Frank buried his chin in his chest.
“If you can rope and peg, I can do the mounting and dismounting so you can stay in the saddle.”
“Might work. I’d have to look at that brace, and what about that smokehouse? Now we’ve got meat that needs tending to. Shame to let it go to waste.”
“The way I see it. . .” He paused, realizing Maira still had not said a word. Not even a protest. Maybe she did know how foolhardy her plan really was after all. He cleared his throat. “We’ll work on the smokehouse and get the meat put up. The cows can wait another day.” He turned to Frank. “I’ll work on your brace in the morning, too. Shouldn’t take too long, and it’ll give you a chance to get used to it.”
Still no reaction from Maira. He licked the corners of his mouth. “With everyone pitching in on the smokehouse, it should finish up real quick. If you’re willing, ma’am, er. . .” He realized in that moment that he didn’t know her last name and wasn’t quite comfortable calling her by her first. “Uh, Mrs.. . .”
“Cullen.”
Cullen. His eyes snapped to hers as that news penetrated deep. Jon Cullen’s widow. Why hadn’t he considered that before? Because it had been such a long time since he’d first found the body and begun his private examination of the accusations against the man. Accusations he could put to rest with ease. But revealing what he knew could also put her in danger.
He’d allowed a lull in the conversation for too long. Maira leaned forward, eyes round with dawning realization. Frank cleared his throat. “That name mean something to you?”
“You know something about Jon,” Maira pressed.
Her statement buzzed in his head. He chose his words carefully. “Heard about him being found.”
If she’d hoped for more, the slump of her shoulders trumpeted her disappointment.
“Jon Cullen was a good man.” Frank folded his arms and glared. “He wouldn’t steal.”
Tanner weighed his words. “Some are quick to accuse a man, especially when he can’t talk back.”
Maira ran a hand down the length of her braid. The gesture gave off the impression of a young schoolgirl. Vulnerable and uncertain.
Words pushed into his throat, but he hesitated. They were things that would confuse her, as they most certainly had confused him. There was a game being played here by someone against Maira and Jon Cullen. He was sure of it.
Maira pushed from the table and rose to her feet. As Tanner watched, she opened her bedroom door then hesitated. She turned, and their eyes met. He caught the sheen of tears along her cheeks before she shut the door. If Tanner had set aside his doubts about the death of Jon Cullen, Maira’s crestfallen expression, coupled with evidence of tears, renewed his determination to uncover the truth.
eight
“There’s a full moon coming up. I’m gonna head out and start work on wrapping meat for smoking and salt the rest. There’s a stream west of here that we’ve used to keep things cool,” Frank said. His voice revealed nothing. No curiosity. Nothing except the desire to work instead of sleep.
Tanner rose to his feet, too. “I’ll help you get started. I’m not feeling tired.”
“Been thinking about extra wood for that bunkhouse. There’s an old shanty near the stream that can be torn down. Should supply the need.”
Tanner nodded and swung away from the table. His hand burned where the coffee had hit. He made a fist, pulling the skin taut and increasing the discomfort. Opening and closing his fist didn’t help, but he pumped it until Frank stood beside him, his brown eyes amused. He lifted the lantern high. Tanner could better see the raging streak of red across the back of his hand.
“You won’t let it slow you down none.”
Without responding, Tanner continued to the front door. A part of him wondered if those tears he’d seen in Maira’s eyes now saturated her pillow, if she lay silent and sobbing or if sleep had claimed her and wiped away the hurt and pain. He was grateful Frank did not push the subject of Jon Cullen’s death. No doubt many knew of the accusations against the man. Walt Price had crowed to all that Jon’s body had been found with the gold on it. Gold he’d stolen from someone in order to buy more cattle and get a leg up on Walt. Price had painted Jon Cullen as a desperate man.
Together Frank and Tanner hauled the deer to the stream in the bed of the wagon. Frank stretched out his leg and kept hold of the two lanterns they’d use for light. At the stream, Frank sectioned the deer and began cutting and rinsing the meat while Tanner hammered at the shanty, tearing off boards and reclaiming the nails. At the end of an hour, the shanty was nothing more than a rough stone foundation and a pile of boards. Frank had washed and put the meat in a barrel, layering in salt.
