by Debra Holt
*
“Which one do you want to hold?” Truitt asked, standing beside the child, whose eyes were bright with anticipation and who was fairly hopping from one foot to the other in her eagerness.
“It’s hard to decide. Could we hold them all?”
“We’ll start off with a couple each evening. I think their mother would feel better about that.”
“Then I want to hold the one with the two spots on top of its head. They look like bows, sort of. Is it a girl puppy?”
“I believe it is indeed a female,” Truitt replied, reaching over the low barrier and bringing the chosen puppy up in his hands. The squirming creature was transferred into Jessie’s waiting palms and then quickly harbored safely against her chest.
Annie enjoyed the look of pure joy on Jessie’s face. It had been so long since she had seen her sister engaging in open enjoyment that it was a moment to be treasured. It was yet something else she had to thank the tall cowboy for making happen.
“She’s so soft and sweet.” Jessie cuddled the pup against her chest, her chin lovingly brushing the top of the animal’s head.
“And which one is your choice?” Truitt’s attention was on Annie as she stood with hands tucked inside the back pockets of her jeans, a couple of steps away from the pen. She moved a step closer, and her eyes fell instantly on the smallest of the six. She didn’t need to say a word.
“I guessed it might be this one,” he said and was already bending to pick it up. The puppy was definitely the runt of the litter, smaller in every respect than its siblings. “I was a bit worried for a while this one might not make it. However, she’s a real scrapper and makes up in determination what she lacks in size.”
Annie reached out her hands to receive the little creature and her fingers met Truitt’s strong ones. There was warmth and gentleness and also the recognizable spark that always seemed to be present. Annie attributed it to the dryness of the air and other things besides what it was… an unmistakable chemical reaction between herself and the man. It was yet another reminder of things that would never be possible and a reminder to keep her guard in place.
“It looks kinda like Oreo with the black and white spots all over it,” Jessie pointed out.
“Yes, it does.” A wistfulness shadowed Annie’s voice. She settled herself on an overturned grain pail and proceeded to cuddle the helpless pup underneath her chin, taking in the softness of its fur and fresh puppy smell. It began to latch on to her little finger, and she grinned. “She may be little, but she has a mighty grip.”
“When will they be big enough to run and play outside?” Jessie wanted to know.
Truitt finished his inspection of the rest of the litter and was giving their mother some attention via ear scratches as he considered the question. “Give them another week or so and then they’ll want to be adventurous.”
“This one is chewing on my finger and it tickles.” Jessie giggled.
“That means we need to let them go back to their mother so she can feed them. Babies eat a lot so they can grow quickly.” Annie smiled at the little one in her hands. Jessie placed a brief kiss on the top of her pup’s head and then handed it over to Truitt. She watched as he settled the little one back onto the straw bedding and its mom began to give it a tongue bath.
Annie stood and moved to the side of the pen. She bent over and replaced her pup next to its mom, making sure it had a good spot so that it wouldn’t be overlooked in favor of the larger ones.
“I’m going to run and tell Aunt Sal about them.” Jessie didn’t wait for a reply from anyone. Her happiness carried her forward on its own momentum. The silence of the barn closed around the two adults left behind.
“Thanks for letting Jessie come down here and enjoy the puppies. I know I’ve said it before, but you have no idea how something as simple as this means so much to her…to both of us.” Annie hoped to find the words to let the man know how much his time and kindness with Jessie meant. Even as she spoke them, they seemed woefully inadequate.
“No thanks are necessary. They’ve all been promised to area ranchers. She’s helping me by coming down here and gentling them to human touch.” He set the replenished food dish beside the freshwater container and reset the railings back in place. Sheba could come and go, but her puppies were protected.
They fell into step easily enough as they retraced their way between the stalls. A couple of horses stuck their heads over stall doors and watched their progress. One of them sent a soft whinny their way.
Annie stopped in front of the huge brown animal. A soft smile appeared on her face as she looked at the mare. Truitt reached up a hand and smoothed it along the horse’s neck. “This is Dolly. She’s Aunt Sal’s. They have a lot in common. They’re both sociable and like attention.” He added the last with an upturn of a corner of his mouth.
“I’m sure your aunt appreciates the comparison.”
“I’m sure she does.” The smile turned into a full-fledged grin. Annie felt a renewed warmth inside her. He seemed more human than ever before. “Anyway, this mare likes to have her neck rubbed if you want to oblige her. Or do horses scare you?”
“They don’t scare me,” she replied, slowly edging forward until her hand made contact with the coarse brown hair and felt the quiver beneath her fingers as they moved gently, following Truitt’s lead. “I’ve always been fascinated by them and rode occasionally when we used to go on summer vacations to the mountains.” She stopped abruptly when she realized that she had spoken of her past. A slip like that must not be repeated. “I suppose lots of young girls wish they could have their own horse at some point.”
“That brings up something that I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”
“And that is?” Annie waited, trying not to hold her breath. It was hard enough to keep an even breath rate around him. But what sort of question could he have?
