Sweet Annie

by Cheryl St. John

  Burdell's face contorted. "Don't you tell me to think of my sister. This is for putting your hands on her, you good for nothing—" He jabbed a fist.

  Luke ducked the blow and faced him, looking truly wary now. "Don't do this. You don't want to do this."

  "You know what I want now?" Burdell gave a terse laugh.

  "You know what Annie wants?" Luke countered.

  That angered Burdell more. He swung and Luke raised an arm, warding off the punch.

  Overhead a burst of color fell from the night sky and the gathering on the other side of the building made appreciative noises. The fireworks had started.

  "You're going to leave her alone," Burdell growled.

  "I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

  "Why you son of a—" He swung again and this time his fist caught Luke's jaw, snapping his head back. "You'll leave her alone!"

  An ache gnawed at Annie's belly. A loud burst of firecrackers startled her.

  Eldon edged forward. "Burdell, maybe this isn't the right way to handle this."

  Diana released a little sob at Annie's side and Annie put her arm around her.

  "I'll handle this," Burdell shouted. "And he'll leave her alone."

  "Hit me all you want, but I won't leave her alone," Luke said. "I'm going to marry her."

  A collective gasp came from the assembled towns­people.

  Tears spilled down Annie's cheeks. "Luke," she whispered, the nightmare of this confrontation erasing the joy she deserved to feel over his words.

  Charmaine moved to her side and rubbed her back comfortingly. Overhead, colors radiated from the on­going fireworks display. The smell of sulfur filled the air.

  Luke's declaration had infuriated Burdell even fur­ther, and with narrowed eyes, he lunged.

  Prepared for the attack, Luke caught Burdell's weight and they wrestled for a moment before toppling to the dirt and rolling while both grappled for domi­nance.

  Luke pulled away and got to his feet. Burdell scram­bled up next, breathing hard. He charged at Luke and this time Luke caught him squarely in the chin with a right uppercut, then followed that hit with a blow to Burdell's midsection that crumpled him to the ground.

  Luke took several steps back to stand clear of the man.

  Holding his stomach, Burdell glared up. "This isn't finished."

  Luke beckoned. "Get up and let's finish it then. I'm not gonna fight you every time I dance with her or talk to her. I'm not gonna fight you on the steps of the church when I marry her. Let's get it over right now."

  "You sorry son of a—" Burdell staggered to his feet.

  "Burdell, stop!" Diana cried. Pulling away from Annie, she rushed forward.

  Charmaine wrapped her arm around Annie's waist, lending her support.

  "That's enough," Diana said to her husband. "Stop this."

  Burdell glanced at his wife, then over at Annie and back to Luke. "All right," he said. "There are other ways."

  Annie pulled away from her cousin and limped over to Luke. He didn't really look any worse for the wear, though it was too dark to see if he bore any scrapes or cuts. Impulsively, she moved into his arms and he hugged her.

  "I'll get your pretty dress dirty," he said.

  Taking his hand, she led him to where her brother stood. "Are you all right?"

  He glared past her at Luke. "I'm fine."

  Her parents joined them and Mildred took Annie's hand and tried to tug her away. Annie resisted.

  "Annie, you've caused enough of a spectacle to­night." Her voice and words, laced with censure and criticism as always, twisted the knife blade of hurt in Annie's chest.

  "I'm sorry you're embarrassed, Mother, but if you'll notice, your son was the one who started a fist-fight. Luke tried to talk him out of it."

  “But you brought it on, Annie, with that exhibition inside."

  "Yes." She looked from her mother's pinched ex­pression to her father's sorrowful one, and back. "You've certainly warned me enough about staying in my chair, haven't you? I guess the fact that I can walk and that it makes me happy is beyond the point. The point is, I shouldn't have even a tiny measure of joy if it makes me appear in the least bit clumsy and embarrasses you.'"

  "You've been walking?" her mother asked.

  Annie nodded. “Everyone has seen me and is happy for me. Everyone except you."

