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Neither Annis nor Sequoyah said anything as they walked, nor did they release each other’s hands. Annis tried not to make any attempts to decipher the meaning of either, but she found it impossible not to question both from every angle imaginable. By the time they reached the horses, she was so buried in her thoughts that she didn’t notice they had come to a stop. A playful pinch at her waist startled her back to the present.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, dropping Sequoyah’s hand and stepping back.
“For what?” Sequoyah looked at her curiously.
“I’m not really sure what comes next,” she said. The fierceness she’d begun to find since joining Brooks and Bennet faded from her voice.
He shrugged, leaning back against the wooden slats of the horse corral behind him. “The horses need brushed off one last time, then we paint them. Won’t take long.”
Her eyes narrowed, confused by the change in topic. Had he really misunderstood her? “I wasn’t talking about tasks for the show.”
His mouth curved gently on one side, giving proof of his beautiful smile even if it was only half visible. “I know, Annis,” he said, his voice the same deep, tender tone she had heard him whisper to the horses. “Whatever this is that’s happening between us, it’s okay to just let it be. It doesn’t have to be figured out tonight. So, let’s stick with taking things one step at a time. Starting with the horses.” He rolled his eyes upward, where Catori was busy nibbling on his hair. Annis giggled despite her nerves. What he was saying made sense, and yet something nagged at her. Something he wasn’t saying.
“You’re letting me down easy,” she whispered, trying her best to appear as if it mattered little either way, though even as the words passed her lips, she found it hard to keep smiling.
“Letting you down easy?” He laughed quietly though he hardly sounded amused. “I’m not the one who needs time, Annis. You are. I know you didn’t just walk out of some fairy tale and straight here to us two days ago. Something happened that made you run. Something bad. Something you haven’t even begun to heal from. And you’re in no frame of mind right now to take on anything else, even if it’s good.” He tilted his head, tugging his hair away from Catori’s muzzle. “Even if it’s us.” He stood up, moving toward her. When she didn’t evade him, he took both her hands in his. “Find yourself, Annis. And then find me.”
Her eyes stayed glued on their hands and how they fit together, on the tender way his fingers stroked the back of her hand. Could it really be possible she’d found something so beautiful in the rubble of her life’s most tragic turns?
She lifted her gaze, slowly, to meet the warmth of his. “Can I brush Catori?”
She felt him squeeze her hands one last time and then release them. He turned away and got to work. “I’d prefer it, to be honest. My hair could use a break from her teeth.” Annis laughed, falling into step behind him as though the last few minutes of her life had never happened, and nothing had changed. And yet, everything was different now.
They worked together efficiently in quiet harmony, with the occasional exchanged murmurs as they finished their preparations. By the time they joined the others at the main tent, the audience was jammed into the stands and Hugh was already at the center of the ring.
This time, the show flew by and she was soon sending Sequoyah and the mustangs out to perform the finale. She held her breath as she watched him, flying from horse to horse, releasing blood-curdling howls into the night and bringing the audience to their feet with applause and loud whoops of enthusiasm. To the crowd he revealed the rawest parts of his nature, the gentle warrior within who would lie down his life for another, and who thus had a weapon more powerful than anyone expected: his heart.
She was standing there, clutching her hands to her chest, when she felt another presence move in beside her.
“The greatest joy of my life,” Babe said with her gaze on the man she called her son.
“You don’t sound joyful,” Annis observed. And then it dawned on her that she could be the reason.
“Whatever it was that brought you to us, Tulip,” she said quietly, her eyes never wavering from Sequoyah, who was introducing each horse in turn to the audience. “Will it take you away again?”
Annis felt a lump form in her throat. It hardened like a rock as she considered Babe’s question. “It could.” She turned toward her, desperate for her to understand even if Annis could never explain. “But I never want it to.”
Babe’s full focus shifted to her at last. “Then I suppose we’ll have to do whatever it takes to make sure it never does.”
