A Cowboy's Honor

Her heart stopped.

He looked so real standing in front of her, watching her with a quizzical stare. Nothing at all like the man in her dreams. Her cowboy.

“Dallas?” she squeaked. Gracie’s heart beat in a painful rhythm, and she grasped the edge of the bench for support.

“It’s a pretty city, but I didn’t know it would be so hot.” He swiped a hand across his forehead, smiled. A familiar dimple peeked out from the corner of his mouth. “And this is only spring.”

How she’d missed those bittersweet eyes.

“You’ve chosen the prettiest spot. Do you mind if I share it?”

Gracie shook her head. Her limbs trembled with excitement until terror, cold as Arctic ice, grabbed hold, plunging her from delight to dread in two seconds flat. Something was wrong.

She didn’t know what to ask first.

Dallas didn’t try to break the silence between them. In fact, he seemed to relish it. A faint smile curved his lips as a bird flitted closer to beg for food.

It was a mirage, a dream. It had to be. Only Gracie couldn’t wake up.

So many times, through long sleepless nights and terror-filled days, she’d longed to share her burden, to talk to him, to lean against his shoulder and know she wasn’t alone, that she didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

After the first year alone, filled with questions that were never answered, she’d shoved him out of her mind and never permitted herself to imagine him coming back.

Now here he was.

“Where have you been, Dallas?” Rage replaced curiosity. “Did you even consider how worried I was? Surely you could have called, written—something?”

Terror filled his face. He was afraid? Of her?

He jumped up from the grass.

“I didn’t mean to bother you, ma’am. I’m sorry I…”

Brown eyes brimmed with shadows she didn’t understand. But his fear was obvious. A riot of emotions flashed in his eyes, a wariness she’d never expected. As if she were a stranger.

Gracie stood up in turn, touched his arm. “Don’t you think you owe me some kind of explanation, Dallas?”

He fidgeted as if he found her touch painful. Then he grew still and his eyes met hers for the first time.

Empty eyes.

“You…know me?”

She might have missed his question if she hadn’t been standing inches away.

“Of course I know you.” Anger chased frustration. “What are you playing at, Dallas?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled to swallow. “So my name is Dallas.”

Gracie pulled back. This was not the man she knew. This was a stranger in his body—a wary stranger who showed no signs of recognizing her. She longed to shake him, to finally pry loose the responses she’d been denied. But his uncertainty, the watchful way he peeked at her, like one of those wary birds he’d been feeding…Gracie gulped down her bitterness, sought nonchalance.

“What’s been going on with you, Dallas?”

“Dallas what?” He stared into space, looking for all the world as if he hadn’t heard the most important question she’d ever asked.

“Pardon?”

“My last name. What is it?”

“Henderson.”

He turned his focus on her then, obviously mulling over something in his mind. After a moment he stepped back.

Gracie waited for an apology, an explanation. Something. But he continued to regard her with that blank stare.

“Who am I?”

His rushed whisper sounded deadly serious. But Gracie couldn’t quite believe it. And until she figured out if he was playing some kind of game, she had to be cautious.

“Let’s sit down on the bench. You can share my lunch. Please?” she added when it looked as if he’d refuse. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Well, I am. Maybe you could wait while I eat my lunch.” Gracie drew him toward the bench, motioned for him to sit. She needed to buy some time, figure out what to do next. “I have some juice and some coffee. Which would you like?”

“I love coffee.”

He always had.

She handed it over. Dallas removed the lid, sniffed and closed his eyes as he savored the aroma. The familiar gesture brought tears, but Gracie dashed them away.

She would not weep. Not then. Not now.

Not ever.

“This is good coffee. Thank you, ma’am.”

If he had a hat she knew he would have doffed it. Like a gallant cowboy. Her cowboy. The sting pierced deep and hard, but Gracie was used to pain. She ignored it, focused on getting the answers she craved.

“Can you tell me where you’ve been?” For now she had to push back the raging inner voice and try to figure out her next move.

“California.”

“What did you do there?”

“I worked with animals.”

That made sense to Gracie. It didn’t matter why he’d been there. She knew it would have to do with the almost spiritual rapport Dallas had always shared with animals. But that was the only part of Dallas she recognized.