Valley of the Heart

by Moore, S. Dionne

  “Better than new,” Frank trumpeted in glee. “Never could get that thing right by myself.”

  “Some things take two.”

  Frank nodded and rubbed his shoulder. “Reckon that’s so.” He chuckled deep in his throat. “You take care of those stable doors, and Maira might cook up that last ham she’s been holding back.”

  “Ham, huh?” How long had it been since he’d had a meal cooked by someone other than himself? A pretty someone, at that. Maira. . . “I can shoot some game if she’s running low.” He scanned the yard, taking note of the buildings, the cellar doors. “Could build a smokehouse right over that cellar.”

  Frank’s head bobbed faster and faster. “Been meaning to do that. Leg makes it hard to do steps. Wanted to smoke some of the fish from the stream.”

  “There’s a good supply of wood and nails.” Plenty to work on the projects that needed immediate attention and still enable him to build a smokehouse. “Is there something other than these doors and that roof that need doing?”

  “Nothing that can’t wait for the smokehouse. It would be a relief for Maira to have meat on hand.”

  Tanner opened the sagging barn door, taking stock of what he would need to fix the problem. A couple of longer nails sank into the frame. An easy fix, until he realized the holes were too worn and would not hold. Replacing the entire frame was the only solution. He took up the claw Frank handed him and set about yanking as many nails as he could. No sense in losing them if he could reuse them. His daddy had taught him to be frugal with all things. He stopped when the weight of the doors began bowing the old frame and pulled out the rest of the nails without any further effort on his part. “Beats having to pry it loose.”

  Frank nodded and helped him lift down the big doors. After all the years spent by himself on the edges of the XP taking down the predators that could destroy Walt Price’s herds, Tanner enjoyed the quiet camaraderie of working beside the old hand. That the man didn’t feel the need to fill every empty spot with words relaxed him and reminded him of his pa—a man slow to speak, but when he spoke, whatever he’d said had been worth hearing.

  Within an hour he had the new frame set snug and the doors back in place. Sweat beaded along his brow. He wiped it away with a kerchief from his back pocket.

  “Maybe you should take a look at the bunkhouse. . . . Get yourself settled in while I talk to Maira.”

  Tanner analyzed the problem of the sinking foundation in a glance. “Needs the floor shored up. Is there a place to get rocks?”

  “A creek down yonder.”

  Tanner nodded and crossed to Cue. He slipped his saddlebags from the horse then raised a brow at Frank. “Bunkhouse?”

  “Yup. I’ll turn your horse out into the corral before I head inside.”

  As Tanner crossed to the sagging building he’d call home for a while, he heard the slight offset of Frank’s steps and Cue’s cautious whinny as the stranger neared. Cue’s distrustful nature made Tanner smile. The door to the bunkhouse squealed open, and he lowered his bags to the nearest narrow bunk. A long row of framework supported sleeping platforms stacked three high. Frank’s belongings were strewn about, a frayed blanket haphazardly covering a bottom platform. Made sense the man would choose a low bunk, what with his bum leg.

  Back outside, he lay down on his belly and inspected the foundation. It was just as he’d first assessed. The caving floor inside reinforced what he was seeing. It would be a big project, mostly shifting rock, but he would need wood and nails. Maybe more than Frank had on hand.

  “She aimed to get the repairs hired out,” Frank stated, startling Tanner with his sudden reappearance. He didn’t like that he’d been so intent he hadn’t heard the man coming. He frowned and sprang to his feet, leaning to slap the dust from the knees of his trousers, working hard to mask the flare of anger at the dullness of his senses. Frank’s voice lowered. “But there’s been little money, and Maira doesn’t have the know-how.”

  Tanner straightened. “Any work needin’ done with the cattle?”

  “Some branding to do. Roundup and all.”

  “Who does she usually hire?”

  Frank squinted and shrugged. “Men from the ranch east of here. Can’t ride myself, on account of the leg. I take care of the sheep and the boy when she’s needin’ to be about.”

