Sweet Annie Part 13

The bald fellow jerked his gaze from Luke to a stack of papers in front of him. Undoubtedly Sweet.w.a.ter had deliberately kept Luke waiting just to see him sweat.

Finally, several irritated swipes of the handkerchief later, Burdell opened the door. "Come in, Mr. Carpenter."

Luke crossed the floor and stepped into the lion's den. Burdell entered behind him and jabbed a finger at a chair.

Luke glanced around the handsomely furnished office, from the enormous glossy desk topped with bra.s.s accessories and a humidor to the leather chairs and the painting of a fox hunt on the wall over a library table.

Eldon Sweet.w.a.ter sat in the chair behind the desk, calmly puffing on a cigar. They had spoken in the months since Luke had opened the livery. The man who'd owned and operated the old one had been glad to retire and move to Nebraska to live with his son. The Sweet.w.a.ters had no choice if they wanted to rent a rig; they were forced to do business with Luke...but they didn't have to be civil. They used his rigs and his horses and they paid him and left. They didn't like it one bit.

"You must have a good reason for being here." Eldon folded his hands over his stomach.

Burdell made himself comfortable in a chair and crossed one ankle over his knee to watch.

They hadn't lynched him at the door, so Luke took encouragement from that small fact. "It's business."

"I don't have any business with you," Eldon replied.

Maybe he should start over. "Thank you for seeing me."

The man said nothing.

"I've come to ask for a loan. To build a house."

Sweet.w.a.ter raised his brows, looked at his son, then back at Luke. "You didn't need my help before."

He referred to the livery. Luke hadn't wanted to ask for help then any more than he did now. But things had changed. "I managed the livery on my own. Now I need a loan."

"Takes a lot of money to build a house."

Luke nodded. "I think you can see that I'm reliable and hardworking. I'm good for the money."

"Loans require collateral."

"I have the livery. You know that."

"Free and clear?"

"I paid cash for every last nail."

"I'm supposed to be impressed, I imagine."

"Not at all. But you know I'm good for it."

"I don't know that. You could default on the loan."

"I won't."

"Things happen."

"Then you'd get the livery." He had to swallow hard to get that one out.

"I have no use for a livery."

"You'd sell it. It's worth a pretty penny and it's making money now."

"Then why don't you pay for your own house?"

"Well, I haven't made that much money. Not yet anyway. But I will. I'm the only farrier in sixty miles."

Eldon leaned back into his leather chair and puffed until a cloud of smoke circled his head. "Dirty work," he said and brushed a speck of lint from his tailored sleeve with a clean uncallused finger.

Burdell made a point of casually examining his fingernails, and Luke held no doubt there wasn't a speck of dirt under a one of them.

The warmth of slow-mounting anger inched its way up Luke's collar. He kept his own work-roughened hands on his thighs and refused to look down at the nails he'd scrubbed for ten minutes that morning. "It's honest work."

The older man's brows lowered in disapproval. He deliberately waited before speaking again. "Do you have anything else to use as collateral? Jewelry? Gold?"

"Horses."

"I don't have much use for horses, either."

Luke's anger mounted. The horses would bring plenty at auction and they all knew it. The man was baiting him. He took several even breaths and relaxed his hands on his thighs. "I'm asking honestly for a loan, Mr. Sweet.w.a.ter. You can turn me down for any reason you choose. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't have a need."

"Seems for a man in your position, a house would be a luxury."

"You judge every man who comes in for a loan?"

"It's necessary for me to judge a man's ability to pay my investment back. Banks don't stay in business by losing money."

"I can pay it back."

Leaning forward, Eldon placed his cigar on the edge of a bra.s.s ashtray and stood. "I'm not convinced. You're not a good risk. This meeting is over."

Luke met Burdell's eyes, but surprisingly they revealed only mild interest in the exchange. He'd expected gloating or in the very least superiority.

Eldon had turned him down flat.

He'd expected as much, so the humiliation didn't consume him. This was Annie's father, and though he didn't think he owed the man undue respect, he felt obliged to keep things civil. He extended his hand. "Well, I thank you for your time."

Eldon acted as though he hadn't seen the gesture or heard the words. "Do you have those ledgers prepared?" he asked Burdell.

Burdell stood and gathered a pile of account books from the top of a wooden cabinet.

Luke dropped his hand to his side. He gathered his composure and exited the office. The hairless man outside the door stared as he pa.s.sed. The man at the teller window gave him a nod.

Standing on the dirt in the street, Luke loosened his tie, unb.u.t.toned the top b.u.t.ton of his good white s.h.i.+rt and glanced at his nails. The Sweet.w.a.ter bank would have been the most convenient to do business with. But it wasn't the only bank in the county. He could take the deed to his property and ride to Fort Parker.

After making arrangements with Burt, he packed provisions for a night and saddled a horse.

During the ride he had plenty of time to regret going to the Sweet.w.a.ters' bank. Father and son were probably laughing their guts out right about now. What had he thought would happen? That the man would have a sudden change of heart? If he knew the house was for Annie, would it make one bit of difference or would it make him fight Luke all the harder? The latter, he feared.

