by Webb, Peggy
"Just delivered him yesterday," he said when he saw Ann. "Bought him from a fella in Louisiana. Isn't he a beauty?"
"Hello, Pete." She kissed his cheek, and he turned the color of a red turnip.
To cover his embarrassed pride, Pete focused on Colt. "Shame on you for not telling me you were bringing Ann out here. I'd have fried a chicken. There's not a thing to eat in the house except peanut butter and jelly."
"I think that'll make a fine celebration, don't you, Annie?" Colt winked at her.
Once Pete got on a roll, he was like a locomotive racing downhill with his brakes gone.
"I might even have baked a cake. There's a new recipe in Southern Living I've been wanting to try . . . Did you say celebration?"
The hopeful look he gave Colt melted Annie's heart. She held out her left hand, and Pete teared up.
"I've been waiting for this day ever since he was old enough to shave. I couldn't be happier that it's you." He bent and kissed her hand with the gallantry of a true Southern gentleman. "Welcome to the family, my dear."
She wrapped him in a bear hug. "I'm honored, Uncle Pete."
Pete beamed as if he'd invented engagements. "When's the wedding?"
"June," they both said, then looked at each other and laughed.
"I guess you've got it all planned."
"Not yet," she said.
"I hope you don't have all these newfangled ideas about getting married in malls and on beaches and in pastures."
"Pete, are you going to be a pain in the rear about the wedding?" Colt asked.
"Yep. I'm old and I've earned the privilege."
"If Annie wants to marry on top of the haystack, that's fine with me."
"I never heard of such foolishness."
"Now, Uncle Pete, it's her wedding. I'll marry her any where and any way she wants to."
"Didn't I teach you anything? There's such a thing as sacred vows."
"Gentlemen, please!" Annie held up her hands in mock consternation. "I'm getting married in the church, and that's that."
"See, I told you." Pete gave Colt a smug look, then linked his hand through Ann's arm and led her toward the house. "You can fix up the east wing any way you want it. I'll call the painters tomorrow. I figure you might like yellow."
"When you don't want him to, he moves with the speed of light." Colt winked at Annie. "Slow down, Uncle Pete. June's a long way off."
"Too far, if you ask me."
"Mother's in Paris, and I still have lots of work to do on Windchime House.”
"Windchime House?" Pete gave Colt an aggrieved look "You won't be living here?"
"There are a lot of details to be worked out, Uncle Pete. Annie and I both love Windchime House. She plans to keep it, and I have to hire a manager for the ranch ..."
"Since when? You and I've been running this place for as long as Buck was a puppy. I don't reckon I need any help."
"I'm starving," Annie said. "Why don't I make the sandwiches and you two scout up something cool to drink."
o0o
Later that evening after Colt drove her home he said, "I guess I should have prepared him."
"That's all right. He's a little bit scared, that's all. You're all he's got, Colt."
"He'll come around when he figures out that grandchildren will be a part of the bargain."
Ann was floating on air. The only time she and Rob had discussed children, he'd said they'd have to wait and see, that their careers came first.
She wanted children, and lots of them. She wanted to fill Windchime House and Colt's ranch with the sound of children's laughter.
Colt looked so pleased with himself that she couldn't resist teasing him.
"You want children?"
"You don't?"
The look on his face reminded her of a little boy who'd been told he couldn't have a puppy for Christmas.
"I don't know."
She had to stifle laughter at the way he was valiantly trying to cover his disappointment. She decided to let him off the hook.
"I've never had any," she added, "so I'm not sure I know how. . . . Do you think we could practice?"
"You're a regular little stand-up comic." He scooped her up and bounded up the stairs, two at a time. "What I ought to do is give you a dose of your own medicine."
He strode through her bedroom door and kicked the door shut.
"My, that sounds ominous. Should I be afraid?"
"Only if you're scared of being loved to death."
"Is that a promise?"
"That's a promise."
