Sweet Annie (16 page)

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 brass
accessories and a humidor to the leather chairs and the painting of a fox hunt
on the wall over a library table.

Eldon Sweetwater 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
Sweetwaters 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."

Sweetwater 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. Sweetwater. You can mm 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 brass 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 passed. The man at the teller
window gave him a nod.

Standing on the dirt in the
street, Luke loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top button of his good white
shirt and glanced at his nails. The Sweetwater 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 Sweetwaters' 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 Sweetwaters 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 Sweetwater'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 passed
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 coarse 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 wishing 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, anticipation 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 pass 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?"