“I’m starting to feel it.” Frank stretched upward and massaged his right leg before lowering himself by the stream. A groan crossed his lips as he leaned forward to let the water wash the blood from his hands. “Maira will make sausage, and we’ll smoke the rest.” Frank sat back. “You’re pushing yourself pretty hard, Young. All for nothing. Guess it makes me wonder why.”
Tanner hesitated. “Can’t a man ride in, see a need, and want to help without arousing suspicions?”
“Sure. I’m a God-fearing man. Believed in miracles most my life.”
Shame washed over Tanner. His presence was a miracle? Is that what Frank thought? And Maira? He’d attacked the work at the ranch, even the shanty. Yanking boards and ripping into the work because of. . .what? The specter at his heels? The new things stirring in his heart and mind when Maira was near? Tanner tugged the rope holding the back hooves of the carcasses away from Frank and tied them to the back of the wagon. “I’ll take you back,” he offered.
Frank rose to his knees and straightened in slow degrees, hand to his hip. “Getting down gets me every time.”
Tanner put the lid on the barrel and hammered it down tight, then stooped to shoulder the burden and shove it onto the wagon. Frank heaved himself into the bed of the wagon behind the barrels. They rode back to the house in silence. Exhaustion weighted Tanner’s body, a harbinger for sound sleep. After driving a ways from the house, he cut the ropes and let the carcasses lay in a stand of aspens in the bright moonlight. The trip back had more of the same silence, and when the horse reached the side of the house, Tanner left the barrels in the wagon and followed Frank to the bunkhouse. He unrolled the blanket he’d tossed down earlier and removed his boots, scrubbing at his beard, thinking.
“You gonna take it off?”
Tanner caught Frank’s dim profile in the dark. The older man had already stretched out, boots still on his feet. “Thinking about it.”
“Jon Cullen was a clean-shaven man.”
He wasn’t sure what to say to that, afraid to explore the implications of the suggestion.
“When you reckon on telling her?”
Tanner worked off a boot and let it drop before he answered. “Tell her what?”
“Cullen is a familiar name to you. You knew Jon Cullen, or knew of him. And by my best guess, you know more than what the rumors brought to you on the wind.”
“It’s a long story” was all he offered.
Frank let out a loud yawn. “Well, I won’t stay awake to hear it tonight.”
And that was it. Within minutes he heard the man’s deep, even breathing. But sleep did not come quite so quickly to Tanner Young, and by the time weariness threatened to swallow him, Frank’s new handcrafted brace sat in the corner of the bunkhouse.
❧
Arms aching from the lifting and tugging and the heat radiating from the boiling water, Maira did her best to put on a smile every time Levi, from his perch at the kitchen window, gave a report on what the men were doing outside. Just before three in the afternoon she took out the last hot jar from the boiling water. She felt boiled herself, having hovered over the steaming pot all morning.
Grateful to be done, she held out her hand to Levi. “I think it’s a good time to check up on the men.”
Levi sc
ampered to his feet, barreled by her outstretched hand, and ran through the kitchen to the front door. “I wanna see Tan-wer’s face.”
Maira sighed and quickened her pace to keep Levi in sight, not sure what to make of his comment. Tanner’s lower body was the only thing visible as he stood inside the door to the smokehouse. He’d ridden out before she woke that morning and hadn’t been in to eat at breakfast or lunch. Outside, Frank was grinning at the smokehouse as if he’d built it himself. Maira knew from Levi’s updates that Frank had practiced all morning on horseback with his new brace. Frank’s enthusiasm was contagious, and she wondered if Tanner knew the enormity of the gift he’d given the old cowpuncher.
“Levi tells me you’ve been up on Queen.”
Frank grinned down at the wooden brace enclosing the bottom part of his leg. “It helps keep it from twisting so much.” He stuck his leg out straight and pointed. “He even put a wedge on the heel to weight my foot to turn the right way.”