"What a way to go."
Her bed, a regular-size wrought-iron she'd had shipped from New York, was far too small for the likes of Colt Butler. But that didn't stop him from making good on his promise.
The little bed rocked and groaned and threatened to collapse, and later as she lay curved against him she wondered how it was possible for one woman to have so very much . . . wonderful friends, a great career, a grand old house, and a man who made her feel like a princess.
Without warning, the plane plunging into the Pacific whispered across her mind and she shivered.
"Cold?" Colt held her tighter and pulled the sheet over her bare shoulders.
"I was just thinking about Charlotte Ann and Anthony. Are we tempting the Fates with all this happiness?"
"Shh." He soothed her by stroking her hair. "Don't think like that. June is not so far away, and before you know it, we'll be old and gray and sitting on the front porch swing wondering where all the years went."
"And what might we be doing on that front porch swing?"
"Did you have anything in mind?"
She reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers. "This might be nice."
"It might."
"And this . . ." She placed kisses down the side of his face.
"I like that too. Any other ideas?"
She stroked his chest, then downward, where she made a remarkable discovery.
"How about this?" She threw back the covers and straddled him.
"Are you sure we can do this in the front porch swing?"
"Only if it's a dark and moonless night."
She began to rock and sway above him, and there was no more talk for a very long time.
o0o
Ann was caught in a whirlwind of activities, settling in, getting back into her work, planning her wedding. September gave way to October, and the air was crisp with excitement. Point Clear's charity polo match to benefit children's cancer research was in the offing, and celebrities from around the world descended on south Alabama to participate.
"I've never seen a polo match," Ann told Colt.
"I'm glad you'll see me ride in your first."
The day of the match turned out to be glorious and golden, with sunshine bathing the polo fields and causing the spectators to shed their sweaters. Ann sat with Uncle Pete in the bleachers, sharing a bag of popcorn.
"Popped it this morning over the fireplace," he said. "I always come prepared. These things can make you chew your fingernails if you don't have something else to occupy your mouth."
"It's delicious."
Her ring sparkled as she dug into the buttery popcorn, and she smiled. Margaret, who was coming two days a week to help her organize her house and her mail and had become an unofficial girl Friday, told her she was doing a lot of that lately.
"I have more to smile about than I ever dreamed possible," Ann had told her.
Was it yesterday? Or last week? Tune seemed to fly, and as far as Ann was concerned, it couldn't fly fast enough.
"Here they come," Uncle Pete said.
Horses' hooves thundered on the green turf, and Ann scanned the players for Colt. It didn't take her long to find him, even without Uncle Pete's help. Tall and proud, he rode head and shoulders above the rest.
"There he is." Uncle Pete pointed, then stood up and waved his cap. "Handsomest stallion out there."
"I couldn't agree more."
"I'm talking abou
t the horse." Uncle Pete chuckled.
"The horse is handsome, too."
Now that Pete was used to the idea of Colt and Annie dividing their time between Windchime House and the ranch, he and Annie had developed an easy rapport, if not an outright mutual admiration society.
"I wished he was up on Warrior. You should have seen the two of them play. I've never known man and horse to be so in tune with each other." Pete reached for the popcorn. "Of course, Colt can make any horse look good. He's got the biggest handicap of any player on that field."
"That's terrible," Ann said.
Pete grinned. "No. That's good. The best players have the highest handicaps."
"I guess I have a lot to learn about polo."
"Don't worry, young 'un. Married to my boy, you'll sure learn fast."
The first period began, called a chukker, Pete told her, and Ann was on the edge of her seat the entire time, knuckles white around the bag of popcorn.
"It's dangerous," she said when the first chukker ended and the players rode off the field to change to fresh mounts.
"Yep."
"It's exciting, of course, but I'm not so sure I like this sport."
"Colt's mama never could get used to it, God rest her soul."
"What happened to his parents? Colt never said."