  Mildred glanced at Charmaine, at her brother and sister-in-law who nodded reluctantly. Her glare lit upon her husband. "You?"

  "Daddy didn't know, Mother," Annie assured her.

  "They obviously don't understand or care what's best for you," Mildred denied.

  "They obviously do care," Annie argued. "You are the one who doesn't care about my feelings."

  Mildred made a strangled sound and Annie's father wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders.

  "She's an ungrateful child," she whimpered.

  Eldon patted her back and leveled a stare at his daughter.

  "Luke and I are going to be married, Daddy," she told him. "It's what I want."

  Her brave declaration gave Luke the courage to speak up. "This wasn't the way I wanted it," he told her father. "I would rather have asked your permission and courted her properly. I'm sorry it came to this."

  "I think we should speak privately," Eldon said.

  Luke nodded. "I agree. But not tonight."

  "Monday. In my office."

  "No." He'd met the man on his ground before. This discussion needed a neutral location. “Tomorrow after church. We'll stay after and talk then."

  Sweetwater seemed to consider the idea only briefly. "Very well."

  "I'll be there, too," Burdell said.

  "No," his father said, and Luke gave the man credit for some sense. "Not this time. I'll handle it. Now let's all go home and calm down."

  Luke steadied Annie as they walked toward the so­cial hall. The last few bursts of fireworks had fizzled out. Surely she didn't want to go back in there and face the remaining people right now. "I can go get your chair for you. Are you tired?''

  She nodded. "But don't leave me. Charmaine," she called. “Will you get my chair, please?''

  Her cousin hurried inside.

  Annie sagged against Luke and he scooped her into his arms, uncaring of who saw them now. She laid her head against his chest, and reverently touched the blue ribbon around her neck.

  "People won't forget this Fourth of July celebra­tion, will they?" she asked.

  "Not likely."

  "May I say it now?"

  It took a minute to figure out what she was talking about. What did she want to say? Then he realized, and his heart jumped. "Only if I can say it first."

  She raised her head and looked into his eyes. He stood cradling her in the light from the open doorway. "Okay," she said, her lips curving into a seductive smile.

  "I love you, Annie."

  In the meager light tears formed in her eyes. "I love you, Luke."

  He kissed her, but it didn't last because of their smiles. He started walking, carrying her away from the building, toward the wagons.

  "Thank you for not killing my brother."

  "Thank you for not being ashamed to love me."

  “Why would I ever be ashamed of you?''

  "Banker's daughter, liveryman, you know."

  "No, I don't know. Thank you for not being ashamed to love a clumsy girl."

  "You're not clumsy, Annie. You're the most beau­tiful girl in the state of Colorado."

  "And I can dance," she whispered.

  He touched his forehead to hers. "You certainly can."

  "Thank you for the dance, Luke." "You're welcome."

  "Are you two going to stand there mooning all night, or do you want this chair?" Charmaine had fol­lowed them with the wheelchair.

  Luke tamed with Annie laughing in his arms. "Thank you, Charmaine."

  He placed Annie on the seat and she settled her skirts.

  Her parents approached wearing their displeasure on their stem fac
es. Luke wished her a good-night and trudged toward his horse.

  The Sweetwaters left in the Renlows' wagon.

  Burdell and Diana walked toward their home, Bur­dell carrying his son on his shoulder.

  Luke untethered his horse and mounted, heading for the livery. He'd need to be there when more wagons and horses were returned.

  Annie had been right, no one would forget this hol­iday celebration any time soon, least of all him. He would never forget the image of his beautiful sweet Annie, walking toward him across that dance floor, her chin tilted bravely, her expressive eyes filled with pride and hope and love. He would always remember the dress and the act as a symbol of her maturity and determination. How he loved that courageous stubborn woman.

  And now everyone knew it.

  Whenever Luke attended church, he arrived late for the service, since he rented rigs to a couple of families for whom he had to deliver the outfit and then ride back, so it was his habit to slip in the back and sit in a rear pew.

