The Widows of Wichita County

December 17

Montano Ranch

The wind swept down from the north and large flakes of snow swirled across the flat land. Anna had tried to paint all day but it was useless. She hated winters in Texas. What final beauty the country managed to hang on to during the other seasons disappeared with the cold. Everything faded in to dull brown. Not tan, not chocolate, just brown. The Mesquite trees that could almost be tall bushes when green were now only squatty, thorny, useless sticks. The tall grass that swayed in fall, shook in winter, brittle with age.

She watched the sun set, knowing she would look north soon as darkness fell. There she could see Zack's light. then she would feel the warmth of memories.

Carlo and several of the men drove over to Dallas to pick up a load of new mares. They would not be home until tomorrow at the earliest. If the promised storm hit early, they might not return until Sunday.

Several of the hands took time off. With the cold and the holiday season, the work on the ranch slowed. Horses were always, well taken care of, but their exercise time was shortened on days like this.

Her brother worried about her being alone at the ranch. With only a few hands and the oil field workers still squatting near the rig. He insisted on leaving her the old Colt revolver usually kept in the barn to kill snakes.

Anna hated any weapon. Her earliest memory of a hand gun had been watching her father put down a beautiful mare.

The men on her family's ranch stood in a circle, but she could see between them. Her father knelt down, stroked the horse's mane while he placed the barrel of the gun where the bullet would pass straight through the mare's brain. The shot echoed in her nightmares for years. Not even her mother's explanation that her father had saved the horse-from a slow painful death made Anna feel any better.

Anna glanced at Carlo's gun resting on the corner of the hearth. It would be in exactly the same spot when he returned.

She had not visited Zack's place for several nights. In truth, she was a little ashamed of how forward she had been kissing him so boldly when they said good-night. She was a woman who knew her place, her role. In her twenty years she never stepped beyond that place, except when she was with Zack. The first night she climbed over the fence,started an adventure. Anna had no idea how it would end.

Tonight she felt even more alone than usual. Meredith called and talked a long while, then at seven Helena phoned to check in. The older woman sounded tired, but assured Anna she was getting plenty of rest. They made plans to visit Crystal. Anna volunteered to do Crystal's shopping. Crystal wanted to put up a big tree for Shelby with presents all around the bottom. She made the effort of inviting Shelby's children and grandchildren, hoping to have a real family Christmas.

Anna feared Crystal would be disappointed, but still wanted to help her try. She planned to buy gifts anyone might enjoy just in case Crystal wanted to pass them out to the nurses and employees of Howard Drilling.

Anna looked around the great room of her cage. She had not bothered with one decoration. Carlo thought it was proper not to celebrate, with her still in mourning. Anna had bought Bella a teapot and ordered Carlo a new wallet with hand tooling on the leather. The two gifts were as yet unwtppped.

She remembered the Christmases of her childhood with everyone laughing and yelling and eating. Davis had promised her that "next Christmas" they would go back to her home. A promise he had made since their first year together. But somehow "next Christmas" never came. There were alwuys more horses coming in, being sold or needing special care.

She tried to read. Tried to watch an old movie. Tried to eat. Nothing held her interest while she waited for sundown. She would go over to Zack's and tell him she was sorry she had been so forward the other night. She might have given him the wrong impression. She was not ready for a romance. All she needed was a hug now and then. She would survive with that.

As soon as his porch light came on, Anna ventured to the Walkover. She knew the path well by now. She crossed over, then sat on the bottom step and watched Zack moving across his huge front windows. She could not help but laugh. He was trying to decorate a tree and doing a miserable job.

He did not notice her until she stepped on the porch. He hurried to the door, mumbling and frowning. "I didn't expect you so soon."

She took a step backward. "I-I could leave."

"No." He hesitated as if afraid he might frighten her. "Don't go. I just wanted to have the tree up when you came." He glanced at the disaster behind him. "But that may be July."

"Not going well?"

"No." He held the door. "I could use some help, if you'd consider coming in."

When she did not move, he quickly added, "Or I could stop for tonight and we could sit on the swing. This is'nt something that can't wait."

"I can help," she said slowly. "Then we can sit on the swing and look at what we have done."

When she passed him at the door, she was so close she felt his warmth, but she was careful that they did not touch.

His furniture was so sparse, she considered asking him if he was moving in or out. One comfortable chair in front of a bookshelf filled with mostly paperback books. One couch on a worn rug with a coffee table decorated by scatterrd water rings and dents. There were no pictures on the wall. but the hardwood floors were polished to a royal shine and the room looked recently painted.

Bella's doing, Anna thought.

Zack read her mind. "My wife took most of the furniture when she left. Actually, when we married, she got rid of my junk claiming it was worthless. If I'd have known the marriage wasn't going to make the year, I would have stored a little of the junk in the barn."

