Sleigh Bells for Dry Creek

“A couple of days ago? And you haven’t stopped by?” Amy took a breath. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed any lights in the old house. “Of course, I’ll help.” She felt herself relax. Now that Gracie was back, everything would be all right. “Aunt Tilly will be so happy to see you.”

Finally, life would be what it was supposed to be.

The shadow in the doorway moved again. This time, Amy had to look. It was a man; she could see that from the shape of the Stetson on his head and the black silhouette he made against the grayness of the morning. If there were more bulbs in those light sockets on the porch, she might be able to see who it was.

Then he shifted slightly, and something about the nervous action reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t remember who. Gracie was still talking.

“I was surprised Tilly never wrote to me when I was in—when I was away.” Gracie finished what she was saying, her words halting. The questions in her eyes were directed at Amy. “I got letters from Mrs. Hargrove—she had a soft spot for me and the boys even before everything happened—but none from Tilly. I was worried about her.”

“I’m sure my aunt meant to write. She hasn’t been well, but I’m sure she would have written if she could.”

Everything was silent for a moment, and Amy let herself remember. She hadn’t realized it until now, but her aunt hadn’t even mentioned the Stones after Gracie went away to prison. Amy had thought her aunt was just being sensitive to her heartbreak over Wade, but maybe it had been more than that. It was near that time her grandfather’s dementia had started. Maybe her aunt was preoccupied with that. On several mornings, she had been pale and shaken after being up with him, unwilling to even talk about the night.

Gracie turned slightly, and the man in the shadows stepped forward. Amy gasped and then felt the blood drain from her face. She should have figured it out sooner. It was Wade Stone, taller and bigger than she remembered, but definitely him.

“Don’t bother your aunt about us.” His voice was flat. Under his hat, his black hair was long enough to touch the collar of his denim shirt. The shirt itself had been washed so many times that spots here and there had become faded, especially the tips of the collar, which lay open enough to show a white T-shirt underneath.

Amy had imagined this moment a thousand times after Wade had left without saying goodbye. At first, she had believed that the lack of a farewell was a wordless message to her that he was coming back for her. After all, he had kissed her in the moonlight outside of the church. He had said he would marry her and, even though she was only fifteen, she knew how the fairy tale went. She’d prayed earnestly and had been prepared to run away with him when he asked. He was her destiny.

Waiting for Wade to return, she’d turned down date after date in high school. She’d only gone to the prom because her aunt had bought her a dress that couldn’t be returned and insisted she go. And then, by chance, Amy had read a news article in the Billings Time, telling all about the rodeo competitions Wade had won. Some woman with a glittery cowboy hat was kissing him as she gave him a tall, golden trophy. He had the crooked smile on his face that Amy knew so well, and he didn’t look like he was missing her one little bit. He’d even been in Billings, so he wasn’t far away; he could have come to see her. That’s when she’d told God to ignore her prayers. She was tired of begging for a fantasy that was never going to come true, with a man who just didn’t seem to care.

“Wade Stone,” she finally found her voice enough to say with suitable coolness. “You’re looking well. You must have recovered from your accident.”

The one good thing about this morning was that Shawn’s words had let her know Wade hadn’t come back to Dry Creek because of any lingering affection for her. Even at this point in time, she might have grasped at the hope that he had and she would have felt foolish to be proven wrong, even if no one else had known her thoughts.

“I’m all right,” he said gruffly.

His hat, a gray Stetson, hid the top part of his face, but she didn’t need to see his familiar brown eyes to know he had changed. When she had known him, he was gangly and not yet a man. There was nothing boyish about him as he stood before her now though. His broad shoulders were squared. He looked powerful and a little wary, like a dog standing guard over some bone he’d just found. His legs were widely spaced, and his wool jacket open, a flashy, silver belt buckle with a rodeo scene all too visible. That must be one of his trophy belts.

“Good.” She gave him a curt nod and forced herself to turn her attention to Gracie. “You have a job?”

She no sooner said the words than she realized she couldn’t work for Wade’s mother. Not if she wanted to avoid the pity of the gossips. She’d told Shawn more than she should have over the years, and he might not have told everyone about her crush on the man yet, but that didn’t mean he’d keep silent if she went to work for the Stone family.

“I’m sorry,” Wade murmured, his voice low and tense. She turned to him. For a second, it felt like all of the air rushed out of her. She suddenly wondered—was he really sorry? Was he going to apologize? For leaving her? For not coming back? Was God going to finally answer her prayers? Then Wade continued. “My mother shouldn’t have offered you the job. It’s a lot of work—hard physical work—and it’s just not for you. You’d get dirty.”

His face was weathered. A shadow of whiskers showed he hadn’t shaved this morning, and his jaw was tense. When he stopped talking, his lips pressed too tightly together. He looked like something was bothering him, and he was ready to explode.

“I clean out barns,” she finally said. He must not have heard that her family had gone through most of their money; after years of doctors’ bills, they were no longer able to afford hired help of any kind for the ranch. If she didn’t do it, it didn’t get done. “Rakes. Wheelbarrows. Whatever. Dirt doesn’t scare me.”