  He didn’t know a thing about sheep. Had seen some men in the Big Horns herding the meek little animals, but most of them didn’t speak English. Cows he could handle. Tanner jerked his head toward Frank’s bum leg. “You get caught up in a burrowing hole while on a horse?”

  “No. Busting a bronc. He twisted on me and keeled over backward. Pinned me good.”

  Tanner winced. Good cow ponies had spirit, but their uneven temperament meant they could turn on a man in seconds. “I know a man who insisted on sticking his bronc between two trees before he’d mount him.”

  “Got into breaking them when I was young,” Frank offered. Tanner circled the bunkhouse as the man talked. “Didn’t have the sense God gave a goat to know I’d suffer for it down the road.” Frank gripped his opposite elbow and rubbed to punctuate his statement. “Some days I just hurt all over.”

  “You say she hires from the XP?”

  There was that strange hesitation again. As if the older man knew something or was suspicious of him. Tanner couldn’t read him.

  “Frank?”

  The quiet voice got their attention at the same time. Tanner watched her from over Frank’s shoulder. The boy slipped from her arms into Frank’s, who sent the boy into the air, pulling a giggle from Levi. Tanner ripped his gaze from the man and boy back to the woman. Either it was the way she’d combed her hair, damp curls still pressing against her face, or maybe the safe return of her son that gave her skin a rosy glow, but whatever it was, Tanner saw a depth of beauty he had been oblivious to in the breaking dawn.

  Levi bolted toward him as soon as Frank set him on his feet. The small figure slapped into his legs, his little arms hugging tight. Tanner let his hammer slip to the ground and pressed his hand to the boy’s head. “Hello there, little cowpuncher.”

  “Lee-vi.” The wide, dark eyes shifted up to him and a flow of warmth spilled through Tanner’s heart. He touched his hand to the boy’s head and knew with a sickening realization that he could never do what Walt Price needed him to do.

  “I’m so pleased that you changed your mind and decided to come,” she was saying. She extended her hand and he took it. As if from a great distance, his mind registered the delicate feel of the slender fingers, the green of her eyes. “Tanner Young,” he managed.

  Her eyes swept over the buildings behind him, quietly assessing all that he had done. “I can’t thank you enough for your generous offer, but I’m afraid I can’t. . .”

  Tanner witnessed the subtle shift in her mood. She averted her eyes. Levi released his legs and went to the corral where Cue stood, nostrils flared, staring at the group.

  “Now, Maira,” Frank said. Tanner couldn’t tell if his tone was a reprimand or a warning.

  “Frank showed me the tools, so I got to work.”

  Her nod was stiff. “I noticed.”

  “That ornery gate is already fixed,” Frank cut in. “Sure wouldn’t hurt for him to stay a couple days. He’s wanting to put up a smokehouse, too.”

  “I would consider the work for food a favor,” Tanner said.

  She jerked her head back to him, lips a thin line. “You’ve already done me a great favor, Mr. Young. I can’t imagine the lure of staying here and doing all this work only for a free meal. You’re not on the run from the law, are you?”

  five

  “No, ma’am.”

  Maybe the tall rider had had a change of heart after his terse good-bye in the first light of dawn, but Maira didn’t think so. The appearance of the man seemed too sudden, and she couldn’t help but question his motives. What man offered to do repairs for food with no hope of cash? He’d wanted to ride on bad enough earlier. Why not just c
ome claim the meal she’d offered and be gone? By the looks of him he wasn’t starving, and the guns around his hips were in a holster worn with use. Which meant Tanner Young was either an outlaw on the run, or. . . She sighed. She didn’t know. Jon often told her you couldn’t tell much by the looks of a man. But Tanner Young had saved Levi’s life. Being alone made her paranoid. If Frank liked the man, then she had no reason not to.

  “We’ll eat at noon and again at seven. I have a cold biscuit and some bacon from yesterday if you need something right now.” She would have to get out the ham. It was the last of her meat, but she could shoot something. Having a smokehouse would be a blessing, and Jon had intended on building a smokehouse before his death.

  “That’ll be fine.” He nodded at the doors. “I’ll get back to my work then.”