"I like the space. Too much furniture weighs the room down."

"That's true. I could drive a herd through here."

She moved to the mess by the window. "I like your tree."

"Thanks. I got it half price, it being so close to Christmas." He looked as if he regretted telling her about the cost of the tree. "The ornaments were in a box my mother must have put in the attic. I haven't seen them in years." He picked up one yellowed satin ball. "I'm afraid they're in pretty bad shape."

She lifted one of the balls. "Do you have any paint?"

"Sure." He raised an eyebrow. "What color do you want. It's probably in the barn. My father never threw any paint away as long as there was enough left to cover the lid of the can. I inherited his disease."

"Yellows, as many shades as you have. And bright blue and red."

He shrugged his shoulders as if he thought she was wasting her time, but headed out the kitchen door toward the barn.

Anna looked around. The kitchen table was stacked with papers, mostly bills in disarray. However, the books on the shelves were placed in careful rows, almost like a treasured library. To her surprise, huge travel books filled the bottom shelf and each had tiny slips of paper sticking from them as if someone had marked pages in each book.

She decided to work on the coffee table. By the time she covered the old table with newspaper and spread the dilapilated ornaments out on the floor, Zack had returned with several buckets of paint and a few small worn brushes.

Without a word, she went to work doing what she loved most in the world. Painting. He straightened out the lights and got a few strings to work while he watched her. When hr finally had the tree in place and the lights evenly circled around, her first few ornaments were dry enough to hang.

He sat on the floor across from her as she worked. "They're beautiful. I've never seen anything like them."

Anna smiled. "Thank you." If she had her brushes, she could paint intricate designs on each ball, but with one-inch brushes that had seen better days, she made bold strokes with circles, starbursts and wavy lines.

The tree became magic, one ornament at a time. He did not talk as she worked, but each time he stood to add a ball, he stepped back and admired the tree. When she painted the last ornament, he carried it to the tree as she stood and stretched.

"You're an artist, Anna. A real one, like I've never seen before."

"I enjoy it."

She did not move as he slid his arms around her worked the tired muscles of her back. They had been together for hours and he had not touched her. He was embracing her now, only making her more comfortable.

"Tired?" As he relaxed her back, he swayed slightly almost as if they were dancing.

"Hungry," she answered honestly.

"Well, the least I can do is feed you after you saved the tree. I think I've still got some of them funny crackers and tea."

She frowned.

"Baloney sandwiches?" He laughed when she made a face. "No wait. After all that work, you need a real treat. How about a baloney bowl with cowboy beans and onions in it?"

Anna raised her eyebrows. Ten minutes later she stared.u a thick slice of baloney that had bowed to the shape of a bowl when fried. It was then filled with grilled onions and canned beans. Anna was not sure she could eat it.

But Zack acted like he was serving a delicacy. "My mom used to make this for me when I was a kid." He put a slip of flat yellow bread on her plate. "Corn bread," he added when she stared up at him with an eyebrow raised. "It tastes really good crumbled on top of the beans."

She seriously doubted anything could improve the taste of a baloney bowl filled with beans.

They ate at the coffee table while sitting cross-legged on the floor. She was surprised at how good the odd food tasted.

When he finished, Zack leaned back against the couch and stretched his long legs out beside her. "You're a great artist, Anna. I'm not just saying it to be nice. You should have your work in one of those high-priced studios in Dallas. Or maybe down on Sundance Square in Fort Worth. They've Remingtons and Russells side by side in a gallery down there.It doesn't get much better than that."

"And you, Mr. Larson, are a terrible cook."

He did not seem to mind her honesty. "I know, but at least it was edible." He glanced at her empty plate.

"I was starving."

"So am L" His voice lowered, his frankness frightening. Without another word, he leaned across the little table and kissed her.

Anna pulled away and stood. It had come time to deal with what had happened between them the last time he had walked her to the stile. She spoke slowly, trying to make the words come out without stuttering, but knowing it was hopeless "A-about the o-other night."

She felt the warmth of his body behind her, but he did nit touch her.

"What about it?" He didn't pretend not to know what she was talking about.

"I-I am not sure I am ready." She fought for words. "I'm not sure I will ever be ready."

Zack folded her into his arms. "It's all right." He felt her tremble but she did not step away. "Take your time, Anna. I'm not going anywhere. Only, do me a favor. Don't go kissing me like that unless you want me to follow you home. You'll never know how hard it was to stay on my side of the fence the other night."

Her body relaxed against his. He was not going to push her into anything. "A fair request."

"Now that's settled." His hand slid down her arm to her hand. "Let's see what the tree looks like from the porch swing."

He did not try to kiss her again or touch her in any way that was improper, but somehow their nearness had changed.

