by Linda Ford
“Susanne, calm down. Maisie is not going to judge you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Shows what you know about women.”
He laughed. “I know my stepmother. She’s patient and kind. After all, she puts up with my brothers.”
“And you?”
“I’ve never been a problem.”
She laughed at his teasing. “I’ll take your word that she’s sweet.” Then she brushed at her skirts and swiped at her hair. “And I’m... I’m...”
He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
She fluttered her hands. “I don’t know what I am.”
“Why not just be yourself?”
“Guess I don’t have much choice.”
“I kind of thought you wanted me to believe being myself was enough.”
His words shattered her worries. “It is.”
“Then believe it for yourself.”
“I do.” Except when she had company coming.
“Then what’s wrong?”
Her shoulders sagged. “I’m letting Aunt Ada make me feel incompetent and insignificant again.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m not going to allow that any longer. I’ll make cookies and welcome a visit from Maisie.”
He continued to study her. What did he see? Spurts of insignificance and incompetence bubbled to the surface of her thoughts.
“I thought you’d be longing to see another woman.”
His words smoothed her thoughts. The idea was new and yet it fit. “I am.”
“Good.” He put his hat on, adjusted it and took Pat out to the field. Today he was starting to put the seed in the ground.
Today she was entertaining company.
Today she would put Aunt Ada’s negative influence out of her mind.
Today was going to be a good day.
“Liz, do you want to help me make cookies?”
The others wanted to help, too, except for Frank. He returned to cleaning the barn.
They spent the morning baking. By the time they were done, the kitchen was in shambles, and she scurried around cleaning up the spilled flour and cookie dough and washed the floor.
She made a hurried dinner of pork and beans that she’d set to cook the night before. Thankfully, biscuits only took a few minutes.
“Here comes Tanner,” Robbie shouted, and tore out the door.
Susanne finished washing the dishes from their meal, allowing Tanner time to take care of the horse, then she took out a generous serving of beans, four biscuits and half a dozen freshly baked molasses cookies.
“Mmm. This looks good. Thank you. The aroma from the kitchen drifted my way all morning.” He eyed her as if wondering if she had settled down after her morning outburst. “Are you ready for Maisie’s visit?”
She nodded. “Cookies baked, house clean.” She considered the children. “I decided against putting them in their good clothes—at least they’re clean.”
Tanner chuckled. “Maisie knows what it’s like to have children. She got three wild boys when she married Big Sam.”
Susanne tried to imagine Tanner as a boy. “Can’t say about your brothers, but it seems she succeeded in taming you very well.”
His eyebrows went toward his hairline.
She could almost hear him composing a denial. “No more expecting offense,” she gently reminded him. “Especially when none was intended.”
His eyebrows returned to where they belonged and he smiled. “She did her best at taming us though some would question her success.”
“Some would, would they?” She hoped her grin informed him she meant to tease him.
He nodded. “But then some people still believe the world is flat.”
She burst out laughing at his droll comment. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your meal in peace.”
“I don’t mind company.”
Normally the children hung around, but today they lined up along the corral fence, watching Pretty Lady come to Robbie.
Susanne sat down, her back against the wall, and Tanner sat beside her. “Go ahead and eat,” she said when he hesitated.
He ate everything she’d brought, plus the sandwiches Maisie had sent.
“I need to bake bread,” she said. “Been planning it for days and it still hasn’t happened.”
“Nothing wrong with biscuits.”
He stretched out his leather-clad legs. She liked seeing a man in leather. The feather in his hat gave him a rakish look that quite intrigued her.
Her cheeks warmed at her inappropriate thoughts.
“I don’t want to be caught sitting in the shade.” She scrambled to her feet and took his dishes.
“No, your aunt Ada would not approve of that.”
She stopped, turned and met his gaze. “This time it’s about me, not Aunt Ada.”
He nodded though his eyes questioned her statement.
She sighed. “It’s not easy to forget years of listening to her voice inside my head.”
“Just be yourself.”
“You, too.” She hurried to the house and washed the few remaining dishes.
Just be yourself. It had sounded so easy when she’d told Tanner. But now doubts fluttered through her head. When had being herself ever been enough? Not since her parents died. But today she’d show Mrs. Maisie Harding that she was enough.
She found Alice’s white tablecloth and spread it over the table, smoothing out the creases as best she could without ironing it. Alice had some nice china in the back of the cupboard and she brought out two cups and matching saucers and washed them.
By the time she heard the sound of an approaching buggy, she was ready.
The children clustered at the door while Susanne stepped outside to welcome her guest.
Maisie tied the horse to the nearest post and turned to greet Susanne. “I’m Maisie Harding—please call me Maisie.”
Susanne gave her name and introduced the children. Frank and Liz were polite, but the two younger ones hid their faces behind her skirt.