She wasn’t going to take the job, but she didn’t want him to think it was because she was some kind of a princess. She’d learned a lot about work since he’d left and she took pride in being strong. Her fingernails were clipped short for a reason.

Wade opened his mouth like he was going to say more, but he was too late.

“I already told her she could have the job,” Gracie said as she turned to her son. “I never go back on my word. The job is hers if she wants it.”

“Thank you.” Amy lifted her chin. At least one Stone family member had confidence in her. “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to accept your kind offer.”

She shot a look at Wade. “But not because I’m afraid of getting a little dirt on my hands.”

Wade grunted. “If it’s not the dirt that bothers you, it must be working for the Stones that’s the problem, is that it?”

He hadn’t said the words loudly, but the force of them carried. The whole café went silent. The ranch hands stopped using their silverware. Linda had stopped walking, the coffeepot still in her hand. Amy could see everyone looking at them. She doubted even the poor lighting in the front of the café would disguise who they were.

Gracie finally gasped. “Wade—”

Amy looked him straight in the eye. She’d never seen him look so cold. “I’d be proud to work for your mother.”

“But not me?” he asked with a twist to his mouth.

The chill in his manner didn’t lessen any as he spoke. His eyes were almost black. Amy heard the sound of a chair pushing back, and one of the ranch hands rose to his feet, probably to help her if she needed it. Linda gestured for the man to sit back down.

Amy felt her cheeks burn. “I just—” She didn’t remember Wade ever having this kind of an edge. She was suddenly unsure what to say. “I didn’t say that. I—”

Wade waved away what was going to be an apology on her part. He ducked his head as if to shake off his feelings. “Forget about it. It’s not a big deal. My mother would be the one you’d be working for, anyway. I’ll stay clear of the house. I have enough to keep me busy outside.”

Now, he looked defeated. Amy wondered how things had become so bad between them. He might not have come back to declare his undying love for her, but they had been friends at one time. She tried to meet his eyes again, but he was looking everywhere except at her.

“I’ll take the job then—if that’s okay,” she said softly, changing her mind.

She never had been able to refuse the Stones anything. And Wade seemed troubled. Besides, she had been praying for years that he would come back, and maybe God had something to teach her now that he had. She’d figured out years ago that losing her parents had made her more vulnerable to the sorrow of goodbyes than most people. Maybe if she spent some time around Wade she would be able to say farewell to him gracefully. Friend to friend. If she did that, she could get on with her life and not just pretend to do so.

Wade grunted and finally met her eyes. “Before we get started, you might as well know that I have one rule.” He stopped to tip his hat back. “Anything you see or hear is off-limits. You’re not to talk about what happens out at the ranch. Not to reporters or anyone else.”

An unexpected flash of anger swept through Amy. Did he think she was some kind of a groupie? “Of course I won’t talk. Besides, you might be some big man in the rodeo world, but not everyone around here is waiting for news about what you’re going to do next.”

“Me?” His eyes widened as he looked at her. She’d always liked his brown eyes, especially when they flashed golden like they were doing now. They turned to cat’s eyes, flaring up with hot emotion. That’s how his eyes had looked that night he kissed her.

“He’s worried about me,” Gracie interrupted quietly as she took a step closer to her son. “But I can’t imagine anyone wants to know about me, either. Not after all this time.”

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking. Of course, I won’t say anything,” Amy assured them, feeling foolish. Now she was the one who couldn’t look Wade in the eye. She’d never gossiped about Gracie at the time of the trial; she wasn’t about to say anything now.

She never had believed Gracie was guilty, anyway, not even after she heard her stand in front of the judge and confess that she had used a shovel to hit her husband on the back of the head while he sat on a bale of hay out by their barn. The courts had convicted her, even after everyone found out about the beatings and abuse, but Amy knew it wasn’t right. Someone like Gracie would never have killed anyone, no matter what that person had done to her.

“See that you keep your word.” Wade turned to walk out of the café.

Amy watched him go. By now, the sky was turning a rosy pink, and the light coming through the windows showed up everything in the café. For the first time since she’d realized it was Wade standing there, she remembered how she was dressed. She’d always pictured meeting him while she was wearing some sleek, black dress and high heels on her feet. She wanted to show him she’d turned into somebody. And make him regret not coming back for her.

But now—she looked down at her work clothes. She certainly had not made the kind of impression she had hoped. He wasn’t likely to regret anything.

“I just wore my chore clothes this morning.” Amy turned to Gracie and confessed, “I usually look better.”

Gracie smiled. “Wade doesn’t care what you’re wearing.”

Amy nodded. She supposed he didn’t, at that. God must be trying to teach her something about the value of humility.

She followed Gracie to the open door, watching Wade all the time. His back was straight and strong as he walked slowly toward the pickups. His stride was a bit uneven, as though he was holding back a limp, but he seemed stiff rather than pained.

Suddenly, Amy noticed the bumper sticker on her vehicle and remembered—she needed to be sure Shawn didn’t know Wade was back. Shawn never had known when to keep his mouth shut, and she didn’t want him saying anything to Wade about her waiting for him like some tragic figure in a soap opera. She was willing to try and put aside some of her pride, if that’s what God intended for her, but she didn’t want to be pitied.