Annis felt her chest swell. Babe wrapped an arm around Annis’s waist to bring her in closer and smacked a loud kiss on her cheek. And then Babe slipped away as quietly as she’d appeared, leaving behind only the grace she bestowed so easily on others—and, Annis was certain, the traces of sticky red lipstick on her cheek. She didn’t mind. Being branded by Babe’s affections was a far cry from the attempts others had made to claim her in the past and, unlike those, Annis was happy to be counted by Babe as one of her own.
The thunder of hooves drew Annis’s attention back to the ring. The herd was now galloping toward her as they exited to roaring applause, with Sequoyah bringing up the rear and standing on Shilah’s back. Annis was about to follow them out to the animal tent when Hugh caught her, hooking one arm around her shoulders and turning her abruptly to the left, leading her away from Sequoyah and the horses.
“Day two,” he buzzed, clearly still feeling the energy of having recently performed. “Tell me, then, what did you think?”
He’d asked her that very question the night before. A small eternity seemed to have transpired over twenty-four hours. Last night felt like a different lifetime. She sucked in a sharp breath of air. She’d been going through a lot of those lately, lifetimes. How many more would there be for her?
“Honest opinion?” she asked, repeating his words from last night back to him to be sure he knew that she had taken in every detail of her first day with Brooks and Bennet. And there’d been much to learn. Most of it, unexpected gems she knew she never would have found elsewhere, like the way the spotlights of a circus tent had impressed upon her the beauty of diversity and adversity.
“Yes. Honest opinion,” he confirmed. “Come on, love. I can take it.”
“Brace yourself,” she teased. “I don’t think you’ll see this coming.”
He laughed. “Maybe I better sit for this, then.”
“Yes. Perhaps you should, if for no other reason than I wouldn’t mind being eye-to-eye with you when I tell you what I have to say.”
He chuckled some more but obliged, pulling over a stack of empty crates and taking a seat across from her. “Go on, then. I’m ready.”
“Alright.” She took a deep inhale, and then exhaled her words in one breath. “I think you’re the smartest man I’ve ever known, Hugh Brooks.”
“And why would you think something foolish like that?” he asked. She could see his mouth twitch with delight at her statement, but he held the smile at bay.
“Because,” she shrugged, failing to conjure the words to describe what she felt. Maybe there were no words for it. Maybe that was all part of his magic—to transcend past people’s innate need for thought and reach them straight at their core, in their hearts, where they could understand the things their minds didn’t yet have a language for. It’s what he was doing for her. Even as she understood this, she also knew the words would come if only she let them, because her heart already knew what they were.
“You’re changing people, making them better,” she said softly. “Healing our broken thoughts and mending our broken spirits. And you let us all believe we’re doing it ourselves.”
“You are doing it yourselves,” he said, tipping his head toward the ring behind her, glowing in gold from the dim light of the lanterns. “All I do is give you all a place to do it.”
She shook her head. “You’re being modest.” She grinned. “Humble Hugh. That’s what I should call you. Forget Poppy. Definitely forget sir.” She giggled, remembering how dumbfounded she had been when he refused the title. She understood now. It did seem silly to call him that. It was far too formal for a man who didn’t know the first thing about maintaining any sort of hierarchies for himself or others.
“You will call me no such thing. It’ll only confuse people who think I enjoy being the center of attention, seeing as I’m the ringleader and all,” he said with a chuckle as he got back to his feet.
“Yeah,” Annis said thoughtfully, remembering another thing she’d observed during the show tonight. “How do you do that, anyway? It’s like you show up in flashes, just for a second to redirect the audience where you want them to look, preparing them for the next act, and then, just like that, you’re gone again. Even when I intentionally tried to focus only on you, I couldn’t keep track of you.”
“Magic,” he said with a wink. Annis got the distinct feeling that would always be the extent of his explanation, no matter how many times she asked.
“I see. Magic Hugh, then,” she mused, picking up her pace to keep even with his long strides.
“Unless you want me to start adding adjectives to Annis, I suggest you put a cork in it,” he teased in return. “Now then, on to our next business. I have a pretty good idea who to pair you up with next. But before I make my final decision, why don’t you tell me what you learned today, love?”
