by Debra Holt
Still, there was something about the child that tugged at something inside his chest. Of course, she was probably scared of him. He couldn’t blame her for that. He’d become immune to the way people reacted to him when they saw him for the first time—a quick glance before a hasty shifting of the eyes somewhere else. The scar marked him for life. It was a dark talisman he carried…a visible reminder of the night his whole world had been yanked from him and his future forever changed. He had survived but others in his family hadn’t. He had yet to find an answer to the question why.
“Do you like dogs? You aren’t afraid of them, are you?”
Jessie shook her head. She stopped a couple of feet from him, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her light denim jacket. “I like dogs. We had one. Her name was Oreo. She was my sister’s dog really. Annie loved her whole bunches. It broke her heart when she was gone. I know she still misses her.” Her voice tapered off as a sad memory darkened those eyes.
“It’s tough when your pet dies.” That was the best response he had in the moment.
“She didn’t die. We just couldn’t pay for all the car repairs when our car broke down in New Mexico, so the man said his wife always wanted a dog like her. Annie had to let her go. It made her really sad, but she pretended it didn’t. She said the car was needed more.”
There was that unfamiliar tug in his chest again, as he looked upon the lowered head of the child. There was something about the two sisters that gnawed at him, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Whatever it was, it wasn’t any of his business anyway. They’d be gone soon enough. Truitt cleared his throat and turned back, moving toward the end stall where the door stood open. “Let’s see how Sheba and her pups are doing. We’ll walk up slow and easy and watch them from the doorway.”
The black-and-white cow dog lay on a bed of straw, her tail thumping slightly when she saw her visitors; however, she didn’t move from the six puppies that slept next to her.
“They’re so little,” Jessie breathed in a soft whisper. “When can we pet them?”
“Not until they open their eyes and Sheba gives us her permission. Right now, they need to stay with her and get their nourishment so they can grow strong. All they know right now is to sleep and eat. Sheba’s an experienced mother and will take good care of her pups until it’s time for them to go off to their own homes.”
“They’re lucky to have their mother.”
The wealth of heartfelt emotion underlying the words brought Truitt’s gaze to rest upon the top of the child’s bent head again. He didn’t see any tears on her cheeks, yet he could almost feel them. And in that moment, he could relate to the little girl on an equal level…one survivor to another. Truitt kept his voice steady as he sought more information, afraid to delve too deep and push her further into that shell. “Do you and Annie still have your mother?”
There was a length of silence that followed his question, and he was just beginning to think that either she hadn’t heard the question or was ignoring it altogether. A slow shake of her head came first, but her eyes stayed on the family of dogs on the straw.
“She died.” The words were barely whispered. “We don’t talk about it.” Then the child whirled and ran from the stable.
Truitt followed behind her and saw she headed back to the ranch house, disappearing inside several steps ahead of him. She was at the top of the stairs by the time he reached the bottom step.
*
Annie had just taken a second sip of orange juice when the bedroom door pushed open, and a slight, flying figure came through it, fairly launching herself at the bed.
“Jessie, be careful sweetie. Your sister’s still weak.” Sal took control of the juice glass just in time. Her eyes went from the child to her nephew who paused on the threshold of the bedroom. “Whatever is the matter? Did something upset her?”
Truitt gave a silent shake of his head, shoving his hands into the back pockets of his jeans as he watched the pair on the bed.
Annie managed to put her arms around the child, whose face was buried in her shoulder, her slight shoulders heaving with muffled sobs. Annie brushed her hand over Jessie’s head and down her back, repeating the movement over and over. “It’s okay, Jessie. I’m here, and I’m going to be all better soon. What’s wrong? Didn’t you see the puppies?”
Jessie took a gulp or two and her head nodded. “Yes. They’re cute and really small.” Another soft hiccup escaped her. “I just miss Momma.”
