John hadn’t made a very good first impression on Grandpa. Anna wasn’t exactly sure why, for his manners were impeccable and he could carry on a conversation with anyone. Unless Walter saw through her ruse. He wasn’t one to have the wool pulled over his eyes, and the thought of telling him John wasn’t really her fiancé made her stomach hiccup. “I’m sure he’ll be along shortly,” she said, making a mental note to explain to John that rising before the sun was a must in her grandfather’s home. Once their old rapport—that between her and her grandfather—returned, she’d tell him everything.
The butter was still melting on her flapjacks when Tanner pushed away from the table.
“Where are you going?” her grandfather asked.
“Got work to do,” Tanner said.
“I wasn’t done with our conversation,” Grandpa said.
“It’ll have to wait,” Tanner replied. “There are cows to feed, fence lines to check, ice to break.”
“You’ve got a bunkhouse full of men to do those things.”
Anna hid the grin her grandfather’s response evoked.
“I know,” Tanner agreed. “And they won’t get started on any of it until I tell them to.”
A trigger flipped inside Anna’s mind and she quickly swallowed the food in her mouth. “Wait, I’ll go with you.”
“No, you won’t,” Tanner declared.
“Yes, I will,” she insisted. Her grandfather expected honesty at all times, and in this case, she could provide it. Turning to him, she said, “Five years ago I was a child. Now I’m a woman, and I’d like the opportunity to learn everything I can about the Double Bar. It’s where my heart is, and it’s where I want to be.”
She saw the smile that tugged at her grandfather’s lips, even though he tried to hide it behind his coffee cup. Tanner, though, she noted out of the corner of her eye, was scowling again.
Anna had never been in a courtroom he presided over, but her father often said Walter Hagen could hush an entire building without making a single move. It was a presence he conjured up, and he did that now.
It seemed an hour passed before he finally said, “Go get the men started, Tanner.”
Anna’s hand balled around her fork at the deflation inside her.
“Then come back,” her grandfather added. “Anna will be properly dressed then.”
“For what?”
The growl of Tanner’s low voice added to the elation springing forth inside her.
“To give my granddaughter a tour of the ranch, of what the hands are doing, of what needs to be done on a daily basis.”
In an effort not to display just how much this win meant to her, Anna slid a forkful of food into her mouth. She wasn’t a fool. Though she may have just won this battle, there were more to come. Wars were like that. Dozens of minor battles to be won before victory could be claimed.
Tanner left the room without another word and Anna cut another section off her flapjack.
“Don’t be getting too smug there, little girl.”
The wind once again left her sails as Anna glanced up and saw the seriousness in her grandfather’s eyes. She laid down her fork and knife. “I’m sorry, Grandpa, but I don’t know what more you want me to say. How else you want me to say it. I tried to come home, but Father’s schedule just didn’t permit it.” Frustration at reliving this all over again hit hard and fast. “You know the condition he was in when we left. What my mother’s death did to him.”
“I watched my wife die, too,” he said, “but I didn’t abandon my family afterward.”
“I never felt abandoned,” she replied. “I had you.” The one thing she’d never quite understood was her grandfather’s reaction to what had happened. “You’re his father,” she said. “Where’s your compassion?”
“Compassion?” He reached over and wrapped his fingers around her hand. “I love my son, Anna, and I love you. That’s never changed, but I can’t say I abide his behavior.”
“You were a judge for years, you believe in reform, you know people can change. That’s why you gave Tanner a chance. Why can’t—”
“Tanner didn’t need reforming, he just needed a home, and I’m proud to say I gave him one.” He nodded for Merilee to refill his coffee cup. “Just like I gave you and Will one. Where do you think the money came from for the two of you to live the past five years?” He shook his head then, and for the first time she noticed how much he’d aged in the past few years. “But this isn’t about Will. It isn’t about Tanner, either.”
“Then what is it about?” Anna asked.
“You,” he said, taking a drink of his coffee. “Now that your father got married again, he sent you here, expecting me to hand over the ranch. Even sent a citified lawyer with you to help make it happen.”
A chill entered her veins, turning her blood icy. The way he said it made it sound wrong, wicked even. “It is my legacy,” she said out of justification.
“Legacy,” he huffed. “You sound just like your father, and that’s where you’re wrong, little girl. It’s not your legacy, nor Will’s. It’s mine, and I can give it to anyone I want. No lawyer on earth will change that.”
It was as if the pancakes she’d swallowed had never gone down, were just sitting in the back of her throat. Her father had let her come this time, even though he still claimed to hate the ranch—for killing her mother. He also claimed Walter had wanted a son who was as ornery and stubborn as himself, which is why he’d hauled Tanner home—something else her father hated.
But she didn’t hate the ranch. Or Tanner. Attempting to corral her thoughts, she asked, “So what you’re saying is you don’t want me here.”
His fingers tightened around hers. “No, honey, that’s not what I’m saying. I’ve dreamed of you coming home. Of living here.”
“But I’ll never inherit the Double Bar.”
