ANNIE AND THE OUTLAW

by Sharon Sala

  Gone was the cynical tough who'd climbed off a Harley and into the middle of a gang of hoodlums without giving it a second thought. Gone, also, was the daredevil who'd run into a burning building and rescued a child without thought for his own life. She tried to picture this Gabe walking into the middle of a robbery with fists doubled and couldn't quite make it fit. The Gabe who dared life to take him down seemed to have disappeared, in his place was this young-hearted, easy-spoken man from another era.

  More than once, Annie found herself turning around to tell him something, only to realize he was no longer walking beside her. And when she checked to see where he had gone, invariably she would find him standing somewhere behind her, lost in thought as he stared wistfully at the old-time displays in the store windows, not even aware that Annie had gone on without him.

  The wood-carver's shop fascinated him. Deep in a discussion with a cleric over the price of a figurine, Annie heard laughter and turned to see Gabe kneeling on the floor in the wood curls and sawdust. With two small towheaded boys for an audience, he was showing them how a hand-carved wooden man could dance on the flat of his hand. Annie grinned in delight. At that moment it was difficult to tell the adult from the children.

  Soon afterward, as they walked outside in the cool autumn air, she saw Gabe stop and listen. An eager, almost boyish expression crossed his face, and before she knew it, he was dragging her down the street, through the crowds, all the while coming nearer and nearer to the sound that had caught, his attention.

  It was the village blacksmith, bare to the waist, covered with an old-fashioned leather apron, hammering a piece of iron he held fast upon an anvil.

  "Would you look at that forge!" Gabe said, and whistled softly through his teeth.

  Before she knew it, Gabe had ducked under the roped-off area, taking the blacksmith by surprise as he was about to demonstrate an old-style method of foundry work, pouring hot pig iron into a mold that had been buried in the earth.

  Within minutes Gabe had talked the blacksmith into letting him try his hand. A crowd gathered, and they, along with Annie, watched in fascination as Gabe shed his shirt, donned the leather apron to protect him, and picked up a hammer and tongs. The onlookers watched as Gabe eagerly pulled a piece of hot iron from the fire.

  Annie held her breath, unable to believe what she was seeing. Gabe hammered with skill, placing firm, steady blows on the iron, constantly bending and shaping, reheating and then hammering some more. He never seemed to tire or lose his concentration. And before her eyes, a perfect horseshoe began to take shape.

  Heat from the fire seared the tan of Gabe's skin, and sweat began to run across his forehead and down onto his belly as the blacksmith obligingly pumped the bellows to keep the fire in the forge at optimum heat. But Gabe was oblivious to everything but his task.

  The blacksmith's bushy beard parted in a pleased smile of surprise as he watched Gabe work. "That's quite a feat," the man told Annie. "It took me years to learn to do that. What's he do for a living, anyway? And don't tell me he's a stockbroker or it'll break my heart."

  Annie laughed at the blacksmith's joke and made light of the fact that, when Gabe wasn't rescuing people, she didn't know what he did with his life. Along with the onlookers, she was stunned by Gabe's obvious and unexpected abilities.

  What does Gabe do for a living? she wondered.

  To Annie, he was something between the love of her life and a guardian angel. He often seemed to be a man with a past he kept trying to outrun. She frowned as she watched him finishing his work. What she knew about Gabriel Donner could have been written on one page with space left over.

  Suddenly Gabe plunged the horseshoe into a bucket of water. The hot iron hissed as it was engulfed, sending a small cloud of steam into the air. Then he yanked the shoe out and held it up for approval while the water dripped from the tongs and ran down his elbow.

  "Good job!" the blacksmith cheered. "Mister, if you ever want to change occupations, just let me know. You could work here any day. That's the best piece of iron work I've seen in a month of Sundays."

  Gabe grinned as he relinquished the hammer and apron the blacksmith had loaned him. "It's been a while." And then he laughed aloud. "Ah, hell, who am I kidding? It was a whole other lifetime. But it was fun."