Annis had to think back. Today had started a long time ago and she’d learned loads since then. “I learned about keeping Shilah separate from the herd. I learned what the horses eat, how often, and why it’s important to keep them on a steady diet. I learned how to brush and bathe them, how to care for their hooves. Oh, and I learned about their likes and dislikes. Fascinating, really. How animals have personalities, same as humans. And relationships. Oh, and how their judgement is far better than ours. Well, mine anyway.” She paused when they rounded a corner and she realized they were heading farther away from the tent and all the work left to be done tonight. “Shouldn’t I be doing something more to help? I could come find you when everything is loaded up and ready to go and give you a full report then. Probably a longer one than I could give you now, since I’ve only set up and not broke down before.”
He shook his head, smiling as they moved onward toward the train cars. “No need. We’re staying another night. Big turnout today, sold out before everyone in town got their tickets. Doesn’t happen often, but when it does we make sure to run the show again.” He slowed down a bit, looking over his shoulder to see if she was keeping up.
“Oh. Alright.” She still felt strange about leaving all the work to the others, so she sped up her account of the day in hopes of getting back before everything was finished. “Let’s see. When I wasn’t learning about horses, I learned about cheeky little monkeys and their fondness for shiny things. I learned that Sawyer has a mean streak and that Homer is blind. Might have mentioned that one, by the way. Felt pretty foolish not having been aware the entire time I’d spent with him and Caroline this morning, and then again at lunch.”
Hugh shrugged. “I’m sure he felt pretty splendid realizing you never had a clue.”
Annis thought this was a point well made.
“Right. Well, even so, if it’s all the same to you, I wouldn’t mind knowing now if anyone else here is lacking one of their basic senses. For safety reasons, really. If I smell smoke, I might not so say if I think everyone else can smell it too. Or, if someone looks to be running backwards toward the edge of a cliff I’d like to know if they’ll hear me when I shout ‘stop.’ Or, if I’m backing toward the edge of a cliff I can’t see, I’d like to know the person watching can speak and tell me so. Or, what if someone starts running for it straight on? I’d like to know for certain whether they can see it or not. Actually, I’d probably simply assume that they couldn’t. That one’d be pretty clear. Though, maybe more for my safety’s sake, I’d rather not find myself volunteering to do something like have daggers thrown in my general direction by a man who can’t see where he’s throwing.”
“Are you finished?”
She took a second to consider her rant. “Yes, I think I am.”
“Good. Now mind you, I stopped listening halfway through, so I don’t know what you carried on about with cliffs and such. But, in any event, let me assure you that you are perfectly safe, provided you do not volunteer to be part of Homer’s target practice.”
It wasn’t as detailed a confirmation as she’d have liked, but it was sufficient enough to allow her to get back to the task of retelling of all she’d learned that day. “Alright then, where was I? Okay, Homer is blind. Sawyer is mean. Harris? Harris is royalty, and Goldilocks shares his name with a monkey. Not sure how helpful either of those lessons were. And, come to think of it, they came through Mabel and Maude, which in hindsight makes it perfectly clear to me why you chose to take me from the trajectory they had me on and move me onto another.”
“I’m glad you can see reason even through all of your rambling,” he teased. “Frankly, I’m finding it hard to keep up. Given I’ve spent many a morning chatting over coffee with Mabel, I think we both know what that means for you.”
She felt her lips slip into a sheepish grin. She did indeed know what it meant. Hugh thought she was rambling more than even Mabel could after caffeine. “Sorry. Just feeling incredibly overwhelmed with it all. Letting it all pour out a bit seems to be helping.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I think that’s all. Horse care. Loads of horse care. That’s the most important stuff, the stuff I can use here, right?”
Hugh stopped short. “No. What did you really learn?”
Annis stumbled backward a few steps, both from his sudden stop as well as his unexpected refusal of her answer. She’d told him everything. And there’d been a lot. She’d been busy. Eyes and ears open, taking it all in, focusing on every detail, eager to get it all right. Her mind had been on fire all day, sorting through a million different tasks, observations, and conversations. So many things had happened and been said, especially between her and Sequoyah. He’d taught her more today than she ever could have anticipated.
And then she remembered. She understood the question Hugh was asking her.
