Valley of the Heart

by Moore, S. Dionne

  “Guess not. I blame myself. That first year I was down with this injury. . . .” Frank stared at his hands. “Took me a long while to get myself together after that.”

  “Does what we’re seeing match up with what you knew from the days you rode?”

  The cowpuncher worked his hand across his jaw, eyes distant as he considered.

  “Doesn’t it seem strange that Walt sends his own men over here and pays them to work for Mrs. Cullen?”

  “Did it as a favor to her after Jon passed.”

  “Was murdered, you mean. And Walt Price was the one who spread those rumors about Mr. Cullen stealing that gold and produced that miner who vowed that his gold had indeed been stolen.” Tanner clasped his hands. “Why would the man who accused your husband of stealing then turn around and send his hands to round up your cattle?” Several possibilities came to his mind. The lies would isolate her from the townsfolk who might otherwise be sympathetic to a widow. If Maira thought they all agreed with Walt’s accusation against Jon, it would give her more reason to stay clear of town. Then there was the idea that he wanted to court her. . . .

  “If Walt’s men show up while I’m gone, it’s best to let them ride on. Tell them you’ll be merging your herd with some of the smaller ranches for the drive.”

  The twist of Frank’s jaw and the redness of his lower lip showed the man’s consternation. Frank didn’t like having a process questioned that he’d sanctioned “Might be I’m getting too old. Pride’s not as easy to swallow when you’ve got young ones questioning what you’ve done all your life.” He raised his chin and gave Tanner a nod. “You do what you think is right.”

  Sleep would not come for Tanner though. The bunkhouse still perched on the boards he’d used to hold up that end, the foundation of rocks growing, but he needed another load before he could finish the project. He turned over, sleep eluding him even though his body begged for it. Someone was rustling, and if they weren’t doing it in the day, maybe they were doing it at night. There was only one way to find out.

  ❧

  Frank was worried, and Maira knew it. If not for the sudden disappearance of Tanner in the night, she might not have thought a thing about Frank’s show of distress; but the man had grown snappish, a trait she had seldom seen in him. Levi had grown clingy, sensitive to Frank’s mood. She gave Frank space after they finished garden work, and he went off to piddle with the fire in the smokehouse. She kept Levi occupied indoors, the tension stretching her nerves taut.

  When she had to explain to Levi for the third time the reason he could not play in the pile of nails outside, she ushered him into their room.

  “Want to see Tan-wer.”

  “That’s ‘Mr. Young,’ and you’ll have to wait. I need to talk to Frank.” She pointed to the bed. “Serious talk.”

  “I’m not tired,” he pouted in a low mutter.

  “Then rest quietly.”

  His lower lip pooched out and his eyes filled. Maira hated this, the tug of war, her desperate need for quiet and adult conversation. To know what it was Tanner was thinking and why he’d left without explanation.

  “After your nap, I’ll let you play outside for a while.”

  “With Tan-wer?”

  “If Tanner is back, then yes.”

  “You mean Mr. Young?” Levi’s tears cleared and his mouth quirked in a little grin up at her.

  “Yes” She pointed again, boosting him up to the mattress. “Mr. Young.”

  “He likes to be called Tan-wer.”

  “Yes. I’m sure he does.”

  “Then why can’t I call him that?”

  “Because I said.” She pointed to the bed. “Lie down now!”

  He slunk under the covers, and she pulled them up to his shoulders. She tried to collect herself, but she was so tired. Worried. She just wanted everything to be good again, like it was when Jon had been alive. She leaned over and pecked Levi’s forehead, not missing the wetness on his cheeks. She would have to make it up to him. Somehow.

  When she reentered the kitchen, Frank had scraped the leftover food into the slop bucket and rinsed the plates in a pan of tepid water. He half-turned toward her. “Would you like another cup of coffee?”

  She shook her head and sank into the chair nearest Frank.

  “The garden will do well this year,” Frank said.

  Her back ached from the hoeing and planting they’d done, and she leaned forward to stretch the kinks from her muscles. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

  “Levi will be quite the farmer,” Frank added. “He’s a good boy, Maira.”