  Suddenly he remembered Annie, and a spurt of guilt surfaced. "Sorry, honey, I sort of got carried away. What do you want to do next?" he asked as he dried himself off and then dressed.

  For a moment Annie didn't answer. She was too busy fixing his expression firmly in her memory. She didn't ever want to forget how he'd looked filled with excitement and laughter.

  "I want to have our picture taken," she said, remembering a studio they'd passed earlier that had period costumes for the customers to wear while being photographed. "I want to remember this day for always."

  He grinned and hoped that his smile was steady. Because when she'd said "for always," he'd had a sudden urge to grab her and run and never stop. Maybe if they ran far enough and fast enough, they could outrun Annie's fate.

  "Okay," he said, and let her lead him back the way they'd come. "But I get to pick what you wear. I distinctly remember seeing a red satin dress in the window. The one with black feathers around the neck and hem. I think I once knew a Sue from Santa Fe who had a dress just like it."

  "Oh, you," Annie said, and punched him lightly on the arm, unaware that, for once, Gabe was telling her the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

  * * *

  Annie pulled at the neckline, trying to tug it up to a more respectable position. It wasn't going to happen. She blew at the feathers tickling her neck and chin, and rolled her eyes. Gabe hadn't been kidding about picking out her dress. It was red satin and as flagrantly gaudy as it could possibly have been.

  She made a face at herself in the fall-length mirror and then grinned, imagining what her old principal back home would have said upon seeing her dressed like this. Schoolteacher material she was not. If she knew Gabe, he was probably going to love it.

  "I'm ready," she called.

  "So am I, little lady," Gabe said quietly as he walked up behind her.

  Annie looked up. The smile on her face froze in place.

  "Oh, my."

  It was all she could manage to say. The outfit she'd picked for him to wear had been chosen in jest. She'd had no idea that he would come out of the dressing room looking as if he'd walked out of one of the daguerreotypes hanging on the studio walls.

  Devils danced in his eyes, making them seem brighter and bluer than before. Suddenly his much-needed haircut was no longer an issue. The slightly longer style now fit him to perfection.

  His black frock coat bounced against the hacks of his thighs, and his matching black pants made his legs seem even longer as he pranced around the studio, testing his appearance in first one mirror and then the next. The white ruined shirt was a crisp and vivid contrast to the all-black suit, and the red string tie beneath his chin was just right for the riverboat gambler that he'd become.

  Annie's eyes widened, and her lips parted on a slow sigh as she watched him jam a black flat-brimmed hat on his head and then buckle on a double holster. She grinned at her sudden urge to fan herself before she went into a fit of the vapors.

  "Here you go," the photographer said as he led Gabe toward an array of fake firepower. "Pick your weapon. How about these fancy pearl-handled revolvers? Everyone seems to favor those."

  Gabe shook his head and reached for two plain, long-barreled pistols instead. The only thing remarkable about their appearance was the shiny, blue-black sheen to the metal.

  "I'll take these," Gabe said, flipping back his coat-tails and sliding the guns into place with little wasted motion.

  Annie shuddered as she watched him handling the pistols. They fit too easily in his hands and slid too slickly from the holsters as he fanned them in and out to test his draw. Somewhere between the dressing room and now, she'd lost the Gabe she knew.

&
nbsp; She glanced back at herself in the mirror, trying to get in the mood of the moment as deeply as Gabe had done. But it was no use. She was out of place in this silver dollar town, while Gabe looked as if he'd been born here.

  "Now … about the pose," the photographer muttered to himself as he began moving Gabe and Annie around like mannequins. "Sir, how about you sitting down in this wingback chair pretending to hold the cards you've been dealt, with the little lady leaning over your shoulder, as if she's peeking at your hand?"

  Annie looked at Gabe and shrugged, suddenly out of her element. A few minutes ago it had seemed like so much fun. Now she felt a certain uneasiness.

  Gabe sensed Annie's dilemma and thought he knew the reason why. He was too at home in this place. Instead of playing the curious and interested tourist, he'd become a part of the place. The last thing he'd meant to do was make her afraid. He turned to Annie and held out his hand. She came to him without a word.

