True Colors

Crawling into bed, she pulled the covers up and tried not to think about Dallas or Noah or the future. If she thought about any of it, she’d fall apart. And so she lay there, woozy, cottony, staring out the window at the ranch until night fell; after that, she stared at nothing until she was part of it and she couldn’t feel anything at all.

The next morning, feeling like a piece of old, dried-out leather, she climbed out of bed, took a scalding-hot shower, and went to the prison.

“Vivi Ann Raintree to see Dallas Raintree,” she said formally, although by now she was known around here.

The woman at the desk—it was Stephanie today—smiled. “Your lawyer scheduled a contact visit today.”

“Really? No one told me that.”

Normally she would have been thrilled at the idea of a contact visit. In all the years she’d been coming here, she’d only had a few. But now she knew why it had been scheduled. It was Roy’s parting gift to her, a signal that the end had come.

She went down to the metal detector. Once she was through it, a big man in uniform said brusquely, “This way.” He stamped her hand and gave her an identification tag to wear around her neck.

She followed him down a wide, gray hallway. Doors opened and closed automatically, swinging wide slowly and clicking shut with a loud thud behind them. The noise seemed to grow closer and louder with each new open door, until Vivi Ann was in the prison itself, the part where the prisoners were housed.

At last, the guard led her into a room at the end of the last hallway. It was small, without windows or cubicles. A uniformed guard stood in the corner opposite the door. He took note of her arrival but didn’t move or nod.

In the center of the room was a large wooden table, scarred and scratched from years of use. Several molded plastic chairs were pushed up to it. She went to the table, sat down, and scooted close, waiting. On the wall, the minutes ticked past.

Finally, the door in the back of the room buzzed and swung open. The guard turned slightly to face the door.

Dallas hobbled into the room; his wrist and ankle cuffs were linked to chains cuffed together around his waist.

She got to her feet, waiting, unable to believe they were this close again after all these years.

He shuffled over and she took him in her arms, holding him tightly, feeling how thin and bony they’d both grown.

“That’s enough,” the guard said. “Take your seats.”

Vivi Ann reluctantly let him go. He hobbled back to the opposite side of the table and sat down.

He slid back in his chair, putting his feet forward. His hair was really long now, almost past the curl of his shoulder.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the latest picture of Noah, handing it to him. In it, their son was sitting in a big western saddle on Renegade, waving to the camera. “You should see your son ride. He’s going to be as good with horses as you are.”

Dallas took the photograph in a trembling hand. “We’re not good for each other, Vivi.”

“Don’t say that. Please.”

“I tried to be good enough for you.”

She swallowed hard. “What did you tell Roy?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” He was so still it was almost as if he wasn’t breathing, which made no sense because she was gasping like a sprinter, unable to catch her breath.

“You know what I loved most about you, Vivi? Y’never asked if I killed her. Never.”

She went to him, pulled him into her arms, and kissed him, wanting to feel him, touch him, but all she tasted were her tears. “Don’t you try to tell me you did it, Dallas. I won’t believe you. And don’t you dare give up. We’re in this together. We have to keep fighting—”

“Back away,” the guard said, moving toward them.

Through the blur of her tears, Vivi Ann could see that Dallas was smiling. It was the same sexy, easy, come-hither smile he’d given her all that time ago at the Outlaw Tavern on the night they’d met. “You should have married Luke.”

“Don’t,” she said, but it was barely a whisper, that plea.

The guard opened the door and led Dallas out.

And when she looked down, she saw the photograph of Noah still on the table, and she knew he had given up.