Chapter 10
Before they went any further, Sophie was called over and Jeff showed her what he had found. Sophie digested the information, shaking her head and dealing with the shock. Jeff announced since traffic had resumed normally on the highway, he would ask a member of the RCMP to document his findings.
Two uniformed men accompanied Jeff back down into the ditch to inspect the fence. Questions were asked and pictures were taken of the clean cuts made by wire cutters and where the poles had been neatly sawn off and tossed to one side.
“It’s evident,” said one of the constables through the water streaming down his face, “that this accident was a result of foul play. However, we will need your formal statement, and charges may still result. Come into the station this afternoon if you can.” He looked apologetic. “I’m sure sorry all this has happened to you, Mrs. Tremblay. I’ve been out to your ranch twice over the last week. Please know we’re doing all we can to find whoever is at the bottom of it.”
The two men took their time to examine the scene. However, anything that might have been a clue had been obliterated by the trampling of hundreds of cloven feet and the buckets of water that were falling by the minute. With a wave, the RCMP left.
A somber crew worked to complete the repairs. Annette and Gabrielle helped in small ways, but mostly stayed clear of those who knew what they were doing. Everyone was soaking wet, and still the rain poured on. Once everything was secure, they headed for their respective vehicles. Even the hired man, Marcus, whose name they had learned during the emergency, was invited to Jeff’s home for dry clothes and something to eat.
The three of them piled back into Jeff’s truck. Annette didn’t even consider her place along the bench seat this time. She slid into the middle with alacrity. However, she quickly became aware of Jeff’s long legs close beside her, and a faint trace of spicy aftershave that hadn’t quite washed off in the rain. This would never do, she thought, purposely moving closer to Gabrielle. She would have to put the kiss they’d shared, out of her mind. He and Rosa were a couple and honestly, she wasn’t even attracted to the man. It had been a random act of exhilaration after sharing an electrifying victory…or something like that.
“What a morning!” Gabrielle groaned, leaning against the door as they motored along the highway toward Jeff’s ranch. “Poor Sophie.”
Jeff grimaced. “I agree, but she’s lucky.”
“Lucky?” Gabrielle echoed.
“Definitely. If there had been an accident…” he smoothed his dripping hair back from his forehead. “Especially if people had been injured, Sophie would have been sued. She would have lost everything she had, because I don’t think she has liability insurance.” He gripped the steering wheel with both hands, his knuckles white.
“Bien s?r. I mean, of course. I ‘ad not thought of that.” Gabrielle subsided into silence.
The storm worsened. Dark, ominous clouds swirled above them, unleashing a violent downpour upon the ancient windshield of the truck. Jeff leaned forward, flipping the wipers on high and squinting through the relentless rain that pounded against the glass. A gust of wind caught the vehicle, blowing it to the side, but Jeff held the wheel steady and they plowed on.
Even though it was no more than one o’clock in the afternoon, the world was dark and oppressive. Annette huddled on the seat, her body soaked and shivering uncontrollably. She felt every bump and jolt of the truck as it plunged through puddles and over rough patches of road.
Jeff broke the silence. “I’d turn on the heat, but the window would fog up and it’s kind of critical that I see. Sorry. Why don’t you two move over and huddle together? In fact, look…” Taking one hand from the wheel he snaked an arm around Annette and pulled her close to his side. “Now, Gabrielle slides up to you and, ‘we snuggle together,’ as my mother used to say.” He flashed them a quick grin before putting both hands back on the wheel.
Annette’s entire body ignited with heat, every nerve ending ablaze. He was right, it was working. Although not for the reason he had intended. The sensation of his hard thigh pressed against hers, his muscled shoulder flexing as he drove, and the overwhelming closeness was sending her senses into overdrive.
It was with gratitude that she saw the familiar gate overtop the entrance, Douglas Ranch. It wouldn’t be long until they were back at the house, and she could escape to her room. The morning had left her shaken in more ways than one.
“You did very well, Annette,” Jeff brought her back to the present with his words. “I was—impressed.”
“Oh?” Annette blurted in a small voice.
“I agree,” Gabrielle chimed in. “I was amazed at what you did out there, ma s?ur.”
“You stopped the animals from breaking away on the road. It was very brave and instinctual for someone who has never worked with cattle before. You have my thanks,” he said.
Annette didn’t know how to respond. Her mind was a bit muddled at the moment. “Merci bien,” she said at length.