“Come in.” She studied the woman without staring, taking in her dark blond hair in a tidy roll at the back of her head and light brown eyes that seemed kind and friendly. She wore a spotless black skirt and pale blue blouse.
“May I serve you tea?” Susanne welcomed something to keep her hands busy, even as her mind scrambled for something to say to this woman. Would she fail again in some way? She pushed the fear from her mind and forced herself to relax.
Maisie looked about. “You have a very pleasant home.” Then she turned to the children, who stood in a row behind the chair where Susanne would sit. “I haven’t seen any of you since Christmas.”
They stared wide-eyed.
“I remember you,” Liz said. “You sang a song at the Christmas program.”
Susanne remembered, too, though at the time she hadn’t realized the woman was mother to three grown sons. “I enjoyed hearing you,” she said.
“Thank you. I am always so grateful for a chance to attend church.”
Susanne’s hands grew still. “I miss church.”
“But, Auntie, we have church here,” Janie whispered.
Susanne chuckled and explained what Janie meant.
“That’s a nice thing to do,” Maisie told her.
Susanne served tea and passed cookies to their guest, then to the children.
“Aunt Susanne, can we go outside?” Liz asked.
She nodded. Then she realized she was alone with Maisie and wished she hadn’t granted the children permission to leave.
Maisie ate a cookie she pronounced delicious, then gave Susanne a serious look. “How are you managing?” she asked.
“Fine,” Susanne answered automatically.
“How are t
he children dealing with their loss? So sad for them.”
“They have good days and bad days.” How much should she tell this woman?
Maisie chuckled. “I remember when I married Big Sam. He’d been doing his best, but the boys had been left on their own much of the time. They were...well, shall we say, a little untamed.” She looked a bit regretful. “Some would say they still are.” She took a sip of her tea. “Tanner, especially. That poor boy felt his mother’s loss the worst of the three.” She shrugged. “Each one handles their grief differently.”
Susanne’s heart accused her. “I mostly let the children run wild and I certainly have neglected their lessons.”
“You have your hands full trying to be mother and father and farmer here. I’m glad Tanner is able to help you. For his sake, as well as yours.”
Susanne stared at Maisie. “His sake?”
“Surely you realize how much he enjoys helping here?”
Susanne schooled her face to reveal nothing. What did the woman mean? Finally she found her voice. “He’s anxious to get working with his horses. Say, would you like to see them?”
“I would. Thank you.”
They walked to the corrals and stepped up on the bottom rail to watch the horses. One of the mares had been at the fence by Robbie but raced away at their approach.
Maisie admired the mares, then left the fence. “Let’s walk a bit.”
Susanne had the feeling she was about to be scolded.
“You must get lonely here on the farm.” Maisie sounded so understanding that Susanne’s steps faltered. She’d just been caught thinking as Aunt Ada had taught her—expecting to be corrected on some matter—when this kind woman was offering her sympathy and understanding.
“I have the children,” she said.
“And I’m sure they’re a blessing.” They walked three feet. “No one has bothered you?”
There was Mr. Morris but she’d never been afraid of his visits, not until this last one. Surely he wouldn’t get any more bothersome than that. “No, ma’am.”
“Do be careful.”
Did Maisie mean to warn Susanne? Were there men in the area, perhaps cowboys on the Sundown Ranch, who would take advantage of her situation?
Or—she almost stumbled at the idea—was she warning Susanne that she’d done wrong in accepting Tanner’s help. Did she think Susanne was taking advantage of his good nature? That she had no concern for his feelings?
They turned and headed back to the yard. This direction gave them plenty of opportunity to watch Tanner in the field. He glanced in their direction.
After that, Susanne kept her gaze straight ahead. She’d give the woman no reason to think there was reason to judge her concerning Tanner’s visits.
When they reached the house, Maisie asked, “Are you able to get to town for supplies?”
“I have a horse and wagon.” Never mind she was too afraid of Pat and too inexperienced to get the horse and wagon hitched together let alone make her way to town. She was getting desperately low on supplies. She would manage to restock...but how?
“Don’t hesitate to ask for help if you need it. Just tell Tanner what you need and he’ll see to it. Now I must head back. Thank you for the nice visit.” She waved to the children and Tanner.
Susanne stared after her long after she left. Maisie was right. It would be easy to take advantage of Tanner’s kindness. She would be careful not to do that.
With a final glance toward Tanner she ducked into the house.
No obligation. It sounded so simple when they’d agreed. Now it seemed anything but. Maybe Aunt Ada was right.
She stared at the cookies on the table. She should take some cookies and water to Tanner, but her thoughts were so tangled.
Was she ever going to be able to put her past behind her?
Chapter Ten
Tanner watched Maisie drive away and Susanne go inside. What had the women talked about? Had his name entered the conversation? He’d never know, because he’d never ask.
At the time for his usual afternoon snack and drink, he saw the children in the yard, but as he reached the end of the field, neither they nor Susanne brought him water and cookies. He turned and made another pass at the field, but still no one headed his way.
