{"id":6750,"date":"2014-05-04T19:55:30","date_gmt":"2014-05-04T23:55:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=6750"},"modified":"2025-02-18T19:12:22","modified_gmt":"2025-02-19T00:12:22","slug":"identity-lost","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=6750","title":{"rendered":"Identity Lost (by Jayne)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary: \u00a0<\/span>A young man is stricken with Amnesia.<\/p>\n

Rated:<\/span>\u00a0K \u00a0WC \u00a05600<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Identity Lost<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
\n

The first thing I am aware of is a dull throbbing behind my eyes.<\/strong> I moan, squeezing my eyes shut tighter and trying to relieve the pain that is welling up with consciousness. I feel groggy and stiff, as though I’ve been laying here for weeks.
\n“It’s about time you woke up,” a worn, elderly voice says beside me.
\nIn spite of the pain, I turn my head and open my eyes. An old woman sits in a rocking chair at my bedside, knitting. She lifts her gaze from her work a brief moment, catching my stare, before looking down again. “I suppose you have a headache.”
\n“Where am I?” My voice comes out as a weak whisper, and I clear my throat, noticing now that it feels bruised.
\n“Talking will hurt you a bit,” the woman says, “It isn’t any wonder, after being nearly throttled to death.”
\nI reach up and touch my neck. “Throttled?”
\n“You were robbed,” the woman continues. “The thief, or thieves, choked you and then emptied your pockets and took your coat and hat. At least, that’s what I gathered from when I found you all but dead on the street.”
\n“Where am I?” I ask again with effort.
\n“In my guest room,” the woman replies simply. Then she looks up at me and smiles. “I know what you meant, young man. You are in Sacramento. I hoped you would remember, but you likely lost some memory when you hit your head.”
\nI turn my head again and stare at the ceiling, thinking. Why was I in Sacramento?
\n“What’s your name, by the by?” the woman asks.
\nI open my mouth to answer; however I can produce none. Panic surges up inside me. “I don’t know!”
\n“You don’t know?” The woman clicks her tongue. “Dear me, that is a problem. What do you know?”
\nPerhaps it is her subdued reaction to my predicament that calms me enough to answer the question reasonably. “I know where Sacramento is. California.”
\nI look to her for affirmation, and see her nod. “Uh, hmm. That’s true. What else?”
\nI lick my lips nervously. “I don’t know.”
\n“Let’s see if I can help,” the woman says. She lays aside her knitting and clasps her hands thoughtfully. “You know how to speak, and how to think.” She smiles at me as though that is all that mattered.
\n“I’d rather know who I am, where I came from, how I got here,” I tell her irritably.
\nHer features darken. “I’m sure you do! However, I cannot help you with that, I’m afraid. You’ll just have to do some investigating and figure it out yourself.”
\nI nod dejectedly. That does seem the only way of it. “How should I start?”
\n“I think I have some ideas.”
\n^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
\nShe gets me breakfast and checks the wound on the back of my head. “The swelling has gone down. It is hard to see it through this thick, dark hair of yours.”
\nI am staring at myself in the mirror across the room. It is like staring at a stranger, and I shiver. Even if I do find out who I am, it will not be the same as remembering.
\n“It is very likely you’ll regain your memory before long,” the woman tells me as she sits back in her rocking chair to knit while I finish my meal.
\nI nod, then realize that I haven’t asked the woman’s name. She smiles when I ask her and says that I may call her Mary.
\n“I don’t like my last name particularly,” she tells me. “It is my maiden name, and I don’t like to be reminded that I am an old spinster.”
\n“It’s hard to believe you were never married,” I say honestly. She seems likable enough, and I can tell that she was once a very pretty young woman.
\n“It is hard, isn’t it,” she agrees with a smile. “Actually, I was almost married once, but he died before the wedding. I never found another man like Andrew.”
\nShe sees that I am finished eating and stands to take the tray. “Tomorrow you should be well enough to begin your search, I think. Would you like some books to keep you company?”