“I’m pretty sure that at least half of that was, thanks,” Jeff laughed. “And so, you’re welcome.” He stopped the truck outside the house and killed the engine. As they tried to scramble out, Annette pushed Gabrielle in her haste. He arrested them by speaking again. “I think we all need some lunch,” he said. “I’ll ask Sandra to add something to the pot, or make a few more sandwiches to feed us all. So, we’ll meet in the kitchen in forty-five minutes. Okay?”
“Okay,” Annette and Gabrielle called in unison. They hurried up the steps, not even bothering to shield their faces from the rain. At least it had somewhat abated. They slipped inside the house the back way, knowing it was closer to the washer and dryer. They were met by Sandra.
“Jeff just wrote and asked me to be waiting with bathrobes for you all. Here’s yours,” she said, flinging the fluffy white one to Annette. “And yours,” she tossed a chocolate brown one to Gabrielle. “There’s a bathroom right here where you can take off your wet things and hand them to me on your way out. I’d take time to soak in a hot tub if I were you.” She winked. “Oh,” she said, as though forgetting something, “bring down any clothes you need washing, too. I might as well throw them all in at once.” Sandra grinned and pointed to a closed door along the hall. “Laundry room is in there.”
Annette and Gabrielle both dashed for the bathroom at the same time, almost getting stuck in the doorway. Giggling, Annette stepped back and motioned for her sister to go first. “Just hurry,” she admonished.
It didn’t take long for either of them to peel off their wet clothes and don the snuggly warm robes.
“Thank you, Sandra,” they echoed and then scampered up the broad staircase to their own rooms, collected their laundry and brought it back down.
It was pure luxury to lower herself into the sweet-smelling bath salts that she sprinkled heavily in the steaming water. The heat melted away the shivering and the chill.
She sank down, almost up to her nose, closed her eyes, and just lay there, reliving the morning. It had been a personal moment of triumph. She imagined what her professors, or friends back in Paris would have thought if they could have seen her move a herd of unruly cattle across a Canadian highway. Her! It was highly out of character for her to do anything apart from focus on her art studies, painting, shopping, and eating out with friends, all while wearing the latest fashions.
Yes, saving the cows had all gone very well if she did say so herself—up to the moment when Jeff had kissed her. The sudden remembrance of it had her rearing up in the tub, feeling as if the pressure of the water on her chest was impeding her breath.
“Calm yourself, Annette,” she whispered soothingly, with the same tone as she had used with the cows. It brought a smile to her face, and she sank back down.
However, the image of Jeff’s face looming over her, growing closer every moment, rushed into her mind. She could see his eyes, so deeply brown that they were almost black; the chiselled jawline, covered in several day’s growth of dark beard; and the hard lines of his mouth just before it claimed her own.
Well, that was enough. She pulled the plug and stood up in the tub, her body streaming with water. Turning on the shower she pulled the curtain and reached for the shampoo. Happy hour was over. Some memories were too dangerous to contemplate, she decided, and started scrubbing vigorously at her scalp.
Later, she tiptoed from the steamy room in her bathrobe with a towel around her head and looked out her bedroom windows. The storm had passed, leaving a few broken branches strewn over the yard in its wake. Rain continued to pitter-patter to earth. Though from looking at the huge puddles brimming with water on the driveway, she could see a lot of water had fallen. Thankfully, the heavy clouds had dissipated leaving a sullen greyness behind. Leaning on the doorjamb, she searched for the horses. Pearl was missing.
Heedless of the cold and rain that still fell, Annette pushed open the balcony door and stole across the slippery deck to lean on the rail. She searched the horizon for what she considered now to be her horse, having felt a connection with the animal. That sounded silly, even to her own ears, but it was true. Concern bubbled up inside her and she resolved to look for the mare.
Quickly she dressed. Were her clothes appropriate for what she was going to do? No. Not even a little, but it was all she had at the moment. A long-sleeve, pale blue, silk blouse with ruffles at both the wrists and more running down the low, V-neck bodice went on first. And then she pulled on a pair of fitted white capris. She put her damp hair up in a bun and surveyed herself in the mirror. Ridiculous, she admitted. How would she possibly trudge out across a muddy, wet field in this?
