A Montana Man

A nurse rushed in and saw that her patient was wide awake, the reason her heart rate had increased. She smiled and checked the flow of the IV. “Are you feeling all right, dear?”

Clint woke and sat up in the chair. “Sorry, I didn’t intend to doze off. Is anything wrong?”

“Everything appears to be just fine,” the nurse said brightly. “Our patient woke up, that’s all.”

Clint leaned toward the bed. “Are you all right, Sierra?” he asked softly.

She turned teary eyes to him. “I can’t remember anything,” she whispered.

The nurse patted her arm. “Dr. North said it’s only temporary, dear. Try not to worry. You’re doing fine.”

“I have so many cuts and scrapes,” Sierra said in a tear-clogged voice. “What happened? Why am I wearing a cap?”

“You have very long hair, dear,” the nurse said. “The cap is merely a means to restrain it.”

“But...my temple. Am I feeling stitches?” Sierra’s hand was exploring her forehead.

“Don’t touch them. There’s no bandage, and we shouldn’t risk infection.”

Clint could tell that Sierra’s mind was much clearer than it had been. She was going to ask questions—she had already asked questions—and he decided then and there that if the nurse didn’t answer them, he would. Maybe a psychologist should talk to her first, but there wasn’t one in the room, and to his way of thinking, she had every right to know what had happened to her.

Sierra asked nothing of the nurse, however. She accepted a drink of water, and lay still while the nurse checked the monitor connections.

“Well, everything seems to be in good order,” the nurse said briskly. “I’ll be at the station if you need me.” Her soft-soled shoes made very little sound as she left the room.

The second they were alone Sierra turned pleading eyes to Clint. “You said we’re friends. Please tell me everything you know about me. Everything,” she repeated in a choked voice.

He had no intention of refusing, although he wondered how best to explain that their friendship had begun only hours ago. If that information upset her...? It would upset her, Clint realized uneasily. She regarded him as her one connection with her past, perhaps as the key that would unlock the door to her memory.

This was far more of a burden than he’d bargained for, but he couldn’t lie to her. “I am your friend, Sierra,” he said quietly. “But I’m a new friend. We only met...recently.”

“But you do know who I am.”

Was he hearing panic in her voice again, seeing it in her eyes? He reached for her hand, and she let him hold it.

“Sierra, I’m not going to lie to you,” he said. “You wouldn’t want to hear anything but the truth, would you?”

“Is the truth something terrible?”

“It’s limited, but not terrible.”

“Tell me,” she whispered.

He took a breath. “Here’s what I know about you. You were in a car accident on a mountain road. My son was the driver of the other vehicle, a red pickup truck. You were driving a blue minivan. The road still had patches of early morning frost....”

She was staring at him so intently that he began to hope. “Is any of this familiar?”

She sounded discouraged as she answered, “No, but please go on. Was—was your son injured?”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“I’m glad.”

“So am I, Sierra, so am I.” Clint drew a breath before continuing. “There was another young man in the truck with Tommy, his friend Eric. They notified the sheriff and you were brought to Missoula and this hospital by a flight-for-life helicopter.”

She tried to make a little joke. “My first helicopter ride and I can’t remember it.”

How did she know that helicopter ride had been her first? Or was she merely assuming?

Clint smiled for her benefit. “But you will remember it, Sierra—that’s what you’ve got to hang on to. Dr. North told me he’s positive your amnesia is temporary.” Clint paused to mentally go over that conversation. Had Dr. North used the word positive?

Well, Clint couldn’t backtrack now and shatter the little hope he’d just given Sierra.

“And that’s how we met,” she said in a wispy, disappointed voice. “Because of your son. You really don’t know me much better than I know myself.”

“I’m sorry, Sierra. I wish I could lay out your background in great detail, but I can’t.”

“My vehicle should offer some clues to my identity. I must have had a driver’s license with me. Do you know if the police are checking that out?”

It was encouraging that she knew about driver’s licenses, but still Clint swallowed hard. Her question was one he hated answering. In fact, he was afraid of answering it. She would learn soon enough that the van and everything in it had been destroyed.

He hedged, telling no lies, but deliberately avoiding the whole truth. “The highway patrol is working on it.”

