He knew his limits. Kissing her was beyond them. He hurried down the steps.
"Robert?"
He glared at her. She grinned. "I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed the evening, the company."
"Me, too," he said, then strode quickly across the yard. It was no more than the truth. He had enjoyed it. Far too much.
Five
Maggie's brothers showed up exactly as predicted, the week before Easter. Duncan, the elder, was tall and dark-haired and serious. "The Professor," Ev called him, half teasing, half respectful. He called the younger brother, Andy, "The Pest." Tanner called him "City Slicker" or "Slicker" for short. Andy didn't mind.
A freckle-faced, bright-eyed redhead who was even more irrepressible than his sister, Andy MacLeod wanted to do everything, see everything, learn everything at once. And most of all he wanted to emulate Tanner.
Somehow or other—whether from Maggie or Ev, Tanner never knew—Andy had determined that he was the font of all ranching knowledge. He followed him like a puppy.
At first Tanner grumbled about it. "It isn't like I don't have enough to do," he complained to Ev. "Now I've got a shadow wherever I go."
But Andy's willingness to admit ignorance and his determination to learn the ropes won even Tanner's grudging admiration before long.
He was a better rider than his sister and an instinctively good roper. He even did dirty work like digging postholes, but what cemented him in Tanner's high regard was that he didn't bat an eye when Tanner suggested that he muck out the barn.
"It's part of the job, isn't it?" Andy said.
"Bates doesn't seem to think so."
Andy grinned. "My dad always says that if you're going to run things you've got to know how to do everything from the ground up."
"You planning on running things, are you, Slicker?"
Andy colored fiercely. "I didn't mean that," he said quickly. "I'm not after your job, Tanner. I swear I'm not."
"It's okay," he said easily. "I know that."
In spite of himself, he liked Andy. If he told Andy to try something, Andy tried it. "You got to learn by doing," Tanner told him, the way Tanner's father had taught him in turn. So Andy did. The boy's persistence impressed him. Although he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Not after Maggie.
Maggie.
Always there was Maggie. It had been a mistake going out with her. It had been hard enough to control his attraction before he'd fed his fantasies. Now he was a wreck. He daydreamed constantly. His nights were worse. He had a prayer of controlling his thoughts during the daylight hours. At night he was at the mercy of his desires. And his desire was for Maggie. It didn't matter that he told himself she was off-limits, that she wasn't a onenight-stand woman, that she'd want forever while he wanted anything but.
It didn't matter because wherever he went, there she was. She had a week's vacation for spring break while her brothers were home and she spent it with them. And that meant she spent it with him.
Oh, every once in a while she would stay in the house and go over some book work with Duncan. But mostly she rode out with Andy—and Tanner.
"You don't need to," Tanner told her time and again. "That's what you have a foreman for."
"I need to," Maggie said. "I want to."
There was no arguing with her.
So he'd hoped to get a little respite in the evenings when he could retreat to the bunkhouse. He reckoned without Andy.
"Why sit down there by yourself," Andy asked him, "when you can be up here with us? Maggie and I are makin' doughnuts tonight. Why don't you come?"
Reluctantly, Tanner came. Maggie tied an apron around his waist and set him to work mixing flour and baking powder and stuff.
"Might've known you'd put me to work," he complained. But he had a good time.
The next night Andy followed him back down to the bunkhouse after supper and kept talking to him, assuming that Tanner would be coming up with him when he returned. Tanner couldn't think of a good reason not to, so he went. It had begun to sleet and there was a cold wind coming down out of the mountains.
Duncan had laid a fire in the fireplace, and a Bob Mar-ley CD played on Maggie's stereo. Ev was teaching Billy and Duncan how to play cribbage. Maggie was sitting on the sofa with one of the scrapbooks of the history of the ranch that Abigail had left.
"Show me," Andy commanded, and Maggie made room for him on the couch.
"Come join us," she invited Tanner.
He shook his head. "I'm fine right here."
He sat in the old wing chair stretching out his sock-clad feet in front of the fire, listened to the patter of sleet against the window and watched them all.