  Levi let out a belly laugh over something Frank had said. She caught her loyal hand’s eye and put all her concern over Tanner Young into her expression. Frank glanced at Tanner and straightened. Frank’s silent, somber nod didn’t fill Maira with confidence, but she knew the man would keep a sharp eye.

  “Any problem with that ewe?” she asked.

  Frank’s grin came easy. “She’s fine. Gave birth to twins last night with no problems.”

  News that made her smile. “Two blessings in one night.”

  “Three, really,” Frank countered and tousled Levi’s dark hair.

  She laughed and held the wonder of it all close to her, savoring the moment. Five sets of twins this spring, with this last set occurring much later than most births, but no less a victory. Now if they could just get a handle on the cattle. She hadn’t told Frank about the cut fence, or the clear imprints in the sandy soil by the stream. He would only fret over his inability to ride for long distances and tell her she needed to hire someone. A conversation they’d had too many times to count and one that she had no heart for. Jon had always handled the cattle and sheep herds. She’d had to rely on Frank for his knowledge of the latter and try herself to get a handle on the herds.

  She would have to send cattle to market to keep them afloat, and she couldn’t continue to rely on the good graces of Walt Price to provide cowhands for another roundup, blessing though it had been. His biting criticism of Jon had rubbed her wrong, and she’d taken the man’s offer to supply his hands to round up her cattle at no charge as his way of apologizing for maligning Jon’s name. Jon would never have stolen anything; she didn’t care if that miner’s gold had been found on his body or not.

  Maira closed her eyes. No use going over it all again. To-morrow she would need to start gathering the cattle. Already she had waited too long, and Levi’s disappearance had further crimped her plans. At least she could rely on Frank. He was always watchful of the boy and knew exactly what to do to keep Levi occupied, even going so far as to encourage her son to take his naps in the stable like the horses, all so he could keep an eye on him and still work.

  She owed Frank so much and didn’t want to owe anyone else. Especially not the tall stranger who had rescued Levi. Yet one meal seemed like nothing compared to the bone-shattering grief of a future without that part of Jon. Her own thoughts condemned her. She could not begrudge the man a month of meals, and the work he was doing would be an added bonus. She should be grateful.

  From her safe distance, Maira watched as Tanner disappeared into the lean-to beside the barn and returned with fresh boards. She didn’t want to notice the way his shirt stretched across his back as he raised the middle board into place. With one hand he hammered as the other held the board, his height a distinct advantage. Jon had always needed to stand on something for jobs requiring him to stretch too high. Tanner finished nailing and steadied another board along the side.

  Her eyes slid to Levi, absorbed in pounding a few nails into the ground with a rock. When Maira raised her face, Frank was watching her, and she knew by his look that he’d seen her watching Tanner. Shame rushed through her and she wondered what he must think; but what she wasn’t prepared for was his smile and nod, as if he approved.

  ❧

  “You’re a worker, son. That’s a good trait.”

  Tanner turned with an armful of split wood as Frank limped up to him.

  “Been meaning to cut more, but it’s hard to swing when I don’t have the balance.”

  He didn’t think for a minute that Frank’s statement was a bid for sympathy. Stacking the wood, he listened as the old cowhand continued. Frank might be his key to information.

  “You’ve done more in a day than I could do in a month. And there’s more to be done. Much more.” It was the tenor of the man’s voice that changed. The way Frank stood, weight shifted to his left leg, loose and unthreatening, belied the bite to his words. “If you’ve a thought to stay and work, we’ll welcome it; but you best know that meals is all you’ll be getting, and them will be scarce on meat. Last night’s supper was the last meat on hand. I’ve got me a vegetable garden that’s just starting and we’re lower on provisions than a hibernating bear.” Frank paused, eyes hard.

  “I’ll go hunting.”

  “And I can cut it up and get it in that smokehouse you’re building.”

  Tanner slapped his hands together as he straightened. Something was eating at Frank, but the old man wasn’t saying what was really on his mind, just giving him another verbal list of things that needed to be done. More of the same warnings about not getting paid and the meager supply of meat. He wondered if the man’s warnings had anything to do with the whispers of Maira’s and Frank’s voices on the porch last night. He’d heard the murmur of their talk from the bunkhouse, and he’d bet anything he was the subject.