  She basked in his words, feeling the little knots of tension easing a little. Since Levi’s disappearance and the fear she might have lost him for good, it had been too easy to question her mothering skills. Being a mother to him was normal and natural. Yet she wished he had the benefit of Jon’s presence. Her throat tightened and tears burned. She needed to be thankful that Frank filled some of that role and that Tanner was a good example as well.

  “Tanner should be back soon. He wouldn’t leave the bunk-house unfinished unless it was important.”

  “Tell me what he’s out there doing, Frank. You know, don’t you?”

  “He thinks. . .” Frank finished the last plate and set it, still wet, on a hemmed dish towel. “He thinks Walt Price is up to something.”

  Maira’s deepest worries swelled. “The XP?”

  “We don’t get out much, you and me. Could be there’s something going on we’re not knowing about. Walt’s got a big place, and he was the first to make the accusation against Jon. . . .”

  He grimaced. “At first I had a hard time with what Tanner was saying, but the more I got to thinking on it, the more I wonder.”

  “We don’t know him very well. He just rode in here out of nowhere and started doing things.”

  Frank’s gaze went hard. “He came with a mind to work and has done an awful lot for us.”

  “So did Walt’s men. For days,” she reminded him.

  The fact of the matter was she didn’t know Walt Price either. Other than sending two or three cowhands to round up the Rocking J herds every spring and at his expense, what did she know of the man? He’d been quick to accuse Jon when gold was found on Jon’s body. She tried to remember if her husband had said anything negative about their neighbor to the east. Jon had been more worried about building his herds, scraping to buy each and every cow and ewe he could. But what if the worry she’d perceived wasn’t over just money problems and buying cows and sheep? What if Jon had been troubled over an issue with Walt?

  “True,” Frank said, “but I also know that when Jon was alive, we were doing well. The herds were growing, and we were making some profit. Not much, mind you, but based on that, and the fact that the weather’s been mild the last couple of years, we should have made more. Lots more.”

  “Did Jon mention Walt to you? The XP?”

  Frank’s round face pinched in thought. “Don’t recall much other than getting some XP stock off our property once or twice during that drought. His cows were pushing the fence down to get to the stream.”

  It wasn’t much, Maira conceded, if indeed it was anything at all. Yet Frank’s words showed a desperation. If the XP needed another water source, it might lead the man to underhanded methods. Price’s accusation against Jon stuck hard in her stomach. She hadn’t wanted to consider the truth of Walt’s hard words or the miner he’d produced to prove the story true. Jon would never have stolen gold. From anyone. He had known what it was like to grow up poor, as she had, and neither wanted anything more than steady growth in the herd and a home of their own.

  “Young will be back soon. We’ll know more then.” Frank stood to his feet, moving slower than normal, his right leg probably stiff from working in the garden.

  “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle rounding up cattle with your leg?”

  Frank’s stare bordered on a glare. “I’ll do it because it needs done.” He stood on the top step
, his back to her. “Young’s right; it’s not any kind of work a woman should be doing, especially not alone. Levi needs you, and with this brace, I can ride.” Without a backward glance he went down the step and headed off toward the bunkhouse.

  ten

  Tanner rode Cue in quietly two days later and under the cover of dying daylight. He watched Frank cross the distance between the house and the bunkhouse. Cupid was done in from the long day and strained forward. Maira Cullen’s mare watched them from the corral. Frank stopped to stroke the mare’s nose, speaking to the horse in low tones. Tanner was tired. He wanted nothing more than some hot food and a place to sleep. He petted Cue’s neck to keep the gelding calm until Frank moved away toward the bunkhouse, his swinging gait more pronounced than usual. Must be having trouble with his leg.

  When Frank went inside, Tanner led the horse from the shadow of the lean-to and over to the corral. The horses touched noses before Maira’s mare galloped away in a playful show. His fingers felt thick as he loosened, then removed, Cue’s cinch strap and stripped the saddle and then the blanket from his horse’s back. He opened the gate to the corral, mulling another dose of jerked venison against wandering inside to see if there were any cold biscuits left from supper, when he felt a presence a second before Maira Cullen’s voice broke the silence.

