A Child's Gift. Linda Warren

Like this morning, driving in the early dawn with the morning dew glistening off his windshield, the beam of his headlights piercing the wall of darkness as he drove into Horseshoe, Texas. Simple. Quiet. Perfect.

A two-story limestone courthouse, over a century old, stood as sentinel over the two-thousand-plus citizens. Large gnarled oaks gave it a bygone-days presence. At the top was a Gothic-like clock tower that never had the correct time. Most people in Horseshoe set their watches by it, making them a little off. Time-wise.

At this hour there wasn’t much going on in the small town, but the lights were on in the diner and in the bakery. He pulled in at the bakery.

It was Tuesday morning. No fanfare. No balloons. No confetti. Just plain ol’ Tuesday—his favorite day of the week. For about two years now he’d been picking up kolaches for the guys at Rebel Ranch every Tuesday morning. That was his excuse to see Anamarie Wiznowski. He liked Anamarie more than he wanted to admit, but nothing could come of their relationship. Her parents, especially her mother, would never allow her to date an ex-con.

When people turned away from him or avoided speaking to him, he felt sure those words were branded on his forehead. He was a loner and he wore a stone-like expression, as some people called it. He tried not to care what people thought of him, but each snub cut a little deeper on the inside. Until he met Anamarie, he’d kept to himself.

He tapped on the glass door and Anamarie hurried from the back. It was mid-May and the tepid south wind nipped at his clothes as the hint of summer whistled through the trees. She opened the door and he lost all train of thought at the smile on her pretty face. A hairnet covered her hair and a big apron adorned the front of her jeans and blouse. She’d never looked lovelier to him. Her blue eyes sparkled as bright as the morning dew. He never grew tired of looking at her.

Unlocking the door, she said, “Good morning—come on in. Your coffee’s ready. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Jericho removed his hat and stepped into the bakery with its black-and-white-checkered floor, breathing in the heavenly scent of fresh-baked kolaches. He never tired of that, either. In an hour or so the place would be swarming with eager customers. He glanced toward the kitchen and asked, “Are you by yourself this morning?” Usually there were a couple of ladies in the back, but this morning he didn’t see anyone.

“Yes. Can you believe it?” she shouted from the kitchen. “Margie didn’t show up so I guess that means she and Bubba had a big fight. Judy had a flat tire, but she’ll be here soon.”

Bubba was Anamarie’s brother and he and Margie had an on-and-off-again relationship. Bubba owned the gas station and a wrecker service and he also helped the sheriff every now and then. He was well known around the town, and was a friend of the Rebel family. And of Jericho’s.

After hooking his hat on an ornate wrought-iron hat rack made by Anamarie’s father, he eased his tall frame into a chair at one of the small red tables in the eating area. Anamarie returned with two steaming cups of coffee and a plate of fresh kolaches. The hairnet and apron were gone and her smile lit up his cold heart. Besides the Rebel family, she was the only one in town who hadn’t snubbed him. Her blond hair was pulled back into a topknot and several strands were loose around her face. At forty, she had this idea in her head that she was overweight and she didn’t think of herself as attractive. He’d told her before that she was just the right size. And she was to him. Time and time again she mentioned the weight thing. He couldn’t convince her otherwise.

“Cherry kolaches,” she said as he picked up the heavenly treat.

He took a bite and she picked up the cheese one. “I should just slather this on my hips.” She made a face.

“Don’t start. You’re the perfect size and I don’t know why you’re always complaining about it. Look in the mirror for heaven sakes.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice.”

“Do

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