okay,” she managed to say between gasps.

      Another minute passed before she felt in control of her breathing. She needed to talk alone with the Texas Ranger about how he found her. Maybe that would help her remember.

      And she needed to find out about the baby from her dreams. She couldn’t remember being a mother or married, but then, she couldn’t remember anything of her past.

      She turned her attention to the nurse. “I’d like to talk to the doctor whenever he comes.”

      “I’ll let him know.”

      “Thanks.” She waited until the nurse left the room before swinging her gaze back to the intensity in Drake Jackson’s blue eyes, totally focused on her. Strangely, she didn’t feel intimidated. “How did you find me? You said I had a baby with me. Where is he?”

      One eyebrow rose. “You know it’s a boy. Do you know his name?”

      Why had she said he? It just came out. “No. I can’t remember anything.”

      “Your fingerprints were taken and run through the system, but nothing has come up yet.”

      Instead of disappointment that they couldn’t ID her, relief fluttered through her. “I should be thankful. That means I haven’t been in trouble with the law, at least.”

      He chuckled. “Fingerprints are on file from other sources beside the criminal system.”

      The soft sound of his laughter warmed her, making her feel less alone.

      “To answer your questions about where the baby is, he’s in the hospital, too.”

      She sat up straight, this time without the room swirling. “He’s hurt?”

      “Dehydrated, like you. He’ll be released soon.”

      “Then what?”

      “That depends on you. The state will take charge if you can’t show he’s yours. We’ll run a search for Baby Doe’s identity.”

      “Don’t!” she said before she could stop herself.

       TWO

      “Don’t? Do you know how he came to be in your possession?” Drake inched closer to the woman’s hospital bed. His earlier impression of her had been fear and confusion, both understandable if her memory was affected by her injury. Or was that a ruse? What if she’d kidnapped the baby and come up with an amnesia cover story to delay an explanation? “Why don’t you want to know the child’s identity?”

      “I—I do, but...” She looked away, staring at the door. “I can’t shake the feeling something’s wrong here.”

      “Like what?”

      Her gaze locked with his. “I don’t know.” She fumbled with her sack of belongings, clasping it against her chest.

      The anguish in her voice sounded genuine. As a Texas Ranger, Drake had to consider all angles of a situation. He’d seen a lot in his fifteen years working in law enforcement. If he couldn’t remember who he was or what had happened, he would feel the same way. He wanted to believe her but... “Maybe your clothing will help you remember something.” People with a traumatic brain injury could suffer total or partial amnesia that could be permanent or temporary. He didn’t think she was faking, but he couldn’t completely dismiss that possibility.

      She unrolled the top of the paper bag and glanced inside. For a long moment, she remained quiet, then she slowly reached inside and pulled out her dirty white shirt. Next came the jeans, socks and shoes.

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