The sinking feeling in Kate's middle expanded, and she shifted her gaze, feeling as though she had somehow jeopardized the boys' position here. As if, by her comments, they had been somehow singled out.
Tanner stared at her for an instant longer, then rose, something controlled and menacing in his movements as he swept up his black Stetson and turned toward the door. Kate watched him go, feeling as if every drop of color had drained out of her face. She wondered what had put that edge of bitterness in his voice.
* * *
Kate had always used physical work as a means to keep her own ghosts at bay. If she kept busy, she wouldn't think about how totally stupid she'd felt after Tanner had walked out. She hadn't meant to seem like she was lecturing him, as if her kids' moral values were his responsibility. That had not been her intent – but she suspected that was how it had sounded, and she wasn't going to forget her blunder for a long, long time. Just thinking about it made her squirm.
And if she kept busy, she wasn't going to have time to think about the awful unknown ahead of her, or the grim history behind her. There was no real distance between the two for her yet – one seemed to be almost a reproduction of the other. Her insides were still too knotted up, but she was not going to fall victim to the nearly paralyzing fear that had shadowed her for months.
She was going to give herself some time to get her balance back, to get some perspective back, to learn how to take deep, cleansing breaths and enjoy the sunsets again. Then she was going to get her life in order. She could do that here. Providing she learned to deal with Tanner McCall.
Having scoured out every bathroom except Tanner's, even though they didn't need it, she started in on the large porch at the back of the house. It was basically a utility room that also served as a mudroom, with a washer and dryer and large utility sink along one wall. And here the floor truly did need a scrubbing. There was also another bathroom built at one end, with a shower enclosure that looked almost new. Coat hooks lined the wall separating the bathroom and utility room, with boot racks built beneath. After checking on Burt and finding him still asleep, she set all the boots on the steps, threw the hemp floor mats on the patch of gravel by the back door, sorted through all the coats, jackets and slickers and put them back on the hooks. The whole time she tried not to think about the look on Tanner McCall's face when he'd walked out that morning – it was as if he'd stared right through her.
She had the utility room spotless by the time the boys woke up, and she cleaned out the fridge as they ate breakfast, keeping a list of what she needed for groceries. Tanner had told her that Burt had difficulty chewing and swallowing, so she wanted to make him some easy-to-swallow foods like custards and puddings, and some puréed homemade soup. He was too thin – far too thin – and she was going to do her best to get some weight back on him.
Scotty came over to stand beside her, folding his arms on the counter and resting his chin on them as he watched her wash out containers she'd taken from the fridge. "When do we get to see that man, Mom? The one you're going to look after?"
Kate stacked the last plastic container on the drain board, rinsed the soap suds off her hands, then reached for a towel. "He's sleeping. You can meet him when he wakes up."
"Do you think he'll yell at us?"
A painful contraction clutched at Kate's heart. She wanted to get down on her knees in front of her small son and give him a thousand reassurances. But Scott wasn't asking for reassurance right then. It was a straightforward question; that was all. She pulled the plug on the sink and started drying the containers she'd washed, keeping her tone noncommittal. "He might, but I don't think so – providing you and your brother don't bug him."
Scott gave a little grunt, trailing his fingers through the islands of bubbles collecting by the drain. Kate watched him, amused by his lack of comment. "Where are your dirty dishes?"
"On the table."
"Where are they supposed to be?"
Scotty heaved a heavy sigh and reluctantly dragged himself away. "In the dishwasher," he answered with another put-upon sigh.
"Mom?"
Kate turned to look at Mark, her stomach nose-diving when she saw the anxiety on her eldest son's face. It broke her heart to see what the past few months had done to him.
"Should we unpack our stuff?"
Kate set the dried containers on the counter, not sure how to answer. Mark understood far more than a child his age should, and the last thing she wanted was to put any more pressure on him. She wanted him to know that he had some control over the situation, that there would be other options if this didn't work out. That was one reason she'd brought the books and toys. Limiting each of them to one suitcase, she had packed the fourth, a huge duffel bag, with as many books and toys as she could get into it. She didn't want them to feel as if they had lost everything, that they had nothing of their own.