  "Just take the picture. We'll do the rest," Gabe said.

  The photographer shrugged. It was all the same money to him. He fiddled with his cameras and lighting, but finally he was set.

  "Are you ready?" he finally asked.

  "Do it," Gabe said.

  Annie held her breath as his arm slid around her shoulder, then squeezed her gently. Without thinking, she looked up and found herself reading his lips.

  "I love you, lady," he whispered.

  Lights flashed. The moment was caught forever on film. It seemed as if a dark, devil-may-care rake was about to kiss the woman he loved. Only by tilting the photo a certain way could you see the tears that had been running down her face.

  * * *

  Annie sat in the middle of the motel bed, looking over the array of mementos from their outing. Unable to resist it, she'd bought the small wooden dancing man from the wood-carver's shop. She fiddled with its floppy, jointed legs, trying to make it dance as Gabe had done, and then let it fall onto the bed with a plop. It obviously took a skill she was lacking.

  Next to it was the rag doll that Gabe had insisted they buy. She'd resisted playfully until he'd pointed out that the doll had green eyes just like hers. The doll had gone into the bag with the little wooden man.

  But it was the picture of them together in costume that she kept coming back to time and again. She picked it up and stared long and hard, unaware, as she looked, of the despair etched upon her face.

  Gabe came out of the bathroom, still slightly damp from his shower, to find her sitting among the day's treasures. She should have been tired and happy, but all he could see was defeat.

  "Annie, are you all right?"

  Gabe's deep voice was husky, suddenly anxious that today had been more than she should have endured.

  She looked up, unaware that she was smiling through tears. "Better than all right. Today was perfect, absolutely perfect."

  Gabe sighed with relief and made a place for himself on the bed beside her, moving their prizes to a safer place on the bedside table.

  "You're probably exhausted," he said, eyeing the clock on the table. It was nearly midnight. "Did you really have a good time today?"

  She nodded. "It was practically perfect."

  He grinned. "Only practically?"

  "Well—" the drawl in her voice should have alerted him "—for a kidnapper, you sure lose sight of what you're doing."

  His eyebrows arched, and a sexy grin slid across his lips;

  "Just what am I doing wrong, teacher?"

  "Forgetting to demand a ransom, that's what."

  "Oh, no, lady, I haven't forgotten a thing. I'm just still trying to decide what it'll take to get me to let you go."

  "Oh, Gabe," Annie whispered, and threw her arms around his neck. "Don't do it! Don't ever let me go."

  His hands cupped Annie's shoulders as he held her tight within his grasp. "I won't ever leave you, Annie," he whispered as he pulled her into his arms. "Wherever you go, I'm right behind you. Don't you ever forget it. Not for a moment."

  The picture slid onto the floor as Gabe pinned her beneath him on the bed. Then there was nothing between them but the truth as Gabe stripped them of their clothes and made slow, perfect love to her until the sun came up.

  And when morning came, they packed their bags in silence, climbed back on the Harley and headed back to reality. For a short while Gabe had done the impossible. He'd stopped time and given Annie one perfect day to remember.

  * * *

  Annie dug through the package that had arrived by post only minutes ago. Inside were the special books that she'd ordered to supplement Davie's reading material. She sorted them by subject matter, leaving the ones she knew he would view as work, putting the ones that she knew he would enjoy on top.

  A nagging pressure at the base of her skull kept reminding her that time waited for no man … or woman.

  If only Davie continues with his studies after I'm gone.

  She slammed the stack of books on the table and then winced at the noise. Day by day, the knowledge that she was growing weaker was impossible to ignore. Each morning it seemed to Annie that it took more effort to get up than it had the day before. Often she caught Gabe watching her, as if he were gauging her strength and measuring her weakness, and, in a strange way, she hated him for doing it. She lacked even the privacy to die in peace.

  A book slid out of her fingers and onto the floor. With a muttered oath, she bent over to pick it up, and as she did, she felt the room spin beneath her feet.