It was the sort of evening he'd once dreamed about having when he was married to Clare—the sort he remembered from when he was a very little boy.
Only instead of Ev bent over the dining room table, his bald head between Duncan's dark and Billy's fair one, Tanner remembered days when his father had taught him and his brothers how to play cribbage. He listened to Andy and Maggie murmur and laugh over the scrapbooks and remembered when he and Luke used to go through the Christmas scrapbooks their mother had made for them. He wondered for the first time in ages what had become of them.
Thinking about his mother, remembering her and the warmth of his childhood years, made him restless. He got to his feet and wandered toward the window.
"Bored?" Maggie materialized at his elbow while he was staring out into the darkness, still feeling that indefinable longing.
He looked at her, felt another kind of longing, shook his head quickly and moved away.
Maggie frowned. "How about joining Andy and me for a game of Scrabble?"
"I'm not much for games," Tanner said gruffly, and then cursed himself silently when she looked even more unhappy.
He didn't want her to think he didn't like her, didn't like being invited to join them. He did like it! He liked it too damned much! If she knew the way he really felt about being around her... If she knew the sorts of dreams he had, both awake and sleeping...
He rubbed the back of his neck, the combined tension and arousal he always felt around her getting worse, not better. "I ought to check the cattle one more time anyhow, then turn in. Gotta roll out early."
"We'll go with you."
"No!"
She looked at him, startled, her frown deepening further.
"I mean—" he moderated his tone "—there's no use you coming. I'll be fine on my own. Besides—" he said, giving her a faint grin, "—only fools or cowboys voluntarily go out in weather like this."
Maggie smiled gently. "Maybe I'm a fool—" she began, and at the look in her eyes, Tanner quailed.
He shook his head abruptly. "You're not."
And he was out the door and down the steps before she could follow him. He didn't look back until he was almost to the barn. She was still standing in the door, watching him.
He noticed the strange truck the minute he rode into the yard. He thought he knew most of the trucks within fifty miles. There weren't that many. But he didn't know anyone with a new Dodge 250 with an extended cab. He rode past it slowly, allowing his curiosity to dictate Gambler's pace. It had Wyoming plates starting with a 5. Lar-amie or thereabouts. He frowned, wondering who they knew from Laramie.
"Whose truck?" he asked Billy when the boy appeared on the porch.
"His name's John," Billy said.
"John who?"
"Dunno. He's a friend of Maggie's."
Tanner took off his hat and shoved his fingers through his hair, then continued on his way to the barn, shooting one last glance over his shoulder toward the house, curious about this friend of Maggie's. He told himself he shouldn't be. It was none of his business who her friends were.
Andy was in the barn when he led Gambler to his stall. Tanner was surprised to see him.
"You're in early."
"I ran into Maggie and John up near Teller's Point. They helped me finish checking the fence and I ca
me down with them."
Tanner frowned, not at all sure he wanted anybody else checking the fences. But then, it was Maggie's ranch. If she wanted to do it, it shouldn't matter to him. "Who's John?" he asked Andy.
"Haven't you met him yet? I know Maggie wants you to. He's a friend of hers from college. Now he's getting his Ph.D. in agricultural economics or something at UW. Sharp guy. You'll like him."
Tanner grunted. He unsaddled Gambler. Andy finished with his horse. "I did Sunny and Randy, too," he told Tanner. "Maggie and John rode 'em up on the range. But I told Maggie I'd brush 'em down so she'd have time to show John the books."
Tanner's brows drew down as he bent over Gambler's hoof with the pick. What the hell was she showing John the books for? The Three Bar C's finances weren't any business of his. Tanner flipped extra hard at a piece of hardened mud, hit the frog and got kicked for his trouble.
"Damn! Sorry," he muttered to the horse. Gambler edged sideways uneasily. Tanner murmured soothingly, trying to concentrate on what he was doing.
"Well, I'm off!" Andy said cheerfully. "I'll see you in the house for supper." He paused at the door to the barn. "Sure will miss this place."