Making sure none of her own anxiety showed on her face, she tried to make her smile reassuring. "Whatever you want, Mark. It's up to you. If you want to leave things packed until we're sure we like it here, that's fine."
Mark stared at her for an instant, then gave an uncertain little shrug, rubbing his palms against his jeans. "Would it be okay if we brought down the Legos and played with them at the table?"
Experiencing a rush of maternal guilt for the seriousness in her little boy's face, Kate ruffled his hair, wanting to cry. She dredged up another smile instead. "Sure. You're just not going to be able to scatter toys and books all over the house like you used to, though."
"I know," he replied softly. He shot a look at his little brother. "Come on, Scotty. Let's go get 'em."
Scotty didn't hear him. Abruptly scrambling up on a chair in front of the window, he pressed his face against the glass. "He's got dogs, Mark! Three of 'em! Come look!"
Mark shoved in behind his brother, suddenly coming to life, his face lighting up with excitement. "Mom! Look! He's got three dogs. Three!" He whirled and looked up at her, his eyes bright and full of sparkle. "Can we go out and see them? Can we?"
It was the first animation she'd seen in Mark in days, and Kate felt a rush of gratitude. Hunching down to see past the open cupboard door, she saw three dogs rollicking around Tanner as he crossed to a horse trailer in front of the barn, recognizing two as Border collies.
"Can we, Mom? Please?"
Experiencing an uncomfortable flutter in her middle, Kate straightened, remembering how she had trespassed across some invisible line with Tanner earlier. She didn't want to make the same mistake twice. Feeling like a traitor for the disappointment she was going to lay on them, she turned back to the boys, her expression impassive. "I don't think so, guys. Mr. McCall is busy, and he's not going to want you two underfoot."
"Just to see the dogs, that's all," pleaded Scotty.
Trying to maintain an offhand manner, she looked at them, a huge ache forming in her chest when she saw the somber stoicism on Mark's face. God, when had his soul got so old, so knowing? Unsettled by that thought, Kate turned back to the sink. Sprinkling it with cleanser, she began scrubbing it, her vision blurring. Somehow she managed to keep the wobble out of her voice when she answered, "No, Scotty. Maybe the dogs will come up to the house later. Then you can go out to see them if you like."
"Aw, Mom," Scotty whined. "Why not? Why—"
"Come on, Scotty," Mark interjected quietly. "Let's go get the Legos, and I'll help you build a helicopter."
Trying not to give in to the awful pressure in her chest as she watched her sons leave the kitchen, Kate savagely scrubbed the sink, feeling mean and hateful and unkind. Surely the dogs would come up to the house sometime, and when they did, she couldn't see any harm in the boys going out to play with them. Surely, petting a dog wasn't out of line, was it? Wiping her cheek with her shoulder, she scrubbed the taps, angrily collecting her determination. Damn it, if she was going to fall apart over every little thing, she wasn't going to be doing her kids any favors. They would work it out. She just had to take things
one step at a time.
"Have you got anything planned for the next half hour?"
Alarm shot through Kate, and she froze, feeling very exposed. The last thing – the absolute last thing – she wanted was for him to see that she'd been crying. Trying to clear her throat, she turned on the tap and began rinsing the sink. "No. Is there something you wanted me to do?"
There was a brief pause, then he answered, his tone clipped. "Yes, there is."
She waited for him to continue, but he said nothing, and she got the uncomfortable feeling that he wasn't going to elaborate until she turned around and faced him. Praying he wouldn't notice that her eyes were red, she folded the dishcloth and hung it over the divider in the double sink, then turned. Steeling herself, she stuck a smile on her face and made herself meet his gaze.
Her smile wavered and her stomach did a funny little barrel roll when she saw how intently he was watching her, his eyes narrowed in thoughtful speculation. Feeling oddly exposed, she stuffed her hands in her pockets, determined not to let her smile slip. It seemed like forever before he finally spoke. "Ross is coming up to the house to make some phone calls. I thought it would be a good time to take you down to the cook house to meet Cyrus."