Wrapped in blankets, they sat on the swing drinking their coffee and tea but now, his every touch was somehow different. He was making love to her with each slight move and she knew it. The moon brightened the cold night. till saw his face clearly. He looked deep in thought.

"Tell me why you read travel books." She wanted to hear him talk. He was unlike any man she had ever known. Being with her seemed his only goal. He treated each hour as a gift.

"I don't know. I've collected them since I was a kid I love it here, but I'd like to see other places someday." He talked about all the countries he'd like to visit, all the beaches he wished he could walk on, all the roads he wonld wander down if he had the time.

Anna listened, not telling him that she had seen many of the things he described. The gentle sway of the swing kept time with his voice, making her almost believe the world was a wondrous place.

She had never known the pleasure of seduction. Davis kissed her twice before he proposed. Then he had seen little of her before the wedding. After they were married, he saw no need for courting.

She could not help but wonder if Zack had any idea how his slight touch affected her, now. The way he ran his hand up and down her back, playing along the imprint of her spine. How he brushed her leg as he rocked the swing. Or how his breath warmed her cheek.

Anna leaned against his shoulder and watched the light, of the Christmas tree twinkle through the window. "It is beautiful."

"That it is." He kissed her forehead. "Thanks for helping me."

"You are welcome."

"Want to stay the night with me right here? We could leave the tree lights on all night."

"Yes," she answered honestly, "but I have to be up early tomorrow. I am going shopping with the other widows."

He did not need more explanation. She had talked of Helean, Meredith and Crystal before.

They rocked for several minutes before she added, "I may not get to come back for a while."

His muscles tightened slightly as if he were forcing himpolf not to say a word about when she might return. She knew she was hurting him and he was trying not to let it show.

He did not ask her to explain. No questions. No strings. He had promised.

Cupping his chin with her hand, she whispered, "It is after midnight. Walk me to the stile."

He stood and helped her up, they retrieved their coats and hats from inside. They strolled, hand in hand to the walkover, slowing as they neared.

She did not want the night to end but reality had to win out this time. And she knew even after she left him, she would still have her memories. Sometimes she thought their few hours together were the only cherished memories she had. The only time she had been allowed to just be herself were the times she had crossed the fence and stepped onto his land. He asked nothing. He might never know how much he gave in return.

Anna took the first step and faced him.

"Come back when you can," he said with his head too low for her to see his eyes. "I'll be waiting."

"How long?" she whispered. "H-how long will you wait?"

He looked up, straight into her eyes. "Forever, Anna. I'll wait forever."

She leaned against him and kissed his lips. She was not sure what she had ever done to deserve finding him, but suddenly she knew she could not let go. When she crossed the fence she was not going back to life. Life existed here with him; the rest was the dream. Zack was her reality.

This time he was ready for her advance, he did not hesitate. His arms closed around her, pulling her to him as he returned her kiss completely. His hands moved inside her coat and beneath her blouse, hungry for the feel of her skin. His kiss was eager, awkward in haste.

Anna pulled away suddenly and tumbled over the stile almost falling. She ran several feet before she turned around knowing he would be there, watching.

"Well," she laughed. "Are you coming? You said you would come home with me if I kissed you like that again. I never thought you were a liar."

He jumped over the steps as she ran toward her house. She made it to the patio before he caught her.

For a moment he just held her, breathing against her hair. Then, he gently pushed her against the wall and pressed his body along the length of hers. "I'm not a liar," he whispered.

His kiss was wild and hungry, as if it were essential to living. She answered his need, starving for the nearness of him.

He had half her clothes off by the time they stumbled into her house. Neither of them noticed a lamp tumble as he drew her toward one of the overstuffed couches.

"Wait!" Anna pushed him away, laughing and kissing him even as she tried to untangle from his arms. "I will be right back."

He took a long breath and let her go without asking her reason.

When she returned, he had turned her stereo to a country station and unbuttoned his shirt. The lean curve of his chest and stomach drew her artist's hands as if she could memorize each line and reproduce it one day in clay.

"Are you sure?" He kept his hands at his sides as she brushed her fingers across his chest. "I could leave if you want to stop. If you're not sure. Anna, I want you so bad and that isn't going to change, but I don't want to hurry you."

She spread the blanket she had gone after across the couch. "I am sure." Her voice trembled.

She sat on the blanket not knowing how they would get back to the wildness of a few minutes before. She needed to feel alive, but knew there was far more to them than that.. She needed him.

He knelt in front of her. "I'll never hurt you, I swear."

His callused hands moved over her body, pushing the silk blouse off her shoulders. "You're so beautiful. You deserve u lot more than the likes of me."

She leaned forward and kissed him, pulling him gently hack with her to the quilt her grandmother had made. The only words that came to her mind were in her native tongue. She had to make him understand with her actions.

And she did.