Sweet Annie

by Cheryl St. John

  "We're talking about a future,"

  he said

  "A future together, right?"

  He squeezed her hand. "Oh, yes."

  Dancers moved around them, and they became part of the celebration. "How long can you dance with me on your foot?" she asked.

  "Until there's a winter in the Rockies with no snow."

  With her heart full, she smiled. "Have you always been a poet?"

  He gave a half shake of his head, and his ebony hair glistened in the light of dozens of lanterns. One corner of his mouth edged up in irony. "Hardly."

  To her he was a poet. He was everything she'd ever dreamed of. When she was with him she could do anything, be anyone. He gave her courage and optimism and made her feel like any other woman of worth. This was the happiest night of her life.

  Annie Sweetwater was dancing with the man she loved...!

  ISBN 0-373-29148-5

  SWEET ANNIE

  Copyright ©2001 by Cheryl Ludwigs

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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  CLS 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Printed in U.S.A.

  Dedicated to my friend Anita Baker, who,

  though she hasn't walked since 1974,

  has run a good race, and fought a good fight.

  She has enriched the life of each person who knows her. I look forward to dancing together on streets of gold.

  Prologue

  Copper Creek, Colorado

  1878

  The expansive spring sky was that vibrant shade of purest blue that always made Annie's chest ache with an unexplainable sadness. The color stretched in all directions like a heavenly canopy dotted by only the merest whispers of fleecy white clouds. Surely, if a person stood on one of those snow-capped mountain-tops in the distance, he could reach out and touch that mysterious and elusive glory.

  Sounds of laughter and music slowly drew her at­tention back to earth, back to the grown-ups scattered on her parents' lush green lawn in chattering clusters. She observed the boisterous children who dashed about, playing games of tag and hide-and-seek.

  Several were intent on an impassioned battle of cro­quet beneath the sun-filtering leaves of the ancient as­pens. Annie watched with a familiar mixture of yearn­ing and bereavement in her ten-year-old heart.

  "Are you warm enough, darling?" Her mother's con-cerned voice wasn't enough to divert her attention from the game, but she nodded in reply.

  "Would you like some more lemonade?"

  "No, thank you. Can you push me a little closer to the players, Mama?"

  "One of those wooden balls might fly up and strike you," her mother said in her most discouraging tone. "You're safer right here."

  "I got out of my chair this morning, and I made it to my dressing table all by myself," she said, knowing the effort would displease her mother, but desperate to assure her she wasn't completely helpless. "I know I could stand under one of the trees there for a while. I could hold on to it. Please, Mama? Please let me?''

  Mildred Sweetwater tucked the plush lap robe more tightly around Annie's legs. "I'll not have you upset­ting yourself this way, child. You know you can't walk and play like other children. There are roots sticking above the ground, and you could trip and hurt your­self. No more foolish talk like that. You're safe in your chair. Hold your sweet new doll. There—isn't she the prettiest thing?" Mother glanced about and spotted Annie's brother. "Burdell, come and keep your sister company."

  The boy obediently moved to stand beside Annie's wheelchair, and Mildred glided gracefully back into the crowd.

  "You don't have to stand there, Burdy," she told him with a disgusted wave of her hand. "Go on and have fun with your friends."

  No one but Annie could have called him by that nickname without getting a fist in the teeth. At sixteen he was already taller and broader than their father, and possessed a chip the size of Colorado on his shoulder. But he never treated Annie with anything less than devotion. "I don't mind," he replied. "I know it must be hard sittin' in that chair all the time. It's something you're going to have to accept. I wish it wasn't so."

  Annie sighed, glad for his company and his loyalty, but resentful that he looked at her the same way their parents did. She glanced distractedly at the delicate Dresden doll in her lap—an addition to the ponderous collection that already ladened the window seat in her room.

  He stayed beside her until she noticed his friends glancing their way, and she shooed him off to join them. The gangly boys tramped toward the creek, and she envied them their independence.

  Sometime later, two riders approached the house. They tethered their horses near the gate and walked toward the festivities. One was Gilbert Chapman, a man she'd seen visit her parents before. The other was an unfamiliar lanky young man who looked younger than Burdeil. Annie observed with interest as Mr. Chapman introduced the boy to her parents and a small gathering, then moved on to talk with someone else.

  Left alone, the young man observed the croquet game for a few minutes, then spotted her. Hands jammed in the pockets of his trousers, he ambled his way to where she sat. Compared to her brother's com­pact sturdiness, he seemed all legs and angles and booted feet. A breeze caught his shiny black hair and lifted the locks away from his forehead. "Hey," he said.

  Annie looked up into eyes as bright and blue as the sky. "Hello. I haven't seen you before. What's your name?"

  "Luke Carpenter. I'm visiting my Uncle Gil. What's yours?"

  "Annie. This is my birthday party." "Happy birthday. Pretty doll."

  "Thanks. That your uncle's horse?"

  "No, he's mine."

  "What's his name?"

  "Wrangler. He's a Swedish Warmblood. They were bred as cavalry horses originally. Part Spanish, part oriental."