“When did the accident happen?” she asked. “I—I’m afraid I’ve lost track of time.”

“Yesterday.”

“Then they could very well know something today.” Sierra felt a surge of relief, certain once she knew her full name and address, things would fall into place in her befuddled brain. In the next heartbeat, however, she became doubtful again. If she’d had a driver’s license with her, why didn’t the hospital staff know her identity?

Her mouth became almost too dry to speak. “How do you know my first name is Sierra?”

“It’s the name you gave a doctor when you came to the first time.”

“I don’t remember doing that,” she murmured with a frown. “But why did anyone have to ask? I mean, if I had a driver’s license—”

Clint hurriedly interrupted, steering the conversation in another direction. “Do you remember my name?”

“Yes, Clint Barrow. Do you live in Missoula?”

“My son and I live on our ranch. It’s about eighty miles from Missoula. My wife passed away five years ago, so it’s just Tommy and me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sighing heavily, Sierra moved her gaze from Clint to the ceiling above her bed. “I feel so...unconnected. Where was I going? Where had I come from?”

“I wish I knew, Sierra. The road you were on led to Cougar Mountain. The accident occurred in a place called Cougar Pass. It’s very isolated country.”

“And I was alone?”

“Yes, alone.”

“I must have had a destination in mind. Your ranch is in that area, so there must be others. Maybe...maybe I was on my way to see someone.”

Clint readily understood her need for information, and the speculation that need was inspiring, but letting her think that road held any answers would be more cruel than helpful.

“Sierra, I’m sorry, but no one lives on that road. It leads to only one thing—Cougar Mountain. It’s a place that draws mountain climbers, hikers, environmentalists and campers seeking isolation.”

To his surprise, her countenance brightened. “Then I must be one of them!” she exclaimed. “The clues to who I am are in my van, I know they are. Even though everyone involved obviously missed finding my driver’s license, this is very encouraging. Would you happen to know where my van is now? I mean, was it towed somewhere?”

Clint was so glad to see Dr. North walking in at that moment he could have kissed him.

“Wide awake, I see,” the doctor said with a big smile. “Mr. Barrow, would you leave us alone for a few minutes? It’s nearly six and I’ll be leaving the hospital soon, but I’d like to examine my favorite patient before I go.”

Clint immediately rose in deference to the doctor’s wishes, but Sierra wouldn’t release his hand. And when he looked into her beautiful dark eyes, he saw a resurgence of panic.

“Don’t leave me,” she begged.

“I’ll wait just outside the door,” Clint promised.

Biting her upper lip, not quite succeeding in maintaining dry eyes, she reluctantly let go of Clint’s hand. He barely breathed until he was in the corridor outside her room. Never had he felt another person’s emotions as strongly as he felt Sierra’s. He was shaken through and through, and more than a little panicked himself.

Hurrying to the waiting room, he purchased coffee from a machine, then returned to the corridor to drink it and wait for Dr. North to complete his examination. The coffee was strong and hot and tasted good. Leaning against a wall, he drank it while pondering Sierra’s trust of him.

Dr. North finally came out. Clint pushed away from the wall. “I need to talk to you.”

Nodding, the doctor walked down the corridor with him. “Physically she seems to be doing very well,” Dr. North began. “But to be a little more certain than we are at this time, I’ve scheduled some additional tests for this morning. Also, Dr. Trugood, a psychologist, will be seeing her around nine.”

“I know you’re doing everything medically possible for her, Doctor, but she’s asking questions that are damned hard to answer.”

“Mr. Barrow, her state of mind is only natural in amnesia patients. I find her emotional dependency on you, a stranger, rather interesting, as I think Dr. Trugood will.”

“Is it unusual?”

“Frankly, I haven’t worked with amnesiacs enough to know. Dr. Trugood should be able to answer that question, however.”

“I guess what I’m getting at is you told me to avoid talking about the accident, which was impossible to do. She might not remember her past, but she’s a very bright woman and she’s digging for answers. Plus she’s positive that the things she had in the van with her—driver’s license, for instance—will reveal her identity. I told her about the accident—I had to—but I haven’t told her about the van and everything in it being destroyed.”

