The Heiress and the Sheriff by Stella Bagwell Read Free Book Online

hadn’t been anything like the Double Crown ranch house. One whole wall was dominated by an open rock hearth. The ceiling was high and supported by rough oak beams. The walls were stucco and decorated with numerous paintings and prints, most of which depicted scenes of the Old West. The floor was polished tile, and covered here and there with woven rugs in Mexican and Native American patterns.
    Across the room, directly in front of them, a pair of curved, wooden-framed glass doors opened out to a courtyard. Like the front entrance to the house, it was beautifully landscaped with blooming sage, tall clumps of ornamental grass and climbing rosebushes.
    â€œMy daughter told us you have amnesia. She feels very guilty about the accident. She wishes she had never gone riding yesterday. I warned her not to go. The night before I had dreamed of a striking serpent.” The older womanshrugged and lifted her palms in helpless acquiescence. “I am her mother, but she paid me no more heed than anyone else around here.”
    Gabrielle wondered if the older woman considered herself some sort of psychic. Frankly, she didn’t think she believed in such things. But if the housekeeper had truly dreamed of a striking snake, it would be an awfully eerie coincidence.
    Gabrielle followed the woman into a large kitchen. Something spicy and delicious smelling was simmering on a large gas range. Gabrielle’s stomach gnawed hungrily—the dry oatmeal and cold toast at the hospital had been too horrible to eat, and last night’s fare hadn’t been much better.
    â€œMaggie is my youngest. She’s married to Dallas Fortune,” Rosita said, clearly in an effort to strike up a safe conversation.
    â€œIs this their house?”
    The housekeeper chuckled as she motioned for Gabrielle to follow her down a hall off to the left of the kitchen.
    â€œNo. Dallas and Maggie live in another house on the ranch. It’s a whole lot like this one, just not as big. This is Ryan Fortune’s home. He’s the father of Matthew, Zane, Dallas, Vanessa and Victoria. But I don’t expect you know any of them.” She made a tsking sound of regret. “ Pobrecita, you don’t even know yourself.”
    â€œMaybe if I have a chance to see some of these people, I might remember something,” Gabrielle said hopefully. “I had to be headed to this ranch for some reason. Sheriff Grayhawk thinks I was up to no good. But I don’t believe that. I don’t feel like a bad person inside—and I think I would if I were really bad. Does that make sense, Mrs. Perez?”
    The woman opened another heavy wooden door carved deeply with Spanish designs, and gestured for Gabrielle to cross the threshold before her. The room was massive withmore stucco walls and heavy beams supporting the ceilings. On one end was a bed, dresser and chest all made of yellow pine. At the opposite end was a sitting area furnished with a large couch and stuffed armchair covered in tan leather. Like the great room and kitchen, the floor was also tiled; the scattered woven rugs filled the room with deep, rich colors.
    With a wag of her finger, the housekeeper said, “No. No. I’m not Mrs. Perez. I’m Rosita. And I’ll call you Gabrielle, okay?”
    At least Rosita wasn’t going to be like Sheriff Grayhawk, Gabrielle thought, but then no one could be like that man.
    She smiled warmly at the woman. “Yes. I’d like that.”
    â€œGood. And I wouldn’t worry about Wyatt Grayhawk. He thinks all women are up to no good.”
    â€œWhy is that?”
    Rosita shrugged and tapped her finger against her chin in contemplation. “He’s a half-breed. His Indian blood is always at war with the white part of him. He’s never happy. But he’s a good man.”
    Deciding she’d talked long enough, Rosita quickly headed out of the room. “Look around and make yourself comfortable,” she