Who am I? Where am I? What’s happened here? These were questions going through the lovely, red-haired beauty stretched out on the sandy, dirt trail.

With bright sunlight in her eyes, she tried to focus on her surroundings. She had to get up, but everything in sight was fuzzy. She felt her head and discovered a bloody gash on the back of her skull. Crawling to an overturned covered wagon, she managed to stand. On the ground lay two corpses. Who were those people?

Lightning flashed and loud thunder meant a storm was brewing. Oh, Lord, please protect me. She had to find someplace to ride out the bad weather. A trail often led somewhere, so she stumbled along until she came upon an opening in the thick forest. There in front of her, stood a quaint log cabin. Thank you, Lord, for leading me to my safe haven.

***

After riding with the sheriff’s posse for two weeks, Jack Mills was looking forward to his big cozy four-poster bed. He rode into his barn, fed, and bedded down his horse. Hurrying to the cabin door, he discovered it was locked. He banged and shoved until he woke up a beautiful, curly redhead that was as round as his washtub. Who are you? Where did you come from? Why are you in my cabin?‘

The girl responded. I don’t know. I have lost my memory.