“Jessie would like to ride. We have some gentle broke horses that would be good mounts for her. I would teach her myself, and she wouldn’t go out alone on the animal…only with me. Before I mention it to her, I wanted to get your permission.”
Annie knew he watched her closely, and again, she felt he could see more than she needed him to see. “We aren’t going to be here all that much longer,” she began. “Jessie would just get started and then it would make it all the more difficult for her to leave.”
“Is that your only objection? Or would you prefer she keep her distance from me? If it’s my looks that still unnerve you…”
Annie swung away from the horse and turned her full gaze on the man facing her, inches away, waiting for her to validate his words.
He had opened the door to the discussion and Annie wasn’t about to back down.
“That first night in the storm, after you found us, you called yourself a monster. Why?”
A half shrug preceded his reply. “Because that’s how most people react the first time they see me…as something repulsive and to turn away from.”
“I don’t think that’s the case with most people, and it certainly wasn’t with me. The storm was the only thing frightening me that night—that and the situation we had found ourselves in unexpectedly. I can’t help but think that you put up that defense as your own brick wall to keep others out.”
“No, you didn’t shrink away…not then. But you do keep your distance. There’s a wariness I’ve felt before…when I’ve ventured too close perhaps.”
So he was aware of the charged atmosphere in those times when she had pulled back from him. Except he interpreted her reticence and awareness of him as something different…some perceived repulsiveness. On one hand, that should make her feel relieved that he had no idea how his closeness affected her in a totally different way. Yet, she didn’t want him to have the wrong impression that it had anything to do with something as superficial as a scar.
“Do you mind me asking what happened?”
At first, she thought he wasn’t going to respond. “You can ask. It
was an accident. A tree hit me. End of story.”
Annie knew that might be the end of an abbreviated story, but she would wager there was a lot more that came before that end. It was clear he wasn’t willing to share more details.
“You know, if it bothers you that much, plastic surgery does…”
“Only so much,” he finished for her. “I’m done with talk of surgery.”
“Sorry. I guess you’ve looked into that.”
“Maybe I don’t want surgery. Perhaps I want to remember. Perhaps it’s a penance.”
She should back away from the conversation, but she couldn’t. The flash in those blue eyes told her as much.
“A penance? Why would you believe that?”
“My fiancée died because of my decision. She didn’t want to go to town with the family. I insisted. If I had listened to her, then she wouldn’t have been with us when the car went into the flooded river after the bridge had collapsed and a truck hit our car. And if I had been fast enough and strong enough when I grabbed for my little brother’s hand to pull him out of the car, maybe I could have reached her as well. Instead I failed her. And then lost my little brother when the tree hit me. My decisions and my actions cost other people. Having a scar on my face is the least I can carry.”
Annie saw things a lot more clearly as he had spoken in eerily calm tones.
“Scars can be both on the outside and the inside. You’ve taken responsibility for something that was in no way your fault. Everyone makes choices each day. We never really know if half of them are right or wrong. You just hope that they are. But to judge your actions and then to have decided that you deserved your scars and more, that’s just not right. I don’t think your family, or your fiancée would believe any different. They’d be grateful you survived and wouldn’t want you carrying any burden for something that was so blatantly a combination of an act of nature and a freak accident. You can’t use scars to hide from those facts.”
“People have many reasons for hiding things. Scars on the inside and the outside? What about yours? I would venture to say you have a fair share on the inside. Would I be wrong?”
His words shocked her. Dangerous ground was ahead. “We aren’t talking about me.”
“We never do. You’re very adept at sidestepping anything personal. I wonder why that is, Annie Sims?”
“I’ve always been a private person. That isn’t a crime.”
He moved to within inches of her, so close she had to raise her chin to try to maintain contact with the dark sapphire gaze that was intent on her. She couldn’t allow him to know he was too close to her secret.
“What are you running from? Or is it who? Is it a man? Did he hurt you? You have to know that you’re safe here. I won’t allow anyone to harm you or Jessie.”
Annie found a knot had formed in her throat and a pounding began in her ears. “I’m not running from anyone who hurt me.” That was a version of the truth. The sudden vision of Truitt Tremayne shielding her from all harm was almost too much to bear. What would it feel like to allow this man to shoulder her fears? What would it feel like to be wrapped in the protection of his strong arms? Such fanciful thoughts would only lead to trouble.
“You aren’t being truthful.” His statement wasn’t accusatory. It was simply a factual observation. “Just like you sidestepped the moment in your bedroom the other evening when you wanted to kiss me, but you feigned the need for sleep. Perhaps my face is just a bit much no matter what you might say otherwise.”
Annie might not be truthful with him on things to do with her and Jessie’s situation, but she wasn’t going to allow him to use real or imagined scars against her. Before she could think better of it, her hand raised, and her fingers reached out… Their tips touched the puckered flesh just beneath the hairline at his forehead.
The movement was so quick and unexpected, that Truitt didn’t have time to move. But he didn’t flinch from the touch, nor did he move to stop her. He watched, totally still, not moving to stop her exploration.
