BEYOND ALL REASON

by Judith Duncan

  Heaving a sigh, Cyrus pushed himself up and stepped over the seat. "Think I'll wander down and see who's ready for coffee."

  The first few head of cattle appeared through the trees twenty minutes later, with riders flanking the main body of the herd as it moved into open pasture. Everything went smoothly until they tried to funnel the lead cows into the open corral gate, then animals started to bolt. She heard a long whistle and a shout, and the three black and white collies streaked across the open field, all of them responding to Tanner's command to come. Two stayed on the near side with Tanner, and he sent the other one around the back of the herd to Ross. She'd never seen anything like it, watching those three dogs do what they had obviously been so well trained to do. With flawless execution and incredible speed, they worked the herd, following the commands from the two men as they systematically collected the herd and drove it forward into the penning area. The riders collected the odd stray, but for the most part it was the dogs who managed the final push of two hundred head of cattle. It was awesome to watch. And, for Kate, unexpectedly moving. Maybe it was the spirit of cooperation between man and beast, or maybe it was the dogs' obvious love of the task – or maybe it was the way all three dogs rollicked around Tanner's horse afterward, watching him with the bright-eyed enthusiasm of children, waiting for him to assign them another task. They would, she suspected, follow him anywhere.

  There were some shouts and a heavy clang as the metal ramp of the cattle liner dropped into place on the loading chute. Engrossed in everything that was happening, Kate shifted her position so one foot was on the seat, then locked her arms around her upraised knee and rested her chin on her hands. They were going to load the upper deck first, and she was curious to see how they did it.

  She heard the door of the cook house slam, then the sound of voices through the open window, and she realized someone had gone in for coffee. She considered getting a cup for herself, then changed her mind. She didn't want to miss out on anything here, and besides, she hadn't met all the Circle S hands, and she wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of just waltzing in there. Shifting her gaze, she checked on the boys. They had moved down the hill and were standing off to one side, well out of the way of anyone. Cyrus reappeared and hoisted Scotty onto the top rail of the corral, putting his arm around both boys' shoulders after Mark climbed up. She smiled to herself. No doubt Scotty was asking questions a mile a minute.

  The voices inside moved closer to the open window, and Kate heard the scrape of chairs as the men sat down at the table. Knowing they couldn't see her from the window, she remained still, not wanting to expose her presence. Engrossed in what was happening down at the corral, she ignored the conversation until she heard Tanner's name mentioned.

  An uneasy sensation settled in the pit of her stomach when she realized it wasn't Circle S staff inside, but two of the drivers from the cattle liners.

  "It's going to be mighty interesting to see how things shake down here once old Burt kicks off. Folks have been speculating for years what the deal is – whether old Burt signed over half, or if McCall is just a high-paid manager."

  Another, deeper voice responded. "McCall ain't no high paid manager, that's for damned sure. That half-breed is going to end up with the whole spread – see if he don't. Fred Carson says the Indian worked up north on the rigs a couple of winters, made big money and poured every red cent into cattle. McCall has a big stake in this spread, sure as hell. And Tom Benson said Tanner didn't even have to float a loan when he bought him out. Just sat down at the table and wrote out a Circle S check."

  There was a derisive snort. "Well, it don't matter what the deal is. Even if he don't own half of it, Burt ain't going to leave it to nobody else, and McCall is going to be sitting on one hell of a pile of real estate. And that sure in hell is going to rub sail in a few people's saddle sores."

  A sound penetrated Kate's consciousness, but she sat stockstill, almost afraid to move, praying she wouldn't be discovered. She let out her breath when the first voice continued. "Hell, who would have thought it? The breed ends up with the biggest spread in the country, while most of the folks around here pretend he don't even exist."

  "There'll be talk, all right, that's for damned sure. My wife is friends with the cashier over at the drugstore, and she heard that McCall's got a young white woman stashed out here – supposed to be a nurse or something. The cashier knows one of the Circle S hands, or a drinking buddy of one of the hands – something like that."