Kate stared at Tanner, rubbing her palms against the side seams on her jeans, wanting to go, but not quite knowing what to do about the boys. She knew that Ross was the foreman, but she couldn't very well ask him to watch them for a few minutes. A nervous flutter climbing up her throat, she shoved her hands back in her pockets. "I'll have to get the boys ready to go," she said, her voice uneven with apprehension. "It'll only take a minute."
Bracing his hand near the top of the door frame, he continued to stare at her, his face revealing nothing. Finally he responded. "I'll wait."
Feeling as if she was damned if she did and damned if she didn't, she gave him an uncertain look and turned to call the boys. They were standing in the archway, bags of Legos clutched in their arms, looking uncertain and a little guilty, as if they'd been caught doing something they knew they shouldn't.
Kate fabricated a bright smile. "You two run back upstairs and get your boots and play jackets, okay? Mr. McCall is going to take us down to meet Mr. Brewster and show us around."
Scotty looked from his mother to Tanner, then back at his mother, a sudden flash of hope lighting up his eyes. "Can we get to see the dogs? Can we, Mom?"
Feeling as if she were on thin ice, Kate tried to reassure her sons with another smile. "I'm sure they'll be around. Now go get your coats and boots – and take the toys back upstairs."
Both boys' faces lit up with excitement, and they turned toward the stairs. Mark, his eyes bright with expectation, shot her a glance over his shoulder. "Where are our boots and jackets?"
"In the bottom of the duffel bag."
There was the thunder of small feet on the stairs and a clamor of voices, and Kate turned back to face Tanner, feeling acutely self-conscious and compelled to make an explanation. "They're both crazy about dogs, and they saw yours out the window. They're all excited."
Tanner watched her, his expression contained, that same undercurrent of somberness in his eyes. He didn't respond for a moment, just continued to watch her, his gaze dark and unwavering. Finally he spoke, his quiet tone giving nothing away. "Yeah. I noticed."
A loud thump and clatter sounded directly overhead, shattering the odd tension that had sprung up between them, and Kate closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. She knew what that meant; her two little angels had just dumped the entire bag of toys and books on the floor in their haste to get to their boots and jackets. She knew, as sure as she was born, that there were going to be marbles and Dinky cars from one end of that room to the other. And she suspected that Tanner knew it, too.
There was more thundering on the stairs, and then the boys came racing into the kitchen, boots and jackets clutched in their arms. His socks half off his feet, Scotty started to ram his boot on, not even checking to see if he had it on the right foot. Kate pulled him up short and plucked it out of his hand. "Put your socks on properly, Scott, and don't put your boots on in the kitchen. Do it in the utility room."
Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Scott picked up his jacket from the floor and followed Mark out to the utility room. Tanner moved aside, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. Sitting on the doorsill at his feet, Scotty looked up at him, tugging haphazardly on his sock. "How come you have so many dogs? My dad wouldn't even let us have one."
Jerked back by that piece of disturbing history, Kate fixed her gaze on her son's hands, feeling oddly embarrassed. There was a slight pause, then Tanner answered, his tone unreadable. "They're working dogs. We use them when we're moving cattle."
His boots on, Mark got to his feet, glancing up at Tanner as he dragged his jacket over his shoulders. "I saw that on TV. Only they used them to herd sheep."
Worried that the boys were getting on Tanner's nerves, Kate helped Mark get his jacket on, trying to hurry him along. Mark didn't get the message. "Will we get to see them do that?" he asked.
"Very likely." Stuffing a pair of doeskin gloves in his back pocket, Tanner lifted a jacket off a hook and handed it to her. "This jacket of Burt's should fit you."
Scott, who had been getting dressed behind Tanner, jumped to his feet, all ready to hit the road. Kate exhaled heavily. He had his boots on the wrong feet, and she didn't know how, but he'd managed to get his jacket on inside out. Right then she would have given anything if she could have gone upstairs, locked herself in her bedroom and stuck her head under her pillow. Trying to will away the ache in her chest, she slipped into Burt's jacket. "Help Scotty get his coat on right, please, Mark," she said, her voice uneven. "I want to check on Burt before we go."
Tanner shifted, and she could feel his gaze on her. He didn't say anything for a minute, then he spoke, an odd edge to his voice. "I'll check on Burt. You can wait for me outside."
