Finding Promise by Scarlett Dunn Page A

remember how long he said she might not remember things.
    â€œNo . . . I don’t remember.” Her lower lip started to tremble.
    Jake hadn’t wanted to consider the possibility that she would have no memory, and was at a loss how to respond. Considering her weakened condition, he didn’t think it would be wise to mention the wagon train and all the folks that were killed. He’d give her time to regain her strength before he told her about the events of that day. With some luck, her memory might return soon and spare him that decision. “You were injured and I happened to find you. You’ve been unconscious for a few days. I had a doctor from Dodge examine you, and he said you might have some memory loss for a few days.” He made an effort to sound more positive than he actually felt.
    â€œDodge.” She repeated the word, but it didn’t sound familiar. “Do you know who I am?”
    Her question threw him. The doctor indicated some people might not remember how they were injured, but he hadn’t mentioned she might not even remember her own name. He kept his surprise to himself, but decided it best to tell the truth. “No, honey, I don’t.” He reached over, picked up her journal and handed it to her. “You had this with you. I admit I looked inside. I wasn’t prying, I was just trying to find out who you are and where you were going. The inside cover says Promise . Does that mean anything to you?”
    Tears filled her eyes as she looked at the book. She shook her head. Nothing was making sense to her. Why couldn’t she remember her own name? Who was she? Was Promise her name? Something about that seemed familiar, but she couldn’t remember why.
    Jake saw tears welling in her eyes. “Now there’s no need to get worried. The doctor said this is a common thing when you’ve suffered a head injury.” He might have made it sound a bit more common than the doctor indicated, but he didn’t want her getting upset. “I was a U.S. Marshal, and we will figure this out. I know you are from back East and headed to Colorado. I just don’t know where in Colorado, and it’s a big place, so I planned to take you to Wyoming with us. I figured that would give you time enough to recover. Then we’ll know where you were headed, and I’ll take you there.” He thought of something that might help her. “Hold on a minute, I’ll be right back.”
    He climbed out of the wagon and raced to the supply wagon. He threw open her trunk and pulled out the drawings. He almost pulled out the oil painting of her husband but changed his mind. He took the drawings back to the wagon. “I found these in a trunk that I think belongs to you.” He opened the folder for her and handed her the first drawing, the one of her horse. He watched her closely as she looked at the drawing.
    She stared at it for a long time, and even ran her fingertips softly over the drawing, almost reverently. Her gaze drifted to him. “Did I do this?”
    â€œI think you did. In that journal you wrote about drawing and painting. From what I read, I think that is your horse.”
    â€œHe’s beautiful. Is he here?”
    He should have realized she would ask that question. “No, he wasn’t with you.” He quickly showed her some of the landscape drawings, but nothing jogged her memory. He avoided showing her the drawings of the people on the wagon train. He didn’t know what else to do, so before she could ask more questions, he decided to get some food in her. “I’m going to get you something to eat.”
    She watched as he moved to the opening, taking in every detail of his muscled frame before he deftly jumped from the wagon. It was hard to judge from her position, but he looked quite tall. On his right hip he wore a pistol; on the left, a large, lethal-looking knife was sheathed. He appeared to be a nice man, and