His stare must have been one he’d used in the courtroom, hard and clear. “The Double Bar might become yours someday, but not because some fancy-pants lawyer says so. If you want it, you’ll have to earn it.”
“Earn it? How?”
“That’s up to you, little girl.”
Chapter Five
Not even riding astride Thunder quelled her melancholy, nor did it calm the guilt churning inside Anna. Coming home was all she’d wanted, but the way she’d gone about it was wrong. Rather than assure her she’d get what she wanted, it now threatened to make her lose everything.
If only she hadn’t left five years ago. But she’d had no choice, and that hurt, made her angry. How everyone held it against her—that she’d taken care of her father when he’d needed her to—seemed blatantly unfair.
“There’s a line shack a few miles ahead,” Tanner said, riding his big black stallion beside her and breaking the thick silence that had hung between them since they’d left the ranch some time ago. “Fred’s spending this month up there. The hills in this area give the cattle plenty of natural shelter when snow falls, and it’s important someone’s up here at all times to break the ice off the creek once it freezes, make sure the cattle have water when there isn’t any snow.”
There was snow now, what had fallen yesterday and last night, covering the earth with a pristine white blanket. Ahead of them it had not been touched, and behind them there was nothing more than the even tracks of the horses’ hooves. The vastness, the open space that went on for miles with no buildings to obstruct her view or constant city sounds to interrupt her thoughts was what she’d longed for and exactly as she remembered.
She remembered Fred, too, just as she did most of the other hands. So far since they’d left the barn, what Tanner had told her were things she already knew. Such as how someone had to live in the line shacks this time of year to keep the animals safe and fed.
There were many things she recalled about
ranching; she had lived here for fourteen years. Yet it seemed she was the only one who remembered that.
Maybe she did need that Christmas miracle Tanner had told her to start praying for. It had crossed her mind last night, after she’d entered her old room, complete with the knotty pine walls she missed and loved so much.
Lying in the comfort of her bed, covered with the quilt her mother had made years before, along with the matching curtains, she’d thought about his parting words—not necessarily a miracle, but a wish. There, in bed, she’d wished things had gone differently. That she and Tanner hadn’t argued. Seeing him at the train depot, knowing he was waiting for her, had filled her with a unique kind of wonderful.
Which was now shattered.
“Something’s not right.”
Tanner’s statement was more a self-mutter, and Anna followed the direction of his gaze. The line shack was a short distance ahead, nothing more than a small gray-weathered building surrounded by fresh-fallen snow and butted up against one of the majestic hills of the long range that ran through central Wyoming.
The entire area boasted tranquillity, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Other than the furrowed frown on Tanner’s face. When he kneed the stallion into a faster gait, she followed suit, all the while searching to see what he saw that she didn’t.
“What is it?” she asked, growling beneath her breath at him for not pinpointing whatever had signaled his alarm.
“There’s no smoke coming out of the chimney,” he pointed out.
“Maybe Fred’s not here,” she suggested, even while the coil of hope that had sprung forth unraveled inside her. A pony stood in the fenced-in lean-to on the far side of the tiny cabin and there were no footprints in the glistening snow.
They were still several yards away from the door when Tanner stopped his horse. “You wait here.” He scanned the area while swinging out of the saddle. “And don’t dismount.”
Her first instinct was to disagree, but the glare he shot her way quelled it. With a slight nod she took the reins he handed her.
“If I tell you to ride, do it, fast. But stay in the trail we just made.”
Anna nodded again. She hadn’t forgotten lessons learned years ago. The ranch was heaven, but dangers lurked even in familiar places. Which was why Tanner had stopped where he did, out of pistol range from any hiding spots.
He didn’t cower, zigzag or display any caution as he strode toward the cabin. Anna knew why. To do so wouldn’t have been Tanner. The wide-brimmed Stetson on his head suited him as well as the long black duster that hung past his knees, drifting slightly in his wake. His long strides moved him forward, shoulders squared with confidence and just a hint of animosity. The determined swagger epitomized him. A man who knew the country he lived in, one who thrived in it and wasn’t afraid to challenge anyone or anything head-on that might attempt to thwart him.
A shiver, not from the weather—for the wind was barely blowing and the sun graced the earth with warming rays—rippled over Anna, and a flash of fear made her chin quiver. She wouldn’t want to be the person on the other side of the cabin door. Opposing Tanner Maxwell would never be a good idea. Not for anyone.
Unable to pull her eyes away, she watched him push open the door and disappear into the darkness. Ears peaked, she waited, yet heard nothing more than the horses snorting and stomping now and again.
In reality, it was probably minutes, or less, but it felt like hours or years, and she couldn’t stand the wait.
After dismounting, Anna led the horses forward and tied them to the hitching post before she squared her own shoulders. Wishing she could carry herself with half the amount of self-confidence Tanner exuded, she marched toward the open doorway. Attempted to march anyway, as the slick bottoms of her new boots—the ones she’d purchased just for this trip—were not good in snow. Her feet wanted to slide right out from beneath her, in several directions. The boots she should be wearing were sitting back in her bedroom. She’d thought about putting them on but they were scuffed from use and the leather was cracked from sitting so many years; ultimately, they wouldn’t have looked as nice as the new ones did with her brown wool riding suit.