When Pete told her, Ann felt the blood drain from her face. Fear pulsed through her.
Pete patted her hand. "Now, now. There's no need for you to worry. Colt knows what he's doing." As the horses thundered onto the field once more, Pete added, "I sure hope that horse does."
Ann was in a full frenzy now, her imagination running wild.
"What do you mean? What's wrong with that horse?"
"Nothing. This is the stallion's first game, that's all." He patted her hand. "You don't have a thing to worry about. I trained that horse myself, and Colt is better than Tommy Hitchcock, Jr."
"Who's he?"
"The greatest polo player of all time."
Ann found out she couldn't hold her breath the whole game, but in spite of the melee on the field, she never took her eyes off Colt.
"Want some corn?" Uncle Pete said, but she never heard him.
When the final chukker ended, she felt as limp as a rag doll. Victorious, Colt tore off his helmet, strode toward the bleachers, and swung her into his arms.
"How did you like your first game?"
"Now that it's over, great."
"Poor baby, we'll have to think of something to soothe your ruffled feathers."
o0o
They had a victory dinner of Pete's chicken and dumplings.
"I was more worried about Annie than I was about you," Pete told Colt. "Take her out and show her the horses. Once she gets to know them maybe she'll feel better about the game."
"I couldn't have come up with a better idea myself."
The barn was warm and cozy and smelled of leather and fresh hay and horseflesh. Colt bolted the barn door, pulled her down into a fragrant haystack, and began to unbutton her blouse.
"What about the horses?" she said, teasing him.
"Let them find their own girl."
His mouth closed over her breast, and Annie forgot everything except the wonder of love.
o0o
By the time she'd seen her third game, Ann began to relax and enjoy polo. And she was Colt's biggest fan. Every time he scored she tore her hat off and waved it, cheering.
Pete, a staunch believer in not tempting fate, insisted Annie wear the same hat to every game, saying there was no use jeopardizing a winning streak.
o0o
"Where's your lucky hat?" he asked as they settled in their places on the bleachers.
It was a gray misty day with rain clouds scudding across the sky and occasionally spitting a few drops onto the polo field.
"It's here." Ann patted the canvas bag that also contained sunglasses, in case of a change of weather, and a large supply of chocolate bars. Ann craved chocolate when she got excited, and she'd been excited a lot lately.
"If I keep going to these polo games, I'm going to get fat as a pig," she'd told Colt last night. They were curled side by side on her sofa in front of a cozy fire.
"And I'm going to love every extra inch."
"Even a spare tire?"
"Show me."
She pulled off her sweater to display a midriff he declared was as flat as a wheat field in Kansas. And then he'd spent a considerable amount of time showing her exactly how he planned to appreciate her extra fat
Thinking of their evening together put Ann in such a mellow, dreamy mood that Pete had to get her attention when the players came onto the field. Ann grabbed her hat out of the bag, waved it at Colt, then blew him a big kiss.
"I guess you love him."
"I guess I do."
"Well, then, put your lucky hat on. We can't let him down."
Pete couldn't seem to stop grinning these days, especially when Ann was around. If he'd been picking out a wife for Colt himself, he couldn't have made a better choice.
A light rain started falling during the third chukker, and tricky maneuvers of horse and rider became even more challenging on the wet turf. But that didn't stop the players. Colt charged down the field time and again, leaning low over his horse, mallet swinging as he scored for his team.
During the fifth chukker the rain picked up speed. Mud spewed behind the polo ponies as they thundered over the field and spattered their leg boots. The brim of Ann's hat began to droop, and she had to keep lifting it out of her way.
"Next time I'll bring a rain hat," she said.
"Can't. It wouldn't be your lucky hat."
She was laughing when Colt galloped down the field, in possession of the ball, racing for another goal. An opposing player charged in, angling in front of Colt in a desperate effort to block the goal.
"Watch him, watch him," Pete said, his voice low and urgent.