  “I think they’ve missed each other.”

  He caught the mirth in her voice and turned with a grin, his hand going to his chin. Four days had done away with his clean-shaven look. He wondered if she noticed. Funny how he never thought of his appearance until she was there. But the thought wiped away his humor. Or maybe it was the sight of her. In that time of day when the sun had slunk away but the stars had yet to shine, her eyes were luminous. Her hair blew around her face as if an invisible hand tousled the strands. She was beautiful.

  For the first time in a long time, Tanner Young wanted to forget the ache of being in the saddle or always being on guard against predators of the night. Watching Maira Cullen stirred a desire for something softer, sweeter. The light of a hearth and promise of a warm meal and arms that would welcome him with soft embraces and whispered words. A world of his own.

  “Have you eaten?”

  He realized he stood there with his hand on the open gate. Cue had already gone in to chase and nip at the mare, both animals oblivious to the beckon of freedom his reverie offered them. Heat crept up his neck and he cleared his throat as he swung the gate closed. “I was wondering if you might have a biscuit or something left over.”

  Maira’s gentle laugh stole his attention. He couldn’t think what he’d said that was funny.

  “Come on up to the porch and I’ll bring you some coffee. Levi is asleep, and Frank just headed out to the bunkhouse.”

  “I saw him go.”

  She seemed surprised. “He’s been pretty anxious to talk to you. Irritable, if you want to know the truth.”

  As she took the steps to the porch, Tanner watched the way her skirts swung right then left, mesmerized by the movement. Or maybe by the woman. He stood on the porch, unsure where to sit. She chose the rocking chair. He dragged his gaze from the vision of beauty and gentleness she created. He’d expected her to be angry with him for leaving for so long with no explanation, but she seemed unaffected. With the setting sun, cold stabbed its fingers into the night. As if those fingers lay against her neck, she shivered and shot to her feet.

  “Coffee. I almost forgot.”

  He waved her back into the chair. “I’ll get it. Why don’t you rest?” The words sounded awkward, but her small smile showed her appreciation though she didn’t sit back down. “I’ll need to get my shawl. It’s getting chilly.”

  She stood beside him, head tilted back, an open, friendly expression lending softness to her face. “How’s that hand?”

  Like a child, he held it out. Her forehead wrinkled as she examined the skin. She ran her fingertip along the back. It tickled. He swallowed and kept his eyes on the glossy crown of her hair, the straight part in the center and the combs that held the glorious waves in place. He took a breath and wondered if he’d been holding it or if being this close to her just made it hard to breathe. She lifted her face, eyes luminous. “I don’t guess you babied it much.”

  “No, ma’am, Mrs. Cullen.”

  “What a mouthful. Maira will do.” She turned and led the way through the door and into the warm room. A small fire crackled and sputtered in the fireplace. She knelt beside the stone mantel and put the poker to good use on the crumbling log.

  “Why don’t I add some wood? It’s going to be cold tonight.”

  Her head tilted, and she nodded. “I hope Frank doesn’t catch a chill.” She set the poker aside and stood. “His leg begins to bother him if he does.”

  “If you have some extra blankets, I’ll make sure he has one.”

  She bit her lip and stared off, lost in thought. “I shouldn’t have allowed him to take the woodstove out of the bunkhouse so fast. He doesn’t like it in there spring and summer. Takes up too much room, he says.”

  Tanner had to acquiesce. The bunkhouse was narrow, and the spot where the woodstove sat would make the center aisle crowded. “It’s just him and me, and the cold snap will pass.” He laid another log on the fire, poked at it, then put another on top. She returned then, blankets piled high in her arms. She set them on the table as he stood.

  “That should keep you both warm. If you need more, you’ll tell me?”

  Her look was so earnest. So open and eager to please. It rose in his mind to tell her how he’d come to be there and to reassure her of his motives, but the telling might lead to other revelations he was not prepared to make. His only safety was that he remain tight-lipped.