“I see,” Dr. North said thoughtfully. “I hesitate to instruct you not to return to her room, when you promised her you would, but if she’s counting on learning her identity from the contents of her vehicle, and you tell her there’s no way that’s going to happen...” The physician frowned and stopped walking.

“This really must be left to Dr. Trugood,” he said after a few moments. “What I’d like you to do is go back to her room and tell her that work, duty, family responsibility, something—use your own judgment on that—demands that you leave the hospital for a while. Assure her that you will return.” Dr. North cocked an eyebrow. “Assuming that you plan to return, of course.”

Clint’s mind raced. He felt the same mysterious bond with Sierra that she apparently felt with him. He didn’t understand it, but it was a driving force that he knew he couldn’t ignore.

“I’ll be back,” he said with a touch of grimness in his voice. “How about this evening?” he asked, thinking that he could call the ranch and have one of his men drive to Missoula and pick him up. It was a good idea, because he could then drive back in his own vehicle. Also, he wanted to see with his own eyes how Tommy was doing.

“I think this evening would work out perfectly,” Dr. North said. “She’ll be through with the tests and she’ll have talked to Dr. Trugood.”

“Will he tell her about the loss of her possessions?”

“I’ll call him and suggest that he does.”

“Well, someone’s got to do it,” Clint said rather sharply. “If she doesn’t know by tonight, I’ll have to tell her.”

“I understand. I’m sure Dr. Trugood will take care of it.” Dr. North glanced at his watch. “I have to be going. We’ll talk again.”

Clint watched the doctor stroll down the corridor toward the elevators, then he turned and headed back to Sierra’s room. His heart was in his throat. He was a simple man, and the situation was so far from simple it was almost laughable. At the door to Sierra’s room, he took a calming breath and erased the grimness from his face. When he stepped into the room he was wearing a smile. With his own eyes he saw the tension leave Sierra’s body.

“Clint,” she said with unabashed relief, holding her hand out to him.

He moved closer and took it. “You were worried I wouldn’t be back. Sierra, when I tell you something you can bank on it, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“There’s something I have to tell you now. I’m going to have to leave you until this evening.” He felt her hand stiffen in his and saw the fear in her eyes. “There are things I have to take care of,” he said, standing firm although he felt as though his heart was breaking.

“Work?” she said in that whispery, frightened little voice with which he’d become so familiar.

Clint nodded. “Work and other things. You’ll see me again no later than eight tonight.” There were tears in her eyes, and he took a tissue from the box on the stand and gently blotted the escaping moisture, carefully keeping away from her stitches and abrasions.

“You have every right to cry,” he said softly. “I’m not going to tell you to keep a stiff upper lip and a lid on your emotions. Sometimes a good cry is very good medicine.”

“It—it isn’t that I want to cry,” she said brokenly. “I just can’t seem to help it.”

“And it’s fine with me. Never feel that you should hold anything back with me, Sierra.”

She blinked at the tears and attempted a shaky smile. “I feel so different with you than with anyone else. I wish I knew why.” She sighed then. “There’s so much I wish I knew.”

“You will. Try to hold that thought.” On impulse Clint leaned over the bed and gently pressed his lips to the uninjured portion of her forehead. This woman, helpless and bewildered, and known only as Sierra, touched him deeply. She needed him, was relying on him, and he vowed not to let her down. He straightened up and forced himself to smile. “See you this evening, all right?”

“Yes, this evening,” she whispered, and let her hand slip from his as he left the bed and then the room. Alone, she darted her eyes around the room. There were no demons in the early morning shadows, nothing to fear, and yet fear was an enormous part of her when Clint wasn’t holding her hand. She believed what he told her much more readily than she did the doctors and nurses. Did he remind her of someone she knew and couldn’t remember? Someone who was kind and gentle and completely honest?

She lay there and thought about Clint Barrow. He was a handsome man, or at least she saw him as handsome. His looks didn’t matter, however; his kindness, thoughtfulness and consideration did. He was probably a wonderful father to his son, caring, loving and genuinely interested in anything Tommy did or said.

Did she have a father somewhere? A mother? Maybe a...husband? She adjusted her position, tried to ignore the additional discomfort movement caused, and looked closely at her left hand. She wore no jewelry, but there was a faint indentation on her ring finger that indicated she’d worn a ring for some time.