\n“Yes, thank you,” I say with a smile. She starts to walk out. “Maybe you could tell me more about yourself, Mary, when you are not busy?”
\nShe stops in the doorway, and turns to look back at me. “If you like, young man, I would be honored.”
\n^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
\nMy clothes are rumpled because I have been sleeping in them the last two days. Mary apologizes, but tell her there was nothing she could have done about it. When she persists in her apologies, I change the subject.
\n“Where should I search for myself first?” I ask.
\nMy trick works and she is immediately sidetracked. “Just by looking at you, I can tell you are not from the city.”
\n“How so?” I ask, bewildered.
\nShe smiles and takes my right hand. She turns it palm up. “Look at those calluses! You are a man who knows what a good day of hard work is. Also…” She leads me to the mirror. “…the upper part of your face is slightly paler than the lower half, suggesting that you usually wear a wide brimmed hat.”
\nI smile. “That is certainly observant of you; however, lots of men in Sacramento wear wide brimmed hats.”
\n“Yes,” Mary agrees, “but not those who work hard physically like you do. If I were to guess, I would say you perhaps have worked on a ranch.”
\nI gasp. A ranch. I remember a ranch! I cannot hide the excitement in my voice. “Yes, I remember working on a ranch!”
\n“Good, good!” Mary cries, nodding, “That is very good, young man. Now, we know for certain you do not live in Sacramento. Therefore, you must be here visiting.”
\nI nod in eager agreement. “I must’ve gotten a room at a hotel, then.”
\n“So, if I were you, I’d go to every hotel within fair walking distance of here and see if there is anyone who has not come to their room in the past two days.”
\n“You’re really something, Mary,” I say. I lean down and kiss her on the cheek, causing her to blush.
\n“Now, now,” she scolds lightly, but she is smiling. “Off with you. You must be back for supper at six, understand?”
\n“Yes, ma’am,” I agree, and start to walk out the door, but she catches my arm.
\n“Just a moment, you mustn’t go about without a bit of money in case of an emergency. Here.” She reaches in her pocket and brings out three dollars. “Take this.”
\n“No, I can’t,” I protest as she tries to press it in my hand.
\n“I insist! We may be friends, young man, but I’m still you’re elder by some years.”
\nI sigh and take the money, shoving it in my pocket. “Thank you, Mary, but you will get it back, I promise.”
\n“Don’t make any such promise,” Mary says, and pushes me out the door. “Off with you! You have an identity to find!”
\n^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
\nThe first three hotels prove that there are many people in Sacramento who go “missing”. None of the names sounded remotely familiar, and by mid afternoon, I feel quiet defeated. How am I ever going to discover who I am?
\nAs I walk along, I pass by a police station. An idea strikes me, and I step inside.
\n“Excuse me,” I say, “I’d like to report a missing person.”
\n“Oh?” The man at the desk does not sound the least bit interested, but he slides a piece of paper to me. “Fill out this form.”
\n“Oh, but you don’t understand,” I say, “You see, I am the missing person.”
\nThe man stares at me blankly. “Aren’t you a little old to get yourself lost?”
\nI try to explain. “I seem to have amnesia, and I cannot remember my name. I wondered if anyone has reported a missing person.”
\nA slow grin comes over the officer’s face. “Are you trying to pull some kind of joke?”
\n“No, I’m being perfectly honest, now if…”
\n“I don’t have time for the likes of you, okay? Now get out of here before I escort ya out!”
\nMy heart sinks and I leave as he asked.
\nI walk aimlessly for some time, searching for more hotels.
\n“Hey, Hoss!” a voice shouts behind me. I pause, the name sounding vaguely familiar.
\nTurning, I see the man who yelled across the street. I stare at him. Something about him is familiar, but I can’t place it. Hope rises in my chest, and I am about to shove through the crowded street to ask the man if he recognizes me, when…
\n“I’m here,” another voice calls. I look to it, and see a big man with a tall white hat. He too looks like someone I possibly remember.
\nThe tall man makes his way across the street, and I watch, people whirling around me. I don’t notice them. All I can think is, I know them, I know them, I know them…<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Chapter 2<\/strong><\/div>\n
\n

