True Colors

“Hey.”

She glanced to her left.

Dallas stood in the barn’s open doorway, a tall shadow against the tangerine evening light behind him. In the muddy bog of this day, she’d almost forgotten about him. Almost.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

Easing down from the rail, she walked toward him.

“Anyone ever tell you you don’t know how to run a jackpot?”

She sighed. That should be obvious to everyone by now. “Did you get something to eat?”

“Yep.” He tipped his hat just enough so that she could see his eyes. They were gray as the Sound in winter. Unreadable. “So who’s gonna fire me? You or Daddy?”

It had been one day and already she was sick to death of hearing about that kiss. “It’s 1992, Dallas, not 1892. I’m the one who is in trouble for it, not you.”

“I tarnish your shiny reputation?”

“Something like that. I actually figured you’d quit after that fiasco at the bar.”

“I look like the kind of guy who quits?” He moved toward her. “Or maybe you figure all Indians are shiftless. Is that why your friends came after me for kissing you?”

“No one cares that you’re In—Native American. It was about me. I was Pearl Princess, for gosh sakes. Four times. And everyone likes my boyfriend. You could have been as white as Dracula and they still would have wanted to kick your ass.”

“Pearl Princess, huh?” He moved closer, smiling. “You must have some special talent, then, like tossing flaming batons or singing elevator music?”

“What I have is a boyfriend. A fiancé,” she corrected, tilting her chin up. “Did you get that part?”

“This fiancé,” Dallas said, whispering now, leaning close. “He know you kissed me back?”

Vivi Ann pushed past him and walked away, saying over her shoulder, “Tomorrow is Sunday. I don’t suppose you go to church, but we do, so I don’t make breakfast, and it’s the only day I feed the horses. Come to the house at four p.m. sharp or I’ll toss your supper to the gulls.”

When she got into the house, she found her father waiting for her. “Perfect,” she muttered, taking off her boots and setting them by the door. She definitely did not want to talk to her father. What would be a good topic? The gossip about last night? Her engagement? The botched roping? Dallas?

“I’m going to bed, Dad. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Keeping her head down, she headed for the stairs. She was halfway up when she heard him say:

“You stay away from that Indian.”

She said nothing and kept moving. In the bathroom, as she brushed her teeth and changed her clothes, she remembered his admonition.

That Indian.

She’d heard the change in her father’s voice when he said it, the distaste and the prejudice, and for the first time in her life, she was ashamed of him.

Still, she knew it was good advice.

Chapter Six

May came to the Canal in a burst of sunshine. All along the shore, preparations were made for the coming summer. Awnings were unrolled and washed and readied for use, barbecues were repaired, and trips to the nursery became commonplace. Overnight, the planters on porches and decks bloomed with color. Everyone knew it was illusory, this palpable proof of the coming heat, but no one cared. A couple of sunny days in May could tide the locals through a rainy June.

For the first few days, Vivi Ann did her best to ignore Dallas Raintree. She woke earlier than usual and set out breakfast for the three of them, but she made sure not to be there at six when Dallas stopped by. Each morning she left a list of chores on the kitchen table for him, a list she knew her dad added things to, and by suppertime (which she also avoided) those chores were always finished. Even her father, who judged people harshly, had to admit that Dallas “knows his way around a ranch.” By the end of the week, amazingly, no one cared about Vivi Ann’s tavern transgression anymore. The tidal surge of her wedding plans had washed all that away.

Oh, people still gossiped about it, pointed to Dallas when he walked into the Outlaw Tavern or the feed store, but none of it mattered anymore. Henry Grey had accepted him as the new ranch hand, and that ended any discussion. When asked in town, Dad was heard to say, Coulda surprised me, but the Injun turned out to know ranchin’, and that was the end of that.

Vivi Ann wished she could forget it so easily.