The dogs were waiting on the patch of grass by the back door, and they got up, their tails wagging, their eyes bright with interest at this bunch of strangers. Kate knew that, as far as her sons were concerned, it was love at first sight. The collies came in low to the ground, their ears flat, not in a hostile pose but one of care and caution. The other dog, a German shepherd and retriever mix, was more exuberant, knocking Scotty over in an overpowering welcome, then proceeding to wash his face with his tongue. Giggling and trying to fend off the long pink tongue, Scotty rolled on the ground, while Mark knelt with his arms around the other two dogs' necks, giving them idle scratches as he watched his brother.
The instant they heard the back door, the boys scrambled to their feet, keeping their eyes averted as they went to stand beside their mother. Mark sneaked in another quick scratch and a fleeting smile when one of the Border collies crowded up against his legs. But when he slipped his hand into hers and looked up at her, his gaze was anxious. Feeling as if she had failed him in every conceivable way, Kate stuck a plastic smile on her face and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, wishing she could sit down right there and hold him. Lord, but she hurt for him.
Getting hold of Scotty's hand to keep him from getting into trouble, she tried to bridge the strained silence that had sprung up. "Is Burt still asleep?"
"Yeah. He usually sleeps for most of the morning. Ross will be right up."
Scotty glanced up at his mother, then looked at Tanner, his tone unsure and a little timid. "What are the dogs' names?"
Tanner indicated the two collies. "That one's Ben, and that one's Blue and," he said, pointing to the shepherd, who was checking out something in the long grass, "that's Mac."
Kate heard Scotty repeat the names under his breath, and she tightened her hold on his hand. Somehow she was going to put some joy back in their lives. Somehow.
The cook house was located at right angles to the attached bunkhouse, the structure situated on a naturally treed rise just east of the barn. The view was spectacular, marred only by a clothesline full of laundry flappi
ng in the breeze, most of the items sheets and towels. That clothesline seemed out of context somehow, on a ranch with nothing but men on it.
Scotty gave her hand several tugs. "Can we stay outside, Mom?" he whispered, eyeing Mac, who had a big stick in his mouth. "We'll just sit on the doorstep, okay?"
Hesitating, she glanced down at Mark, who was watching her with hope in his eyes. It was the hope that did it. "Okay, but don't wander off." She gave her eldest son a warning look. "All right?"
He shrugged and grimaced sheepishly. "We'll be good. Honest."
Hoping she hadn't just made a mistake, she gave them one final warning glance, then followed Tanner into the porch that was attached to the cook house. A mouth-watering aroma of fresh bread greeted them as they stepped inside, and Kate experienced an unexpected flash of humor. So Cyrus couldn't cook worth spit, huh?
The main room was large. Off to one side was a large battered wooden table with at least a dozen chairs around it and a lazy Susan in the middle. At the far end of the room were a pool table, a couple of old sofas and some easy chairs, a large-screen TV and a shuffleboard.
"Cyrus?"
"You ain't getting any cinnamon buns, if that's what you're snooping around here for."
The lines around Tanner's eyes deepened. "Just get out here."
"This had better be good, Tanner. I'm a tad touchy this morning, and I ain't in no mood for twiddling my thumbs."
A wiry man with bow legs and a huge drooping white mustache came around the corner, a bowl tucked in the crook of his arm, a towel tucked in his belt. He was beating something in the bowl, and he was frowning fiercely at it.
A smile lurked around Tanner's mouth. "I brought someone down to meet you."
Cyrus's head came up, his expression brightening when he saw Kate. He stared at her for a second, then set the bowl down on the table and wiped his hands on the towel. He smoothed down his mustache. "Well I'll be jiggered. You must be Miz Quinn. Ain't you jest a sight for sore eyes. We was expecting some starchy old war-horse that was going to throw the fear of damnation into the lot of us. I can see that ain't going to be the case a-tall, a-tall." He gripped her hand and shook it, his brown eyes twinkling. "Welcome to the Circle S, ma'am." He pulled out a chair, motioning her into it. "Park yourself here, and I'll get you a cup of coffee and the best cinnamon buns you ever sunk your teeth into."
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