A suitor was supposed to approach a man for his daughter's hand. The way Luke had been going about this made him uncomfortable. But what choice did he have? It was this way or no way. The Sweet.w.a.ters would never give him the time of day without a fight.

He wanted Annie. And he was ready to fight.

In the afternoon shade of a trellis of yellow and crimson nasturtium, Annie sat in her chair on the brick walk that wound through the Sweet.w.a.ter's dooryard garden. June had arrived and with it a profusion of dog's tooth violets and bloodroot, but only a few brief notes from Luke. The time had at least pa.s.sed more quickly when she'd had a tutor coming each day.

Once she'd had a female tutor who'd lived with them for almost three years. Miss Brimley had been a patient and kindhearted teacher, but a confidante and friend as well. She'd met and married a baker and moved to Oregon, and Annie had missed her for months. She received an occasional letter, but Miss Brimley was a part of her life that was past.

She plucked a white petunia and twirled the coa.r.s.e velvety stem between her thumb and forefinger, watching the flower spin. Each season she'd entertained herself in the garden for hours.

It seemed she'd lived her whole life in the past or the future, either remembering how good or bad a particular time had been or looking forward to something better. The present was never quite fulfilling-never anything special to try to hold on to.

Except when she was with Luke. When they were together, she would give anything to stop time and live in those moments forever. Too bad life didn't work like that. Too bad she couldn't make the brief moments with him longer than the endless days and long nights, longer than each unendurable week without him, by simply wis.h.i.+ng it.

The sound of a rig caught her attention. She couldn't see the street from her position behind the house, but the noise stopped and didn't continue past. After several minutes Charmaine found her.

"Uncle Mort let you come by yourself?" she asked.

"No, Mama came, too. She's inside."

"Oh." Annie wrinkled her nose. "I suppose Mother will expect us to join them for tea."

Charmaine sighed. "I suppose." She pushed Annie toward the stone bench over which a blooming trellis of climbing fern arched and plopped down on the stone bench. "I have something for you."

"What is it?"

Charmaine drew a folded slip of paper from the reticule on her wrist.

"Oh!" Annie pounced upon the missive and her cousin laughed.

She opened the note and read the few heartwarming words: "I can't bear another week. Tonight. Same place."

Annie clutched the note to her breast, antic.i.p.ation already lifting her spirits.

"What does he say?"

"You didn't read it?"

Charmaine stuck her lower lip out. "Of course not."

"He says he has to see me."

"How positively romantic."

"He wants to marry me."

"How could that ever be? Your parents won't allow it."

Annie shook her head sadly. "I don't know how it's going to happen. I just know it has to. The situation seems hopeless when I talk about it like this or listen to the voice of reason in my head. But when I'm with him...oh, Charmaine, when we're together I can believe anything."

"It's positively tragic the way you're not allowed to see him. Just like Romeo and Juliet, don't you think?"

Annie frowned. "Not at all! We're not children. And Luke has no family to feud with mine. And we're certainly not going to drink poison because we can't be together. What a horrible comparison. Take it back."

"Oh, so it's not exactly the same, but it's every bit as dramatically romantic." She clasped her hands together over her breast. "It makes a girl swoon."

Annie chuckled in spite of herself.

Charmaine grabbed her arm. "The Fourth of July is coming before long! All the girls are discussing the plans for the celebration and the dance. We're making a float again this year-just the older girls this time. Janie Dempsey's father is going to loan us his hay wagon and horses. Of course you'll have to come to the Dempseys' to decorate the float with us. We barely have three weeks to get it all done."

"That sounds like fun," Annie told her, thinking it didn't sound nearly as much fun as it used to. But it was a reason to get away. Maybe the excuse would work a few times and she could see Luke during one of them! The idea received added appreciation in her mind suddenly. "That sounds like a lot of fun!"

Charmaine's visit made the day pa.s.s quickly. Annie endured a late supper with her parents and then wished them a good night. She lit a lamp on her desk and read, checking the time every page or two.

Finally midnight arrived and she wheeled herself silently from the house and along the lane to the spiraea bushes.

He waited for her, his horse grazing along the edge of the neighbor's lawn.

"Luke!" She stood to fling herself against him.

He kissed her long and soundly, a hungry, greedy kiss that tried to make up for time apart. She pressed her face to his chest, inhaled his scent and breathed his strength into her bones. He wove his fingers into her hair and held her head fast against him.

"I've missed you," she said.

"And I've missed you." His voice rumbled beneath her ear.

"You've barely sent me any notes," she said, pulling away to look at him.

"I've been busy. I've been working late every night."

"What's keeping you so busy?"

"I have some news, Annie."

"What? What is it?"

He grasped her shoulders and held her firmly. "I'm building a house."

The words sank in slowly. "A-a house? Where did you get the money for a house?"

"I borrowed it."

A loan? She shook her head. "Daddy loaned you money for a house?"

"No. I borrowed it from the bank in Fort Parker."

"But you asked him?"