Foolish. John may have scolded her for wearing old boots but Tanner never would have.
She reached the threshold as a match flared, and the anguish on Tanner’s face erased the boots from her mind as fast as it squeezed the air from her chest. “What is it?” she asked.
A small wood-burning stove, two chairs, a table and a set of bunks, where one bed was nailed to the wall above another one, filled the dimly lit cabin.
“It’s Fred.”
Tanner replaced the chimney, and Anna, catching a moan coming from the bottom bunk, instantly went that way. “What’s happened?” she asked, removing her gloves. “Bring the lamp closer.”
“Miss Anna?”
Though weak, Fred’s voice warmed her chest. The man had to be close to her grandfather’s age, and had been a part of her life for just as long.
“Yes, Fred.” She knelt beside the bed. “It’s me.”
“I told the judge you’d come this time.”
It could have been the frailness of his voice, or his words, that caused her eyes to smart.
“It’s been so long,” the man croaked before he started to cough.
“Yes, it has,” she answered, pressing a hand to his forehead. Heat stung her palm as if she’d just touched a baking oven. Looking over her shoulder, she whispered, “He’s burning up.”
Tanner nodded. “He said the ax broke while he was chopping wood. The blade lodged itself in his leg.”
“Where?” she asked, attempting to push Tanner out of the way.
As stubborn as ever, he didn’t move. “I need you to ride to the ranch, have someone bring a wagon out here and send someone else to Homer to get the doc.”
“Move,” she insisted, shoving harder with one hand while grabbing the blanket covering Fred with the other.
“Anna, don’t.” Tanner grasped the blanket.
Perturbed, she wrenched the blanket from his hold and squeezed between him and the bed. “I’ve spent the last five years helping my father through medical school, and then assisting him as he started his practice. I’m sure I’ve seen worse.”
When she uncovered Fred’s leg, she swallowed, realizing she may not have seen worse. At the same time, knowing this was Fred, Anna forced herself to look beyond the swollen and blood-crusted skin. This was the man who had taught her to ride and shoot, much to her mother’s chagrin, and he needed her. “When did this happen, Fred?” Keeping her voice from shuddering was impossible. “How many days has it been?”
“Don’t know,” the man groaned. “Thought it was yesterday, but I can’t say for sure anymore.”
“Hand me the lamp,” she told Tanner.
“Anna—”
“Don’t argue,” she snapped. “Give me the lamp.”
He held it for her as she attempted to examine the wound. Fred’s pant leg, once blood soaked, was dried tight to his skin. The gash could be much smaller than it appeared, or much larger. There was no way to tell until she cleaned it. Without glancing around, for she remembered well what the line shack held and what it didn’t, she turned to Tanner. “You need to ride to the ranch, bring a wagon back. I can’t clean him up here. And I can’t stitch him up until I can wash that leg.”
“I already told you to—”
“Now’s not the time to figure out who’s the boss,” she said. “While you’re gone I’m going to pack some snow around that leg, try to get the swelling to go down, and I’m going to get some fluids in him. He’s dehydrated along with injured.” Meeting Tanner’s gaze with one just as determined, just as confident, she continued, “I want a wagon big enough to fit this entire mattress in the back, and I want it here now.”
“I will, son,” Fred rasped. “But hurry. I swear I can hear an angel.”
“That’s not an angel,” Tanner whispered. “It’s Anna.”
Though he never looked her way as he rose and strode out the door, Tanner’s words filled Anna with something rather profound.
“I’m not dreaming, am I?”
She turned back to the bed, knelt down next to the lamp Tanner had set on the floor. “No, Fred. You’re not dreaming. I’m going to have you fixed up in no time. I have to. Who else will dance with me at the Christmas party?”
The man grinned, but his heavy sigh said he was fading. Fast.
Anna went to work. She started by building a fire in the stove and then did all the things she’d told Tanner she was going to do. She wasn’t a doctor, had never taken a test, but she had read every book in order to quiz her father before each of his exams and had known the answers as well as he had. More than once she’d cared for a patient while her father prepared for surgery or saw to another patient, and she could do this. Would do this. Fred would not die on her watch.
Even with all the self-encouragement she continued to muster, a great relief washed over her shoulders when she heard horses approaching. Fred had swallowed a few spoonfuls of the snow she’d melted atop the stove, but he was still burning with fever. The snow surrounding his leg had melted into the mattress, and she worried about hauling him through the cold like that, but she had to get him to the house where she had an abundance of hot water and light. Not to mention the other things she needed. Scissors, a needle and thread, alcohol, bandages. She’d made a complete mental list.
“Anna, darling, what on earth were you thinking, staying out here by yourself? You know better than that.”
John’s voice had never made her flinch before, but it did now. So did the pacifying grimace on his face as he climbed off the wagon seat.
Christmas Cowboy Kisses Page 17