He wanted to know what she understood now in words she hadn’t known before. Sequoyah and the horses lit up her mind in beautiful, wild, and awe-inspiring flashes. Memories of home and a face she would carry in her mind’s eye all her life laced their way through her present thoughts, mingling the old and new, reminding her of what mattered, what was true, and why she’d never seen it before now.
She took a breath, slowed her mind, and let the dust and debris of trivial thoughts settle before she answered a second time. “I learned that most people see first what they fear. And that they’re usually wrong about what they think they see.”
A satisfied smile swept over his thin lips and he nodded. “Good girl.” Then, as if that were all he’d been waiting to hear, he began walking again. “Caroline and Homer,” he said. “That’s who you’ll follow tomorrow. Tonight, you’ll stay with Maude and Mabel again, as terrifying a thought as that may be for me. But they offered and the three of you do seem to get on well together.”
“Wonderful.” She’d missed the sisters today and, oddly enough, craved the comforts of their small cabin in a way she might have craved the four walls of her old bedroom, once upon a time. “Wait, you’re letting me spend the day with Caroline and Homer? Just this morning you thought it was the worst idea you’d ever heard.”
“That was this morning.” He shrugged, picking up the pace even more. “Now it’s a brilliant idea.”
“Because it’s yours?” Annis said, half joking, half certain it made all the difference.
“Because now you’re ready to learn what only they can teach you.”
“Oh. And what might that be?”
“You’ll find that out when you learn it.”
She dragged her eyes up from where they’d been glued to the ground, carefully tracking her path in the dark as she raced after Hugh. “Wait, where are we headed right now?” Because they’d passed the sisters ages ago, and their car was near the front of the train, but she and Hugh were nearing the end of it. And she wasn’t sure, but she thought Caroline and Homer had a cabin near theirs, given their visit that morning while the train had been in motion.
“I’ve got something for you back here. Babe found it out on her stroll after dinner.” He turned back toward her just long enough for her to see him roll his eyes. “You know how she is. Anyway, she’s certain it’s yours, so I suppose it must be.”
Annis hadn’t a clue what it might be. All she possessed when she arrived at Brooks and Bennet were the clothes she had traded for better ones after her bath in Babe’s tent.
“Go ahead,” Hugh said when they reached the train car designed for animal transport. He held the door for her to go in first. Nerves and excitement furled at the pit of her stomach as she put one timid foot in front of the other. The cart was dark and quiet except for one small lantern hanging in the corner. Straw covered the ground as far as her eyes could see within the dimly lit wagon. And then something moved. And it made a noise. A sad, small whimper came from a little bundle of fur curled up in a nest of its own making in the straw and sawdust that covered the floor.
“Oh,” Annis gasped, dropping to her knees right beside the creature. “It’s tiny.” She leaned her head sideways to try to get a better look. “A puppy?”
“A wolf cub. Babe found the mama dead in the woods. Farmers must have shot her. Of course, soon as she noticed it was a mama, she went looking for the pups. Only found the one.” He pointed at the sad little lump of fur as he shook and whined in his sleep. “Babe declared you the keeper, so he’s your responsibility. You’ll find all you need to make up his bottles in the crates against the wall and Momma will see to it you get scraps every day for him when he gets old enough. The twins’ll know what to do if you have any questions but, truth be told, most things are best handled on instinct alone. Trust your heart, love. It’s done you well since you’ve been here. It’ll keep you on track.” And then, with a nod and a wink, he turned to leave again.
“Wait,” she called. “What’s his name?”
Hugh glanced down at the newest member of his ongoing collection of broken and lost things and smiled, hope dancing in his eyes. “You tell me.”
And she would. Just as soon as she figured it out.
Carefully, she dropped down from her kneeling position until her bottom touched the hay. Crossing her legs, she sat there quietly, unsure of what to do next. After all this little guy had been through, the last thing she wanted to do was frighten him more.
She watched him tighten his small body into a snugger curl, as though he were trying to hide within himself. She understood the feeling all too well. Annis knew the fear that came with the realization that you were all you had left in the world—a world in which you’d gone from feeling untouchable to being the prey of a hunter you had never seen coming. Sadness welled inside her, not for herself but for the pup.