I take a step forward, and open my mouth to call out; however, no such action takes place.<\/p>\n

The deep breath I just drew in, it is knocked out of my lungs. Something barrels into me, and I fall heavily to the ground. I moan, my head protesting at the sudden jarring, and I just lie there for several moments, trying to gather my thoughts- which have scattered every direction.<\/p>\n

“Are ya okay, mister?” a frightened voice asks.<\/p>\n

I realize I have my eyes shut, and I open one slowly, wincing. “What happened?”<\/p>\n

“I ran in ta ya, mister,” the little boy leaning over me says, “Are ya okay?”<\/p>\n

His bright blue eyes stare down at me in concern, and I lift a hand to gently push him away. “Sure, kid.”<\/p>\n

He helps me sit up, and then drags me to my feet. I look across the street to where the familiar strangers stood, but they are gone. I sigh and make a face, rubbing the back of my throbbing head.<\/p>\n

“I’m real sorry,” the kid says, shuffling his feet.<\/p>\n

“Yeah, kid, I know,” I say irritably; however, the look on his face makes me retract the statement. “Don’t worry about it. I’m okay.”<\/p>\n

He looks up at me, and squints. “Say, ya look familiar.”<\/p>\n

“I do?” My heart lifts. “Who do I look like?”<\/p>\n

“I ain’t sure exactly,” the boy says, thinking hard. “What’s your name, mister?”<\/p>\n

I frown. “I don’t know. I hit my head and lost my memory.”<\/p>\n

The boy’s eyes light up happily. “Really, mister? Ya got that emnesia thing?”<\/p>\n

“Amnesia,” I correct him, “and yes, I do. It would really help if you could tell me where you think you know me from.”<\/p>\n

“I can’t remember really,” the boy says, “but I think you were with two fellas when I saw ya. One of them was real tall, and other was about like you.”<\/p>\n

My thoughts immediately rushed to the strangers I’d seen across the street. “Did the tall one have a white hat?”<\/p>\n

“Yeah, he did!” The boy nods enthusiastically. “You’re getting your memory back!”<\/p>\n

I smile and shake my head. “No. I just saw them across the street.”<\/p>\n

“Where?” The boy looks over his shoulder. “I don’t see them.”<\/p>\n

“They’re gone now,” I say with a sigh. “I saw them just before we ran into each other.”<\/p>\n

“Oh.” The boy looks down. “I’m sorry.”<\/p>\n

“Hey, listen,” I say, “You think you can help me?”<\/p>\n

“Sure, mister,” he says with a broad smile, “If I can.”<\/p>\n

I ask him to show me anywhere he thought he might have seen me and the two strangers, and for the rest of the afternoon, we went to every place the boy had been in the past three days. However, all I learn is that the kid’s name is Tommy, and that he is a very busy kid.<\/p>\n

By the time we give up for the day, I feel like we’ve walked twenty miles.<\/p>\n

“Sorry I couldn’t find ’em, mister,” Tommy says, disheartened. He grins sadly, “I’d be happy ta help ya again tomorrow.”<\/p>\n

I nod, feeling strangely short of breath. I assume it is because I am still recovering from being throttled and beat upside the head. “That’d be great, Tommy. I’d best be getting back to Mary’s house.”<\/p>\n

“Who’s Mary?” Tommy asks.<\/p>\n

“She’s the woman who found me out on the street. She’s letting me stay with her until I can figure everything out.”<\/p>\n

“Is she an old lady?” Tommy asks.<\/p>\n

I nod again, breathing slowly.<\/p>\n

“I know her. She took care of my ma when she was sick a while ago. Mind if I walk with ya to her house?”<\/p>\n

My heart jumps as I realize I have no idea where Mary’s house is. I’d been keeping pretty good track\u2026until I met Tommy. I try to act calm. “Sure, Tommy\u2026you know where she lives?”<\/p>\n

