“I was trying to get used to that face in the mirror.”
“It must be hell not being able to remember who you are,” Laredo said, more as a statement of fact than an expression of sympathy. “I’ll give you a hand back to bed.”
“I’m going to sit up for a while.”
“Are you sure?” There was skepticism in the side glance Laredo sent him. “You’re still pretty weak.”
“I won’t get any stronger lying in that bed.”
“That’s true enough.”
“If Hattie has any coffee made, I could use a cup.”
“I’ll check.” Once Laredo had him settled in the corner rocking chair, he went to see about the coffee. He returned with two mugs, handed one to the man he called Duke and lifted the other. “I thought I’d join you, if that’s okay.”
“Have a seat.” He motioned toward the bed. Laredo sat sideways on the mattress, his body angled toward the corner.
“So what are your plans?” Laredo raised the mug and took a cautious sip of the steaming coffee.
“Does it matter? You’ll be leaving soon.”
“You are definitely good at dodging questions. Maybe you are a politician,” Laredo said with a grin.
“Why be one when you can buy one?” The words were barely out of his mouth when he knew he was echoing a sentiment he had heard before. He could almost hear the man’s voice.
“That has the ring of experience talking,” Laredo observed. “And judging from that suit you were wearing, you probably have the bucks to buy a half dozen politicians.”
“If that’s the case, then somebody should be wondering where I am. They may already be trying to track me down.”
“You mean someone other than the guy who tried to kill you,” Laredo inserted dryly.
“Yes, he’s the wild card in the deck,” he murmured thoughtfully.
“Something tells me he’s doing a little sweating about now, wondering whether you are dead or alive. It’s bound to be driving him crazy that you haven’t turned up anywhere yet.”
“He could have cut and run.”
“It’s possible, but not likely.”
It was the certainty in Laredo’s voice that prompted him to challenge him. “Why not?”
“Because he isn’t sure yet how scared he should run. He knows you were hit, and so far you haven’t surfaced, which has to make him think you died. If I were him, I would hang around just long enough to find out.”
“It takes a man with cool nerve to do that.” And, he reflected, it said a lot about Laredo that he thought that way.
“I think he already established the coolness of his nerve when he laid in wait for you. It was pure luck on your part that he didn’t succeed.” Laredo idly swirled the coffee in his mug. “It strikes me that you have two options. You can either stick close to the ranch and wait for your memory to come back—”
“That could take days, weeks—even months,” he broke in, his voice sharp with impatience.
“I had a feeling that’s the way you would react.” A small smile edged the corners of Laredo’s mouth. “At the same time, if you show up around the old Stockyards, asking questions and trying to find somebody who might recognize you, you would be tipping your hand—maybe even giving him another chance at you.”
“I know,” he acknowledged grimly, aware he was between that proverbial rock and a hard place.
“There’s another alternative,” Laredo said.
“What’s that?” He studied the cowboy with a watchful eye.
“I could do the asking.”