There was the sound of impact, horseflesh meeting horseflesh. Ann jerked out of her seat, her mouth wide open in a scream that got trapped in the back of her throat.
Colt tilted in his saddle, almost lost his seating. But he was still on the horse, hanging on by sheer will. And he still had the ball.
Later no one would be able to describe what had happened next, least of all Ann. Everything blurred, like a movie reel going too fast. Images exploded through her mind like cannon shot—mud spraying, horses colliding, somebody screaming, wood splintering, somebody on the ground.
"Colt," she screamed. It was Colt on the ground, lying as still as death.
There was a flash of lightning, flames, a wide expanse of cold gray water, and a plane spiraling downward, carrying Anthony with it.
"Nooo!"
Rivulets streamed down her face, and she didn't know if it was rain or tears. Nor did she care. The only thing that mattered was that history was repeating itself.
The man she loved more than life itself lay in the rain, silent and unmoving, and Ann's whole world crashed around her feet.
"Get up," Pete was saying. "Get up."
Ann's brim flopped into her face, and she clawed her hat off her head and threw it into the mud. On the field horses milled, riders tried to quiet them, and Colt didn't move.
Annie screamed his name. "Oh God, he can't die."
She had to get to him. He had to be all right.
The crowd huddled closer together, as if the bodies of strangers could give them comfort in a tragedy. Ann began to push her way through the crowd.
"Annie, wait." Pete clutched her sleeve. "You can't go down there. It's dangerous."
"I don't care." She jerked free. "I have to go to him. Don't you understand?"
She pushed forward once more, but Pete caught her arm in a firm grip and held her fast.
"He's getting help, Annie."
White coats flapped in the rain as paramedics raced toward a waiting ambulance bearing the weight of a laden gurney. Colt was so still, so silent. Ann pressed her face into her hands and
wept.
"Come on, sweetheart." Pete led her off the bleachers, parting the spectators. "Out of my way. That's my boy."
The ambulance doors were closing when Pete and Annie emerged from the crowd.
"Wait," he yelled. "We're riding with him."
"Come on, then. Hurry!"
The door swung open, and Pete and Ann climbed into the back of the ambulance. Colt lay motionless, paramedics on either side, one checking his blood pressure, the other his pupils.
Pete squeezed her hand. "Be strong, Annie."
She'd lost him once and by some miracle, he'd come back to her. Annie didn't think she could endure the pain if she lost him a second time.
Seeing her face, one of the paramedics motioned, then made room for her. She caught Colt's hand, then leaned down.
"I'm here, darling. And I'm not going to let you go. Do you hear me, Colt Butler? Don't you dare leave me.”
Her command was as fierce as her face, but there was no response from the gurney, not even the flicker of an eyelash. A scream welled up from her throat, but Ann pushed it firmly back in place.
There would be no more screams, she vowed. Not one.
Colt's face was muddy, his hair damp. She pulled out her shirttail and tenderly wiped his face, then, leaning close, she pressed her lips over his.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Colt stirred, then his eyes popped open. Ann wept with joy.
"I knew you'd come back," she whispered, smothering his face with kisses. "I knew it."
"Where've I been?" he said.
The ambulance pulled up to the emergency room, and there wasn't time for more conversation. Ann and Pete sat anxiously in the waiting room while a team of doctors pored over Colt.
Time crept. Ann thumbed through out-of-date magazines and counted the number of chairs and wondered why hospitals always chose colors that looked like the interiors of caskets.
Her heart jumped into her throat when Dr. Samuel Whitfield approached them.
"How is he? Is it serious? Is he going to be all right?"
She was so anxious, the questions spilled out. Pete wasn't much better. He had a nervous tic under his eye and he'd passed his hands over his face so much, his eyebrows had puffed up like hydrangea bushes in full bloom.
"What's the bottom line, Doc?" His voice was gruff to cover his emotion. "In plain language, please."