Suddenly, Babe flashed in her mind. Babe in her morning dress, calling Annis “Tulip” and wrapping her up in a hug that overtook all of her terror, if only for a moment. Babe loved harder than anyone she’d ever met and, even in moments when every part of the world seemed to hold only cold, dark, and horrifying disappointment, Babe’s embrace could somehow hold all of the world at bay.
The girl Annis was before would never have thought herself capable of that sort of love. It would have been too overbearing, too messy, and far too intrusive. But now she was certain she could give this lost little wolf exactly what he needed because she’d gotten it from Babe first. Now it was simply a matter of paying it forward.
Casting worry and self-doubt aside, Annis reached her hands for the sleeping pup and placed him in her lap. He couldn’t be older than a week or two. His eyes were still shut and, while he didn’t seem to react to sound, he definitely reacted to her warmth. He pressed himself into her as soon as his body touched hers.
“You poor thing,” she whispered softly, bending down to form a cocoon around him with her body and letting her cheek rest against his soft fur. “You’re going to be alright now,” she promised. “I’m going to make sure of it.” She sat balled up with the small cub, rocking gently back and forth as she hummed lullabies she’d heard a lifetime ago, until the car door opened again. It was the twins.
“We heard you got yourself a new baby,” Mabel said, her voice hushed as though there really were a sleeping baby in their midst.
“He’s precious,” Annis sighed. “And I haven’t any idea how to take care of him.”
“We figured as much,” Maude said, already headed for the crates Hugh had pointed to earlier to show Annis where the bottle-feeding supplies were. “Mabel and I have helped Babe raise a baby or two over the years.” She stopped short of lifting the lid to shake her head. “You wouldn’t believe some of the critters she’s come back with after some of her walks. Squirrels. Hedgehogs. Even a skunk once. I thought for sure Hugh was done with her after that one,” she laughed. “But you know Hugh. He’s just as big of a sap as she is, even if he does have a pretty good bark at times. The bite is useless.”
“As was the skunk,” Mabel said, scrunching up her nose.
“What happened to it?” Annis asked, wondering if she needed to be on the lookout for skunks.
“Wound up leaving with Pete when he retired a few years back,” Mabel answered, and then remembered Annis had no idea who Pete was. “Pete had a knack for swallowing things. Swords. Fireballs. Even the tail end of a snake for a while there. Incredibly talented, but this life just wasn’t for him. Only even wound up here because he’d had his heart broken beyond repair. Or so he thought. One stop in Colorado changed his mind pretty good. Next thing you know, he was done with the circus, though thankfully not done with Smelly Jelly the skunk. They had a strange bond, those two.” She shook her head. Mabel’s inability to comprehend Pete and Smelly Jelly’s unusual attachment while standing there, fused hip-to-hip with her sister, made it hard for Annis not to laugh out loud.
“So, every critter Babe finds she pawns off on someone here?” Annis asked, hoping to move the conversation along and not succumb to her amusement, which would require an explanation the twins may not find as funny as she did.
“Not every critter, but most.” Maude stood up, holding a bottle in one hand and screwing on the top with the other. “Some wild can’t be tamed. We care for them, love them as long as we can, and, when they’re strong enough again, we set them free.”
Annis peered down at the wolf in her lap. It was hard to believe one day he’d grow to be a dangerous hunter, capable of ripping humans to shreds with his fangs and crushing their bones with his jaw, but it was true. He could grow to be the sort of wild that needed to be released. It was a possibility she had to consider even as she was falling utterly in love with him.
“Babe has a pet tiger,” Maude pointed out dryly, clearly sensing Annis’s troubles as she handed her the bottle. “But Caroline had to give up the chipmunk she raised. You never know which ones will stay and which will fly. There’s no telling ahead of time, so there’s no use worrying about it now.”
Annis gave Maude a grateful smile, soaking in her words of comfort as she took the bottle from her and carefully offered the pup some milk. After a few missed tries, he started suckling and didn’t stop until the bottle was dry. Exhausted from the work of feeding, he sank back into Annis’s lap and fell asleep all over again. This time, he didn’t shake or whimper.