  "No," she muttered, and grabbed hold of her knees until the spinning stopped. "No, damn it, no! I'm not ready for this to happen."

  The sound of a truck pulling into the yard warned her that Davie had arrived for his lesson. It was the first time since they'd begun that Annie dreaded his appearance.

  "Hey, Annie," he yelled as he burst into the house in his usual fashion. "Ready or not, here I come."

  Annie straightened and pasted a smile on her face, determined not to let her weakness show.

  "Look what came," she said as Davie began digging through the books. "They'll help you immensely in your studies. Promise me you're going to use them."

  Davie grinned and shrugged. "Sure I will, teach," he teased. "And if I don't, "you can always give me a failing grade."

  Annie frowned. "I won't always be around to give you a kick in the pants, Davie. You'll have to push yourself to gain the skills you're going to need."

  His smile died on his face. "Where are you going?" he asked. "Somewhere with Gabe?"

  A sharp pain twisted inside her chest. If only I could run away with Gabe.

  "I'm not going anywhere. I just want you to realize that I'm no longer your baby-sitter … and I won't be your teacher forever. Soon you'll be at the point where all you'll need to do is just practice. You won't need me for that."

  "Whatever," Davie said agreeably. "Let's get busy. I've got a hot date with Charlie as soon as we're through."

  Annie grinned at his enthusiasm.

  "Where's Gabe?" Davie asked, as he sat down at the kitchen table and opened his book to the spot where they'd stopped yesterday.

  "He's outside somewhere," Annie said. "He won't bother us, remember?"

  Davie nodded and began to read. His brow furrowed in concentration as he read the sentences aloud. Soon he was lost in the story, unaware that Annie was less than focused on what they were doing.

  Oh God, Annie thought. Not now. Not in front of Davie.

  But the dull ache ignored her warning and spread across the back of her head, pushing persistently behind her eyeballs. She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath, hoping that she was wrong about the impending attack.

  Motioning for him to continue, she pushed back her chair and started toward the cabinet. By the time she touched the countertop, it was all she could do to reach up and open the door. Her fingers curled around the bottle of pills at the same time that the pain burst behind her eyes. The last thing she remembered hearing was the sound of breaking glass and Davie
's shout of alarm as she fell to the floor.

  Annie curled into herself, digging her fingernails into her scalp as she mindlessly tried to tear out the pain that was killing her by degrees.

  She needed her pills. The blessed pills. The reliever and the seducer … the thing that took away what she treasured most, her ability to function.

  Davie dropped to his knees in a panic. Unsuccessfully, he tried to pick Annie up. He couldn't believe her strength as she fought his touch. Twice he almost had her in his arms, and both times she arched her back and screamed, in so much pain that he was forced to lay her back on the floor.

  Finally, Davie thought of Gabe. "Don't move, Annie. I'll get Gabe."

  But she didn't hear. And she wouldn't have reacted if she had. She was too lost in the pain that was ripping her apart.

  * * *

  Gabe grunted as he tightened the last bolt on the new carburetor he'd just put in Annie's car. With the weather turning cooler by the day, riding on the back of his bike was becoming less and less of a pleasure.

  He'd heard Davie arrive, and imagined that he and Annie were now deeply engrossed in sorting through the new books that she'd ordered.

  It was a day like all others until he heard Annie's scream. He was on his feet and running toward the house when he saw Davie bolt onto the porch, his face a dull, pasty white. Gabe pushed past him and in seconds was on the floor at Annie's side.

  "I don't know what happened," Davie kept saying over and over as Gabe knelt beside her. "One minute she was fine, the next thing I know, things are falling on the floor, dishes are breaking…"

  "Her pills. Where the hell are her pills?" Gabe muttered, as he tried to sort through the broken crockery on the floor and keep Annie from hurting herself in the progress.

  "Pills? I didn't see any…"

  As he spoke, he accidentally kicked an unbroken and overturned plate. Beneath it lay a small brown prescription bottle that rattled as it rolled toward the cabinet.