  “The cattle can’t wait though. It’s already later than it should be to round them up.”

  As Frank fell into step with him up to the ranch house, the smell of food intensified. Levi bounced out onto the porch then ran back inside, hollering, “Coming. They’re coming!”

  Frank chuckled as he took the first step with his left foot first. “He’s a good boy. Just curious is all.”

  Tanner waited for Frank to reach the landing, not seeing a need to voice an opinion he hadn’t really formed. The screen door opened smoothly. Maira stood at the cookstove, a towel of some sort tucked into the waistband of her simple blue skirt. She turned as their boots announced their arrival. “Won’t be five minutes. Levi, did you get water for the men?”

  The boy bounded off through a doorway and reappeared with two mugs. Tanner sat across from Frank and watched as the boy scooted a stool over and climbed up on it. He placed the mugs on the work surface and ladled water from a bucket into the first. He picked it up and scooted around, face scrunched in concentration. Tanner almost offered a helping hand but decided against it. Work was something the boy would be used to, and not having any siblings meant he’d probably learned real fast how to get things done in spite of his size.

  Levi shuffled up to him first, his face lighting in a huge grin as Tanner took the mug. “Didn’t drop none. You see that?”

  “I sure did. You did real good.”

  Maira crossed to the table with a covered basket of biscuits and a crock of butter. “Ham gravy and biscuits.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  She exchanged a look with Frank that the older man intercepted and interpreted, but whatever the silent message, it was lost to him. If it was the food, he wasn’t sure why she would feel such an offering would be lacking. He ate far less on most days when he got tired of his own cooking. And the previous evening’s ham, for him, had been a luxury he seldom enjoyed. No man turned his nose up at leftovers. Is that what was troubling her? The ham would stretch to sandwiches for lunch and beans for supper. He admired frugality. She could boil the bone with potatoes. . . .

  Maira placed a pot full of thick gravy and a platter of biscuits on the table. She sat and bowed her head. Levi did, too. Tanner glanced at Frank’s bowed head just as the man’s voice filled the air with a simple thanksgiving. On the final syllable of th
e amen, Frank reached out for Levi’s plate and filled it with a biscuit and a dab of gravy. He did the same for Maira, giving her a bit more, then stretched his hand for Tanner’s plate. Frank returned the plate with double what he’d given to everyone else, not missing the skimpy rations he forked up for himself.

  “I don’t eat quite as much as you might think,” he offered.

  “You work hard. Eat up,” Frank said.

  Maira ate in slow, measured bites, as did Levi. The boy chattered about the nails, the cows, the sheep, nothing about his experience getting lost. His mother didn’t offer much, though she listened in rapt attention and offered a comment or two. Frank asked the boy about weeding the garden, and Levi went still and somber.

  “Don’t like weeds.”

  “But you want the corn to grow. Nothing like sweet corn on the cob. Got to take care of things, or we won’t have anything.”

  Levi sighed and snapped off a chunk of biscuit with his teeth. “Guess so.”

  “You promised to help Frank,” Maira inserted. “You know he can’t get down like you can.”

  The boy nodded as he chewed. When his eyes settled on Frank, he pointed with his biscuit toward Tanner. “He can help, too.”

  Maira’s eyes shone with humor when she met his gaze. “I think Mr. Young has already helped quite a bit.”

  “I’ll be building a smokehouse tomorrow. If it’s all right with your momma, you can help me. Then I’ll go hunt for some meat to put in that smokehouse.”

  Levi broke off a chunk of biscuit and ran it around his plate to sop up gravy. He popped the morsel into his mouth and slumped back on his chair. “Can I play?”

  Frank leaned toward the boy. “Why don’t you help me clear the table and clean dishes? Your momma needs a few minutes to rest.”

  “I’m fine, Frank. Really.”

  The old man’s expression clearly showed he wasn’t convinced.

  She sighed, much as her son had sighed moments before. “Maybe a little tired.”