Sweet Annie
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 mountaintops in the distance, they 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 nine-year-old heart.
"Are you warm enough, darling?" Her mother's concerned 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 tress 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, 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 which 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 Burdell. 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 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 him 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. Darlingly, she released her hold on the leather and spread her arms open wide.
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 reformed 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 lightheartedness 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 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 sported 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 being 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? Her heart was a heavy aching rock in her throat.
"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 was 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 missing. 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 married to her father's sister, and neither her aunt nor her uncle were as strict or as 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 onto 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.
"We're going to make boutonnieres for Pauline's wedding," Charmaine called. "Lavender ribbon, with tiny flowers." Her cousin chattered on, and Annie surveyed the Spring-dressed countryside. Purple aster blanketed the hillsides with brilliant color.
"I'm going to stop at the stable and ask someone to drive us to Pauline's, then take the rig back until we're ready," she called down. "That way we don't have to try to wheel you over the boardwalks and stairs and the dirt street on the way."
Annie nodded her consent. Charmaine did like to make things convenient, and Annie hated to be an encumbrance. Her cousin slowed the rig in the shade of a new building.
"So this is the new livery!" Annie said, shading her eyes and perusing the freshly painted building. "I heard the hammering and pounding from my room for weeks." The Sweetwater home was several streets away, but close enough for the sound to carry on a clear day. Annie's curiosity had been piqued, but to her frustration, her dinnertime queries had been ignored.
A tall broad-shouldered young man stepped into the wide open doorway, and the reason for her parents' stubborn refusal to discuss the new livery became unmistakably clear.
Sun glinted from hair as black as midnight. He wore a loose shirt, laced up the front, and trousers tucked into tall black boots. A healthy-looking male, tanned and confident in his surroundings.
Luke Carpenter.
Chaotic images tied to more chaotic feelings bombarded Annie's senses: Luke smiling his irrepressible smile and giving her a forbidden taste of freedom; Luke with blood spattered on his shirt, blood trickling from his lip, looking confused and humiliated; Luke noticing her in the mercantile and nodding her way before her father caught him; Luke riding that beautiful white-stockinged horse as though he and the animal were one.
Once, a few weeks after that horrible incident at her birthday party, he had leaped the hedge as she sat in her chair on the side lawn, enjoying the sun.
She'd inquired about his injuries, and he'd shrugged off the subject. And then Burdy had arrived home.
They'd crossed paths only briefly through the years, a banker's daughter moved in different circles than the ranchers, but Annie had seen him many times from a distance.
"Mornin', ladies." His voice, now a deep mellow tone, brought a
tremulous flutter to her chest. He stepped toward the horse. "Put 'im up
for you?"
"Actually, if it wouldn't be a bother, we'd like you to drive us to the Townsend home, then bring the rig back." Charmaine's voice had changed since Annie had last heard her speak sixty seconds ago. Where had that throaty breathlessness come from?
"No bother at all," Luke said, and leaped up onto the springed seat beside Charmaine. The wagon dipped with his weight and Annie's stomach did the same.
"You two ladies look mighty pretty today," he said, and cast an inscrutable look over his shoulder.
Annie blushed, thankful he had to turn back to navigate the street. She studied her hands against the blue-sprigged satin of her velvet-trimmed dress, then grabbed the side of the wagon when he clucked and the horse stepped forward.
"We're helping Pauline Townsend with the decorations for her wedding," Charmaine said. Good Lord, was that a Southern accent? "The wedding is only two weeks away, you know."
"You'll both be going?"
"Oh, yes, we wouldn't miss it, would we, Annie?"
Luke nodded and listened to Charmaine's girlish chatter. Within minutes he drew the horse and wagon up before their destination. He reached up and helped her cousin down from the seat. Charmaine blushed and cast him a coquettish glance from beneath the brim of her bonnet.
Annie stood. Normally, she would have walked to the end of the bed and waited for her uncle's or cousin's help, but she didn't want Luke to notice her clumsiness, so, feeling painfully awkward, she stayed put.
He rounded the wagon and lowered the gate. She avoided looking at him as he lifted her chair effortlessly to the ground. He leaped up into the back of the wagon beside her, and her gaze flew upward.
His once thin and lanky body had developed into an eye-pleasing study of muscle and grace. Broad squared shoulders blocked a good portion of the street behind him. Deliberately, she refocused her attention.
Eyes as blue as the boundless spring sky studied her back. Her gaze lowered a notch, took in a fine straight nose, mobile lips curved into a smile, and a scar at the edge of his upper lip.
"Let me help you, Miss Sweetwater," he said politely in that disturbing voice.
Her face flamed, and somehow she managed to speak. "Thank you."
He gathered her into his arms, just like her brother and father and uncle did all the time, but this was different. He was not a family member. He was a full-grown man--a strong, graceful stranger. Annie was self-conscious of her helplessness, ashamed to be such a burden and to have him see it.
She immediately circled her arms around his neck, feeling his hard body pressed along her side and hip, and studiously avoided the sun-kissed face so near hers.
With amazing agility, he crouched on the back of the wagon and lowered himself and his encumbrance to the ground. With a few powerful strides, he carried her around the back of the wagon. Annie felt like one of her Dresden dolls in his solid arms.
Hands fluttering between the handles and her stand-up collar, Charmaine stood waiting behind Annie's chair. Annie had never hated the conveyance as much as she did at that moment. She wanted Luke to carry her on past, carry her somewhere where there were no wheelchairs or limits or attentive caregivers.
But of course, he didn't. Luke lowered her gently to the seat, disentangled his arm from her skirts and arranged them neatly across her knees.
"Thank you," Annie said, but she couldn't make herself meet his eyes again.
"My pleasure." He must have glanced at Charmaine. "What time would you like me to bring the rig back for you?"
"You'd better come by three, if that's convenient. My Mama expects me home to help with dinner."
"I'll see you then. Ladies."
Annie saw only his boots move away and then glanced up to watch him leap onto the wagon seat with an economy of motion.
"My, my, my. . .." Charmaine said breathlessly. "You know he built that stable and owns it himself," she offered.
Annie hadn't known that. "I don't hear news of Luke Carpenter."
"No, I guess you wouldn't." They both watched until the rig was around
the corner and out of sight. "Word has it he saved on his own to build the
place."
"He did?" Annie knew little of business or the cost of things.
"That's a big accomplishment. Most people would have taken a loan."
"Oh." She met Charmaine's eyes, comprehending the significance. A loan came from a bank, and her father owned the only bank in Copper Creek. Sudden embarrassment at her father's unjustness flared hot in her cheeks.
"I barely remember that day of your birthday party, Charmaine said, apparently thinking back to where the trouble had started. She was almost two years younger than Annie. "How old were you?"
"Nine."
Charmaine pushed the chair toward Lizzy's house. "But you remember it well?"
Hardly a day went by that, while being tied to the earth in this chair, she didn't remember the day that she rode into the wind and tasted freedom for the first time--only to have it snatched away--and scorned like it was something ugly.
She remembered all right. How could she ever forget? And how could she forget that Luke had been the one to suffer for it. In more ways than one, she knew now.
"I remember it very well."
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