His insides knotted. Could Maisie have warned her to stay away from him? For the sake of her reputation, she’d say. It wouldn’t take much for Susanne to decide she should allow no friendship, nothing beyond what their first agreement called for. It would take little to convince her to believe their second agreement was ill conceived.
On his third pass he noticed the children raced about the yard, but this time Susanne stood in the middle, calling out.
His nerves twitched. They weren’t acting quite right. Was something wrong? He knew for certain there was when Susanne ran from tree to tree, looking into the branches. How odd. Had some piece of laundry blown away and she only now realized it?
She looked his way, the concern on her face evident even at this distance. She picked up her skirts and ran toward him.
He left Pat standing there and crossed toward Susanne in double-quick time.
She grabbed his arms to steady herself and gasped for air. “Janie...” She gulped. “She’s gone.”
“Gone? Where?”
“I don’t know,” Susanne wailed. She wavered and he had a feeling she would have collapsed had he not held her.
He patted her back as she leaned into him. “Now start at the beginning and tell me what’s going on.”
“I sent the children out to play when Maisie was here.”
Now the children had caught up to them and they hovered beside Tanner. Frank held Robbie.
“I thought she’d stayed in the house,” Liz said, tears streaming down her face.
“But now we can’t find her and we’ve looked everywhere.” Susanne shuddered and clung to him. She lifted her face to look imploringly into his eyes. “Please help me find her.”
“Of course, I will.” She’d asked without concern about obligation. Certainly it might be because of her concern over Janie. Still, it felt mighty fine that she trusted him enough to simply ask for help.
“Come on. Let’s have a look.” He’d often seen the little girl hunker down into tiny enclosures—in the bushes, under a spreading branch, behind the wagon. He assured himself the others had simply overlooked her in their panic.
Susanne followed as close as his next breath, with the children hard on her heels.
He checked every tree, examined every bush, scoured the inside of the barn. With every move the tension in his body increased.
Susanne clung to his hand. “Where can she be?”
“We’ve somehow overlooked her.” He did his best to sound reassuring. “Liz, would you look in the house again? Look everywhere.”
“I’ll help,” Frank followed, still carrying Robbie.
With the children gone, Tanner gritted his teeth and went to the corrals.
Susanne pulled him to a stop. “Janie never goes to the corrals except with her brothers and she always stays at the fence.” She blinked back horror that darkened her eyes. “If she did...”
No words were necessary. They both knew what they might find beyond the protective fence. After all, these were wild horses. He should never have brought them here. If they’d hurt Janie, he would turn them loose and never again dream of taming part of the wild herd.
He gathered up his courage and took the last three steps toward the fence. He forced his lungs to work and eased his hand from Susanne’s grasp though it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. He clenched and unclenched his fists before he reached for the top bar of the fence, the wood warm and rough beneath his palms. He planted one booted foot on the bottom rail and then the other foot.
He tightened his grasp and heaved himself up to stare into the corral. Two mares grazed in one corner, paused to look his way and returned to eating. Four grazed along the far side. Only one of them looked up. He studied the ground around them. Nothing but grass. He swung his focus toward three horses gathered at his left. They nodded slowly as if having a conversation. No little girl near them. Pretty Lady stood alone by the fence where Robbie often played with her. Tanner’s eyes remained on the horse’s head, refusing to look lower. He simply couldn’t—
“Is she there?” Susanne’s voice shook with fear that echoed in Tanner’s head.
He jerked his attention to the ground, to the fence, scanned every inch of the enclosure. His lungs emptied in a whoosh. He dropped to the ground and leaned against the fence as his bones melted with relief. “She isn’t in there.”
Susanne grabbed his hands and squeezed hard. “Thank God.”
He pulled her to his chest. “Amen to that.” He wasn’t one to ask God for much, but at this moment his heart filled with gratitude that his horses had not injured the little girl.
He scanned the surrounding area, the grassy hills, groves of trees, a coulee that led up to the place where he’d captured the horses. “Where is she?”
Susanne sucked in air. “God can see her. We need to pray He’ll show us where she is.” She took a step back, leaving him feeling empty, but retained her grip on his hands. She bowed her head. “Dear God, show us where Janie is. Keep her safe until we find her. In You we trust.”
It had been years since Tanner had prayed. But now seemed a perfect time to start again. “God, help us,” he whispered.
“I’m going to have a look around.” He called Scout and swung to his back without bothering with a saddle.
Susanne pressed to Scout’s side, reaching for Tanner’s hand. She squeezed it hard. “Please, find her.”
“I’ll do my best.” He rode slowly in widening circles around the farm, hanging down over Scout’s neck as he searched the ground for signs of Janie having passed this way. He dismounted at every grove of trees and looked into every canopy of leaves. Janie was small and an expert at hiding. But he found no little girl.