  This morning he'd entered quietly and sat listening to the music and the preacher's sermon, sometimes letting his mind wander to the upcoming meeting with Annie's father.

  Annie wasn't sitting against the wall where she usu­ally sat in her chair, but in her family's pew, and he knew the freedom she must feel without the hindrance of that chair.

  Preacher Davidson ended the service and stood on the stoop in the sunshine, greeting the parishioners. Luke observed as Annie stood and made her way to the back of the church, Charmaine at her side, her mother's expression pinched and her cheeks blooming bright pink.

  “What do we have here, a miracle?'' Preacher Da­vidson asked, taking Annie's hand.

  "I believe so," she replied, and wished him a good day.

  Luke followed, shook the preacher's hand, and watched Charmaine get Annie's chair from beside the building and hold it for Annie to sit. Her gaze lifted and she spotted him where he stood on a wooden step. She gave him a tentative smile.

  Charmaine pushed the wheelchair and Mildred walked behind them toward their home. None of them looked back.

  Luke moved to stand in the shade of the building, waiting for people to disperse, noted when the preacher left and Eldon Sweetwater walked in his di­rection.

  "Want to sit inside out of the sun?" Luke asked. Eldon shook his head, stuffed his hands into his pockets and paced the hard-packed earth. The only other building nearby was the social hall and no one occupied it today. They didn't have to worry about eavesdroppers.

  "I want you to know I never felt right about de­ceiving you," Luke said honestly, getting this off his chest immediately.

  "Deceiving me didn't disturb you enough to leave her alone, did it?"

  He winced inwardly. "She's of marrying age, sir. There's no good reason why she shouldn't be courted."

  "The good reason was that we forbade it. She's not like other young women."

  "No, she's not. I'm glad of it."

  "We protected her all her life."

  Luke tried to place himself in the man's shoes. He nodded.

  "We never wanted her to be disappointed when she couldn't do the things other children did."

  "She was disappointed anyway. There are a lot of things she can do that you never let her."

  "We felt that was best for her emotional develop­ment. You have no idea what it's like to have a child like Annie."

  "No. I don't. But I do know what it's like to love a woman like Annie. She's hungry for life, so full of hopes and dreams."

  "That's why encouraging her fanciful ideas is harmful," Eldon said, his face rigid with anger.

  Luke shook his head. “You smother her. We wired Dr. Mulvaney and he said there was no reason why Annie couldn't walk and exercise and strengthen her leg. He said it might even be beneficial."

  The older man stared with a stunned expression. "He said no such thing."

  "He did. Annie has the telegram if you don't be­lieve it."

  Eldon passed an unsteady hand across his forehead. "Her mother always dealt with the physicians. But she never had any news like this."

  "Are you sure?"

  Eldon straightened, tugging the lapels of his tailored suit and lifting his chin. "What are you insinuating? That my wife kept vital information like that to her­self?"

  Luke merely shrugged. He had no idea and wasn't about to make an accusation. “All I know is what this doctor told Annie. And I know what Annie tells me. She wants to live a normal life."

  "It's not wise to let her believe she can do that."

  "Why not?"

  "Look at you. You're a strong, healthy man. Why would you want a girl like Annie, who can't possibly do everything a normal woman can?"

  Those words pierced Luke's heart—and lodged an­ger in his soul. "Annie's limitations are there because you put them there. The few things she can't do aren't even worth mentioning! She can ride, she can sew, she can cook, she can care for a child. If she can't win a footrace at the next Fourth of July picnic, who cares?"

  "She's never done those things."

  "She has. She's ridden with me. She's baked me an apple pie. She made that dress she wore yesterday, and if she hasn't been able to help care for her nephew, it's only because you people won't let her. What more does she have to do to get you to listen? She's been tryin' to tell you for years. She's become a woman. She's capable of so much more. So much."

  Maybe some of those words had sunk in. Eldon stared at the ground beneath his polished boots, one eyebrow twitching.

