Kate thanked her and left, feeling suddenly light-headed. She didn't like snoops, but she didn't like the gnawing feeling in her stomach, either. There were just too many pieces that seemed to be connected.
Mrs. Kerby was a pleasant-faced woman of about sixty – one of those perpetually kind, sweet, affected people who tend to gush. When Kate explained that she was new to the Bolton area and wanted to know who Bruce T. McCall was, Mrs. Kerby pressed her hand to her breast and raised her gaze heavenward. "Oh, my. You must be new, my dear. Everyone around here knows who Bruce McCall is. He's just the most generous man. Made a large – large, mind you – donation to the arena years ago. We would never have managed it without his financial support, and he's made very, very generous donations to our library and the senior citizens' lodge. The family settled here in the late 1800s, with a huge land grant from the crown. The McCall name was a very big name back then. Very influential, very prominent– still is, actually. The original McCall ranch – the Bar M – was absolutely monstrous and has been written up in several prominent historical accounts. Amazing, amazing people, the McCalls – have always been politically connected and still have tremendous influence."
The light-headed sensation turned into something akin to motion sickness, and Kate felt herself go pale. Suddenly the room was very, very hot. Wiping her clammy hands on her jeans, she drew a shaky breath; then, schooling her face into an appropriate expression, she made herself say the words. "It sounds like a fascinating family." Her heart beating like a wild thing in her chest, she made herself relax her clenched fists, then asked the question that was foremost in her mind. "I don't suppose you could tell me what the T stands for."
Mrs. Kerby gave her an affronted look. "Well, of course. It's Tanner. Bruce Tanner McCall."
Kate was never sure afterward how she got out of the library and back to the truck. Once inside, though, she sagged in the seat and closed her eyes, her legs shaking so badly that she wasn't sure she could even drive. Bruce Tanner McCall. A man of influence, a man of prominence. A man who was somehow a player in a drama she didn't even pretend to understand. And what about Tanner? He had been only a boy when he'd come to the Circle S – just a boy. What was the history behind the sneering, demeaning comments she'd overheard, and what had happened to give the whole town license to slander him? Tanner McCall's white squaw. God, it was all beginning to make sickening sense.
A rap on the passenger window brought her back from all the questions racing through her mind, and she turned, a flurry of alarm taking off in her chest. It took a moment for the face at the window to register, and she managed a weak smile when she recognized Rita. Reaching across the cab, she unlatched the door, hoping she didn't look as shaken as she felt.
The older woman swung the door open, a friendly smile on her face. "I thought I recognized the vehicle. So how's it going?"
Kate managed to return the smile. "Just fine. I didn't expect to see you here."
Rita indicated the hotel with a jerk of her head. "I manage the coffee shop at the hotel, so I try to spend a few hours a week here to keep things on track and the books up-to-date." She made another gesture with her head. "Come on. I'll treat you to coffee and a fresh piece of pie."
Kate remembered Rita's kindness the night she arrived, the depth of humanity in the other woman's eyes. She also remembered her saying that she and Tanner McCall went back a long way. Her chest suddenly tight, Kate had an image of Tanner standing by the laundry basket, his expression unreadable as he fingered her folded blouse, and for an instant she wasn't sure she was going to be able to respond. Struggling against the impeding tightness, she tried to smile. "I'd like that."
With Rita preceding her, Kate entered the café, the breeze catching her hair as she stepped inside, the door sighing shut behind her. Rita waved her into the corner booth, telling her that she would be right back, then disappeared into the back. Kate slid into the booth, still experiencing the aftermath of shock. Bruce T. McCall. Rubbing her arms against a sudden chill, she wondered what had put that bleak empty look in Tanner's eyes.
Disturbed by her thoughts, Kate anchored her sunglasses on her head, then tipped her head back to ease the knot of tension in her neck. Resting her arms on the table, she stared out down the street, feeling almost as barren as the country that stretched endlessly out to the east.
Rita returned, carrying two servings of still-steaming peach pie and some cutlery. She placed the pie and cutlery on the table, then took a seat across from her. "Perfect timing. A fresh batch of coffee's perking, and the pie's fresh out of the oven."
Kate drew the pie closer, then reached for a napkin. "It smells terrific."