  "A white woman. Well, hell. Ain't that rich? Don't expect he's ever had one of those."

  There was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. "We'd better get back down there. It looks like they got Danny's rig just about loaded. And I ain't about to tick off Tanner McCall."

  Paralyzed by a horrible, churning feeling, Kate stared blindly across the yard, stunned by what she'd overheard. It made her think of a pack of dogs she'd seen when she was a child, mean and vicious and snarling as they attacked a lone, injured animal – until the bleeding cougar had risen and challenged the pack. Then the balance of power had shifted, with the hunters becoming the hunted. But this was worse. Resentment, malice, spite – all were there in the tone of the conversation, but it was the sneering references to Tanner's mixed blood that upset her the most. It was the source of the resentment.

  Suddenly cold and strangely shaky, she pulled the collar of her coat up around her neck. He knew, of course. That was why he was so solitary, so guarded. Feeling chilled to the bone, Kate stuffed her hands in her pockets, huddling bleakly in the shallow warmth of her slicker. No wonder he was so withdrawn. No wonder.

  Another sound penetrated her consciousness, and she straightened, alarm clutching at her gut. It was the same sound she'd heard before – a very distinctive sound, only now it registered. It was the sound of shod hooves on gravel. Whirling toward the sound, she stiffened, her breath suspended on the kind of dread that made her heart race. The dread turned to horror when a horse and rider appeared on the trail leading down to the corral. It was Tanner, and he was carrying the large thermos she'd noticed sitting on the back step. Realization hit with upsetting clarity. He had ridden up behind the cook house to get it for Cyrus – straight up the hill from the gate. One look at his profile, and she knew with a sickening certainty that he, too, had overheard at least part of the conversation. Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead against her upraised knee, the horrible sinking sensation making her feel sick inside. He didn't deserve this. There wasn't a human being alive who deserved this.

  Realizing that if Tanner turned, he would know that she had overheard, as well, Kate got up, her knees unsteady beneath her. She would not add to his humiliation. Not if she could help it.

  * * *

  The kitchen was dark except for the light from the floor lamp standing in the corner beside a battered old easy chair. The worn maroon fabric was covered by a faded Mexican blanket, and the matching footstool, which was now shoved aside, held a stack of old cattle magazines and some farmers' almanacs. The chair, Kate had found out, was Burt's.

  Folding laundry at the kitchen table, Kate rolled wool socks together, smiling to herself as she thought of Burt. The chair wasn't the only thing she'd learned about her eighty-year-old charge in the ten days she'd been there. He was stubborn, he was willful, he wanted things his own way and he liked everyone to think he was a crotchety old devil. But under all his bluster and fuss, he was nothing but a big marshmallow, and her kids had gotten around him in about two minutes flat. Unfortunately, they did practically anything he told them to, which had given her one or two near heart attacks. She had to watch all three of them like a hawk.

  She supposed she should read the riot act to the boys, but Burt thrived on the sneaky little conspiracies the three of them cooked up. She knew how he hated the indignities of his inability to care for himself – the urine bottle, the bedpan, having to be fed. He could have made things so difficult for her, but he didn't. And since he endured those af
fronts to his dignity with a minimum of red-faced muttering, the least she could do was turn a blind eye to some of their shenanigans. Like the boys sneaking the pups in to show Burt – and everyone looking angelically innocent when she asked who'd piddled on the bed.

  She heard the back door open, then quietly shut, and she closed her eyes, a flutter of nerves taking off in her middle. Waiting for the attack to ease, she glanced at the clock mounted on the valance over the kitchen sink. It was after ten o'clock. Tanner had gone down to the barn right after he'd put Burt to bed at eight. He'd said he had to check a mare that was due to foal, but Kate knew there was more to it than that. After overhearing the conversation two days ago, she had found herself dwelling on Tanner McCall more than she liked to admit. She had been so upset by that conversation that it had taken her the remainder of that afternoon and half the night to put her anger in perspective.

  But it wasn't just the conversation that upset her. It was Tanner.