  Maira’s eyes held a question. Her lips parted as if she might speak; instead she turned and lifted the coffeepot.

  Tanner grazed her profile, wishing he could follow the path of his eyes along her cheek and neck with his finger. He drew in a long, slow breath and nodded toward the open shelf of dishes where three coffee mugs perched. “Will those do?”

  “Yes. Coffee’s hot.” She took a mug from his hand, filled it, and passed it back. When she reached for the other mug, their fingers touched. She didn’t seem to notice or be affected by the contact, her green eyes brewing mischief as she laughed up at him. “You’ll want to be careful.”

  Heat from the mug felt good against his fingers. Too much roping, fence repair, and the hundred other tasks he’d undertaken while riding the fence looking for signs of rustlers. One entire section had been cut, the hoofprints fresh. Not more than a few days old. She glanced back at him, chin on her shoulder, eyes alight. He sucked in air at the impact of the innocent glance coupled with the flick of a smile. A gentle smile, both shy and relaxed. He didn’t feel relaxed though. Not at all. His heart beat hard in his chest as he picked up her mug and followed her back out onto the porch. When she took her seat, he passed her the coffee, doing his best to ignore his feelings and focus on what he’d found out on the range. Best to think of the things he knew something about.

  ❧

  She felt Tanner’s eyes on her and dismissed the implication of his awareness as absurd. They were little more than strangers, and good-looking men abounded in this country. When he’d passed her the coffee, she accepted, trying hard to ignore the brush of their fingers, refusing to look at him. She leaned back, cup nestled in her hands, and sipped the strong brew. Frank’s coffee was enough to make a woman grow facial hair. She smiled at the thought and almost shared it, as she would have with Jon, but something stopped her. Tanner Young seemed the sober sort. Jon had taught her an appreciation for humor and wit, but this man might not think it funny. It made her miss Jon. They’d sat out on the porch every evening, sipping Frank’s coffee, discussing the coming baby, trying to settle on names. At those times he would share his plans for their future. At those times she’d simply listened, content to let him handle the logistics of growing the ranch, while her body grew their child.<
br />
  Maira released her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Jon was a long time ago. Still, it felt strange to be in the same spot but with a different man. When she opened her eyes, the moon silhouetted Tanner. He leaned on the railing, cup in hand, one foot on the bottom post of the porch railing. A position Jon had often struck. Fresh grief washed through her.

  She had yet to ask him about his long absence, but thought she knew already based on Frank’s comments.

  “Tensions are mounting between big and small ranchers. It’s getting dangerous.”

  She stilled, the pinch of grief seized beneath Tanner’s words. “Tensions? You mean Walt Price?”

  “Guess it’s time you knew something of me. I’ve done some work in the past investigating allegations of rustling.”

  “You’re a lawman?”

  “Not really. I was a good tracker.” He straightened, took a sip of the coffee, and settled into the chair across from her. “Your cattle seem in good shape, but they’re older stock, hardly any one- or two-year-olds among them. Most of the babies are from older cows, and there weren’t many of them. Could be your herd’s being rustled.”

  “I. . .” What was there to say? Her body went cold. Speculation was one thing, but to have it confirmed was another. Jon would have been furious. “Does Frank know this?”

  “Some.”

  It at least explained the man’s irritableness. He probably blamed himself because it was a burden he could not and had not been able to physically shoulder since his accident.

  “Frank said Walt was trying to court you.”

  The surge of heat shook off the chill. “He’s old.”

  Tanner’s eyebrows rose. “Doesn’t matter much out here. You’re a beautiful woman. He’s a lonely old man. Some marry for far less.”

  Anger rose hot. “I would never marry him.”

  Tanner held up his hand, a crooked grin on his face. “Didn’t mean to imply you would, just repeating what I’d heard.” He took a long swallow of coffee and folded himself into the rocking chair opposite hers. His eyes lingered on her, sweeping over her face and hair and shoulders. She felt the probe with an excited reluctance, afraid to allow herself to be flattered by the admiration in his eyes.