She nodded at the contraption. “It doesn’t look comfortable.”
Frank’s grin went huge. “That’s where the sheep’s wool comes in handy. I stick it in the places where it pinches. Other than that. . .” He shrugged, as if to say nothing else mattered. And, indeed, Maira knew that for Frank, to be back in the saddle made his world complete.
Levi tugged at the man’s hand. “Can I straighten those nails for Tan-wer?”
“Mr. Young,” Maira corrected.
Tanner ducked out of the smokehouse in time to hear the correction. “It doesn’t bother me none.”
“Well, it bothers me. . . .” She searched for air and couldn’t draw any into her lungs. Tanner Young had shaved off his beard. Handsome didn’t quite cover her first impression. A tilt of his lips told her her reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Your face is bare, Tan-wer!” Levi crowed.
Maira snapped to attention. “Levi, you will not call an adult by their first name.” She arched a brow at Tanner. “Is that clear, Mr. Young?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tanner leaned down to Levi and spoke in an overloud whisper. “I’ll call you Mr. Cullen.”
Levi giggled like a madman. Maira crossed her arms and glared, and when Tanner tilted his face up at her, the impact of that full smile and the cleft in his chin, not to mention his shining dark eyes, starved her lungs for air all over again.
Frank broke into the moment. “We should get that meat hung and the fire started.”
Tanner turned as he stood, “Mr. Cullen, if you’ll gather some kindling. . .”
Levi dashed off toward the woodpile, laughing like a maniac. Maira ignored them and ducked into the smokehouse. Great holes allowed sunshine to beam through. She frowned and backed out. “Should there be so many holes?”
“That’s where the smoke escapes. Has to have some way to get out,” Frank said.
Tanner returned with slabs of meat covered in material, ducked into the smokehouse and began hanging them from the pegs that covered the inside walls. Frank handed more cuts in to Tanner until everything was hung and Tanner reappeared. Frank started the fire, adding some chips he’d soaked in a barrel overnight. “Keeps the smoke going,” he explained to her as he threw them on the fire.
Smoke began to collect and billow out of the various cracks in wisps. The sight and smell made Maira feel rich. Richer than she’d felt in a long time. Her throat swelled with emotion when she considered the man who had made all that meat possible. In less than three days he’d changed so much on the ranch. Levi wiggled in beside Tanner with his rock, picked up a nail, and mimicked the man’s movements as Tanner pounded bent nails straight again. Her heart twisted in a knot of familiar grief. She swallowed over the emotion and ran her hands down her skirt. “Clean up and come on in, and we’ll have an early supper.”
Levi stood tall and rubbed his stomach. “You hungry, Tan-wer?”
“Reckon I could eat some.” His gaze went to Maira. “What’re we having?”
She smiled, putting every bit of her happy emotion into the expression. “Why venison steak and gravy, of course.”
nine
Tanner rode the fence line to the west of the Rocking J before the sun was up next morning. He felt more in control than he had since arriving at the ranch and gazing into Maira’s green eyes. Frank’s horse pulled abreast of him.
“How’s the leg?”
“Good. Feels real good. Being in the saddle again is like coming home after a long winter away.”
Tanner understood. Eyes to the ground, he watched for prints that meant cows nearby, or hoofprints that gave away the presence of rustlers. He’d investigated allegations against cattle rustlers before and had learned that the bigger the ranch that did the accusation, usually the smaller the ranch on the receiving end. Something about seeing the little ranchers stomped on set his blood to boiling. Things were brewing beneath the surface at the XP. Price had become greedy for land more than cattle, though the two almost always went hand in glove.
There was a sweet irony in learning that Walt wanted him to spy on the widow of a man whose death Tanner knew was a murder. Beneath that calm exterior, Maira Cullen was a tough bronc, but telling her that Walt had sent him to spy might make her turn on Walt. Or on him. He had to buy himself time. Let Walt think his little game was still running smoothly.
