55 THE DECISION 02

"HE WAS TAKING HER TO THE AIRPORT," Shorty said, carrying Pookie to a patch of grass near the door as Andrew approached the bunkhouse. Shorty set the little dog down and watched him sniff around. "That's all he said, Andrew."

"I don't suppose he was going with her?"

Dusty stuck his head out the door. "You are looking for Bobby? He took off a little while ago."

"Didn't have nothing with him," Shorty said, picking up Pookie after he'd lifted his leg and returned to the old man's feet. "Except the little gal's suitcase. They took the Caddy and took off, dust flying everywhere."

"Yeah," Dusty added. "He told me to tell you he'd be back later, but they were going to miss the plane if they didn't leave right away."

"Damn it all to hell." Andrew wanted to break something. He wanted to put his fist through the window. And then he wanted to get very, very drunk.

"Here." Shorty blinked back tears and put Pookie in Andrew's arms. "I expect the auntie will be wanting to take him with her when she leaves, huh?"

"I guess," Andrew replied. So the wedding was off. Bobby must be real broken up, Rose was getting exactly what she wanted all along and he was left holding the dog.

IT TOOK HER nine minutes to call the airline, shower and pack. She saved time by crying in the shower, lost time but trying to put makeup on while weeping. The packing was a mess. She managed to stuff the green gown into an already bulging suitcase, because she couldn't bear to leave it behind as Francisca had left hers. The quilt went into a shopping bag she would carry on the plane along with dog crate.

Andrew was waiting for her in the kitchen when she came downstairs. Pookie, his topknot askew, sat in his little bed by the back door and gazed at her with his typical sweet, vacant expression.

Andrew glanced at her suitcase, his jaw clenched. His hat was low on his forehead, casting a shadow over his eyes that made it hard to read his expression.

"That's was fast."

"There was a note saying she was sorry, but she left her wedding dress," she said, smoothing her damp palms on her skirt, the same skirt she'd worn when she'd arrived at the Dead Horse. "I don't think they've eloped. I think Francisca's gone home."

Andrew crossed his arms in front of his chest, almost as if he was barring the door. "I know. Shorty said Bobby's taken her to the airport."

"Oh." of course the other ranch hands would know what was going on. "I called the airline. The next flight to Providence leaves in two hours and forty-three minutes."

'Please,' she wanted to say. 'Please ask me to stay. Tell me you love me. Tell me anything.'

"I figured you'd want to leave," Andrew said.

"Dusty's gonna drive you," he said, not looking at her. He set her suitcase in the back of one of the ranch pickup trucks while Dusty helped her and Pookie get settled in the front seat. Andrew came around to the passenger side and leaned in. She thought he was going to kiss her, but she couldn't bear to say goodbye that way. If he kissed her goodbye she would burst into tears and embarrass both of them.

If he kissed her goodbye she would never leave.

"Andrew?"

He waited for her to get her seat belt on and settle Pookie in his bed at her feet before he shut the door.

"He will come around," Dusty assured her as he backed up the truck and turned around. He shifted gears, and the truck bounced along the drive way from the ranch. "I've got a bet going on that says there's gonna be a wedding."

"How much?"

"A hundred bucks," the cowboy replied.