  In the ten days she'd been there, he'd never come in before ten, and she had barely seen him since that first day, after he'd taken her to the cook house to meet Cyrus. Without fail he was gone in the morning before she got up, and he ate all his meals with the hired hands. The only time she saw him was when he came in to check on Burt, or if he came into the office to get something. At first she honestly hadn't thought much about it. When Burt had started fretting about it, wanting to know why Tanner was never around, she'd tried to reassure the old man, telling him that Tanner probably had a lot of work to catch up on. But that conversation between the two stockmen had forced her to reevaluate many things, one being Tanner's prolonged absences. And with a horrible, sinking sensation, she realized that Tanner McCall was very likely avoiding the house because of her. Sickened by the realization, she had not been able to get it out of her mind. She'd barely slept last night because of it, and she knew she wouldn't sleep again tonight unless she did something about it.

  Her expression lined with worry, she started stacking the folded bath towels in a laundry basket, looking up when he entered the kitchen, her heart giving a painful little twist when she saw his face. His shoulders sagging with a bone-deep weariness, he looked unusually tired and preoccupied as he rolled back the cuffs of his shirt.

  Kate stared at him, experiencing feelings she had no business feeling. He looked so solitary – so isolated and alone in his thoughts – and so damned exhausted. She would have given anything to have the right to comfort him, to draw his head against her breast and just hold him – to ease that awful aloneness she saw in his eyes.

  Shaken by her thoughts and by the need they aroused, she set the rest of the towels in the basket, her hands nearly as cold as her insides. Raising her head to look at him, she spoke, her voice uneven. "Would you like something to eat? There's still some pie left from supper."

  He jerked his head up, his gaze riveting on her, and Kate realized he hadn't seen her on the far side of the table. Gripping the wicker basket with both hands, she forced herself to hold his gaze. "I can make some fresh coffee, if you like."

  He stared at her an instant longer, then looked down and finished rolling back his cuff. "It's after ten," he said, his voice gruff with censure. "You're putting in some pretty long hours. And they weren't part of the deal."

  Struggling against the sudden thickness in her chest, Kate tried to camouflage the unevenness in her voice when she answered. "Cutting a piece of pie isn't exactly hard labor," she said, her tone gently challenging. "I think I can manage that before I drop from exhaustion."

  He looked at her, a tiny glint in his eyes, one corner of his mouth lifted just a little. "Thanks, but I think I'll hit the sack." He held her gaze for an instant longer, then turned and started toward the living room. Experiencing a flurry of desperation, Kate clenched and unclenched her hands, her insides in knots. If she didn't say something, he was going to disappear on her. If she was going to talk to him, it had to be now, when there were no kids around and Burt was asleep.

  Mustering her courage, she rubbed her hands against the seams of her jeans, her throat tight with dread. "Tanner?"

  Pausing at the archway, he turned, his expression unreadable as he met her gaze. "Yes?"

  She rubbed her palms again, then folded her arms tightly in front of her. "Could I talk to you for a minute?"

  Bracing his shoulder against the wooden frame of the arch, he, too, folded his arms. "What's on your mind?"

  She felt as if there were something hard pressing on her lungs. Lord, she did not want to do this. Swallowing the knot of nervousness, she took a fortifying breath, her voice only breaking a little when she asked, "Are you avoiding me?"

  He stared at her for an instant, then dropped his gaze, carefully aligning a loose baseboard with the side of his boot. Finally he raised his head and looked at her, his expression impassive and sober. His voice was strained when he answered. "Yes."

  Nervously fingering the material of her sleeve, she tried to get a breath past the thickness in her chest. She'd thought she'd been braced for that answer, but having him verify it hurt more than she liked to admit. She swallowed again, determined to get it all out in the open. "Have I done something wrong?"

  Sliding one hand into the back pocket of his jeans, he once again toyed with the loose piece of baseboard. Just when she thought he wasn't going to answer, he spoke, his voice gruff. "You weren't quite what I expected. It wasn't until I saw you sitting in the restaurant that I realized I didn't have any idea how old you were – and I never really gave any thought to how old the boys were. My main concern was getting someone qualified to look after Burt. All the rest was irrelevant."