With featherlight softness, her fingers trailed along the flesh, down the length until it ended between his ear and the cheekbone. Her other hand reached up and curled under the length of hair at his neck. Standing on tiptoe, she brought his head downward as she reached upward, her lips making contact with the slight ridge of scarred flesh. Time ceased for a few heavy moments during the brief interlude. Slowly, Annie resumed her flat-footed contact with the barn floor, releasing her hand from his neck and drawing her lips away from his flesh.
“The real scar is the one inside you. Only you can touch that one.” She turned and left him standing alone in the growing darkness.
Chapter Six
Annie’s strength grew daily, and there was lightness in her step over the last two days of working with Aunt Sal at The Gallery. It was amazing the ease with which she and the woman shared almost the same ideas at the same time. Their thoughts were in sync, and that made the workday run even smoother. Annie was recovering the energy in doing the work she enjoyed before life sent her into a spiral the last few months. Without realizing, the tight constraints of the fears that had sent her and Jessie fleeing from their previous lives had eased their tentacles…if only for a little while. She could take a breath and release it…instead of holding it in fear.
The time flew by and Annie really appreciated that fact. It helped to keep thoughts of her last conversation with Truitt at bay, along with her totally out of character kiss she planted on his scar. She couldn’t believe she had acted on such impulse. He seemed to make a point to stay out of her path the last couple of days since that evening and she guessed she couldn’t blame him. She had overstepped her bounds. However, she wouldn’t apologize for it.
Truitt was a man with a tremendous hurt inside, and she wanted to reach out to him and soothe the pain. Except she was afraid she had just made things more awkward between them. She had no idea what else to say to him. And he had said some things to her, as well. He knew she was hiding something. And she couldn’t imagine he would let it be. His avoidance of her did make things easier…or that’s what she tried to make herself believe.
“May I run next door and get some chocolate milk? I finished stacking the supplies in the stockroom and I’m thirsty. I’ll be right back,” Jessie added, with a smile, as she stuck her head around the corner of the second gallery area.
“As long as you go straight there and come right back.” The small drugstore was next door; Jessie had gone there the previous day without issue, so Annie felt comfortable allowing her to go get the treat. Besides, she had worked without complaint and proved to be a big help in the unpacking of supplies and arranging of the supply closet.
More pottery arrived that morning from Norman Galleona, another local artisan, and Annie was carefully unpacking and placing the items on the pedestals in his display area. The chimes sounded above the outside doorway. She didn’t respond as she knew Sal was in the front showroom.
The sound of two sets of footsteps, one heavy and one light, broke into her concentration a few minutes later. Looking up from the open crate, she was instantly glad she had no pottery in her hands at that moment. Sal stood there and alongside her was a tall, uniformed police officer. Annie’s heart instantly plummeted to her feet.
“Annie, dear, I want to introduce you to our sheriff, Gray Dalton. He’s also a dear friend of our family. He grew up here and he and Truitt served in the Army together, as well. Gray, this is my new temporary right hand, Annie Sims.”
The man removed the hat from his head and extended his hand toward her along with a wide smile. “Welcome to our town. Aunt Sal speaks very highly of you. So does Truitt.”
Was there a slight inflection on his last words? Did she imagine it? Was she just being hyper-sensitive? Annie worked so hard to keep both her and Jessie off anyone’s radar, especially law enforcement, and now she was being welcomed in person by the sheriff himself.
Annie smiled and shook his hand briefly. “Than
k you. My sister and I were very lucky to have been rescued by such good people.”
“If there is anything that I or any of my officers can do to make your stay better, please don’t hesitate to call.” He produced a small white card and handed it to her.
“Thank you,” she replied. “I’ll certainly let you know.”
A couple more pleasantries and he wished both women a good day. Annie finally breathed a sigh of relief only after the door closed behind him. She slipped the card into the pocket of her denim skirt.
“Gray is a wonderful young man. He’s also one of our most eligible bachelors in town. If you stayed around, I’m certain you could count on a dinner invitation from him.”
Annie shook her head. “Is your talent painting or matchmaking? And haven’t I heard that he might have his eye on your niece?”
Aunt Sal laughed at the question. “Oh, my dear. I just like to see the people I care about happy. And while we hope that Tori and Gray might make a match of it, one never knows when the heart is involved. You two would make a lovely couple should their romance not be in the cards.”
“Who would make a lovely couple?”
Both women swung startled glances in the direction of the doorway leading to the back-entrance hall. Truitt stood in the doorway, a cardboard box in his hands. Annie found her attention falling on a speck of dust on the top of the black granite counter next to her.
“Good Heavens, Truitt! You startled me. Make some noise next time. I was just telling Annie what a lovely and eligible young man our Sheriff Dalton is. Gray stopped by earlier and welcomed Annie to town.”
“I see. I brought the bulbs you left on the hall table at the house.” The box went onto the shelf next to him, and he turned to leave, a decided scowl on his face.
“What’s the rush?”
Truitt didn’t pause but kept walking. “I do have some ranch business to handle once in a while.” He tossed the gruff reply over his shoulder without missing a step. The door closed none too gently behind him.