The path they followed took them to the same corner of the property where Jon Cullen’s body had been found. “And look there.” He pointed for Frank to see. “Hoofprints.”
“Horse.”
He talked to Frank that night, away from Maira and Levi, trying to discover answers to the questions crowding his mind.
“Walt’s tried real hard to get Mrs. Cullen to court him.” Frank answered Tanner’s first question as they sat on the porch following supper. Maira’s concentration on Levi gave him the opportunity to draw out the older man.
Somehow the news of Walt’s desire to court Maira didn’t surprise him. Walt’s kind would marry for richer or poorer, preferring the poorer kind in order to keep them under his heel while he absorbed all they’d worked for. Or—Tanner’s mind went black with rage—he’d be the kind to keep a girl on hand. Like the little maid. Some women might fall for Walt’s tricks, but he doubted Maira would.
Frank laughed. “Maira keeps her own counsel, though. Seen too much heartache in her youth to trust easy. Took offense that Walt asked her so soon after Jon’s death and never forgot that he had. I’m guessing old Walt didn’t reckon on him having a woman as a neighbor, and not one so stubborn as her.”
“Hard to live with, is she?” He knew the question was invasive and probably bordering on inappropriate.
Frank pursed his lips and chewed hard on his lower lip. “Depends on whether you’re asking for yourself or for some other reason I’m needing to be knowing about.”
“Just wanting to know what kind of boss I’m working for.”
The old cowpuncher didn’t quite hide his knowing grin. “She’s a good woman. A lonely soul.” Frank rubbed at his right thigh. “Jon Cullen and I met years ago. He was a young man with no family and nowhere to go. I took him in and taught him some things. Got him a job clerking at the general store. He saved his money up, bought a ranch. Kept tabs on me for a few years, I guess. Then he started coming back into town. Asked if I would ride with him to buy some head. He was good to me. Treated me good, and the offer came at a time when I needed a distraction. We worked well together.”
“How did he meet Mrs. Cullen?”
“Maira?” Frank chuckled. “She’d come from the Midwest. Was a kid with a chip on her shoulder, but he charmed her. Drew her out and got her to marry up with him. They had a good marriage.”
“A chip on her shoulder?”
“Jon found out she was an orphan. Got passed over when couples came looking for children to adopt. That kind of thing is hard on a kid.”
He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be abandoned by your parents, though he knew all too well the ramifications of doin
g the abandoning.
“Apparently a couple decided to take her home but returned her a year later. Orphanage turned her out when she was sixteen, and she hitched her way west.”
She was tough. He’d learned that in the week he’d been there. To have grown up being rejected, only to be loved, then lose that love. . .
“She pours herself into their son. Spitting image of his pa, that one. Not in looks, mind you, but in the way he does things. Runs off real quick when he gets curious about something. That’s what happened that day. Maira was plowing the garden for me, and Levi started chasing butterflies and flying pests.”
Frank’s talk lulled him. He couldn’t help but picture a petite version of a younger Maira. Alone and rejected at an orphanage. “You get to town much?”
Grunting, Frank leaned forward. “I’ve tried to encourage Maira to go to some singings or to church, but she only turns the tables on me. Says I should take my own medicine and get myself into a pew again.”
“Was Jon Cullen a church man?”
“Had our services here.”
“He led them?”
Frank frowned. “If’n you gotta know, I led the services. Used to be a preacher.”
“Isn’t that something you always are? You sound like you gave it up.”
“ ’Bout did, until Jon set some fire under me.”
There was a story in there somewhere, but Tanner knew he needed sleep. Frank did, too, and they still had some things to figure out before getting an early start. “You know what we’re seeing isn’t matching up to what should be there.”
Frank’s eyebrows knit then cleared. “You mean the cattle.”
“There’s precious few young ones. Did Maira keep close tabs on Walt’s men while they sorted the cattle then merged them with XP for the drive to sale?”
“She done the best she could, but it was Jon’s territory, if you get my meanin’.”
“So it wouldn’t have been hard for Price’s men to take advantage of Maira’s limited knowledge?”
Valley of the Heart Page 5