“Finian,” she whispered. “I think that’s what I’ll call him.”
“I like that,” Maude said quietly. Sounds like the name of a warrior.”
Annis nodded. She’d heard the name in a story a long time ago, but it had stayed with her, as though some part of her heart had always known she’d meet a Finian of her own one day.
“Shall we?” Mabel asked, an eye cast toward the door. “I can hear the comforts of our cabin calling and I, for one, could really do with a good dusting off. All this straw and sawdust is making me itchy.” She squirmed and shuddered as she spoke, just in case the words alone weren’t convincing enough.
“Can we bring him?” Annis asked, not yet familiar with the baby critter protocol.
“Can’t leave him,” Mabel said simply.
Reaching a hand down to steady her, Maude helped Annis to her feet without having to disrupt sleeping Finian in her arms.
Mabel stopped at the crate of supplies on the way out. “Best take some of this with us. He’ll be hungry again at least two or three times more before the night is over.”
A few minutes later, with their arms stretched to capacity with a night’s supply of powdered milk and bottles, the three headed back outside. Annis carried Finian snuggly against her body, balancing him and the supplies in her arms. The usual circus commotion had died down to a comfortable rumble of voices and soft laughter.
“Seems strange to be staying,” Annis said. She preferred the idea of constant motion. Even if she felt safe where she was, she’d feel even safer if the distance between her future and the threat of her past were growing again.
“I quite like it,” Mabel admitted, waving at Oscar and Bess in passing. “Every so often it’s nice to end a show and just be done for the night. No worrying about loading up or wondering how long we’ll be on the rails until we reach our next destination. To just be, to just enjoy the moment, can be a lovely part of this adventure too.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Annis said, realizing for the first time that the novelty of circus life could eventually wear thin and that the constant work could become just that: work. It was hard to fathom, given how fulfilled she felt, how much purpose she had found, in only two days of what was really no more than menial tasks.
“You will,” Maude said in her characteristic direct but grinning way. “But it won’t make you love the nights we move any less,” she promised. Annis believed her. It was easy to.
“Oh, Lord,” Mabel muttered under her breath, causing Annis’s eyes to follow her gaze and see what had drawn her attention. It was Floyd.
“We better get him turned around before he wanders off too far,” Maude said, already speeding up and changing course toward where Floyd was on the verge of disappearing in the tree line at the edge of camp.
Annis hesitated for the briefest of moments before she determined it would be wrong not to do for Floyd what everyone here would undoubtedly do for her—what they had already done for her—and hurried to catch up with Maude and Mabel, who were several feet ahead of her.
Mabel called out in a sing-song voice, “Floyd! Oh, Floy-yod!” There was no indication he’d heard his name or their rushing footsteps as they closed in on him.
Overloaded with Finian’s bottles and struggling to not squish the wolf cub as he nestled into her chest, Annis was fueled by her desperation to keep from dropping all she held. “Floyd!” Annis shouted, surprising herself by the volume of her voice.
It did the trick.
The old albino man came to a standstill, his white hair shining silver in the moonlight and his near-translucent skin took on an almost magical shimmer. Slowly he turned, with his eyes cast down and catching on nothing in particular, and then resumed his usual shuffle across the dirt toward camp.
“That’s weird,” Mabel mumbled as all three girls watched him go by.
“Really?” Annis scrunched up her face as she watched him move aimlessly, and yet something told her he had intentions set in all he did. “Which part?”
“I think he heard you,” Mabel said, her eyes still following the old man.
Annis frowned. “You called his name first.”
“Yeah,” she said, her eyes widening as she turned to face Annis. “But that was for the sake of habit, not with any sort of expectations I’d see results for my efforts.”
“Only person he’s ever responded to is Babe,” Maude says quietly. “And it was only that first night she found him walking about. She asked him where he was going, and he’d looked at her, said ‘home,’ and then disappeared behind those burning red eyes again as though he’d never been present at all.”
“It’s sad,” Mabel said, leaning her head on her sister’s shoulder as they walked, heading for their car now that Floyd was safely within the perimeter of camp again. “He’s always right here, surrounded by all of us, and always alone, too far for anyone to reach him.”