It could be a clue! Anxiously she pushed the nurse’s call button. A young woman came almost at once. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Was I wearing a ring when I was brought in?” Sierra asked.

“I wouldn’t know, ma’am. But I’ll check your admission slip and find out, if you’d like.”

“Please. You see, my finger looks as though I’ve been wearing a ring.” Although the IV was in her left wrist, Sierra lifted that hand from the bed.

The young nurse peered at it. “Yes, you’re right. I’ll go and see what I can find out.”

Sierra felt excitement coursing through her system. A husband could mean children. A family would certainly be looking for her. But if she had a family, why had she been traveling alone?

Her head started aching more than it already had been. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply and fought impatience, doubt, frustration....

Footsteps announced the young nurse’s return. Sierra’s eyes flew open. “Did you learn anything?”

“Your admission slip lists only a watch.”

“No ring?” Intense disappointment gripped Sierra.

“I’m very sorry. You were counting on a ring, weren’t you?”

“I...guess so.”

“Is there anything else, ma’am? Breakfast will be served shortly, and then you’ll be given a bath. A bath always makes a person feel better.”

“Thank you,” Sierra said dully.

Clint was waiting in the yard when Tommy drove in from school. “Dad,” the teenager exclaimed as he jumped out of his truck. “How’d you get home?”

“I had Lyle drive in and pick me up. How are you doing, Tom?”

“Okay, I guess. I think I did all right on the exams today.”

“That’s good.” Clint studied his son’s face and eyes and felt relief; Tommy’s color was back to normal, and he seemed like his usual exuberant self.

Tommy reached into the truck for a book, which he held up with an exaggerated grimace. “Trig test tomorrow. Thought I’d better do a little boning up.”

“Aren’t you going to ask about Sierra?” Clint asked quietly.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Does—does she remember the accident?”

“She doesn’t remember anything, Tom. I spent quite a lot of time with her, and I told her what happened. She seems to trust me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a trustworthy guy, Dad,” Tommy quipped. “I’m starving. What’s Rosie cooking for supper?”

“I’m not sure. Chicken, maybe.” Clint felt a strange disappointment over Tommy’s lack of interest in Sierra’s progress. He’d thought Tom would be full of questions, and instead he hardly seemed concerned. For a young man who had shed tears over the death of a foal only two weeks ago, unconcern for a human being seemed greatly out of character.

“I’ve gotta get something to eat,” Tommy said. “Are you coming in, Dad?”

“Not right now, Tom. You go ahead.” While Tommy sprinted to the house, Clint walked over to a corral and leaned his forearms on the top rail. There were horses in the enclosure, but he didn’t see them. A sense of something being not quite right gnawed at him, occupying his mind and wrenching his gut.

But never once had he not given Tommy the benefit of the doubt. Tommy was young, still only a boy, really, and maybe he couldn’t dwell on the accident. Even though it had been no more his fault than Sierra’s, it was possible that Tommy was suffering feelings he couldn’t talk about.

Clint pushed away from the corral, thinking that must be it. It would be a first—he and Tommy had always been able to talk about anything—but “anything” before the accident had been topics without such serious ramifications. His best course would be to let Tommy deal with this in his own way and time, Clint decided. Tommy knew he was here for him, and that was really what was most important.

When Clint approached the open door to Sierra’s room that evening, he first saw the empty bed, then her still form sitting in a chair near the window. It was dark outside, but her face was turned to the glass. The cap was gone from her head, and he registered the rich, dark color of her hair, its marvelous length secured at her nape with something red.

He thought of that for only a moment, though, as he was so pleased to find her out of bed. He stepped into the room. “Sierra?”

Her head came around. The forlorn, lost expression on her face tore at his heartstrings. Hastily he crossed the small room and knelt beside her chair. “What’s wrong, Sierra?” he asked gently.

“There is no driver’s license,” she said dully. “There’s nothing. My van was completely destroyed in the accident. A police officer came by to speak to me today, and he told me everything. Did you know?”

“Yes, but the doctors didn’t think it was my place to tell you about it.” Self-recrimination thinned his lips. He should have gone with his own instincts and told her himself. “Would it have been easier to hear, coming from me?”

