“I’m afraid you haven’t heard the last from him, Mrs. Dunn. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
“Please, from now on call me Charlotte. If you don’t mind, I’ll call you Bret. It may not be strictly proper but under the circumstances I think we should skip that formality.”
“Thank you, Charlotte.”
He drifted to sleep again. When he woke, he remembered the money he’d found. He hadn’t gone through all the bundles.
Slowly, he sat up. After reaching for another bundle, he opened it. More money was inside. Almost franticly he went through each container. He found shaving supplies and remembered he needed a shave.
One contained a brush and comb and bay rum. A small box contained scissors, needles, and thread. He’d bet his sister had slipped that in. A larger box held a few medical items.
An oiled cloth bag held bars of soap and a bath sponge. A lap desk held writing paper, pens, and ink. Two contained more money.
He found a stack of dime novels, at least two dozen of them. Most appeared to be about someone called the Missouri Kid. Davie would probably like to read those.
Looking at the lap desk, he decided he should write his sister and let her know where he was and what had happened. Since she was his heir in his will, they must be close. She might be worried about him. Sure, he’d write her tonight.
In the meantime, he counted what he’d found and was astounded. What had he been thinking to carry this much around in cash? If anyone suspected he had it he would have been robbed and killed.
Knowing that, he wondered what kind of person he’d been. Maybe the fall that had given him amnesia had also knocked some sense into his head. He tucked all the cash he’d found into his saddlebags.
Had he stolen the money? He didn’t have the feeling he was a crook. Besides, he and his sister owned a business in Fort Worth. Maybe they were wealthy. Maybe the big house in the fog of his memory was where they lived.
He had a lot of thinking and evaluating to do.
Chapter Eleven
Four days later, Charlotte tidied the house while Susie and Jimmy did the breakfast dishes. She could have done them in half the time but she believed giving children chores built their character and independence. Other than occasional bickering like any siblings, her children handled their chores well.
When she heard a buggy drive up to the house, she went to the front door. Davie peeked from the barn where he was mucking out stalls but went back to his job.
Charlotte opened the door for Doctor Ross. “Hello, how nice to see you. Looks like a lovely day for a drive.”
He smiled. “Would be nicer if I hadn’t been up all night delivering the Fishers’ baby. Happy to say mother and infant are doing well and father will survive.”
Laughing at his attempt of humor, she escorted him toward the bedroom. “Girl or boy?”
“Another boy. Helen said she’s giving up on ever getting a girl.”
“I’ll let you check the patient in privacy. He seems to be recovering but still has no memory.”
***
Bret heard the doctor and Charlotte approaching. He was glad to be up and sitting in the chair for this visit. He wasn’t keen on the fact he wore Ike Dunn’s clothes but at least they fit.
The doctor was cheerful in spite of appearing exhausted. “Good to see you sitting up, young fellow. How are you feeling?”
“Much better. Head still aches but I’m not dizzy unless I move too quickly.”
“Let me check those stitches.” The doctor removed the bandages. “That looks good. I believe you can leave off the bandages now.”
“How about working around the ranch to help?”
The doctor shook his head. “You’re pushing too fast. Don’t get overheated and don’t over-exert. You don’t seem to realize how dangerous your injury was.”
Bret held up a hand. “Mrs. Dunn said I could have died. Except for a headache, I feel all right most of the time. And I feel like a freeloader.”
“Most of the time?” The doctor held up his index finger. “Follow my finger with your eyes. You see, you must take care or you could go blind or have a seizure or some other bad result. Your wanting to help Charlotte is admirable. Frankly, she needs all the help she can get and then some. Causing harm to yourself won’t help anyone.”
“I understand your point. Do you know about that Winfield fellow pestering her?”
Dr. Ross appeared uncomfortable. “I’d… um, I heard he wants this ranch.”
“You a friend of his?” Bret asked.
The doctor shook his head slowly. “I try not to take sides on anything no matter my private opinion. I have to admit Charlotte has my loyalty. What’s Winfield done now?”
Bret told the doctor about Winfield’s insulting proposal.
Dr. Ross slapped his knee. “Ship off the children to boarding school? Preposterous to think she’d ever agree to that.”
“He’ll be back and I have to be strong enough to face him—or his henchmen.”
The doctor pointed an index finger at him again. “I can’t stress this enough. Limit your activity. Increase gradually, a little more each day.”
The sight of the letter on the bedside table reminded Bret to ask, “Say, if I give you the money, could I impose on you to mail a letter for me?”
“You remembered who your family is?”
“Not yet. Found papers in my saddlebags that list my sister’s name and address. Figure I’d better let her know where I am and that I’m okay even if