“Maybe he’s coming back,” Annis said thoughtfully, recalling her previous interaction with him and wondering if she should tell the sisters. Sawyer hadn’t been at all receptive to her claims.
“It’s a lovely thought,” Maude said, though Annis understood her meaning. It was lovely, but it wasn’t likely.
When they reached their car, it was far from empty. This put an end to any more of Annis’s contemplations about Floyd, at least for the time being. Familiar faces from their morning visit filled the space. In addition to those, Annis was pleased to see Sequoyah smiling back at her from the rear corner of the now exceptionally cramped space.
“We were wondering where you girls disappeared to,” Sawyer said. “Hope you don’t mind we didn’t wait for you to show up and invite us in.”
“Doesn’t seem like the sort of thing we’d mind,” Mabel chirped. “Now clear a spot on the bed so Annis can sit and we can get past her to put up these supplies.”
“What is all of that?” August asked, craning his neck to see as Annis began placing bottles in a trunk under her bed. “Bottles? Oh, Lord. What sort of orphan did Babe drag home this time?”
Annis smiled, looking down adoringly at the small bundle in her arms. “A wolf.” She moved her arms so that everyone could see the pup while still keeping him snuggled against her. “His name is Finian. And I don’t know a thing about him beyond that, so all you animal experts speak up, please.” She rounded the room and landed on Sawyer. Something about his affinity for lions made him seem like the most appropriate match for her current predicament.
“Completely different beast,” he said grinning. “But, I will tell you this. There’s nothing quite like being loved by a creature that would just as soon kill you as look at you.”
“A comforting bit of insight, thanks,” she mumbled, slipping gently back onto the mattress of her makeshift bed. Sequoyah came to sit beside her.
“May I?” he asked, fingers stretched out toward the pup, waiting for permission. She granted it with a nod. “You’ll do just fine with him,” he said so only she could hear. The others had already moved on in their conversations, ranging from the chipmunk Caroline had raised to the possibility of taking a trip into town the following morning. The latter idea seemed to conjure up a great deal of excitement. But all Annis could think of was Finian, snuggled in her lap.
“You always think the best of me,” she said to Sequoyah after a long, contemplative pause. “I’m not sure you’re always right, though.”
He smirked. “Haven’t been wrong yet.”
“You’ve known me for all of two days, you fool.” She laughed. “You may yet turn out to be wrong about something you simply have yet to see the results of.”
He shook his head, still convinced of his belief that she could always reach the hopes he had for her. “It’s not in my nature to be wrong. I say what I see, and I see what I believe.”
“Don’t you mean you believe what you see?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t.” And he left it at that, with no more explanations or discussions. The last of his enigma of a statement rang in her ears and melted into her mind, where it tumbled around with the rest of her thoughts, on hold until she had a moment of quiet to sort through them all.
That moment, however, was hours out of reach as voices grew louder and tales became more animated until everyone, including Annis and Sequoyah, was in stitches, tears of laughter rolling down their cheeks while little Finian slept peacefully. People came and went, drawn to their carriage by all the raucous noise, though the original group seemed to remain intact despite the comings and goings. Mabel was right. It was nice to stay put for a night and not worry about anything other than enjoying each other’s company.
Before long, Finian was awake again, shoving his nose around her stomach in search of his next meal. Determined to learn quickly, Annis insisted on making his bottle on her own.
“I can do it,” she announced, reaching under the bed to retrieve the small trunk that held Finian’s bottles. “Or,” she amended with a little less confidence as she opened the lid and glanced inside, “at least I can figure it out.”
Maude—who’d been ready to jump out of her seat to help, which would have resulted in dragging with her a surprised Mabel who was deep in conversation with August—leaned back, one curious eyebrow raised at Annis and her lips cinched at the corner of her mouth. “Alright then, let’s see if you’ve been paying attention.”
It turned out to be harder than Annis had anticipated, starting with juggling Finian in one hand while trying to take the rubber nipple off the bottle with the other.