Rita settled back into the booth, her gaze intent as she looked up at Kate. "So how is it going? I missed Tanner when he brought the sleeping bag back, and I was wondering how you were managing with Burt."
Kate responded with a wry grin. "Burt on his own I can manage. It's him and my two boys who are driving me crazy." She went on to elaborate about them moving Burt into the kitchen.
Rita let loose a hearty laugh, her face scrunched up as she shook her head. "Sounds like you're going to have your hands full, all right. And old Burt will play it for all it's worth." She paused as the waitress set two cups of coffee on the table, acknowledging the girl with a smile and a glance. She pushed the container of cream over to Kate, her tone mild when she asked, "And how's it going with Tanner?"
Caught off guard, Kate looked down at her coffee, her movements deliberate as she poured cream, her tone artificial when she answered. "Fine. Just fine."
There was a brief pause; then Rita spoke again. "You got something on your mind, or am I just imagining things here?"
Kate looked up, her expression immobilized by surprise. She stared at Rita for a moment, then looked back down and stirred her coffee. She didn't say anything for a moment, then she finally met Rita's gaze and answered, her voice uneven. "Who is Bruce T. McCall?"
Her broad face giving nothing away, Rita stared at her, clearly weighing Kate's question and the intent behind it. When she spoke, her voice had a slight edge to it. "Why do you want to know?"
Kate's vision suddenly blurred, and she looked away, her emotions raw and unpredictable, the tightness in her chest swelling to nearly unbearable proportions. It wasn't the tone of Rita's voice that had done it; what got to her was the sudden mental image of Tanner standing in the kitchen, telling her why he should move down to the bunkhouse. Trying repeatedly to will away the knot in her throat, Kate gazed out across the street, wishing she could get that image out of her mind. It nearly killed her, seeing that aloneness in him.
Rita's voice had lost its edge and was tinged with something closely related to amusement when she said, "So that's the way the wind blows."
Quickly wiping away the tears, Kate pulled another paper napkin out of the holder and blew her nose, still trying to get rid of the damned lump. Avoiding Rita's gaze, she picked up the mug and took a sip of coffee, not sure if she was going to he able to swallow or not.
Rita leaned forward and rested her arms on the table, toying with the spoon beside her saucer. "Tanner's got a pile of hurt in him," she said quietly. "And I don't want to add to that."
Kate looked at her, her gaze steady. "Neither do I."
Rita studied her for a moment, then began folding the napkin by her cup, her expression sober and inward. "Bruce McCall is Tanner's father," she said, her tone gruff. "He was never married to Tanner's mother, but they lived together for years. She came from one of the reservations in the States, and apparently old Bruce brought her home after he'd been down there on a cattle-buying trip, or so the story goes. They lived on the McCall ranch, and eventually they had Tanner. He made sure Tanner was legally registered as a McCall. Some say he did it to rile his old man, some say he did it for Tanner's mother. Anyhow, no one knew much about her, except she was a real beauty and apparently thought Bruce could walk on water."
Determined not to let Rita see how the news
that Bruce T. McCall was Tanner's father affected her, Kate forced herself to take a bite of pie. She wasn't sure how she managed to get it down, but she did. There was only a slight quaver in her voice when she nudged the other woman to continue. "What happened? How come Tanner ended up as part owner of the Circle S?"
Rita sighed, her expression indicating her lack of knowledge. "No one knows for sure what happened between Tanner's mother and Bruce. All anyone knows for sure is that when Tanner was around six, Bruce came home from a trip to Texas with a very rich wife." A wry smile appeared, and Rita's tone was underscored with amused sarcasm. "Our very own Miss Ellie." Her expression sobering, she shook her head, her attention again focused on the napkin. "Tanner's mother got on her horse and rode out to McKinnon Falls. They found her body two days later. Actually, it was Burt Shaw who found her."
Kate set her cup down, coffee sloshing into the saucer, the warmth draining from her in a sickening rush. For an instant she thought she was going to he sick. Weakly resting her elbows on the table, she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against her clenched fists. Six years old. He had been left all alone when he was just six years old. About Scotty's age.
