The Rancher's Reunion

In truth, he hadn’t changed. He was everything she remembered. Hatless today, his blue-black hair was clipped short to control the unruly curls. Will thought he could control everything. Standing inches over six feet tall in a faded blue oxford shirt, jeans and scuffed boots, he scowled.

Annie took an unsteady breath. Oh, how she had missed that scowl.

She gripped her cane tighter and glanced around the busy Tulsa airport. Had it really been two years? For only a second did she allow her thoughts to drift back to when she made the decision to leave for Kenya. The same day she realized she was in love with Will Sullivan.

“Sit down for a minute,” Will said, interrupting her thoughts. “You’ve got to be exhausted.”

“I’m okay. Really. The hospital wouldn’t have okayed me to travel if I wasn’t ready. Come on. Let’s get my luggage and get out of here.”

“Your leg? Maybe I should get a wheelchair?”

“Oh, I don’t need a wheelchair.” Determined, she grasped her cane and broke out in what she knew was a clumsy stride.

“Boy, you haven’t changed much either, have you, Annie?” His long legs easily closed the distance between them. “Still think you have to do it all yourself.”

Annie ignored the comment. She’d been traveling since she left Africa two days ago and was not prepared for a round of verbal sparring with Will.

They continued to walk down the large corridor until it forked. Annie stopped and rested her weight on her good leg while she read the signs overhead.

“This way.” Will nodded to the right and walked in front, clearing a path in the hurried, late-afternoon crowds of the terminal. “Slow down,” he admonished, as she caught up with him and began to take the lead.

She tried to accommodate, but her pace continued to increase, driving her. Excitement bubbled over. All she wanted was to get to Sullivan Ranch.

“So how was the flight?”

“Much too long.” Looking around, she couldn’t stop smiling. Her senses greedily feasted on the American sights and sounds. It was the simple things she’d missed; the twang of an Oklahoma accent, the U.S. flag hanging high in the terminal, a sign advertising Mazzio’s pizza, the chatter of the crowd in English, and American food.

The tantalizing aroma of a bagel kiosk caused a pause in her steps. Onion, chive and garlic. They all called out to her.

“Want one?”

“I do. But not one. At least six.”

“Six it is.”

When Will stepped toward the kiosk, she laughed. “I’m kidding, Will. I don’t want to eat anything until we get to the ranch.”

“All right, but it’s way past dinnertime, and you sure don’t look like you need to be skipping any more meals.”

“Are you calling me skinny?” She glanced down at herself. True, her clothes were a bit roomy, but she was alive and that was what really mattered.

“Turn sideways and you’ll disappear.”

“Someone is exaggerating.” Looking up, she caught the amusement in Will’s expression

“Not hardly,” he said.

Annie held up her palm. “Okay. Truce? Just for tonight?”

“I suppose so. But that won’t be much fun.” He strode toward baggage claim.

Annie paused, taken back by his humor. The ever-stoical Will Sullivan had cultivated a sense of humor? Shaking her head, she followed him. “Is Rose at the house?”

“Are you kidding? Baking and cooking like crazy. She’s got plans for you.”

Annie smiled, knowing he wasn’t exaggerating. Rose O’Shea was so much more than just the woman who ran the kitchen at Sullivan Ranch, and Annie couldn’t wait to see her again.

Will stopped at the baggage carousel.

“Those are mine.” She pointed to the well-worn tapestry bags.

“Got ’em.” He easily hauled both bags off the moving conveyer as though they were empty. Hardly. Amazing how much she’d collected in two years. The rest of her belongings were shipped out in a trunk to arrive later.

With one bag under his arm, the other dangling from his hand, Will maneuvered out the automatic doors to the curb, where he parked the luggage.

Annie inhaled deeply. The springtime air smelled like rain. Everything was fresh and clean, exactly as she remembered.

“Wait here. I’ll get the pickup.”

“What? No. That’s silly. I can walk.”

He leveled his gaze on her but said nothing.

Too tired to argue, too tired to tell him not to get used to compliance, Annie simply eased herself to a bench and watched him cross the street to the hourly parking area.

A few minutes later a huge, gleaming black truck pulled to a stop next to the curb. Dark, tinted windows and spotless chrome glowed.

Will jumped out and picked up her bags, tossing them in the open flatbed.

“You bought a new truck?” She was more than surprised. Will never indulged.

“Life’s short.”

Life’s short? Annie silently repeated the simple words to herself, the same words that had haunted her since the accident.

Finished with the luggage, Will stood straight and grinned, wiping an imaginary fleck of dirt off a shiny bumper. The expression on his face as he faced her was nothing less than pure male expectancy.

“That is one beautiful truck,” Annie said.

He chuckled. “Good answer.”

“What’s that logo?”

“The Sullivan Ranch logo and URL. Brand-new. Like it?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you telling me you have a web page?”

Will gave a quick shrug. “Sullivan Ranch was taken, so I had to go with www.thesullivanranch.com.”