Annie tightened her grip on her sister as Jessie’s words cut into her own heart. No matter how hard she wanted to do so, there was nothing she could do to make Jessie’s pain any less sharp. Nor could she erase the fact she had lost the stability of all she knew in her life up to that point. Annie was also aware they had an interested audience.
Her eyes met the cowboy’s over the top of Jessie’s head. His held a question, yet there were also shades of a silent understanding…as if he could empathize with the brand of pain they were feeling. Annie was surprised; she thought she might have imagined it because it was only visible for mere seconds before he dropped his gaze to the toe of his boot. “I’ve got some work to do in the office.” With that excuse, he was gone.
“My nephew is a man of few words at times. I’ll just check on something downstairs and leave you two to visit for a few minutes. Then it’ll be time for you to get some more rest, Annie.” Aunt Sal closed the door softly behind her.
Annie moved a hand to lift Jessie’s chin up so she could see her face. “What brought all this on? Was the man asking questions?”
Jessie shook her head. “No. He just said that Sheba was a good mom, and I said I missed mine. Then I ran back to find you. Did I do wrong?”
Annie hugged her sister to her side. “It’s okay. You did nothing wrong. I’m just sorry that I have to be sick right now. We should already be in San Antonio by now and in our own place.”
“Do you think they’ll find us? I’m scared they will. I don’t want to live with them. Momma said that you and I would be family. I wouldn’t have to see them ever again.”
Annie’s grip increased. “No, they won’t find us. I promised to keep you safe and I will. Okay?”
“Okay.” There were a few moments of pause before she added, “I really like it here. Aunt Sal is very nice to me.”
“Aunt Sal?”
“Aunt Sal said I could call her that. It’s okay, isn’t it? Everyone calls her that.”
“If she said it was okay, then it’s okay. And what about Truitt? Do you like him, too?”
There was only a brief second of hesitation, and then another nod came along. “I was scared of him at first. You know…because of the scar on his face and the lightning made it look worse and all. But now, I kinda don’t notice it so much. Is that weird?”
Annie stifled a smile. Such wisdom in simple words. “No, it’s not weird. It’s wise and compassionate. You’re looking past the outside and getting to know the inside of the person. I’m proud of you. You’re growing up to be a smart young lady. Momma would be proud.”
A light tap sounded on the door and a second later, Aunt Sal stuck her head inside. “Jessie, your sister needs her rest now, and it’s time for bed for you, too. I can help you run your bath. Then I’ll come get your tray, Annie, and take it downstairs.”
“I hate that you have to wait on me.”
“Just put that out of your mind. That’s what people do when they help each other. Be right back.”
Jessie gave her one more hug, and Annie let her slip off the bed and follow the woman from the room. Just that little bit of exertion left Annie feeling depleted. Why had her strength failed her now…now when they were so close to their destination? They needed to get back on the road. Tomorrow she would need to find her phone and call her friend in San Antonio. She wasn’t supposed to report to work until the following week, but she would feel better after checking in with her. Annie had dropped her phone along the way before they left California afte
r they had bought the older car. She’d bought a cheap phone at a little store along the way. She had plumbed her brain to find ways to protect Jessie and get them far away until she could find help.
She settled against her pillows just as another tap sounded. Annie was totally caught off guard when she saw the cowboy step into the room and cross to stand beside the bed. In the light of the bedroom, he seemed even taller and more imposing; his physique showed the muscles of hard work highlighted by the snug fit of worn jeans and a black T-shirt. Annie felt at a great disadvantage in her present state. Her fingers self-consciously knotted in the edge of the quilt and pulled it higher across her chest. She didn’t know why, but she sensed he was someone she needed to keep on her guard with whenever he came near. It wasn’t in a bad way, but in a way that she needed to do so given their situation.