Nonetheless, concern for Pearl outweighed the fear of ruining her clothes. When packing she had rolled a quilted pink jacket and shoved it into her case at Gabrielle’s urging. She dug it out now. It was the most rugged thing she owned, and she looked at it ruefully. It wasn’t even slightly rugged, as she had thought while back in Paris.
“I wonder if Canadians own such a thing as an umbrella,” she muttered, and then giggled. The image of Jeff marching to the barn in his boots, cowboy hat, and jeans, holding a frilly parasol over his head leaped into her mind. That would be the day.
Zipping up the jacket, she rummaged for some socks and snuck back downstairs. She’d have to see what kind of shape her boots were in after the mud and rain of the morning. Finding them in the back entry, she lifted one between her two fingers. No. They were filthy, sodden and misshapen. Certainly not to be worn again today—if ever.
Her eyes fell on several pairs of rubber boots. Without thinking to ask if she could use them, she slipped her feet into the smallest pair, which were still far too big, and clomped to the closet. Peering into the dim recess of the cupboard, she wrinkled her nose. It smelled of cows and dirt. Hastily, she backed out, but an enormous red and black checked jacket, probably belonging to Jeff, caught her eye. It was large enough to cover most of her, and would protect her clothes. Without another thought, she put it on.
An umbrella was nowhere to be seen, but she spotted a basket of hats. That would do in a pinch. She pulled out a dark green ball cap, the cleanest she could find, and read the logo, John Deere. Momentarily, she wondered who that was, and whether he’d be upset she was wearing his hat, but forgot about it as she rammed it down over her voluminous hair and stomped to the door.
The boots swam around her feet as she plodded down the outside steps and began to wade cumbersomely and ever so slowly across the lawn toward the horse pasture. She noticed the delicate flowers lining the path, that she and Gabrielle had admired earlier this morning, had been pounded flat into the sodden earth. Would they come back to life?
But that was beyond her control. She needed to ensure that Pearl was okay. The thought of lightning striking the lovely animal had her worried. As she lifted the latch and was about to push the gate open, she thought of the barn. It had to have been Pearl that she saw Jeff put inside that first day when they’d arrived. Maybe she’d check there first, just in case. She dropped the latch back in place and slogged in the other direction.
The huge sliding doors were closed. Throwing her weight into it, Annette was able to push one aside enough to allow her entry. Then she struggled to close it behind her. At least the barn smelled nice. She took a deep breath of the fragrant hay and the distinctive smell of horses. The lights were even on, offering a warm ambiance. Rain pattered high above her on the tin roof. It was a comforting sound. Not like the lashing torrents of water from before.
She slopped toward Pearl’s stall, swinging each foot out wide in a semi-circle before placing it on the ground like an automaton. The thought of what she must look like made her giggle.
“Who’s there?” asked a gruff voice.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Oh no, it was Jeff and inwardly she groaned. He was absolutely the last person she wanted to see right now. Well—maybe Rosa was the last, but Jeff was right up there at the top of those she least wanted to be around.
“It’s me,” she quavered. “I was worried about Pearl. I couldn’t see ‘er in the pasture you see, and I thought…”
Emerging from the stall, his forehead creased into a frown, and he growled. “You thought what?” He looked different without his hat. Less intimidating.
She drew herself up to her full height as his eyes travelled down her costume and one eyebrow lifted quizzically. “I thought she might be ‘urt. I was worried about lightning, if you must know, and I came out to check on ‘er.” She met his gaze head on, refusing to allow his arrogance to get the better of her.
“You…came to check on her,” he said in a disbelieving tone. “In that?” His mouth lifted in amusement. “I barely even recognized you.” He chuckled.
“Is there something wrong with me being here?” she asked haughtily. Brushing past him she galumphed to the door of Pearl’s stall to assure herself the horse was okay. Inside, Pearl lifted her head from a small bucket and whickered at her.
“Oh, she likes me!” Now it was Annette’s turn to sound disbelieving. “She was ‘appy to see me.” Swivelling toward Jeff on one enormous boot, she felt happiness gurgle up inside her chest. “Is that true? Or am I imagining it?”
“Yeah, she likes you,” he agreed. He came to stand next to her and his voice softened. “It’s real nice that you came out here to make sure Pearl was okay. I’m just surprised, is all.”
“It shouldn’t surprise you to know that I care,” she remonstrated. “Can I brush ‘er?”
