Page 14 of Montana Lawman Rescuer
He leaned back. Thinking of Sheriff Good always filled him with pleasure. “He was a fine man.”
He’d taught Jesse to be proud of himself, and he still was. His smile turned downward. Not all people valued him as he’d like. Four years ago, Agnes Breckenridge had moved to town with her family, and she’d made it obvious she liked him. They courted. But when he mentioned marriage, she’d demurred. Said she wanted more than the small town of Bella Creek could offer. He’d said he would go elsewhere if she desired it.
Knowing he must be honest about who he was and uncertain what she’d heard around town, he’d told her the circumstances of his birth. That’s when he learned that she wanted a man with more than he could offer. Not a man who didn’t know his father’s identity. She left town to return to an old beau and abandoned him to nurse his pain. His experience with women after that had been equally unsuccessful.
He knew he wasn’t enough of a man for any woman to love, despite his grandmother’s insistence that he was a fine man. He hadn’t been enough reason for his ma to stick around, and he hadn’t been enough for Agnes.
He had no intention of risking his heart again and likely again being rejected. No, sir. He would stick to what he knew he could do well—be a sheriff.
He brought his thoughts back to the present. “Gram has put up with me all these years.” He gave a mocking chuckle. Seems she was the only one willing to do so.
“I’m only guessing, but I think that might have been more a pleasure than a hardship.”
Her response eased some of the strain from him, and he grinned at her. “I’ve been trying to make up for the misery I put her through for a few years.”
She looked deep into his eyes, searching for something. He wished he knew what she sought and could provide it.
She sat back with a sigh.
“You remembered something?”
“Only a feeling.”
“Tell me about it. Talking might help.”
“It might.” She remained silent a moment as if collecting her thoughts. “I remember looking into someone’s face, searching for something. I feel like I didn’t find what I looked for. But that’s all there is. No name. No face. Nothing.” Her breathing came too fast. She pressed her hand to her eyes.
Jesse squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t try so hard. Let your memory come back when it’s time. It might take a day or two. You know, until that bump goes away.” He brushed the side of her head.
She filled her lungs slowly and leaned back. “I’ll try to relax.” She glanced about the yard. “The flowers are beautiful.”
“Gram likes to grow enough to take bouquets to the church every Sunday.”
Emily inhaled deeply. “I smell sweet peas.” She closed her eyes. “I see myself with my arms full of the flower. I’m happy and laughing.”
She broke off and he waited, wondering if this was the beginning of her memory returning, but she shook her head.
“I can’t see anything more.”
“Stay here. I’ll get you some raspberries.” He strode toward the bushes. The flowers had triggered a flash of remembrance. Perhaps raspberries would do the same. If not, she could at least enjoy the sweetness of them.
Emily watchedJesse cross the yard, moving like a man with no worries, no hurries. She knew that couldn’t be true. Especially as a robbery had been committed, two men murdered, and he had in his care a woman who couldn’t tell him anything about herself.
He cupped his hand and filled it, then returned to her side and offered the raspberries to her.
“Thanks.” What a kind, generous man. She took one and sniffed it, finding the scent familiar and full of pleasant memories. “My grandmother had a big raspberry patch. She let us kids pick the berries and eat them.” She popped the berries into her mouth one by one and let the taste explode in her mouth.
He sat quietly at her side, perhaps letting her remember and talk.
She finished the fruit. “I don’t recall anything more. Not where she lived nor how many children I shared the experience with.” How could her mind be so stubborn?
“Let it be.” He stretched his legs out before him. “I might wish I could forget a few things, but I’d want to choose which they were.”
“Like what?”
“Being a rebellious young man, as I told you. Knowing what kind of life my mother lived. So sad. It’s hard to forgive her.”
Emily jerked to her feet and took three steps. Her lungs had forgotten how to work.