Without his hat and rain gear, she could see his hair was a deep brown with lighter highlights placed there via a lot of time in the outdoors more than likely. The longish hair was swept to the back and fell across his forehead to partially conceal the beginnings of the scar. She wondered if he kept it that length for just that reason. The other thing that immediately struck her in the better light was the unsettling fact that he was quite intimidating in a virile, male sort of way. He was tall, well over six feet and some inches. He was muscular, and without a hint of extra weight on his body. In the clear light of day, she could see that his eyes were striking. They were a color of blue that moved from a dark sapphire to a blue found in a rain-washed sky. Perhaps a family trait, given his aunt’s eyes?
Without the scar and with his face turned a certain way, he had looks that would grab the attention of any woman and no doubt cause a spike in her pulse. His shoulders were just as broad and looked just as strong as they had felt when he picked her up to transfer her from her car to the truck. His stomach was flat, and the jeans fit snugly over his hips and long legs. He was quite something to behold in such close proximity. The leashed power of a solitary jungle cat.
That description coming to mind did nothing to slow her pulse at the moment. Annie was aware of the fact the air in the room seemed to have become charged with something she had no prior experience of before he entered. It was a mixture of the feeling of walking on eggshells and knowing you should turn back, but at the same time being drawn forward without any other recourse. Surely it was the effects of her illness?
It didn’t help matters that he was also watching her with a gaze she was suddenly afraid could see far more than she wanted him to see. Annie trained her own gaze on a point over his shoulder and kept it there. It seemed safer that way.
“I came to pick up your tray for Aunt Sal. Is there anything else you need before I go?”
His voice was low and quite soothing in a totally unexpected way. It washed over her and enveloped her in warmth that was both comforting and protective. The meds must be working their magic on her. That had to explain the strange meanderings of her brain in his presence.
“I’m okay. I hate being such a bother to all of you. Your aunt is being really wonderful, and I want to thank you both for taking my sister and me in like you have. I’m sure tomorrow she and I can be on our way. We don’t want to impose any longer than we already have.”
Truitt didn’t reply right away. Instead, he reached for the tray and turned toward the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and sent her an unreadable look over his shoulder. “Neither of you are impositions. We’ll discuss your leaving when the doctor says it’s possible. Until then, you need to rest and let your body and mind find their strength again. I’d wager that’s something you haven’t done a lot of before now. Jessie is just fine; she is safe, and my aunt is in her element watching over the both of you. Let go of whatever you’ve got a hold on so tightly, Annie Sims. You’re safe here. We Tremaynes take care of everything and everyone on our land. That includes you and Jessie for as long as you need.”
Chapter Three
Let go, Annie Sims. Those words echoed in her mind more than once over the next three days. In fact, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she found herself doing a great deal of that. She hadn’t managed to relax 100 percent, and she doubted that day would ever come again, but she was more relaxed than she had been in the last month of being on the road.
It was the cowboy’s other words that followed those which kept playing through her brain the most. We take care of everyone and everything on our land. To be taken care of… That had been an elusive thought for a long time. It wasn’t that she was one of those women who needed a man to define her. But she was an almost thirty-year-old woman who yearned to have that special lifetime companion…confidante, friend, lover, husband…and those words conjured thoughts she had not entertained in a very long time. For years, she had been strong, depending on no one but herself. Needing someone else—that was a luxury that could only bring trouble.
Yet, she couldn’t help but wonder now and then what it would be like to have someone like Truitt Tremayne be the person she could depend on to share the load of daily life. Forget it. That was a useless daydream that could never come to reality. She carried too many secrets and problems in her baggage. No man wanted to have to wade through it all. And most of all, she had to think of what was best for Jessie, not just herself any longer. There was no room for anyone or anything else in their lives.
A routine had developed. After breakfast, which was still served in her room by Aunt Sal with a dutiful Jessie’s help, she would manage to stand long enough for a quick shower and then a change of nightgowns. Her meager allotment of clothing had magically been supplemented by a couple more gowns and matching robes that were nicer than anything she would ever purchase for herself. When she asked about them, Aunt Sal quickly brushed off her questions. So, Annie just gave a grateful smile and thanks, and that always brought a beaming smile in return from her hostess.