“Sure,” he shrugged. “That’s what I was doing when you came in.” He handed her a brush and gestured that she should move inside. “I don’t like seeing the old girl out in a storm. She’s too important to me. I’ll get a seat and join you...” He turned to leave and then paused. “If you don’t mind?”
He was actually asking her rather than making another mocking remark which surprised her. What a switch? “Of course. Do whatever you want.” She heard his footsteps die away as she began to briskly brush Pearl’s beautiful coat and run her free hand down the horse’s soft neck. She leaned close to Pearl’s ear. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” The ear flicked back and forth as though answering.
Presently Jeff returned and she glanced at him as he placed a bale of straw inside the box stall and took a seat. At first there was silence, apart from the swish of her brush, and Pearl snuffling for leftover grain in the bucket before grinding it between her teeth. Then Jeff spoke.
“Do you like it here? In Canada?”
“Yes,” she shrugged. “I didn’t know what to expect. Gabrielle tried to prepare me. Mostly with what not to wear,” she threw him a rueful smile. “But I really ‘ad no idea ‘ow beautiful it would be until I arrived.” She paused and stared out the window to the greyness beyond. “It ‘as captured my ‘eart.” She patted Pearl. “And this girl ‘as part of it too.”
“Wow, you sound quite poetic. You’re an artist, right? Not a writer?”
“That’s right. I just finished four years of university in Paris. At Beaux-Arts de Paris.”
“Sounds impressive,” Jeff pulled a long strand of yellow straw from the bale and stuck it between his teeth. “What do you do with that?”
“What do I do?” she stopped to look at him questioningly.
“I mean, what sort of job can you get with that training?”
“I ‘ave applied to several art galleries in Paris. And I paint. It’s not a lucrative occupation, but it makes me ‘appy.” Annette moved around the other side, ducking under Pearl’s neck.
“You’ve never worked with horses before? Cause you’re really comfortable with them.”
“I’m comfortable with Pearl,” she said, puffing with exertion. “I don’t suppose it would be that way with other ‘orses.”
“Perhaps not,” he agreed. “Hopefully tomorrow I can give you another lesson. I believe Jessica would be happy that Pearl is being loved and ridden again.”
“I’d like that.” She hesitated a moment and then asked a question she knew might challenge the tentative friendship they were forging. “What ‘appened to Jessica, and your father?”
It was long minutes before he replied. She thought he might not answer at all, and was kicking herself for her intrusive query, but at length he cleared his throat and began.
“She was fifteen, as I told you, and very much into showing horses. Dad helped her with that. He was the best horseman this area had known for many years. He could get a horse to do just about anything, but he was gentle with them, you know. When Dad worked with a horse they wanted to please him...” Jeff’s voice trailed away. Annette stole a quick peek over Pearl’s back to see him chewing on the straw and staring into space, his legs crossed in front of him as he leaned back on the wood wall of the stall.
“Jessica was a happy accident, you might say. Born to older parents whose only other child, me, was seven years old when she was born. They’d thought they were done having children. But then she appeared, and we all doted on her. Consequently, I was twenty-two and full of myself when it happened,” he said, bitterly. “I should have taken her to the event that day, or tried harder to stop them at least…but no, I had other, more important things to do…” He paused, sinking into a world of regret. “It was a day much like this. Raining so hard you couldn’t see the front of the truck. Still, she wheedled Dad into taking her. He loved to make her happy.”
Jeff sighed deeply and bent over double, resting his face in his hands. His damp hair fell forward, curling around his face to give him the appearance of innocence and vulnerability…much like the young man he must have been on the day the accident took place.
“The weather was terrible, visibility poor, and they were pulling the horse trailer home that night, after the show. Pearl wasn’t with them that day, because she’d come up lame that morning. Jess had an older, more experienced horse with her. Anyway, she and Dad came over the crest of a hill and there was an intersection on the highway. A semi-truck and trailer didn’t see them until it was too late. He pulled out right in front of them.” Jeff brushed at his eyes and stopped.
Annette felt terrible. Why had she asked such a painful question? “I am so very sorry, Jeff,” she said, coming out from behind Pearl and taking a seat beside him. “I should not ‘ave asked you to speak of such a painful time. Please forgive me.” She took his hand in hers and squeezed, feeling the torment he must have felt that dreadful night flood through him into her. How he and his mother must have suffered to learn that half of their family was gone forever.