  Feeling as if her legs were apt to give out, Kate leaned back against the wide window ledge, clutching her arms even tighter. "You're right. I didn't include how old I was in the application. By law, I don't have to."

  Tanner looked up, a glimmer of humor in his eyes. "No, you don't. And I know that." He looked past her, clearly evaluating both her and the situation. Making a small dismissive gesture with his shoulder, he looked back at her, a wry half smile appearing. "Cyrus pretty much explained it. I guess we were all expecting someone older, someone who was…"

  The knot of nerves eased just a little, and Kate managed a small smile as she supplied the description. "A little more starchy."

  Tanner shot her an amused look, the half smile deepening into something warm and disarming, something sensual and oddly intimate – something that was enough to make her heart pound.

  "Yeah," he agreed softly. "Someone a little more starchy."

  Kate watched him, the wild flutter expanding, her breath suddenly jammed up in her chest. One smile – one full smile – and her legs wanted to cave in under her. One smile and she could feel every pulse point in her whole body. Leaning back against the windowsill, Kate rested her hands on the edge and gripped it tightly. Easing in a deep, shaky breath, she tried to stifle the nearly unbearable longing. She didn't dare even imagine what it would be like to be held by him. God, she couldn't remember wanting something as badly as she wanted to find out.

  Unaware of what was happening with her, Tanner pushed himself away from the doorway and approached the table, his expression thoughtful as he fingered a blouse of hers that was folded on top of the towels. Finally he raised his head and looked at her, his expression taut. "I think it would be wise if I moved down to the bunkhouse while you're here."

  His quiet statement was like a shot of ice water, and Kate stared at him, feeling oddly disconnected. Her voice came out sharper than she expected. "Why?"

  He held her gaze for a moment, then began fondling the top button on the blouse. There was a trace of bitterness in his voice when he finally answered. "Bolton is a small town, and it has a lot of narrow-minded people in it. It's going to be all over town in a matter of days that I've got this young and very attractive woman living with me – and being what they are, the good people of Bolton are going to twist it all out of shape." He looked up at her, his gaze rut
hlessly direct. "You're going to get hung with some pretty nasty labels – not the most offensive being Tanner McCall's white squaw."

  Stunned by the explicit bluntness of his words, she stared at him, the first flicker of anger pumping through her. So it was true. She'd hoped that malicious bit of conversation was nothing more than two men gossiping. But that obviously wasn't the case. Fortified by a deep, energizing rage, she straightened, curling her hands into fists. "I don't really give a damn," she said, her tone quiet and precise, "what they say. And they can take their narrow-mindedness and stuff it." Her throat suddenly aching, she looked up at the ceiling, willing away the sudden sting of tears. Regaining control, she folded her arms again, meeting his gaze dead-on. "This is your home, Tanner. And if people are that small-minded, they're going to twist my being here into whatever they want, whether you're, sleeping in the bunkhouse or not."

  Exhaling heavily, he jammed both hands on his hips and stared at her. He finally shook his head, his voice flat. "You don't know these people, Kate."

  Holding his gaze, she gave him an unsteady smile. "I don't want to."

  There was a flicker of humor around his mouth; then his expression sobered, the bleakness in his eyes tearing at her heart. Intuitively knowing that there was more at stake than where he slept and ate, she gazed at him, silently imploring him. Sensing his resistance, she said it aloud. "Don't do this, Tanner. Please. Burt doesn't understand what's going on, and I don't want you to leave because of me. Please, don't do this." He held her gaze for a long, tense moment, then looked away, his face haggard with strain. Kate saw him swallow, and when he spoke, his voice was so gravelly that she could barely hear him. "I'm afraid you'll live to regret it if I don't."

  What she was going to regret, she realized with a sudden wrench, was that her time here was going to be calculated in weeks, or, if she was lucky, maybe months. And when she left, she would regret leaving this man behind.