Rita shifted, leaning back in her seat and stretching her legs out in front of her, her tone somber when she continued. "Blue thought the little half-breed at the Bar in was pretty cute, at least until she found out the half-breed was Bruce's kid. All hell broke loose, and that was when Bruce built that big house here in Bolton. Miss Blue wouldn't go near the Bar in after that. Rumor has it that Bruce didn't draw a sober breath for over a year. Then Miss Ellie had Chase, and I guess things straightened out."
Trying to waylay the growing tightness in her throat, Kate waited a moment, then lifted her head and looked at the woman across from her. "What happened to Tanner? Who took care of him?"
Rita gave her a wry smile. "You mean once Ellie found out who he was and gave old Bruce the ultimatum?" she said, that same sardonic undercurrent in her voice. "Well, since Bruce wasn't about to risk losing Miss Ellie's considerable bankroll, he stuck Tanner in a foster home. A couple that lived on a rundown farm east of town. They were dead-set religious – went to church three or four times a week. I guess Bruce figured if they were good Christian people, Tanner would do okay, but it turned out they were a pair of religious fanatics, into devil possession and punishment. They used to whip him, trying to beat the devil out and obedience in, saying they were the instruments of God, and God had brought him to them to be shaped."
Heartsick and hurting for the boy – for the small, confused, defenseless boy – whose whole world had been turned upside down, Kate clamped her teeth together, her vision blurring. So small. And so alone. With no one to hold him or comfort him. God, she couldn't even bear to think about it. Abruptly wiping away the tears with the side of her hand, she had to wait for the awful contraction to pass before she could speak. "Nobody did anything? They just left him there?"
Rita gave her a mirthless half smile. "I don't think anyone really knew. He was away from school more than he was there, and his foster parents didn't have anything to do with anyone in the community. It wasn't until he was about eleven or twelve – his first year of junior high– that Mrs. Whittaker got suspicious when he came to school with burns on the palms of both his hands. She finally got it out of him what was going on, and she raised Cain. Cyrus was working for Bruce by then – he was foreman at the ranch – and he and his wife marched out to the farm and collected Tanner, lock, stock and barrel, then took him home to the Bar in with them. Ellie threw a fit when she found out he was back on McCall land, but rumor has it that Millie threatened her if she did anything about it. Those next couple of years were probably the best in Tanner's entire life. At least until Millie died."
Hurting right down to her soul, Kate rested her head against the high back of the booth and stared off into space, a thousand questions churning through her mind, the information she was receiving not nearly enough to fill in all the spaces. She hadn't known Cyrus had ever been married, but Rita's account explained Tanner's association with the cook. It also explained the softening she saw in Tanner's expression whenever he was around the older man.
Wiping her face with the side of her hand, she let her breath go, then met Rita's gaze. "How come he ended up on the Circle S?"
Rita shrugged. "No one knows what happened there. At least, not all of it. When Tanner was about fourteen, he got tangled up with a girl. He was a hell of an athlete – excelled at everything he tried. She was a year or so older and was pretty taken with him – the star athlete, the dangerous reputation, the half-breed – but her old man raised holy hell. From all accounts, Bruce thought the whole thing was a big macho joke – figured it was all right, his fourteen-year-old kid getting it on with a cheerleader. Bruce had a real reputation as a womanizer, so I guess that all fit. But something happened after that. All of a sudden Cyrus was gone from the Bar in to the Circle S, and so was Tanner. Old Burt never had had much use for the McCalls, least of all Bruce, but he figured Tanner's mother was all right, so it caused quite a ruckus around here when Bruce found out where Tanner had gone."
Rita shrugged, meeting Kate's gaze with a wry smile. "And Ellie threw a regular fit. She wanted Tanner gone, not sitting just outside of town on the Circle S, rubbing her nose in the fact that by all accounts Tanner had legal rights to the McCall money. To my knowledge, Tanner hasn't seen his old man for years. There was a big falling-out between Bruce and Chase – that's Bruce's oldest son by Ellie. He'd be seven or eight years younger than Tanner. Anyhow, Chase was a real hell-raiser and made it clear he didn't have any use for his old man. Rubbed both Ellie's and Bruce's nose in it when he took off when he was about eighteen and hired on at the Circle S. He was there for a year or so; then he hit the rodeo circuit. It's rumored around that Tanner bankrolled Chase when he started rough-stock contracting to the pro rodeo circuit in the States. Bruce's other son is one of those who doesn't have a whole hell of a lot of backbone – nice enough person, but took everything old Bruce dished out. And I don't know what happened to Eden. That's the daughter. She hasn't been around for years.