Annie had to admit that just like Jessie, she was finding their host and hostess to be really good people. Truitt was around less often during the day, and usually only stuck his head in her door in the evening, after being out on the ranch all day. From what she gathered from conversations with Aunt Sal, the Four T Ranch was owned by the Tremayne family and had been since the early 1800s. There were three brothers and a sister who ran the operations that were divided between cattle ranching, horses, and being a nationally prominent rodeo stock producing company. The oldest brother ran the daily operations from another part of the ranch. He was a newlywed of just over a year. He and his wife, Jamie, and his son Andy, were on a promised trip to Disney.
Trey was a rodeo champion and always on the road. Tori was the lone female of the group and the impetus behind the stock company. She had her own little house on the ranch. She and Trey were on the road more than any of the rest of them.
The house they were in was actually the homestead, the main ranch. It sounded both interesting and complicated to Annie.
Evidently, Truitt was a hands-on boss. It was odd, but she found herself anticipating his brief stop each evening. Their conversation consisted of the usual inquiries about her day and how she felt. Then he would wish her a good night and leave. When he departed, she always experienced the same strange feeling of having been suspended on a live wire and holding her breath for fear of falling onto a current that could be dangerous. There was a mystery to the man. She had her own secrets, so whatever he might have of his own, she knew best to leave them alone.
Annie was particularly looking forward to the day ahead. The doctor had visited yesterday, and he gave her permission to finally venture from her bedroom on a limited basis. Aunt Sal promised to help her downstairs for a little change of scenery. It might be baby steps, but it was progress and that put her closer to being able to get her and Jessie on the road again.
Dressed in a new, long pale-yellow eyelet gown with its matching yellow-and-white robe, Annie reclined against her pillows, anxiously waiting for the woman. The light taps at her door made her
sit up.
“Come in,” she responded, a smile of anticipation on her face. It quickly faded when she saw it wasn’t Aunt Sal at her door.
Truitt’s eyes missed nothing. He spoke as he crossed the room to the side of the bed. “Sorry, it’s just me. Aunt Sal and Jessie are waiting downstairs. I said I would bring you down to them. It’s easier for me to do it than it would be for Aunt Sal.”
Without further explanation, he bent, and one strong arm slid around her back and the other under her knees. She was lifted without so much as a second of effort on his part as if she weighed nothing more than a feather. Caught off guard, Annie had just enough time to clasp her arms around his broad shoulders. He smelled of fresh soap, a bit of woodsy-scented cologne, and all male. It was more than a pleasant blend. It could be habit-forming. The first time she had been in his arms, she had been too scared to note anything else. The second time, she had been out cold. This time, she tingled with an instant awareness of him wherever his body touched hers. She hoped her cheeks didn’t give away the heated confusion that rose within her. Perhaps no one would notice, and if they did, they would assume it was all due to her illness. She hoped.
Truitt did not hesitate as he descended the stairs, his stride steady. Aunt Sal and Jessie stood at the bottom, huge smiles on their faces.
“I figured you wouldn’t mind if Truitt helped you down those stairs. If I had tried, you would have been exhausted by the time you reached the bottom,” Aunt Sal explained as they took the last step.
“Wait until you see the great place we have for you to sit,” Jessie chimed in and fairly skipped ahead of the trio toward what appeared to be the rear portion of the house. It was a large house; Annie grasped that fact as her eyes caught glimpses of rich wood paneling intermingled with cut stone walls and bright rugs across highly polished floors through open doorways as they passed. She didn’t have time for anything else before they stepped through double French doors and onto a bright, almost all-glass sun porch that ran the length of the house. It was filled with plants in bright terra-cotta pots, hanging from ironwork over the windows. Larger plants sat about the room and somewhere, a soft fountain could be heard. Long couches and comfy-looking rockers with brightly colored cushions in shades of greens and corals were scattered about the room in conversational groupings. She immediately fell in love with the room and its air of tranquility.