Tanner looked up. "When're you leaving?" Their holiday was almost over. Duncan had left last night for Boulder.
"I'm riding back with John tonight."
"Oh. Good."
"Good?" Andy yelped.
"I didn't mean that. I meant..." But he could hardly say he felt unaccountably relieved at this reason for the mysterious John's arrival. "I just meant it's good you've got a ride. And you'll be back before you know it."
"Four weeks," Andy said. "Not quite actually. Twenty-seven days till my last final's over." He grinned sheepishly. "I counted. Promise you won't have the roundup till I get here."
"Well..." Tanner drew the word out, enjoying the look of dismay growing on Andy's face by the second. "No, Slicker, we'll wait for you."
Andy grinned. "Thanks, Tanner. See you at supper."
They were eating in the dining room. They ate in the dining room at Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. They were using Ab's good family china, the stuff her grandmother had brought out from Maryland in a covered wagon or some damned thing. Tanner wondered if he should've worn a suit and said so.
"Don't be ridiculous," Maggie laughed. She reached out and took his hand, drawing him toward the living room. "Come and meet John. He's a very old and dear friend of mine."
Tanner allowed himself to be towed. In the living room, sitting in the wing chair, was a lean, bespectacled, dark-haired man dressed in jeans and a sweater. He had the sort of features that had never been rearranged by a bronc. Women probably liked him. A lot. Tanner figured he was in his late twenties. He had one of the ranch ledgers on his lap, but he set it aside and stood up when Maggie came in.
"John, this is my foreman and the man who keeps things going around here, Robert Tanner. Robert, this is John Merritt. We went to boarding school out east together, then we went to college together. For years John was all the family I had. He's in Laramie now working on his doctorate. Land use and reform is his specialty, so I've been talking to him about the Three Bar C."
John Merritt held out his hand, smiling and studying Tanner with about as much curiosity as Tanner felt about him. "Pleased to meet you, Robert. Or do you prefer Bob?"
"Tanner," Tanner said through his teeth. "Everyone calls me Tanner."
Merritt grinned. "Except Maggie." He gave her a fond look and tugged at her hair, which she had pulled back in a leather thong against the nape of her neck. "I know Maggie. She's a law unto herself, isn't she?"
Tanner felt his jaw tighten at the familiarity between them. He had to consciously will himself to relax before he nodded his head.
"Do you want something to drink before dinner?" Maggie asked him. "Ev says it will be another fifteen minutes or so before it's ready."
Tanner hesitated, noticed the glass of wine by the chair where John had been sitting and shrugged. "I'll have a whiskey."
Maggie looked momentarily taken aback, then she smiled. "Of course. Ev, where's the—" she raised her voice to call.
But Tanner cut in. "I'll get it."
It was another gut feeling that Bates could have put a name to—probably something to do with a deep-seated male need to defend his territory. Tanner didn't care what anyone called it as long as John Merritt acknowledged that he was the trespasser at the Three Bar C, that this was Tanner's domain, not his.
He strode over to the buffet and opened the door, took out the bottle of whiskey that he and Ev and Abby had last opened when they'd toasted the New Year, and poured himself a generous dollop, then added a bit more for good measure. He turned, his eyes flicking over Maggie, John, Ev, Billy and Andy who were all looking at him.
"Want any?"
Ev, Maggie and John declined.
"I might—" Andy began. But Maggie said, "Don't even think it." And when John added, "Not if you plan on doing any driving tonight," Andy subsided with a rueful shrug.
"I'll have one for you," Tanner told him, swallowing the liquid in one fiery gulp, then pouring himself another.
"I reckon it's just about time we ate," Ev said hurriedly. "Come on, young man," he said, chivying Billy ahead of him toward the kitchen. "You can help me bring out the food. You might want to lend me a hand, too," he said to Tanner, giving him an arch look.
Tanner followed him into the kitchen. "What do you need me for?"
Ev snorted and muttered something that sounded very much like "I don't," before he thrust the handle of a carving knife at Tanner and said, "Carve the roast, while I make the gravy."
"Why me?"
