Page 23 of When I Forgot Us (Blue River #1)

Chapter Twelve

Afull week passed with no new memories. She’d been in Blue River almost a month and barely had a handful of memories to return. What she had was a respect for the entire town, a newfound faith that made every day brighter, and a love for the ranch that drove her from bed before dawn each morning.

She swung into the saddle not long after the sun rose and grinned down at Chase. He’d hovered all morning. Since the moment she asked if she could ride out by herself.

“Are you sure?” He fisted his hat, crushing the brim. “I can ride out with you.”

“Chase.” She put a hint of laughter in his name. “I’m comfortable now, are you? She patted the mare’s slick neck and fiddled with her mane. “Do you doubt my skills or your teaching skills?”

“None of the above.” He slammed his crushed hat on and gripped his belt with both hands.

The gunslinger stance still tickled her funny bone, and her smile grew wider.

“What?” He grumbled and fussed without much heat to his words.

She gathered the reins the way he’d showed her. The saddle felt familiar even after only a handful of rides. She had no doubt she’d once spent hours on horseback. “I trust you, and the horse. And myself.” That last one came out in a rush. “I’m not going far.”

“You have your phone?” He took a step back, and the methodical way he moved made her think he had to force himself to give her space.

“Yes.” She showed it to him, more to ease his mind than her own.

“I’ll be back in an hour. Maybe sooner.” The practice lessons had left her muscles aching.

She doubted she had more than an hour in her if she wanted to be able to walk afterward.

“And I won’t be riding faster than a walk.

” Her grin pinched her cheeks. “Scout’s honor. ”

“I’ll come looking if you’re not back.”

The promise in his words left her weak-kneed. What would it be like to be loved by a man with the kind of intensity Chase showed?

She checked her reins to make sure they were loose, more to break the hold the question had on her than anything.

Beatrice remained still beneath her, waiting for her cue to leave.

“I’ll be back.” She infused as much promise in her words as she could.

If only her memory would return so she had even more of a chance to make that promise a reality.

How many times had she promised him she was back for good?

Too many. It was a hollow promise, one neither of them trusted until she knew what happened.

The silence of that gaping wound threatened everything she’d regained.

She clicked her tongue and used both heels to barely brush Beatrice’s sides.

The mare moved out in a slow plod that sent Michelle deeper into the saddle. Chase’s stare prickled the back of her neck and straightened her spine even as her grip on the reins loosened.

He’d told her that riding Beatrice was like sitting in a rocking chair.

The motion rolled through her, and she understood what he meant. Her thighs and core did the work of keeping her balanced, not her hands or her feet. She pointed the mare’s head at the dimpled trail that carved a path through one of the fields.

She’d asked about the open gate and how far the trail went before asking to ride.

Chase’s face had reddened, but he’d explained that the pasture was used mostly in the winter to keep the horses close. The trail was one they’d cut through years ago from going back and forth from the barn to the old pond.

According to him, it wound around the pond, then split into several directions. He’d recommended she take the trail furthest to the left, explaining that it twisted back into the woods for a bit before taking her in a loop back to the pond. Easy to navigate. That was his winning argument.

“We don’t need easy.” She patted Beatrice again, and the mare bobbed her head as though to agree.

“I mean, yeah, I do, but if I get to something I can’t handle or you struggle with, we’ll turn around.

” Another nod and a snort. “That’s what I thought.

You’re tired of always being the babysitter, aren’t you.

” She offered a commiserating pat. “Sorry that I’m always in need of a babysitter. ”

She worked to push down the pity party. “I’ve had enough of those for three lifetimes.

It’s okay to have a bad day, not okay to unpack and live there.

” Aunt Sarah’s words had turned into a mantra of sorts.

Between that and her daily Bible reading and prayers, the angst of not remembering settled into a low ache instead of a full-blown panic.

Beatrice lowered her head beneath a branch, and Michelle did the same. Every hoof struck the ground with a thud that became the rhythm her breaths matched.

“Lord, it’s me again.” She raised one hand and wiggled her fingers. Crisp pine saturated the air, and she breathed it deep, fully expanding her lungs. “Thank you for this. Help me learn how to trust you.”

