by Linda Ford
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Susanne wanted nothing so much as to chase Tanner Harding down and tell him in no uncertain terms she couldn’t accept his plan. But the place was falling into rack and ruin. Jim had neglected it the past year or two as he dealt with Alice’s illness and then tried to cope with her death. Susanne would be the first to admit she needed help and she would hire a man in a snap if she had the funds to pay one.
She didn’t, so that left her no option but to accept help to get the crop into the ground. The rest of the work she’d manage on her own with the children’s help. Starting this morning. She called to them. “Let’s go fix the fence.” They wasted too much time every day chasing the cow and bringing her home.
The girls came readily enough, but Frank and Robbie stared toward the hill, no doubt curious about Tanner’s horses. She hadn’t seen them or his pen, but Robbie had provided a detailed description. She knew the place where he held the horses. Before Jim’s death, she’d loved wandering across the hills, finding wildflowers, watching hawks soar overhead and enjoying nature. She’d always felt close to God out there. She missed those times alone.
“Come on, boys.”
The pair had an animated discussion before they trotted toward her. She was certain the topic of their conversation was the wild horses. Robbie had talked of nothing else since Tanner had brought him back yesterday.
When they joined her, she caught Robbie’s chin and turned his face to her. “Robbie, I don’t want you going to see those horses. They’re dangerous. Besides, you shouldn’t be wandering about on your own. Something might happen.” Tanner had given no indication as to when he’d bring the horses to the corrals; nor when he’d turn his hand to planting the crop. She certainly had no intention of suggesting he should do it sooner rather than later, if she even saw him again. What was to stop him from riding in and out without acknowledging either her or their agreement?
She was getting suspicious. There was no point in blaming Aunt Ada for making her that way, even though the woman had assured Jim she’d give Susanne a good and loving home and she’d done quite the opposite. The experience had made Susanne cautious and more than a little suspicious of seemingly kind offers.
But that was in the past and she did not intend it to color her whole life.
“Yes, Auntie Susanne,” Robbie said.
With a kiss to his forehead, she released him. Each day he promised not to wander, but she knew he’d forget it if the urge hit him. So every day she reminded him again. Despite her frustration, she smiled at him and his siblings.
Each of the children handled the loss of their parents in different ways. Robbie wandered. Frank tried too hard to be a man. Liz looked for ways to make things go smoothly. Janie got lost in her dreams. Susanne often found her up a tree or tucked into a corner almost hidden from view talking to her doll.
And what did Susanne do? she asked herself.
She tried to take care of the work.
As she twisted wire together and tacked it to the wobbly post, she tried not to think too hard of all she’d lost. First her parents, then Alice and Jim. It was enough to make her certain she would never let herself care for another soul apart from these children, for fear of more loss. It was a strange world. Those who loved her died, while those who would use her to their own advantage lived to do so.
Never again, she vowed. She’d see to that.
She sought a more pleasant topic for her thoughts and settled on the diamond brooch Jim had given to her. It used to be their mother’s and before that, her mother’s. She and Jim had laughed together knowing the little stone in the setting was likely only glass. It didn’t matter. It represented their mother.
“You can hand it down to your eldest daughter,” he’d said.
She’d laughed. “What makes you think I’ll get married?”
He’d squeezed her shoulder. “You’re beautiful. You’ll have dozens of suitors calling.”
At the time, she’d been moved by his praise. Not since her parents died had she felt so blessed. But now it didn’t matter if she was beautiful or not. She’d not have suitors calling once they heard she had four children to raise as her own. She certainly didn’t count Alfred Morris. He was more of a dictator than a suitor. A man who wanted to own her. She knew he would constantly remind her how much she owed him for giving her a fine home.
She’d had enough of that.
And it wasn’t as if she’d have time for courting.
She’d thought a time or two of selling the brooch. But it was the only physical reminder she had of her mother and wasn’t worth a lot in the way of money. The diamond—if it was such—was so small she could barely see it. Instead, she’d trusted God to lead her to another way to manage.
She’d certainly not considered trading the corrals for seeding the crop and would still refuse if the good Lord would provide another way. Please, God, perhaps there’s an old married man who would work for a crop share. Straightening, she squinted toward the trail that led to town in the hopes of seeing a wagon headed her way. The breeze lifted a swirl of dust but nothing more. Seems that prayer was not to be answered at the moment. Anytime soon would do, Lord. She turned back to the fence.
A few minutes later, she twisted the last wire and straightened. “That should hold.”
“Can we go play now?” Robbie asked.
“Yes, you may.” She remained at the fence as they scampered off in various directions. “Don’t wander away,” she thought to call.
Alone for a few minutes and everything momentarily peaceful, she looked about and breathed deeply. She needed this time to think and pray. Father God, please help me keep the children. That means a way to do the farm work as well as time to tend to the children’s needs. Of course, God didn’t need the constant reminding, but she knew no other way to set her worries aside.