"Because if you're going to do any carving, I'd just as soon it was on the meat and not the company." He handed Billy the bowl of mashed potatoes and steered him toward the dining room.
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Tanner demanded.
"It means settle down. It means stop knockin' back the whiskey like the state's goin' dry tomorrow. It means stop bristlin' like a mad dog about to attack."
"I wasn't going to attack," Tanner protested.
"Coulda fooled me," Ev muttered. "Carve the roast."
Tanner carved. It was just that sometimes you met a guy who set your teeth on edge. Nothing personal. Just bad vibes. He couldn't help it. It was like that with him and Merritt from the moment he'd laid eyes on the other man.
He made quick work of the roast, more aware of the muted sounds in the living room—of Andy's eager voice, Maggie's soft tones and Merritt's deeper, scholarly ones—than of the meat he was cutting.
"Hell, you don't have to cut it in bite-sized pieces," Ev grumbled. "G'wan in to supper." He paused. "And behave yourself."
Muttering under his breath, Tanner went. He sat. He dished food onto his plate. He ate with stolid determination. He didn't say a word. He listened while John and Maggie reminisced about their boarding-school days. About the time John had done something dreadful to a hated Latin teacher, and about the time Maggie had done something even worse, the details of which were lost in gales of laughter that set Tanner's teeth on edge. He listened while Andy told John all the things he'd learned about cowboying during his week at the ranch, and listened with increasing irritation while John encouraged him.
"There's a lot to learn, isn't there, Tanner?" he said, lifting his gaze to meet Tanner's.
"Mmph," Tanner said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.
"It's good to learn from someone who can give you hands-on experience," John went on. "You're lucky," he told Andy.
"I know it," Andy said. "Tanner's the best."
"He certainly seems to be doing the best with what's here," John said. "I told Maggie that when she took me out to see the ranch today." He and Maggie shared a smile.
Tanner stabbed a piece of roast with considerable force.
"But it's hard to make a ranch break even these days," John went on. "Unless you diversify."
Tanner stopped c
hewing. His eyes narrowed.
Encouraged by what must have appeared to be avid interest, Merritt went on. "There is a place, though, near—what's it called? Teller's Point—that is a little too steep for cattle. To make the best use of the land there, I was telling Maggie she ought to consider sheep."
"Sheep?" Tanner's fork hit the plate with a clatter. His fists clenched. He stared bug-eyed at the man across the table from him.
John laughed. "I know, I know. The old animosities die hard. But it's prime sheep land, Tanner. Rockier than the rest of your range. Not as good grass. Sheep can handle it. Cattle can't. I know Miss Crumm's ancestors are most probably spinning in their giaves at the very notion of sheep at the Three Bar C, but Maggie agrees that—"
Maggie agrees?
"Ab's ancestors be damned! I'm spinnin' right here," Tanner came close to yelling. "Sheep!" He tairly spat the word. He fixed a glare on Maggie. "What the hell are you doing, bringing some highfalutin' expert in? Don't you think 1 know a damned thing? I may not have the book-learning he does, but I've been aiound a damned sight longer. But 1 forgot, this is your home now, isn't it? You can do what you want! Well, fine, do it. I'll bet Ab's real pleased!"
He tossed his napkin on his plate, shoved back his chair, stood up. He almost broke a pane of glass in the door when he slammed it on his way out.
"Well, it's about time."
Tanner stopped dead on the steps of the bunkhouse as Maggie's voice came to him out of the darkness.
"What do you want?" He tried to make out where she was.
Then he heard the chair squeak on the narrow porch and saw a dark form rise. He took a deep breath and brushed past her, opening the door and flicking on the light.
"To talk to you," Maggie said, following him in.
"Hope you haven't been waiting long...Boss." He shed his jacket and tossed his hat onto the dresser, only then glancing over his shoulder.
She was wearing the slacks and angora sweater she'd worn the first time he'd seen her. Her cheeks were red and he wondered guiltily how long she'd been sitting out there, then told himself that it was her problem if she wanted to lurk around in the cold waiting for him. He was just doing his job.
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