Valley of the Heart

by Moore, S. Dionne

  “I took the favor of the men Walt sent because he offered. He tried to suggest we should go to town for a social, but Levi keeps me busy, and I. . .” Her throat closed, her voice breaking. “I still miss Jon.”

  “So he stopped asking?”

  She shrugged. “Every now and again he’d visit to check on us.”

  “Frequent visits?”

  “No, not really. Frank was always nearby. I think the two don’t hold much affection for each other.”

  He rocked forward and stood, his back to her. “You don’t have family to help out?”

  Family. The word itself mocked. She could tell him about her parents leaving her, or the people who hinted at adopting her only to take her back to the orphanage. No. The only family she’d ever known had been Jon and Frank, then Levi. But Tanner didn’t need the weight of her past. He sought a simple answer, and that was the one thing she could give. “Just Frank and Levi.”

  “Jon?”

  He’d always wanted children. She’d known it was his way to fill the void left by his own shattered family. “His father left him and his mama when he was young. His mama died years back.”

  Tanner faced her. “So you’re alone. An easy target for a big rancher with a lot of money.”

  Her spine snapped straight. “That’s not true!”

  A smile slipped across his lips. “It wasn’t meant to get your dander up. It was the observation of a man thinking like another man might.”

  “Walt Price.”

  “That’d be the one.”

  She eased herself back against the chair. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “I understand it might be hard to know what to believe, ma’am. When we go out to round up head, I’ll show Frank what I found.”

  “So you’ve been out looking for evidence. What did you find?”

  “Some cut fence. Prints. I just don’t know who is doing it.” He glanced out toward the corral when a whinny rent the stillness of the night.

  All she’d thought was true was being turned on its head. She should have known better than to trust Walt’s offer. He accused her husband yet, oh so smoothly, offered to help the “poor” widow. And what of Tanner? What did she truly know of him? “Maybe it would help if I knew who you were. Where you came from and where you’re going.” Her cheeks heated at the boldness of her statements. He’d asked for nothing except some food, accepting her and Frank at face value, and she was asking for him to reveal everything.

  He took another gulp of coffee, and a grim smile etched across the one side of his face she could see. When his eyes met hers, shadows flickered there. “Done a lot of things. Been a top hand, run cattle, worked at a livery, and done investigative work tracking for rustlers, like I said. But I’m not running from the law.”

  “You’re a drifter.”

  “I’m a man who values solitude.”

  She understood that. Some people needed other people like they needed water. Some didn’t need anyone. “Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere for now.”

  “But you will leave? You’ll go somewhere else. Why not settle down?” She hated that she’d asked such a thing. It sounded desperate, and it was none of her business what he did.

  He whisked the back of his fingers against his jaw. “Reckon all the land is taken up ’round here, or I might.”

  “You don’t have family?”

  He stared up at the night sky, dotted now with the blinking white of stars against a cold, black background. “I did. Once. Long ago. Left out young.” He laughed, a brittle sound. “Was thirteen years old and thinking myself a man.”

  She judged him to be in his late twenties. “If I’d had family, I would want to be near them. Have you ever gone back?”

  He searched her face for a moment before his eyes hardened, and he stared out into the darkness.

  “They’re your family,” she whispered.

  “Were.” He thrust the empty mug toward her and went inside. When he returned, the blankets in his arms, his expression was cold, distant. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be turning in. It’s been a long day.”

  “I thought you were hungry,” she called out to him.

  “More tired. Good night, ma’am.”

  eleven

  Sleep claimed him until early morning when he woke with a start, unsure what shook him awake until Maira’s questions began a slow march across his mind. Her questions pecked at the wall built by the passage of time. He didn’t want to remember those days before he left. His stepfather’s presence had turned his world upside down. Again. His father’s death had been the first horrific episode, his mother barely escaping the attack by Indians. She’d carried his father into the house, and the two of them had watched the life seep from him as surely as the blood soaked the blanket beneath him.

  Tanner’s cheeks puffed out on an exhale, and he dug his fingers into the hollows over his eyes and rubbed. When his mother married again within four months, he’d hidden his resentment for four years. Eventually his stepfather’s heavy-handed attempts to tame his saucy mouth made the decision for him. Tanner had headed out under cover of night. He took the horse his father had given him and rode for miles, days, with little more than corn mush sustaining him. He’d ridden into Montana, as far as he could go on the little he’d taken with him from his mother’s staples. His size had brought him offers of work, but it had been hard work that required more strength than he had. He’d pushed himself to gain the strength, knowing it would lead to the better-paying jobs. He learned to track from an Indian he worked alongside on a ranch in the Powder River Basin. And then, when he turned eighteen, it all had begun to feel hollow.

  Thanksgiving found him sitting in a tent outside of town. Alone. And he’d made a quick decision to head home. Surprise his mama and let her know he was alive. Instead, he was greeted by the news of her death.