  "You sure know a lot about horses."

  "Some."

  "So, he's from Sweden?"

  He chuckled, and a long dimple creased his lean cheek. "Nah. He's from Nebraska. Wanna see 'im up close?"

  "Oh! Can I?"

  "Sure. What's wrong with you?" he asked as he pushed her chair toward the gate. "I mean, why can't you walk?"

  "I was born with a misproportioned limb," she said, knowing as she spoke them, even before he leaned forward to see her face and raised a brow, that her mother's fancy words sounded ridiculous. "A gimp leg," she clarified. Her mother would have a fit of apoplexy at the coarse term.

  "Oh," he said simply.

  “Mama and Papa have had me to all the best doc­tors in the East. There isn't an operation that can fix what's wrong. My bones aren't made right in my hip."

  "Does it hurt?"

  "No. I can walk a little, but it's clumsy and Mama says I shouldn't embarrass myself."

  Her chair came to a stop a few feet from the horse. "Can you ride?"

  She gaped up at h
im with surprise, and a hopeful­ness she hadn't dreamed sprang up so strong, her chest hurt. "I don't know. Is it dangerous?"

  "No more dangerous than most things, I guess."

  She stared up at the enormous shiny brown animal wistfully. Oh, what a birthday it would be if she could ride him! Her, lame Annie Sweetwater, on a horse. Oh, glory be! "Can I see if I can sit on him?"

  He glanced back at the party; no one was paying them any attention. “Reckon so. How will we get you up there?"

  She dumped the china doll alongside her cashmere lap blanket on the grass and struggled to her feet. Luke caught her arm to steady her.

  "How do you get up?" Standing right beside the beast was more intimidating than just imagining. But she wanted to sit in that saddle badly—so badly she shoved aside the sudden qualm and paid close atten­tion to his reply.

  "I put one foot in the stirrup here, and throw the other leg over his back. Can you do that?''

  "I don't think so." That was the leg that didn't allow her mobility.

  “Maybe if I lift you so you can get your good leg in the stirrup, then I can help you get the other one over."

  "Okay."

  He picked her up much as Burdell and her father often did, then directed her foot to the stirrup. “Grab the horn and pull."

  She got her foot secured, held on tightly, and he raised her body, indelicately pushing her bottom up­ward until she had her weight in the stirrup. Deter­mined, Annie held on with all her inexpert strength.

  Holding her weight above him was obviously a strain, but he seemed as stubborn as she, and after several awkward grunts and shoves, Annie found her­self in the saddle. Her voluminous skirts and eyelet petticoats had bunched and rumpled, but he even helped her adjust them to cover most of her pantaloons and limbs modestly.

  "Anything hurt?" he asked, panting as he squinted up, the sun casting blue highlights through his now rumpled black hair.

  "Nope." Oh, but the ground was so very far away and the view of the countryside from up here was pos­itively elating! "I'm doing it!" she squealed. "I'm on the horse!"

  "Move your foot now, so I can get on behind you."

  Surprised, she obeyed, and he swung up easily to sit behind her. "Scared?" he asked.

  "Oh, no! This is better than I ever imagined!"

  "This is nothin'," he said, reaching rawboned arms around her to pick up the reins. "The best is coming." With a flexing movement of his legs and feet that she felt through her clothing, he urged the horse forward.

  Startled, but delighted, Annie's heart raced. "Make him go faster!"

  He kicked the animal into motion, and Annie gripped the saddle horn. After the first few jolting minutes, she adjusted her weight to the gait of the horse. Her home stood on a sparsely populated tree-lined street near the corner of town, and Luke headed Wrangler away, toward the open fields of grass and rabbit brush to the south.

  The wind caressed Annie's cheeks and whipped through her hair, loosening the once faultless sausage curls and streaming the locks over her shoulders. The sky rushed forward to meet them, blue in all direc­tions, breathtaking as far as her eyes could see. A lib­erating sense of freedom and exhilaration tuned her every sense and thought and feeling into this moment.

  She'd never felt so light, so delicate and free from the chains that bound her to the earth; the restrictions of her body that tethered her to that chair were for­gotten. Annie laughed and cried a shout of pure jubi­lation. Daringly, she released her hold on the leather and spread her arms wide open.

  It was the best day of her life.

  Riding was better than her most fanciful dreams— better than ice cream, better than birthdays and Christ­mas. The horse carried them along a creek lined with nodding daisies as far as the eye could see.

  Eventually, Luke turned the horse's head, guiding him back the way they'd come, then slowed him to a walk as they got closer.

  Annie's head was full to bursting with the pleasure of her first taste of freedom. “This was the best birth­day present anyone could ever give me," she said over her shoulder. "Thank you, Luke Carpenter."

  "Happy Birthday, Annie."

  "How long are you staying with your uncle?" she asked, hopefully.

  "I'm not sure. I might be coming to work for him."

  The feel of the wind numbing her cheeks and this smile of joy would always be on her face, she was sure. Excitement filled her to bursting.