“‘Course I do!” Tommy says, “I know my way near anyplace in town.”<\/p>\n

“Good,” I say, trying to suppress the sigh that threatens to expose my relaxed panic.<\/p>\n

Never in my whole life, that I remember, have I been so happy to meet someone like Tommy.<\/p>\n

Chapter 3<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Mary must have been watching out her window, for she opens the door before we even come on the porch.<\/p>\n

To my utter surprise, she embraces me warmly, then steps back and smiles up at me. “I was getting worried, young man! It is almost dark, and I was afraid you’d lost your way.”<\/p>\n

“I didn’t,” I say with a smile, my face burning with embarrassment at her motherly attention, “thanks to Tommy here. He says he knows you.”<\/p>\n

“Tommy?” Mary peers around me at the kid and laughs. “Why, it is you, Tommy! However did you find my young man?”<\/p>\n

“I ran in ta him,” Tommy tells her honestly. “And then he told me he has emnesia, and I said I’d help him.”<\/p>\n

“You dear boy,” Mary says, “come in for a while and tell me about it all. Did you discover anything?”<\/p>\n

She leads us into the kitchen and gestures us to sit down at the table while she puts out cookies, coffee and milk for Tommy. We relate to her the tale of our afternoon, Tommy doing much of the narration.<\/p>\n

“We were looking for two men. A tall one and a shorter one. The tall one has a white hat,” Tommy explains between mouthfuls of cookie.<\/p>\n

“Why them?” Mary asks.<\/p>\n

I take the question before Tommy can get to it. “I recognized them, I think. I saw them across the street and was about to go talk to them when we had a little accident.” I glance meaningfully at Tommy, who ducks his head and grins apologetically. “When I was able to think of them again, they were gone. Tommy told me he thought he recognized me being with the two men I described a few days ago. And so we spent the day looking everywhere Tommy may have seen us.”<\/p>\n

“Well, it is very good you’ve got a lead,” Mary says, sipping at her coffee.<\/p>\n

I nod. “I hope it works. It isn’t much to go on in a town as big as this.”<\/p>\n

“I suppose not,” Mary agrees. “But it is very likely you’ll regain your memory soon and you won’t have to search anymore.”<\/p>\n

“Yes.” I sigh. “I just wish I could remember something about myself. Even just my first name would be comforting.”<\/p>\n

“I think you look like a John,” Tommy says helpfully.<\/p>\n

“That’s an excellent idea, Tommy!” Mary says, “We shall give him a name to go by until we find out who he really is. Do you like the name John, young man?”<\/p>\n

“It’s a fine name,” I say with a smile.<\/p>\n

Tommy made a face. “Do I have ta call ya mister John?”<\/p>\n

“No.” I reach over the table and tousle his hair. “Just call me John.”<\/p>\n

\n

Mary sends Tommy on his way with several extra cookies for his family, and instructions to come again in the morning to take me around town again. Even though I feel foolish for needing a keeper-especially a young one like Tommy- I understand the reason, and don’t argue. Besides, I would do anything if it made Mary happy.<\/p>\n

“You must be tired, John,” Mary says after Tommy is gone a few minutes.<\/p>\n

“A little,” I lie.<\/p>\n

Mary smiles knowingly. “Never mind. I got you a few things while you were gone.”<\/p>\n

Before I can say a word, Mary hurries from the kitchen and comes back with a stack of thick, brown papered packages. She tells me to open the first one, and I find a new shirt and trousers.<\/p>\n

“Oh, Mary,” I say, looking up at her, “you really shouldn’t have!”<\/p>\n

Mary is smiling. “It isn’t charity, John, it is a gift. We’re friends, aren’t we?”<\/p>\n

“Yes, but-” I begin to protest, but Mary shakes her head sharply.<\/p>\n

“Not another word, John! Take these to your room and sort through them. I’ll be up awhile if you want to come out and talk, but I believe you are exhausted. Go to bed and rest up for tomorrow.”<\/p>\n