  Luke sympathized with the man's confusion. Luke truly believed Sweetwater loved his daughter and wanted the best for her. He let him think in silence for a few more minutes before saying, "I'm afraid you'll only push her away if you try to hang on so tight. She loves you. I know she does. But she wants her own life. And I believe she wants a life with me. I love her. You have to believe I would never do any­thing to hurt her."

  The man raised his head, but he looked off toward the mountains.

  "Ever since I first met her, I wanted to see her happy. That's all I want now. I want to make her happy. If I truly thought I was bad for her, I'd have to leave her alone. If I believed walking and doing things was harmful to her, I'd urge her to stop. But I don't. All I've seen is good come from it. She's more assured. She feels good about herself."

  Eldon nodded. Finally he cleared his throat and spoke. "I'll give you that. She's been happier lately. Had more confidence."

  Luke had said his piece. He waited for Eldon's re­action.

  The man looked him in the eye. "I don't want to drive her away. I don't approve. But I won't make her choose between us."

  It wasn't exactly a blessing. It was hardly a truce. But it was something. "I intend to court her prop­erly," Luke promised. "We'll set a date."

  "For a proper respectable wedding," Eldon added. "Providing you haven't already ruined her." He glared at Luke with a suspicious eye.

  His meaning sunk in. "I'll not take offense at what you've just accused me of," he said stiffly. "Not to mention your disregard for your daughter's sense of decency." Truth be told, if Annie'd had her way, she probably wouldn't be a virgin, but he'd never tell her father that. "I assure you your daughter's chastity is safe with me until we're married."

  Eldon started to walk away, putting an end to their meeting, but he stopped and turned back. "She fool­ishly—blindly, believes she's in love with you. Don't take advantage of that."

  Shaking his head, Luke struggled for a reply. “No, sir. I won't," he replied at last.

  Eldon walked away.

  Annie had been waiting on the porch for nearly an hour when her father walked up the lane. She took the stairs carefully, holding the rail, and met him as he approached the house.

  His expression revealed the novelty of having her walk toward him, but she didn't see revulsion or em­barrassment like she read on her mother's face.

  She reached for his arm and he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and slowed his pace. "
You've never met me on the walk before," he said, and his voice shook.

  "I always wanted to," she told him softly.

  He patted her hand and blinked.

  "What happened, Daddy?" she asked, unable to wait another minute.

  They had reached the porch stairs and Annie leaned on him to climb them. The screen door opened and shut and Annie looked up to see her mother's disap­proving observation.

  Annie ignored her. "What did you and Luke dis­cuss?"

  "I am not going to fight you," he said finally.

  Annie lowered her weight onto a wicker chair. El­don sat across from her, but her mother stood, her hands folded over her waist.

  "He made me see that this is what you want, and that you are old enough to make that decision."

  Elation burst through Annie's ambivalent emotions. She blinked back tears.

  "You cannot be considering condoning this trav­esty!" her mother said sharply, then turned to Annie. "You have no idea what you are getting yourself into."

  "I believe I do—"

  "You're too young to know what you want. This is a passing whim that you will regret. When you're older you'll see that your father and I made the best choices for you."

  "I'm not a child. Why can't you see that?"

  "Because you're not behaving like an adult," she retorted.

  "Mildred, the girl is of age," Annie's father said. "She has a mind of her own. Would you rather she ran off and we never saw her again?"

  "I wouldn't do that, Daddy," Annie protested. She'd never even considered the possibility, and didn't know why her father feared she had. “But I am going to marry Luke."

  “We could send her away,'' Mildred said, her entire posture rigid. "We can keep him from finding her."

  "And make our daughter a prisoner?" he asked, opening a palm toward his wife. “Do you really think she would be happy living God knows where with strangers? She would hate us."

  “Do you think she will be happy when she realizes she can't do all the things she imagines she can? Do you think she will be happy when that man leaves her for a normal woman?''

  "Mildred," Eldon said in censure. "I give the man more credit than that."

  A quiver of unease ran through Annie's heart. Hurt and betrayal that her own mother thought so little of her, had such small regard for her feelings, pressed a braise into her newly gained confidence.