  Wrangler carried them down the dirt lane to her house, and as they neared, Annie caught site of the crowd, which had re-formed and now milled near the front gate. Her mother stood, lace handkerchief balled in a fist and pressed to her breast. At her side Annie's father wore a thunderous expression.

  Panic exploded inside Annie. Dread washed over her, erasing her joy and lighfheartedness like water thrown on a slate. Burdell broke through the crowd and pointed at Luke as they approached.

  "Oh, Annie! Oh, my God, Annie!" her mother cried, and Annie's father steadied his wife for a mo­ment, then passed her into a neighbor's hands and rushed forward.

  "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. "An­nie, are you all right?"

  "I'm fine, Papa," she said, sounding more breath­less than she liked, terrified at the anger on his face. "Luke took me for a ride."

  Her father reached up and plucked her from her seat on the horse. "My daughter has a delicate condition," he said to Luke. "Come down here, young man, and explain yourself. What have you done to her?''

  Luke had barely lowered himself to the ground when Burdell lunged forward and shoved his fist into Luke's face with a sickening crack.

  "No!" Annie screamed, and struggled in her fa­ther's arms. "Papa, don't let Burdy hurt him! Luke gave me a ride on his horse!"

  Several of Burdell's friends formed a circle around the now scuffling pair, blocking Annie's view, but the awful sounds were enough to make her stomach twist.

  "Stop! Stop them, Papa!" She grabbed her father's arm. "He's my friend! He didn't know I couldn't go riding! It's my fault! Only my fault!"

  Luke's uncle lunged into the scuffle, and a break appeared in the cluster of boys. Mr. Chapman pulled Luke away and held the boy's back against his chest, pinning him with both arms.

  Luke's midnight black hair fell in his eyes, and a bright-red trickle ran from the corner of his mouth. His flannel shirt was torn and spotted with blood. He glared at Burdell, now held firmly by one of their older cousins and sporting a swelling right eye.

  "I'm sorry about this, Eldon," Mr. Chapman said to her father, then, "Mrs. Sweetwater," glancing her way. "I'm sure my nephew didn't mean any harm."

  "You keep that boy away from here." Her father pointed indignantly. "If she's been harmed in any way, I'm holding you responsible."

  Annie wanted to turn everything back to before this had happened. She wanted to say something that would convince them that Luke had only been treating her like a friend, but the sobs that racked her body prevented her from speech. How could things have changed from the wonder and perfection of only mo­ments ago into this nightmare?

  "I'm sending for the doctor," her father said, cra­dling her protectively in his arms.

  Her mother dabbed at her cheeks with her handker­chief and fluttered over Annie helplessly. "He should look at her limb and listen to her heart."

  "I'm f-fine," Annie said on a sob. "Have the doc­tor look at h-him." She pointed to Luke, being led away by his uncle. The boy gave her a reassuring little nod and his battered mouth turned up at one corner with regret, but something more. Respect.

  He was the only person who'd ever treated her as if she were as good as he was, and he was being pun­ished for it. Tears welled and blurred her vision.

  Annie covered her eyes with her hand, so she wouldn't have to see him taken away. Her father car­ried her toward the house, toward her room, toward her bed.

  For the first time she didn't have to imagine what being a whole person was like. For the first time she knew exactly what she'd been missin
g. Luke Carpen­ter had offered her a forbidden taste of life—the kind of life she craved and yearned for and dreamed of.

  And then reality had snatched it away.

  It was the worst day of her life.

  Chapter One

  Copper Creek, Colorado

  1888

  "I know this wagon isn't as fancy as your Papa's carriage," Annie's cousin Charmaine apologized for the second time. "But we are going to have ever so much fun at Lizzy's this afternoon."

  "I'm looking forward to it," Annie said, arranging herself on the pad of blankets Charmaine had prepared in the wagon bed. "You know I don't get to do things like this when Mama and Papa are home."

  "Lucky for us, your mother agreed to accompany Uncle Eldon to Denver this time."

  "You ladies stay out of trouble." Annie's Uncle Mort lifted Annie's chair into the back of the wagon. It rolled toward her, and Annie set the brake.

  Charmaine smoothed her russet-and-cream-printed broadcloth skirts and climbed up to the driver's seat with her father's assistance.

  Annie observed her cousin as she sat and took up the reins. "Are you sure you know how to drive this thing?"

  Charmaine frowned at her. "I'm positive. I've done it plenty of times, haven't I, Daddy?"

  "She has," he assured Annie good-naturedly. Uncle Mort was her mother's brother, and neither her aunt nor her uncle were as strict or possessive as Annie's parents. The best times of her youth had been spent here on their ranch during the infrequent occasions that her parents had traveled together and entrusted her care to her aunt and uncle.

  Not that they didn't respect her parents' wishes and enforce rules, such as no riding, but where there were no specific guidelines, they allowed Annie to make her own decisions. Like today's trip into town to visit Charmaine's school friends.

  "Have fun, girls." Uncle Mort waved them off.

  Annie held on to her hat and ignored the bumps to enjoy the ride. The sun warmed her through her cloth­ing, and she inhaled air pungent with the scent of freshly turned earth in a nearby field.