“Sure you don’t want any help?” Maude asked, a smug look on her face as she watched Annis continue to struggle.
Annis sighed, accepting imminent surrender. “It would still count as doing it myself if I let you hold Fin, right?”
Maude shrugged. “We can still count it.”
Annis reached out and placed Finian gently in Maude’s lap, which incidentally also drew Mabel’s attention. “Oh, look who we have here,” she cooed, picking him up and holding him to her chest. “I just adore how he smells, don’t you?” she asked her sister, who crinkled her nose and snorted in response.
Tempted though Annis was to watch what would likely prove to be an entertaining exchange between the twins regarding Finian’s scent, or odor, as Maude would likely put it, she forced her focus back to the bottle. Two hands were definitely more favorable than one. This time around, the top came off in seconds.
Next, she drew the bag of powdered milk from the trunk and proceeded to pour it into the bottle almost just as she’d seen Maude do it before. In Annis’s case, the powder wasn’t so much going inside the bottle as around the outside of it. It took her several attempts and multiple adjustments to the bag and the angle at which she held it, but eventually, she got enough inside. Or, rather, more than enough, leading her to have to pour some back into the bag, which resulted in having too little in the bottle. This game went on for a solid three rounds before Annis finally managed to get the exact right amount into the bottle.
From there, things became easier as she topped off the bottle with water from the pitcher the twins kept on their dresser for washing at night. And then she went to give it a good shake, only to find she hadn’t secured the rubber nipple as well as she’d thought, leading her to spray milk around their entire compartment and everyone inside it.
After a good laugh, and a few tears by Annis, Caroline and Sawyer cleaned up the mess while Annis made her final attempt at preparing the bottle.
In the end, her stubbornness won out and, after another near spill and multiple outbursts her mother would have deemed highly unladylike, the job was done. Finian happily nursed his bottle again. Everyone fell silent watching him, fascinated by the simple act of feeding a puppy. Annis had to admit that there was something soothing about the contented way he grunted and how he stretched out his hind legs as he started to drift off near the end of his feeding. He was so small and so helpless, and yet so unaware of either vulnerability as he rested there, curled up against her stomach again, trusting her to care for him and keep him safe. Annis felt like he did once. And until this evening, she’d been certain she’d never allow herself to be lulled into such a false sense of security again. Now, seeing Finian, knowing she would move heaven and earth to protect him, she felt a renewed sense of hope. She considered the possibility that trust was not to be abandoned entirely. Maybe these feelings she was having about him, others were just as capable of, even if those she’d expected it most from in her previous life had not been. It was possible, she though, that she simply hadn’t been worthy enough to evoke such feelings of love and protection in them.
“I think Finian here may have the right idea about things,” Sawyer said with a loud yawn.
“I hope you’re not thinking about curling up in someone’s lap for a nap,” Maude said flatly.
“I take it you’re not offering?” Sawyer responded, matching her tone.
“I am,” Homer volunteered loudly. “Come on, then, plenty of room here,” he said, patting his thighs with his hands. People laughed, though it was noticeably with less enthusiasm than they’d shown earlier in the night. Everyone was getting sleepy.
“Thanks, brother. But I think I’ll pass.” Sawyer scooted to the edge of the nightstand he’d been sitting on and prepared to jump off. “But only because Caroline is staring daggers at me, threatening me not to.”
Homer laughed, clasping his wife’s hand, who chuckled softly and never denied the accusation, making it all the more believable and entertaining. With the quiet hum of dying chuckles still in the air, they made their descent from the bed they’d been sitting on. “Well, if no one’s going to be sleeping in my lap, I think I’ll go ahead and take it back to my own bed, then.”
“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” Caroline said, leading the way for the both of them as they moved through the small aisle toward the back door, which Annis had learned led to their adjoining car. “Annis, I believe we’ll see you first thing in the morning?”
“Hugh’s orders,” Annis said brightly. She was excited to spend the day with them and, frankly, still a bit on edge about Hugh’s sudden change of heart.
“He must really trust you,” Homer mused as they walked out.
“He certainly doesn’t trust us,” Caroline added with a loud laugh, pulling the door shut behind them.