“It’s okay,” he managed, after a time. “The counselor said it’s cathartic to talk about what happened. And particularly to remember the good times.” He took her small hand in both of his large ones and intertwined her fingers with his. It was reflexive, she knew, and meant nothing other than maybe a distraction from the memories.
“So, with that in mind,” he continued, “I’ll tell you something that brings me happy thoughts of my sister, and of Dad.” He glanced at her quickly and then looked away.
“She would have been about six years old that winter, and me, thirteen. It was just before Christmas and at the breakfast table that morning Dad announced that we were going on a winter ride. Right after chores were done, he said. We kids were thrilled. It was always too cold to ride much at that time of year, so this was a surprise. While he and I did the chores, Jess caught and saddled her little pony, Princess. Pearl was too spirited for her to handle back then.”
Annette let the brush drop onto the ground beside her and leaned back onto the wooden walls of the stall with Jeff as he settled into a more comfortable position. She looked at her hand, still trapped within his two, but made no attempt to pull it away. He drifted back in time to that perfect day.
“The snow was deep,” he began again, “blanketing the land in dazzling white up to the horses’ knees. But it was powdery and not too difficult for the horses to get through. Dad was on his old horse, Champ, Mom on her horse, Tina, and I rode my pinto, Chief. We headed across the pasture and wove our way into the forest near here. Frost glittered like diamonds on every surface, from the dark, towering pines to the bare branches of the poplars and even on blades of grass that rose above the snow.”
“The air was cold and crisp, but the sun shone and warmed our backs. As we rode, Dad pointed out tracks of the animals he saw: deer, moose, rabbit, fox, coyotes, and, most exciting, the huge paws of a cougar. He told stories of his youth, and how his father had taken him on a similar ride in this same spot. ‘It’s now a tradition,’ he’d said happily. ‘You kids have to carry it on.’” Jeff stopped and brushed roughly at his eyes.
“Anyway, pretty soon Jessica complained that her feet were getting cold. Dad had anticipated this, however, and was prepared. He had me dig under the snow for long prairie grass while he searched for wood. Soon we had a blazing fire. He fashioned seats for everyone out of logs and propped Jess’ little boots on a forked stick to warm them near the flames.” A smile curved Jeff’s lips.
“To top it all off, Mom had packed a picnic lunch for us. She pulled sandwiches and a thermos of hot chocolate from her saddlebags along with tiny plastic cups. We basked in the warm glow of the fire, we talked about everything and anything, and we enjoyed the lunch. My heart was full of love for my sister and parents...” Jeff expelled a long, drawn-out breath. “I think that was the best meal I’ve ever had.”
With a grunt, Pearl lowered herself to the sawdust, breaking the flow of Jeff’s reminiscence. He shrugged and gave Annette’s hand one last squeeze before placing it back on her knee.
“That’s a beautiful memory,” Annette whispered, feeling she was still with Jeff in the midst of the forest.
“Yes,” he agreed. “But that’s about enough talking for me today. What about you?”
“Me?”
“Of course. You owe me a childhood story of equal or greater length,” he grinned down at her. “It’s only fair.”
Annette was still affected by the intimate details of Jeff’s family. It was rather shocking to think that he’d just unburdened his soul to her, and she felt moved. She cast about in her memories to come up with a story for him. She had no traumatic tales to tell. Her parents were both alive and her childhood had been without incident. Growing up in southern France, with the occasional trip to Spain or Italy, had been quite normal events in her world.
Wait. That was it. Her life in France might be quite interesting to Jeff. If visiting the Rocky Mountain foothills of Canada was such a unique experience for her, it stood to reason that her life might be thought-provoking for him.
“I grew up in in the southwest of France, in a city called Toulouse,” she began slowly. “My parents are people who work each day in professions they love. They raised Gabrielle and me to believe that this was important; to enjoy each day doing what brings you joy and contentment. They also wanted us to understand other cultures and lifestyles. When we were young we travelled to various countries in Europe. We were exposed to good music, the theatre, fine art, and museums. During the summer breaks we visited my Aunt Elyse who owned a vineyard north of Marseille. That is in Provence.”
“Sounds very grand,” Jeff observed with a chuckle and a regal flourish of his hand.