"Of course, the Bar in isn't what it used to be – the original ranch ended up being split three ways when Bruce's father died. Divided it between Bruce and his two sisters – that was just after Tanner disappeared. That really shook Ellie up – she always thought Bruce would get it all, since the ranch had always been passed on to the oldest son."
Feeling as if every ounce of energy had been drained out of her, Kate reached for another napkin and blew her nose, her hands icy. Stuffing the tissue in her pocket, she wrapped her hands around the warm coffee mug. There was a long silence, each woman deep in her own thoughts. Then Kate looked up at the older woman. "Rita?"
"Hmm?"
"Tell me about you and Tanner."
Rita looked at her, her gaze sober as she gave a small shrug. "Not much to tell." Then she gave Kate an amused look and added, "At least, not in the romance sense. But we've been friends for a lot of years." She looked down and began fiddling with the napkin again, her expression strained. "I was placed in a foster home when I was nine. Mine was better than Tanner's, but you still grow up knowing you don't really belong. That feeling carries over into everything, and things weren't great for either Tanner or me in elementary school."
Her smile twisted with the unpleasantness of remembering, her voice growing even huskier when she continued. "Tanner and I were pretty much outcasts. Nobody was going to fight our battles for us or much cared what happened to us. We stuck pretty much together – comfort in numbers, I guess. It was worse for him, though. He was so withdrawn and quiet, and he missed so much school that he was always pretty far behind. And I don't know if it was because no one wanted to cross Blue, or if it was because he was part Indian or what, but there were a couple of teachers who used to really pick on him.
Of course, the more they belittled him, the more closed up he got. It wasn't until Cyrus took him that
things picked up for Tanner."
Rita made a gesture with her hand. "And Mrs. Whittaker made a big difference. She figured out right away that he wasn't stupid like his other teachers claimed – he'd just missed so much school. He'd been brought up thinking he wasn't worth nothing, and he was so ashamed of being dumb. I guess he figured they'd really humiliate him if they found out he couldn't read, so he never let on. She was the one who never let on, though – just started working with him, after school and at noon hour, then got him playing sports. Millie used to work with him at home, too."
Rita's expression altered, her face growing solemn and introspective. She folded the napkin into a precise square, her thoughts clearly focused on the unpleasant past. It was a long time before she spoke, her voice heavy from the weight of remembering. "His foster parents did a good job of that, of drumming shame and humiliation into him. And there was one teacher, Mr. Rutherford, who got some sort of sick pleasure from picking on kids, especially Tanner. He taught grades four and five, and he used to make fun of Tanner every chance he got. Found out years later that he was in Ellie's bridge club. It was so bad, he started going through Tanner's lunch in front of the class and showing everyone what Tanner was given to eat. Which usually wasn't much – maybe a cold baked potato."
Knowing she was approaching emotional overload and knowing she couldn't handle many more of the graphic details without coming completely apart, Kate swallowed and rubbed her forehead, trying to dispel the headache that was developing. God, it was so awful, so horrible – and so unbearably sad.
Rita glanced up as a customer entered the café, then began toying with the napkin again. Her face softening with a reminiscent expression, she shook her head and gave a chuckle. "He showed 'em, though. A few years back, Tanner and Burt bought an old run-down farm that was adjacent to the Circle S, half a section that was nothing but a big gravel pile – couldn't grow much of anything on it. Different ones in town did a lot of snickering about it, making snide comments about him buying a pile of rocks. Just after that, there was a big push for road upgrades in this end of the province, and the contractors were desperate for gravel. Tanner knocked off the top of a hill, brought in a crusher and made a small fortune off that damned farm – in fact, that gravel pit is still making him money. The place they're living on now wasn't part of the original Circle S – they bought that just before they started mining gravel, so they paid that off right quick. After the gravel pit episode, people were laughing out of the other sides of their mouths, I can tell you. Especially when the Circle S hands rolled into town that fall in a whole new fleet of vehicles. The same thing with the Benson place – there were quite a few who thought he was a fool for buying an operation that had already gone belly-up, but he turned that into a gold mine, dehydrating and bagging steer manure, if you can believe it."
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