She lowered her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Sighing, she looked at him again. “I’m glad to see you. Thank you for coming back.”

“I told you I would.”

“I know, but the day was so...awful, it wouldn’t have surprised me if you hadn’t.” She fashioned a weak smile. “I don’t think the doctors know what to do with me. Every test was normal. A psychologist dropped in twice, once this morning and again this afternoon after the results of the tests came in. He said...to relax. He said my memory would clear up much faster if I relaxed and let it happen.”

“You sound doubtful.”

“I sound tense, Clint, because I am tense. How can I relax? How could anyone in my situation? I can’t help trying to remember. It’s all I think about. I asked the police officer if anyone had turned in a missing person report for someone of my description. No one has, not in this jurisdiction. Clint, I didn’t just suddenly appear from another planet. Someone must be wondering where I am.”

“Maybe it’s too soon for relatives and friends to become alarmed. Have you considered that?”

Sierra was silent a moment. “That’s the first really sensible thing anyone’s said to me all day. You’re right. Maybe I talked to friends and relatives just before the accident. Maybe I told them I would be out of touch for a few days.” Hope again shone in Sierra’s eyes. “I should have thought of that.”

Clint patted her arm and stood up. “At least you’re out of bed. I consider that major progress, Sierra.”

Her face fell again, startling him. “They’re going to move me out of ICU in the morning. Physically, I’m fine. Everything’s healing nicely, no infections, no complications. My doctors apparently went into a huddle after the results of the test came through and decided I could go home after a few more days.” Her voice cracked. “Where is home? Where will I go? I don’t even have any clothes.”

“They’re not going to just throw you out on the street, Sierra.”

“I know. They mentioned... welfare.” With an agonized moan, she covered her face with her hands. “I can’t bear it, I can’t! Maybe my mind is gone, but I know in my heart that I never lived on welfare.”

“Your mind is not gone,” Clint said sharply. “I’ve spent enough time with you to know that you’re an intelligent woman. Sierra, there’s no shame in accepting charity in a situation like yours.” As positive as he sounded in his attempt to bolster her spirit, he knew how she felt. A discomfiting picture formed in his mind—of Sierra living alone in some little apartment, trying desperately to remember, living with hope one minute and despair the next, probably seeing the psychologist once or twice a week but staying pretty much to herself.

He couldn’t let that happen to her. Again he knelt beside her, this time taking her hand in his. “Listen to me. When the hospital releases you, I’m going to take you to my ranch. It’s peaceful there, Sierra, quiet and beautiful. That’s where you’re going to do your healing.”

She was blinking away tears. “But...I would be...a terrible imposition.”

“You most certainly will not be an imposition. The house is huge, with three empty bedrooms. I have a housekeeper and cook, Rosie Slovek, and you won’t have to do one damned thing except rest and relax.”

“It...sounds wonderful.” She smiled faintly. “Why are you so kind to me?”

“Because you don’t deserve what happened to you. Neither does my son. He can’t even bring himself to talk about the accident. Your presence on the ranch will be good therapy for him as well as for you. Say you’ll come.”

“I will, of course I will. Oh, Clint.” She surprised him by putting her arms around his neck and sobbing into his shirt.

He rubbed her back and made consoling noises, but he was very much aware of her breasts against his chest and her warm, womanly scent. Even with bruises and stitches discoloring her face, she was a beautiful woman, and he felt her in that most private and personal part of himself that had been latent since his wife’s death.

It shook him that he could feel so much for a woman he barely knew. He wouldn’t even attempt to give the feeling a name, although he was certain it wasn’t caused by pity.

He cleared his throat and said, “Here now, it’s nothing to cry over.”

Sierra pulled away and took a tissue from the pocket of her hospital robe. Wiping her eyes, she smiled wanly. “How will I ever repay you?”

“By getting well.” There was a peculiar hoarseness in his voice, and he cleared his throat. “Just by getting well, Sierra.”

She nodded once.

Four

Clint awoke before dawn the next morning, which wasn’t that far from normal. But the tight knot squeezing his gut wasn’t at all normal, and he lay in bed and thought of all that had happened, and what part of it might be causing the discomfort he was feeling.