She could not linger, and hurried toward the house and the many tasks at hand.
The milk cow trotted away as she neared the yard and headed straight for the hole Susanne had just fixed. Seeing her way blocked, the cow mooed and shook her head.
“Too bad, old girl, you’ll have to stay in your pasture from now on.” Susanne entered the house and found Liz and Janie sitting at the table.
“Can we eat now?” Liz asked. “We’re hungry.”
Susanna didn’t need to look at the clock over the doorway to the living room to know the morning was almost gone and she’d accomplished so little. Being every bit as hungry as the children, she pulled out a frying pan, wiped it clean and set it on the stove to heat while she cut the leftover potatoes. Once they were browned, she broke in eggs. What did it matter if it was only eleven o’clock?
“Call your brothers and we’ll have dinner.”
When the boys clattered through the door, she told them to wash up.
She smiled at the way they bumped into each other. Two boys full of energy and playfulness. Guilt stung her throat. When Jim was alive, he’d romped with them, and she’d played quiet games with them. But it had been weeks since she’d had time to play with any of them.
Susanne put the pan in the middle of the table and looked at Liz and Janie on one side, Frank and Robbie on the other. Her gaze lingered on the vacant spot at the end where Jim used to sit. She swallowed hard, missing him yet feeling blessed by the presence of the children. “Let us pray.” Her voice caught on the words.
The children obediently clasped their hands together under their chins and bowed their heads.
“Lord, we are so blessed to have each other and to have food to eat. Thank You. Amen.”
“Amen!” Frank added with so much enthusiasm that Susanne chuckled.
“It’s not like you’ve been starving to death.” She again felt a sting of guilt. Her meals were simple fare. She lacked time for anything else.
She really s
hould do more cooking. Make bread again. It was weeks since they’d had anything but biscuits and fry cakes. Not that both weren’t perfectly adequate. Just as fried potatoes and eggs were perfectly fine for a meal. Perhaps not day after day, an inner voice suggested. Susanne promised herself she’d do better...once she got the work on the farm taken care of.
“Robbie, slow down.” The child ate as if it was a race.
Frank spoke slowly. “I’m glad Tanner is going to bring his horses here. Pa would have liked that.” Frank’s jaw grew firm, reminding her of Jim. Tears caught in the back of her throat. She’d waited so long to be reunited with her brother only to lose him again. At least until she got to heaven.
“He planned to capture some of the wild horses himself,” Frank explained.
Susanne knew that. In fact, he might well be alive today if not for that dream. He had been following the whereabouts of the herd when he got caught in a downpour that eventually led to his pneumonia.
Frank continued. “He had the corrals all ready and would have gotten his horses for sure except Ma got sick and then he got sick.” His voice quavered but he pushed on. “He told me I could help him when he got the horses. He’d have to gentle them first, but then I could help feed them and could talk to them so they’d learn not to be afraid of children.” Frank sucked in a ragged breath, as did his brother and sisters. This talk of their father and mother would soon have them all in tears. “I want to help Tanner with the horses.”
Susanne jolted back. “I’m sorry, but I must refuse you permission. It simply wouldn’t be safe and I sure don’t want anything to happen to any of you.”
Frank hung his head but not before she caught a glimpse of rebellion in his eyes.
She’d never considered she’d encounter problems with the children. But she must insist. Being around wild horses simply wasn’t safe.
The children were subdued throughout the remainder of the meal. Afterward they helped with the dishes, then scattered outside. She should give them more chores but couldn’t seem to get any organized for them and she freely admitted she didn’t want them to have to work as hard as she had for Aunt Ada.
She glanced about the kitchen. It needed a good cleaning. Alice would be shocked at the way it looked, and Aunt Ada would have had her whipped for the neglect.
But she no longer answered to Aunt Ada or depended on her for a roof over her head and a meal to warm her insides.
She stepped outside when she heard a horse approach. Goodness, months had gone by without anyone but Alfred Morris visiting, and now she had a steady stream of visitors. Or rather, she corrected herself as she recognized the rider, one recurring visitor. Was this what she’d agreed to? For Tanner Harding to come and go at will? Her insides grew brittle at the idea. Frequent visitors, in her mind, came with demands. Demands she didn’t care to fulfill. Thinking of Mr. Befus, she shuddered.
Her eyes narrowed as she saw the milk cow bawling and bucking behind Tanner, protesting at being pulled home at the end of a rope. What was he doing with her cow?
“I brought you something,” he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the cow.
“Was she out? I fixed the fence just a few hours ago.”
“I saw her jump over the fence where the wires were slack. She was intent on the wide-open spaces.”
“What am I going to do with her?”
“You could try tethering her.”
She hadn’t meant the question for him but if he knew how to keep the cow home, she would like to know. “How do you do that?”
“I’ll show you.” He led the cow toward the barn.
“You tell me and I can do it myself.” Susanne followed hard on his heels, intent on making it clear she didn’t need his help. She did not want him to think he could take advantage of her failures.