I am surprised to feel the back of my eyes burning as I carry my “gifts” to the guest room, and close the door quietly behind me. I unwrap the other packages and find a coat, a hat, a night shirt, and other necessities. I put them away into the empty dresser and sit on the foot of the bed, thinking.<\/p>\n

“Dear God,” I pray under my breath, “thank You for letting Mary find me. She’s the most wonderful woman. Please let me find a way to repay her. Amen.”<\/p>\n

If I ever discover who I am, I hope it is someone worth all of Mary’s care.<\/p>\n

\n

Even though changing into my new nightshirt and getting into a freshly made bed sounds beautiful, I decide to go out and sit with Mary a while longer. It is the least I can do.<\/p>\n

I find her knitting by the fireplace in the parlor, and she looks up when I come in.<\/p>\n

“I was sure you’d go straight to bed,” she says, her eyes returning to her work.<\/p>\n

I shrug, even though she doesn’t see me. “I’m not tired.”<\/p>\n

“Liar,” she says.<\/p>\n

“I wanted to thank you again,” I say, sitting down across from her, “for everything. You didn’t have to take me in, or feed me, or get me anything. I’m a total stranger! Why are you doing it?”<\/p>\n

Mary stops knitting, but doesn’t look up. “I wasn’t going to. I thought, when I first found you, that I’d take care of you until you were well enough to move around. Then, when you came to and had amnesia, I knew I couldn’t just turn you away. And then,” she looks up, and I see tears glistening in her eyes, “you were so kind to me. You are a very special young man, John.”<\/p>\n

“Thank you, Mary,” I say, smiling at her gently. “I’m very blessed to have met a friend like you.”<\/p>\n

\n

Tommy arrives promptly before breakfast and gratefully accepts Mary’s invitation to share in the meal.<\/p>\n

“What are your plans for today,” Mary asks as we sit down at the table.<\/p>\n

“The same as yesterday,” I admit.<\/p>\n

“I had an idea,” Tommy says enthusiastically.<\/p>\n

“Well, what is it?” Mary asks when Tommy pauses.<\/p>\n

Tommy smiles. “I saw a kid selling papers on the corner this morning, and I was thinking, what if ya put an ad in the paper!”<\/p>\n

Both Mary and I are speechless. It is a brilliant idea; however, Tommy takes our astonished silence as a rebuke and sighs.<\/p>\n

“It’s a dumb idea, huh?”<\/p>\n

“Oh, no, Tommy,” Mary says quickly, “it is a most wonderful idea! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself. If John’s friends are still in town, they may be looking for him. We can put a description of John in the paper, and then they will read it, and come to fetch him!”<\/p>\n

“Good job, kid,” I say.<\/p>\n

Tommy looks incredibly proud of himself.<\/p>\n

After breakfast, Mary gets out her paper tablet and pencil and sits down. She stares at me a moment and begins to write my description.<\/p>\n

Chapter 4<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

The first thing Tommy and I do is take my description to the offices of the local papers. At Mary’s insistence, we take a carriage, which thrills Tommy. He admits to me that he’s never been in one before.<\/p>\n

“I don’t suppose you’d remember ever riding in one, huh?” Tommy asks.<\/p>\n

I smile. “No, but it certainly feels familiar. I’m sure I have.”<\/p>\n

“Emnesia is funny,” Tommy observes, “Ya seem like ya know an awful lot, and then ya don’t know anything at all.”<\/p>\n

“I don’t feel like I know an awful lot,” I sigh, but I see Tommy’s point. It is strange that I only forgot my personal history.<\/p>\n

“What if you’re name really is John!” Tommy chatters, “Wouldn’t that be funny?”<\/p>\n

“Sure would,” I agree.<\/p>\n

“I don’t wanna sound mean or nothing, but you know what?”<\/p>\n

“No, what?”<\/p>\n

“I’m kinda glad ya got emnesia, just cause otherwise I wouldn’t have met ya.” Tommy pauses and looks up at me. “I know it sounds real mean, but I haven’t ever met a fella like you.”<\/p>\n

