Sweet Annie Part 1

Sweet Annie.

CHERYL ST.JOHN.

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 cl.u.s.ters. She observed the boisterous children who dashed about, playing games of tag and hide-and-seek.

Several were intent on an impa.s.sioned 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 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 b.a.l.l.s 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 a.s.sure 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 Sweet.w.a.ter 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 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 st.u.r.diness, he seemed all legs and angles and booted feet. A breeze caught his s.h.i.+ny 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. "h.e.l.lo. 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 coa.r.s.e 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 embarra.s.s 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 s.h.i.+ny brown animal wistfully. Oh, what a birthday it would be if she could ride him! Her, lame Annie Sweet.w.a.ter, 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 gra.s.s 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 pus.h.i.+ng 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 spa.r.s.ely populated tree-lined street near the corner of town, and Luke headed Wrangler away, toward the open fields of gra.s.s 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 lightheartedness like water thrown on a slate. Burdell broke through the crowd and pointed at Luke as they approached.

"Oh, Annie! Oh, my G.o.d, Annie!" her mother cried, and Annie's father steadied his wife for a moment, then pa.s.sed 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 cl.u.s.ter 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 s.h.i.+rt 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. Sweet.w.a.ter," 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 rea.s.suring 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.