“You’re back,” Robbie called to Tanner.
The four children stood in the doorway of the barn, their faces eager.
“I brought your cow home.”
“She won’t stay,” Frank said.
“That’s our problem,” Susanne pointed out, not wanting Tanner to think she couldn’t manage. Never mind that there was plenty of proof she wasn’t doing well on her own.
Ignoring her protests, Tanner handed the rope to Frank and went into the tack room, picking his way over the items on the floor.
Susanne’s cheeks burned. She’d been meaning to clean up that mess. Another of the chores that never seemed to get done.
Tanner returned, a halter in his hands, and went to the cow, five people watching him, four with keen interest, one with reluctance. Okay, maybe she’d let him do it this time, while she watched and learned. After that, she’d do it herself.
“Let’s see if we can train her to stay home.” He slipped the halter over her head, found a length of rope on a nail by the door and hooked it to the halter.
“It’s long enough we can secure it to anything solid enough to hold her. Which might have to be a tree with a girth of at least six feet.”
The children giggled at his explanation as they followed him from the barn. The cow balked, but he leaned into the rope and persuaded her to walk along.
Could this control the stubborn animal? It must. She had no other choice.
“That tree will do.” He led them to the spot where the grass was green and the tree stout, and tied the rope about the tree. “Now she needs water.”
“I’ll get it.” Frank ran back to the barn and dragged out a small trough. He put it beside the tree and then hurried to fill it with water.
Tanner stood by and let the boy do it. Robbie insisted on helping and, even though he could only carry half a bucket of water, Frank let him.
Susanne secretly smiled her approval at how the children worked together. Helping each other was the only way the five of them would manage to run this farm.
“That ought to do,” Tanner said with some satisfaction.
“Thank you,” she said to him. He might have saved her several hours a day by showing her a simple remedy. “I’m sure I can do it in the future.” Hopefully her voice didn’t sound as uncertain as she felt.
The cow jerked at the end of her rope and mooed a protest.
Little Janie pressed her fingers to her mouth. “Daisy doesn’t want to be tied up.” Tears pooled in her eyes.
Tanner squatted in front of the little one and wiped the tears from her face. “She’ll get used to it. In a little while she’ll even learn to like it. Just like we all learn to adjust and even like changes.”
Susanne could well argue otherwise but before she organized what she would say, Janie’s eyes cleared and she smiled. The little girl reached out and touched his cheek.
“I like you.”
Tanner straightened quickly and gave Susanne a dark look.
She pulled Janie to her side. He’s only here for a short while, she wanted to warn her niece. Don’t get fond of him.
Frank spoke, his voice breaking the tension. “My pa planned to capture some wild horses, too. But he died.” Instead of lightening the moment, Frank’s words descended on them like a dark cloud.
Susanne blinked hard, determined not to give way to tears.
“That’s why he built that set of corrals,” Frank added.
“They look real sturdy,” Tanner said.
“They are. Pa said if you’re going to train horses, you need to be set up for it.”
“That’s a fact. I think he would wonder why I didn’t plan ahead before I trapped my horses.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Tanner chuckled. At the sound, the children relaxed visibly, but tension mounted in Susanne. Be careful, little ones. Guard your hearts.
“I should have,” Tanner said, “but when the horses were hanging about within easy capturing dista
nce, I couldn’t resist grabbing the opportunity, trusting something would work out. And, look, it has. Your pa’s corrals are going to be used just as he intended they should.” With that, Tanner moved toward his horse.
Susanne followed, torn between her need to exert her independence and gratitude to him for showing her a simple solution to her cow problem. “Thank you for your help with Daisy.”
He slowed and faced her. “You’re welcome.”
“And for being kind to little Janie. She’s very easily hurt at the moment.”
She wondered at the way his expression grew hard, his eyes cool and distant.
“Ma’am, I assure you that both you and the little girls are perfectly safe from me. I would never take advantage of you.” His expression hardened like granite. “However, there are those who would not believe that. Who would criticize you, or worse, simply for your association with me...a half-breed.”
She recalled his accusation that she’d asked him to leave yesterday based on that fact, something she had never cleared up. Now was the time. “Mr. Harding, it is not the blood of a man that means anything to me. It is his conduct that reveals if his heart is noble or base.”
His eyebrows went up in a way that made her think he didn’t believe her, then he touched the brim of his hat. “I need to check the corrals and make sure they’re ready for use.” He strode away.
She didn’t have any more faith in his words than he had in hers. Time alone would prove whether or not she was safe in his presence, but it wasn’t fear of him physically that made her shudder. No, it was the way the children looked at him. The way he had shown up to help when she floundered to manage on her own and the fact she’d been desperate enough to accept the agreement between them.
She already regretted her decision. Was she to be forever at the mercy of other people’s handouts and thus under obligation to them, wondering what they would demand in return?
Chapter Three