“You know, Tommy, I’m glad I met you and Mary. You’re the best kid I ever remember meeting.”<\/p>\n

“I’m the only kid ya ever remember meeting,” Tommy retorts, but he is beaming joyously.<\/p>\n

A smile that warms my disheartened spirit. I nudge him with my elbow. “You’re a good kid, Tommy. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”<\/p>\n

\n

When Tommy and I finish our first task of the day, we return to our yesterday’s endeavor. We again go to all of the places Tommy thinks he saw me and my companions; however, our results are as much the same.<\/p>\n

Having a packed lunch from Mary, we decide to sit down in a quiet alleyway to eat. We talk and watch the people walking by, clinging to the hope that they might be my familiar strangers. We stop talking when a pair of men stop at the head of the alley, leaning against the building and conversing in low tones with their backs to us.<\/p>\n

I realize quickly that they do not know Tommy and I are there because their voices begin to lift as their topic of choice becomes more heated.<\/p>\n

“…the only way we are going to get that money is if we get rid of those Cartwrights,” the burlier of the two men snarls at his companion.<\/p>\n

A sharp pain pierces my head, and I wince. The name. It sounds familiar. Cartwright. Cartwright…<\/p>\n

“I say we take ’em out,” the other says. “Kill ’em, one at a time.”<\/p>\n

Tommy and I exchange glances. His eyes are wide with fear, mirroring my thoughts exactly. We are overhearing a murder plot, after all.<\/p>\n

“It’s too risky.”<\/p>\n

“Not now. They’ve been splitting up, combing the town looking for…”<\/p>\n

“Shhh!”<\/p>\n

My skin crawls when two sets of eyes fall on Tommy and I.<\/p>\n

“How much did you hear?” the bigger man asks.<\/p>\n

Tommy speaks before I have the chance to even think a thought. “Huh? What’d ya say?” he says with such convincing innocence that I wonder if perhaps he hadn’t been listening after all.<\/p>\n

“Nothing,” the guy grunts, and the two of them walk away.<\/p>\n

“I can’t believe that worked,” I whisper, my heart galloping.<\/p>\n

Tommy shrugs. “Ya never know with guys like that. They must be real dumb if they’re gonna go after the Cartwrights.”<\/p>\n

Another sharp pain assaults my head, and this time I press my hands against my temples.<\/p>\n

“Are ya alright?” Tommy asks, concerned.<\/p>\n

I grimace. “I don’t know. I think I recognize that name. Cartwright.”<\/p>\n

“Ya do?” Tommy leaps to his feet. “I haven’t ever seen the Cartwrights, but I’ve sure heard a lot about ’em. They’d be real easy ta find if they’re in town.”<\/p>\n

“It’s worth a try,” I say, “And besides, even if they don’t know me whatsoever, we still need to warn them about our two friends. Fast.”<\/p>\n

Tommy nods. “We sure do! Let’s go!”<\/p>\n

Chapter 5<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

“Do you know what their names are?” I ask.<\/p>\n

We are sitting in a carriage again, going to the hotel where the Cartwrights are rumored to be staying.<\/p>\n

Tommy thinks a moment. “Not really. All I’ve ever heard them called is Ben Cartwright and his sons, or the Cartwrights.”<\/p>\n

I wince. I know something, I just can’t remember. I clench my teeth in frustration, staring hard out the window. It’s like having a word on the tip of your tongue that you can’t seem to recall.<\/p>\n

“I’m sorry,” Tommy says.<\/p>\n

I turn and look at him, forcing myself to smile. “Why?”<\/p>\n

“That I can’t remember their names. Do you think you’re a Cartwright?”<\/p>\n

“I don’t know,” I admit, “Maybe. The thugs said something about them ‘combing the town’ for someone. That could be me.”<\/p>\n

“Do ya think that if ya are a Cartwright, you’ll remember when ya see ’em?”<\/p>\n

I shrug. “I hope so.” I pause before asking. “Who are the Cartwrights anyway?”<\/p>\n

