Spurs 'n Surrender (Operation Cowboy Book 2)(21)

When he caught her staring at him, he gave her a nod and wink, but in the darkness with only the twinkle lights she’d strung around them, he didn’t know if she could see. Maybe it was better if she hadn’t.

“Your turn, Wydell. Tell us something about your time in the service.” Mrs. Fletcher’s innocent question made every muscle, joint and tendon in his body stiffen.

The last thing he wanted to discuss was how he’d spent his last four years under gunfire. Fearing for his life and those of his best friends. Being blown up and suffering the pain of third-degree burns.

The day they’d lost Matt.

Swallowing hard around the knot of hot sand in his throat, he looked to Anya. Her beautiful face reflected understanding, and then she jumped in.

“Oh, I have a story. Does anybody want to hear about my prized rabbit that won the county fair?”

The kids squealed. Everyone turned to the head of the table where Anya settled back against her seat and began to tell her tale of fluffy rabbits and blue ribbons.

His mood, usually dark after mention of the war or Marines, didn’t worsen. Instead, he listened to Anya tell the group how much she’d wanted that blue ribbon for her own.

“I groomed Hercules every day. Twice a day. I brushed him so much that pretty soon he started to lose some hair.”

Wydell smiled, imagining a little Anya over-grooming her animal to the point that it started to bald.

“Pretty soon he had a big bald patch and wouldn’t you know it was right before the fair. There wasn’t time to grow it back. I was so worried somebody would see it. I thought about making Hercules sit with his back to the wall when the judges came by to look at him, but then my father told me that they take the rabbits out and place them on a table to look at them from all sides.”

The kids twittered with laughs behind their hands, bred enough to know that laughing outright at someone’s misfortune wasn’t good manners.

But Anya graced them each with a smile. “I was desperate. I had to win that ribbon. I had a place picked out to hang on my wall.”

“What did you do, young lady?” Mrs. Fletcher asked with a scolding tone in her voice.

Anya twisted a strand of hair around her finger as if experiencing the same nerves she’d had in childhood. “Well, my mother had a fur coat…”

“Oh no,” Mrs. Kent groaned.

Anya nodded and caught Wydell staring. Even with the darkness turning her tanned skin bronze, he knew she was blushing. When she pursed her lips, the dimple played in and out of her cheek.

“So I sneaked into my mother’s closet and stole the jacket.”

“Stealing is bad,” one of the kids piped up.

She nodded. “It really is, and I was a naughty child for taking the jacket without my mother’s permission. But the worst thing was that the fur on the jacket wasn’t even white. It was brown. But I figured if I glued a little patch to my rabbit, everybody would think he was a speckled rabbit.”

Wydell couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter. Anya’s eyes danced as she finished her story.

“I cut a hunk of fur off the sleeve and a bottle of superglue and fixed my rabbit. But I never got Hercules in front of the judges. As soon as my daddy saw what I’d done and my mom discovered her ruined coat, I was in deep trouble. But the worst part was poor Hercules had that superglue on his skin and had to go to the vet.”

“Was he okay?” Mrs. Fletcher asked.

“Yes, they used some dissolvent for glue and he was fine. But I got a sound spanking and no dessert for a week.”

“A week? That’s torture,” Robbie said with his mouth full of a second slice of apple pie.

She nodded. “It was horrible. I never, ever stole or lied again. And I definitely never did anything bad to an animal again.”

Looking at her down the length of the table, wreathed in the glow of the lighting and in the spotlight of everyone there, Wydell saw what a fine woman she was. Elegant, smart and bold. And empathetic.

She’d come to the rescue of a town simply because she believed she could help. And she’d come to his aid too, sensing his hesitation to talk about the military.

He got up from the table and started clearing plates. She stared at him for a moment and then stood too. Before long, everyone had pitched in. The ladies insisted on washing the dirty pots and pans Anya had used, and Wydell helped Pastor Kent and some of his older kids haul the tables and benches back to his camp.

“Anya’s a treasure to our town,” the man said.

Wydell nodded. “Seems so.”

“I feel I shouldn’t accept the church donation though.”

Wydell squeezed his shoulder. “You most definitely should. She’s right—this is for the town, not just your family. But it seems to me there will be enough space for a family to make a home in the back rooms.”

They shared a smile. “I can’t lie and say the idea of sleeping off the ground doesn’t appeal.”

“No doubt. I’ve been in the same situation.” It was as much as Wydell would say about sleeping rough while on watch all night, waiting for a strike.

By the time Wydell strolled back to the Airstream, Anya was just returning from walking Mrs. Fletcher home. When she spotted Wydell, she threw up her hands.

He stopped walking and his stomach knotted. Hell, he’d been presumptuous in coming here. She probably wanted him far, far away from her. He turned to go.