She considered this a moment. “I suppose it does, yes, but it was just normal life for us. Anyway, it was on one of these visits that I was first exposed to the work of Vincent Van Gogh. My aunt took us to Arles, which is a city not far from the Mediterranean Sea. There we walked along a path dedicated to the famous painter. Van Gogh went to Provence, like many painters before and after ‘im have done, seeking the vibrant colours, intense light, and sunshine of the south. We saw many places around the city where ‘e set up ‘is easel and painted the changing landscapes, the daily life of peasants or the men who worked on the Rhone River. Everything this man saw, inspired ‘im and appeared on ‘is canvas.” She looked up at him guiltily. “Sorry. I get carried away.”
“Not at all. It’s very interesting. And so, was this what motivated you to become an artist yourself?”
She nodded. “I ‘ad always loved to draw, and they bought me children’s paints when I was very young. But after that trip I knew it was what I was meant to do. My parents enrolled me in lessons, and after I graduated from lycée, the word in English for this escapes me…”
“High school?” Jeff supplied.
“Yes. When I was finished with ‘igh school, I went immediately to Paris to begin my studies.”
“Four years ago, right?” Jeff asked. “So, you’re what? About twenty-two, twenty-three?”
“I will be twenty-three this fall,” she answered, frowning. “Does it matter? ‘Ow old are you?”
He laughed. “Touché. It doesn’t matter at all, and in the interest of full disclosure, I’m thirty years old.”
She leaned away and squinted at him. “So, what you are telling me is that you could ‘ave broken many old and brittle bones that day I fell on you.” She tapped a thoughtful finger to her chin. “I must be more careful with someone of your advanced age.”
“Hey!” he cried, giving her a little push. “That’s a low punch.”
Just then the outer door to the barn slid open and someone stepped inside.
“Jeff,” Rosa called. “Are you in here?”
Jeff got to his feet and went to the door of Pearl’s pen. “Yep, just visiting with Pearl,” he said. “Anything wrong?”
Rosa appeared in the doorway and scowled at Annette. “What’s she doing here?” the woman said unpleasantly. Pearl lunged to her feet and shook herself sending bits of dirt flying.
“Annette was concerned about Pearl and was talking with me,” Jeff sounded angry. “Is that a problem?”
“Of course not,” Rosa gave a tinkling laugh, flipping the switch to turn back into her syrupy sweet alter ego. “I just didn’t recognize her in that peculiar outfit.” She waved at Annette without even looking her way. Laying a hand on Jeff’s arm, she said, “I just came to tell you that lunch is ready and we’re waiting for you before we start. Also, Sophie wanted to talk about checking the rest of her fence line that borders the highway in case any other wire was damaged.”
“I see.” Jeff strode back into the stall and gave Pearl one last pat before stooping to pick up the brush. “We should go have lunch,” he said to Annette. “Feel free to come out here anytime to visit Pearl. I’ll leave her brushes outside the door.”
Wheeling around, he held the gate open, waiting for her to exit the pen.
She shook her head. “Actually, I think I’ll take a few more minutes with Pearl, if that’s alright?”
“Of course. See you back at the house.” He and Rosa walked away, talking in hushed tones. She was glad she hadn’t gone with them. It was an uncomfortable situation that she had no desire to be caught up in. Whatever sort of relationship they shared was none of her business.
Sagging against the wall, she stared at Pearl who was nosing around the fallen pail.
“You’d like a bit more of that, wouldn’t you my girl?” Annette said in a low voice. “Maybe later, once I learn what it was he gave you, and where he got it from, I could bring you some.” She stood up and moved to Pearl, running a hand down her soft neck. The horse curled her head around to nuzzle her. “You’re so sweet.” She stroked the incredibly soft muzzle and smiled.
“Talking to yourself?” came a strident voice from the alleyway. Both Annette and Pearl jumped. A shadowy figure stepped up to the bars of the gate.
“Rosa?” Annette said in astonishment. Inwardly, she groaned. Not again.
“I just came back to have a chat since you didn’t seem to understand my English the first time,” the woman purred, her voice dripping with venom “I wanted to make it quite clear that Jeff is mine. We have plans to be married and you…” the woman took a deep breath and continued, as she arrogantly flipped a dismissive hand at Annette, “with your little French accent, and childlike innocence, are so ignorant. You wouldn’t last here five minutes. If you think by kissing him, or looking for secret ways to catch him alone, that you’ll win him over, you’re wrong. He’s in love with me.”
“I’m not…”
Rosa interrupted. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say,” she snarled. “Just stay away from Jeff you trollop.”
She turned on her heel, stomped out of the barn, and slid the door closed behind her with a bang.