“They own a huge ranch in Nevada territory,” Tommy says, “it’s called the Ponderosa.”<\/p>\n

My head throbs. “Do you know anything else about them?”<\/p>\n

“Well, I only really know what I heard my pa say. He worked on the Ponderosa a long time ago, when I was too young to remember.”<\/p>\n

“Then he’s probably met the Cartwrights!” I say, “He could identify me!”<\/p>\n

Tommy shakes his head sadly. “Pa died a couple years ago. Me, my ma, and little sister live with my grandfather now.”<\/p>\n

I frown, feeling hardhearted, even though I couldn’t have known his father was dead. Finally, I say the only thing I could think of. “I’m sorry.”<\/p>\n

“That’s alright.” Tommy says. He smiles at me, and we make the rest of the trip in silence.<\/p>\n

\n

We arrive at the hotel about twenty minutes later, and go into the lobby. It’s a nice place with high ceilings, and carpeted floors. Tommy walks just behind me, staring around with wide eyes.<\/p>\n

“It’s so big!” I hear him breathe.<\/p>\n

We go to the front desk, and I pick up the small, silver bell and ring it. A narrow faced young man with wire glasses perched on the bridge of his nose comes out from the back office. He smiles. “May I help you, sir?”<\/p>\n

“Yes,” I say, “we’re looking for the Cartwrights.”<\/p>\n

The man’s smile flickers, but he keeps it. “I’m sorry, but they went out early this morning.”<\/p>\n

“Do you know when they’ll be back?” I ask.<\/p>\n

“No, but probably late. Would you like to leave a message for them?”<\/p>\n

I shake my head. “No, thank you. Did they happen to say where they were going?”<\/p>\n

“They didn’t, and it isn’t my place to tell you. Are you a friend of the Cartwrights?”<\/p>\n

I just stare at him for several long moments, trying to keep my temper. I don’t know what to say.<\/p>\n

“He’s the fella the Cartwrights have been looking for,” Tommy says helpfully.<\/p>\n

The clerk gapes. “You mean you’re-?”<\/p>\n

A gunshot pierces the air, cutting off his sentence. The clerk dives to the ground behind the desk. I take his cue and duck down, dragging Tommy down with me.<\/p>\n

“What’s going on?” Tommy whispers.<\/p>\n

I edge myself around in front of him, making myself a shield. “I don’t know, but stay behind me.”<\/p>\n

A man runs into the hotel, his gun drawn. I recognize him immediately as one of the familiar strangers I saw yesterday. He closes the door behind him, peeks carefully through the lace curtains covering the window, and then opens the door a crack and aims his gun through it.<\/p>\n

I catch a movement out the corner of my eye. I turn my head slightly and see the bigger thug tucked behind one of the decorative pillars that stretches to the ceiling. A gun is gripped in his hand. I look back at the man at the door, panic surging through me.<\/p>\n

My head pounds and my vision blurs. Memories rush to me in torrents. I stand up, my voice calling before I can instruct it. “Joe, behind you!”<\/p>\n

Joe whirls around, his gaze flickering at me only briefly before noticing the man behind the pillar. Two gunshots sound, but I don’t know what happens because suddenly everything goes dark.<\/p>\n

\n

Something is shoving at my shoulder. I can hear voices, but I can’t tell what they are saying. My head feels thick and cloudy, and I shake it, trying to clear my thoughts. The voices are becoming more distinct, and I open my eyes. The first face I see is Tommy’s, flushed and wet like he’s been crying. He smiles at me shakily.<\/p>\n

“I thought ya was dead,” he says, sniffing. He hugs me tightly, and I return the gesture.<\/p>\n

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” I say, “I don’t know what happened, I just blacked out.”<\/p>\n

“The doctor says you’re alright,” I hear Joe say. I turn to look at him, and see him smiling, his arms crossed over his chest. “From what Tommy says, you have amnesia?”<\/p>\n

“Had,” I correct him. “When I saw that man about to shoot you, I guess I was cured.” Remembering, I look at the pillar. “What happened anyway?”<\/p>\n