The branch brushed her spine, and she ducked lower. Beatrice followed the winding trail without any guidance from Michelle, and within ten minutes they’d reached the pond Chase mentioned. She started Beatrice toward the trail he’d mentioned.

Something about the trail in the middle grabbed at her, and she sat back in the saddle, stopping Beatrice.

A quick thud-thud beat in her chest, and a familiar dry feeling invaded her throat. She squinted at the middle trail. Nothing stood out. All four paths looked the same. All four disappeared into thick branches with no undergrowth.

She rested the rein on Beatrice’s neck like Chase had showed her. Beatrice turned away from the left trail and cut into the middle one. Every step forward sent Michelle’s pulse skipping harder, faster, until a dizzying sensation forced her to calm down before she fell out of the saddle.

Beatrice angled her head to the side, cutting off the trail.

Michelle started to yank her back. “Where are you going?” She checked her body position and realized her right heel was pressing into Beatrice’s side, and her rein had pulled short. When had she done that? Why?

Beatrice stepped between two trees with rough sheets of bark peeling away and stopped. She lowered her head and nipped a single patch of grass growing in a spot of sunlight.

Pine needles and cones littered the ground. Ponderosa. The name of the tree came at her with the scent she crushed beneath her boot heels. Her body trembled when she hit the ground, and she gripped the saddle horn and cantle with both hands until she steadied. “What now?”

Her forehead rested on the seat, the warm leather comforting. “What am I trying to find?” She’d led herself here. Or God had guided her to this spot?

She released the saddle and bent to pick up a pinecone, bringing it to her nose. The roughness of the cone scraped her palms. A quick turn showed nothing but more pines. The trunks were bare several feet overhead before branches lanced out in a beautiful array.

She turned again, moving slower, letting her gaze take in everything in increments. There. Her knees locked. She forced her hands to let go of the saddle and drove momentum into her feet, heading toward the tree with a large heart carved deep into the trunk.

The bark had been peeled back to reveal the soft wood beneath. Sweat dripped into her eyes. She dashed it away with the back of her hand. One of these days she’d remember to get herself a hat.

“What are you doing here?” Her feet dragged, creating trenches in the needles.

“And why do I feel like I’m going to puke?

” The nausea was a surprise. She stopped a foot away from the tree and placed both palms on the rough texture on either side of the heart.

She understood what she saw on an intellectual level.

C.N. + M.B. The letters were obviously initials. She traced each one.

C.N. Chase Nelson? That made sense. They were on his ranch, after all.

But M.B. made no sense. Unless…

Her newfound memories flipped past in a montage. Unless M.B. was exactly who her heart wanted it to be. Michelle Baker.

Her world whipped into a riot of color. She crossed her forearms over the heart and pressed her forehead into the carving.

This time the memory came in full color, scent, sound, and texture.

He finished the last line in her initials and closed the knife, sliding it into his pocket while turning to face her.

Arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her to a solid chest. Even then, Chase smelled the same, a combination of horse and cedar.

“I love you, Michelle.” His voice rumbled in her ear with enough force that her head whipped around to see if he’d ridden up behind her as the memory unraveled.

She was alone with Beatrice.

His words soared through her, the memory continuing in slow motion. She covered her eyes with both hands to block out the sunshine and sink deeper into the memory.

His teenage features were softer. The line of his jaw not as defined, and he lacked the hardness in his eyes that she’d seen lately. And the love in those eyes. It was enough to take her out at the knees and send her crashing to the ground. Pinecones pricked her through her jeans.

She ignored the sting of pain and rocked forward to grab handfuls of pine and dirt.

How had she left that kind of love behind?

He knew why. “Sorry, Beatrice, but we’re cutting our ride short.” She jumped to her feet, and into the saddle. With barely a sound, she turned the mare toward home. Toward Chase and the ranch.

Beatrice’s slow walk helped her calm her stuttering heart and gather the courage she needed to tell Chase what she’d seen.

He waited for her at the fence; his hat tugged down low over his eyes and his stance too casual to be casual.