Sally: Autumn Storms (F&L Story #4)

Sally: Part 4

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Part 4

Wilson slowed to a stop as he watched Sally back her giant work truck – long trailer and all – into a metal siding barn. He had to admire the effortless way she maneuvered all that machinery. She could probably handle a man just as easily. 

Get your mind out of the gutter, dude. Sally had “hands off” imbued in her every pore. She could probably chew him up and spit out the pieces without breaking stride. In a way, he kind of liked that about her. But he saw the panic in her eyes when he told her about his conviction. His gaze swung toward the gravel drive that led out to the highway. He should most likely just keep on going. She’d never trust him now.

He looked behind him, saw the bags and boxes he managed to pack up in the dead of night before leaving his brother’s ranch a week ago, and knew that this was his last chance. It’d take some sweet talking to get her to let him stay, however that was something he’d never been good at. Wilson preferred to let his actions talk for him. Yet, look where his actions took him. Straight to prison. Deep down inside, he knew what happened to Linc’s fiancée, Macie, had been an accident, but it was one Wilson could have prevented if he’d done what he was supposed to.

He should have never allowed Macie to get on that horse. He knew the newly-purchased thoroughbred had been acting skittish lately, and Linc strictly forbid anyone to make contact with it until he’d been gelded. But Macie turned her big blue eyes on Wilson and convinced him to let her saddle the equine. Though she was destined to be Linc’s wife, Wilson was half in love with the sweet-natured girl and couldn’t refuse her anything. She’d been a talented horse trainer, and the sight of the spirited animal excited the pluck in her.

Wilson recalled the way she fought the beast until he finally settled down, and she grinned happily, nudging the horse around the padlock at a trot. But then Wilson whooped loudly at her, and the animal spooked. The rest of that day had been blocked from his mind. He refused to think about how her beautiful blue eyes stared vacantly at him or the way her head lay at an awkward angle from the rest of her body.

A shudder ran through him. He focused his mind back on the here and now. All he could do was go on…face what was left of his meaningless life and run from his memories.

Sally emerged from the barn and waved him over. He sighed, killed the truck engine and approached her slowly and warily. “I’m gonna need the trailer in the morning, so we’ll have to unload it tonight.”

With that, she jerked around on her boot heel and disappeared into the barn again. He trailed after her, still concerned about what she thought of him. She didn’t give him a wide berth as they worked in tandem to empty the trailer and store the lumber and tables inside an empty stall, but she spoke next to nothing during the task, and he kept his mouth shut. It was better that way. He had a feeling Sally Sanborn didn’t hold back on her opinions. She’d tell him what she thought of him when she felt like it. All he had to do was wait.

Finally, the chore was completed, and she locked up the barn for the night. She didn't meet his eye as she said, “We’ll get that camper moved and hooked up after dinner. I’ve got some stew on the stove. Come on up and I’ll get those papers for you to fill out.”

She walked away from him. He stared after her. That was it? Without any other explanation, she was still going to hire him? He couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. Was she nuts? What woman allowed a murdering, ex-convict to work for her and live out behind her barn?

She reached her back door and turned to look at him. His feet were planted in front of the barn, and they wouldn’t budge. He could see her visibly huff, plant her fists at her waist and then she marched back to him.

“Now, what is it?” she asked in an oddly-mixed sweet and fiery voice. She amused him…and frightened him. Sally was different from any other woman he’d ever met. He couldn’t tell what she thought about his criminal status because her face scowled with irritation and her amber eyes closed off from his scrutiny.

He cleared his throat. “The only things you know about me are that I’m from Missouri and I’ve been to prison.” He paused, hoping she’d say something about that last part. When her mouth pursed to a thin line, he exhaled heavily, looked down at a patch of grass under his boot and went on, “I wouldn’t feel comfortable about coming into your home.” His eyes lifted and seared through her. “And neither should you.”

The irritation vanished from her. She tilted her head to the side. He kept his gaze steady, and the effort took a lot out of him. In the darkening night, with only the light from her screened-in back porch and a flood light over the barn's entrance, her hair shimmered like spun gold in a halo around her head. Small, sweaty curls stuck to her temples, and only a hint of gray created a streak that fanned out from an adorable cowlick over her right eyebrow. The sun had darkened her skin to a flawless umber color, highlighting the same golden ring of her irises. All in all, from her heart – which he declared was made of pure gold – to the skin she wore, Sally Sanborn was one incandescent woman.

She glowed, and his desolate soul drank in her radiance.

“Listen, Wilson,” she said in a voice as fresh as she was, “I’m not usually in the habit of inviting strangers into my home, but you’re not just any old strange man. You’re my employee now, so you’d better get comfortable real fast about coming and going as you please. I’m not a private person, nor am I easily offended. My home is a part of this farm, so you’ll be working in and around it just as much as the rest of this place. For one thing, it’s the only place I can incubate the Hamburg hens for the 4-H groups in the area. They are especially rare and quite expensive, so I keep the eggs in a spare room, where I can keep an eye on them. I don’t have the sterile environment in the other buildings. When that time comes, we’ll have to take shifts watching for signs of hatching. And that is only one job among many that you’ll be doing in my house.”

Wilson swallowed, but otherwise kept control of his reaction. That still didn’t explain how she felt about working around a murderer. Again, she seemed to read his mind. She gave him a small, sad smile.

“And yes,” she said gently, “I understand fully that you’ve been to prison, and I shouldn’t feel comfortable around you.” She took a step and got right up under him, her nose just inches from his chin. “But I saw the shame in your eyes when you told me, and for that reason alone, I’d trust you with my life.”

*****