“Well, we both took a shot at each other,” Joe says, “and he missed-luckily. It was by mere inches though.”<\/p>\n

“I thought ya was shot when you fell,” Tommy says, sitting on the edge of the settee I’m reclining on.<\/p>\n

“Me too,” Joe puts in, “but when we investigated further, you didn’t have a scratch on you.” Joe makes a face. “Where have you been the last four days?”<\/p>\n

I look at Tommy and smile. “Tommy and I’ll be happy to tell you the whole story.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Chapter 6<\/strong>
\nI knock on the door, and then take a step back, rehearsing the word’s I’d decided to say. Mary opens the door immediately, and I present to her the bouquet of flowers I (or rather, Joe) bought for her. She stares at them in surprise, but takes them. “What on-“<\/div>\n

“Allow me to introduce myself,” I say chivalrously, unable to prevent a smile creeping over my face, “The name is Canaday, but my friends call me Candy.”<\/p>\n

Mary blinks, as though she doesn’t understand. “You remember?”<\/p>\n

“Everything,” I laugh. “Tommy and I found my companions. I don’t know the science of it, but when I saw my friend Joe, it all rushed back to me.”<\/p>\n

“Oh, Joh- I mean, Candy, that’s wonderful!” Mary gushes, smiling now.<\/p>\n

“You can call me John,” I say seriously, and then grin. “I’ve become rather attached to it.”<\/p>\n

Mary embraces me. “I’m so happy for you, John.” She pulls back. “But I must meet your friends. Won’t you bring them?”<\/p>\n

“I would,” I say slowly, “but I’d rather bring you to them. Would you accompany me to supper?”<\/p>\n

Mary smiles, her eyes glistening with tears, and nods. “I’d love to.”<\/p>\n

\n

It’d been three weeks since Candy had been there. Mary thought it was strange that she could miss someone so much that she had only known for four days. She’d kept his bouquet until yesterday, when she finally decided the browning petals started to smell queerly. But she’d pressed the prettiest flower, and she sat in her rocking chair now, fingering the dried beauty thoughtfully.<\/p>\n

“He reminded me a lot of you, Andrew,” she said, smiling at the small, faded portrait on the fireplace mantel. “I wonder if he is what our son would have been like, if we ever should have had one, that is.”<\/p>\n

She laughed. “I was so worried about him that first day he went out. I felt like a mother hen…or a mother, perhaps? Even though it was nerve wracking, I liked it, Andrew, having someone young to care for.”<\/p>\n

A soft knock sounded on the door. Mary startled, and shook her head at herself as she got up to answer it. She peeked through the window to see who it was, and, seeing it was Tommy, opened the door. Since Candy left, she’d hired him to see to her mail every Wednesday, which was today.<\/p>\n

“Good afternoon, Tommy,” she said, motioning him inside, “You’ve fetched the mail?”<\/p>\n

“Yes, ma’am,” Tommy said, presenting two envelopes.<\/p>\n

Mary reached in her apron pocket and pulled out the waiting nickle. “Here you are, Tommy, thank you.”<\/p>\n

“Thank you,” Tommy said, smiling at the shiny coin.<\/p>\n

“I don’t suppose you’d like to stay awhile for some milk and cookies?” Mary asked knowingly.<\/p>\n

“Oh, yes, please!” Tommy said eagerly.<\/p>\n

Mary laughed. “Good. Let’s go into the kitchen then.”<\/p>\n

As they walked, Mary looked down at her letters. One of them was a bill, but the other made her heart jump. It was addressed to simply “Mary”, and the return address said “John Canaday”.<\/p>\n

END<\/p>\n

\u00a0End Notes:<\/em><\/p>\n

\n
\n

So, were you surprised? This is my first attempt at a mysteryish story, so let me know what you think! \ud83d\ude42<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Disclaimer:<\/span>\u00a0All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.<\/div>\n
\\<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

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Summary: \u00a0A young man is stricken with Amnesia. \u00a0<\/p>\n

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