  He pushed his feet into his boots, careful to move slow and easy on the bed lest the groan of the wooden platform wake Frank. Cold air swirled around him and, remembering Maira’s concern, he draped his blanket over Frank’s already well-covered form. Taking up the lantern, he lit it outside, the baaing of sheep a soothing sound in his ears.

  He crossed to the barn with nothing more in his mind than the desire to work on one of the myriad projects still needing attention. A hole in the stall wall needed patching. He found a board and some nails, hung the lamp nearby, and set to work.

  Maira’s predicament galled him. He wrestled with what to do and hoped that the ranch hands Price would send showed up before he left on the roundup. He had a few questions for them. He’d already determined to ask Frank if he could see the logbooks. Seeing the figures would help him know better what to look for among the cattle.

  He placed a nail with his left hand and raised the hammer to strike. In two blows the nail was sunk. Maira hadn’t known about the tension between big and small ranches. He’d expected that. Hemmed in as the Rocking J was by the sprawling XP and, to the south, Ted Ranger’s R7, there would be little communication with the group of smaller ranches on the opposite side of the XP. With every blow of the hammer, Tanner knew Walt Price’s interest in Maira’s doings had less to do with concern for her and more to do with timing. Rustling the younger cows from Rocking J stock would ruin Maira. Walt Price understood that. If she married him, all the better. If not, who would the law believe if she were to bring accusations, Walt or a lone widow woman?

  Tanner sat back on his heels and tested the board for soft spots indicating another nail was needed. He found none. As he rose, the row of halters came into view. His saddle. He could ride out of here. Ranches needed hunters all the time. He didn’t have to get mixed up in Walt’s underhanded ways or the problems of Maira Cullen.

  Jon Cullen’s face swam into view. The man’s surprised expression, the coolness of his skin, the stiffness of his limbs that told their own story when Tanner found his battered body. Even for the stiffened form of a man he knew more for the length of time
it took to hand over some gold than for any lifelong connection, Tanner had vowed to find the truth behind the pattern of hoofprints that proved that Jon’s death was forced. How he wished he’d exercised more caution and not let that mountain lion scare him away from Jon’s body. At least he’d been able to examine him first. Jon Cullen had been armed, but his gun was still in its holster. And he’d been shot in the side, as if he’d turned just in time to eat the lead of his enemy. That he’d fallen from his horse was evident by the indentation in the dirt next to the hoofprints made by a standing horse. Jon Cullen had stopped for a reason, and he’d been shot for a reason. And it all happened at that back corner where XP property met the R7.

  Little Levi deserved to know the truth. Maira, too, and Frank.

  Tanner didn’t like how Walt Price’s name kept rattling through his mind, but with the cattle rustled from the Rocking J, Jon’s death and the accusation against him, and the big cattle baron’s lust for more land, the three events dovetailed.

  ❧

  Levi bounced on the bed. Maira did her best to ignore him, her body pulling for more sleep.

  “It’s mornin’.”

  She cracked an eye open to see out the window and smiled. “Barely. Why don’t you settle down for a bit and give Mama some more time?”

  “I’m hungry!”

  She rolled toward him and extended her hand for a tickle.

  His laughter spilled over until his eyes rounded and he pushed at her hand. “Gotta go.”

  Maira giggled as he scooted off the bed, nightshirt flapping around his heels, and ran out of the room. She heard the slap of the outhouse door and hurried into the kitchen to keep an eye on his return, arms poking for the holes of her dressing gown as she went. On his return, Levi snuggled up to her at the kitchen table, his cold hands buried between their bodies, his toes tucked in the folds of her nightclothes. “I need to start the fire and get the water.”

  “I’ll get it,” he said, teeth chattering.

  “You’ve got to get dressed first.”

  With that, Levi launched himself from her lap and scampered back into the room, reappearing in seconds fully dressed. She didn’t have the heart to let him know he’d put his shirt on inside out, or that the buttons didn’t quite line up. There would be time for such things later, but for now she needed his energy and enthusiasm. She’d slept little the previous night, wondering about Tanner Young and Walt Price, wrestling with a faith that held a thick layer of dust. Yet God had spared Levi, sustained them through the last three years, and brought Tanner here to help them. Jon would believe that. But that was Jon’s faith, not hers. It was the disappointments she couldn’t stand. The reversal of bright dreams.

  Sunlight spilled over the horizon in a strong, single ray. Within minutes the entire sphere would be shining its face on the world. “Make sure Frank is up to help you.”

  “Or Tan-wer?”

  Her heart squeezed. He’d been so hopeful Tanner would come home soon. Frank insisted Tanner would return, but she had seen that hope die a little more each day in Levi’s face. She could smile now. “He came in last night.”

  Levi whooped and did a little jig. His eyes rounded with hope and a silent plea.

  “I really need that water, and Mr. Young needs his rest. They’ll be in shortly.”

  Levi’s head bobbed in happy agreement as he scooped up the water pail. Her heart squeezed at his sweet face. All he wanted was to be with the men. Helping around the ranch like Frank did, and now Tanner. Levi held tight to the rail as he went down the side steps; a giant leap from the bottom one planted both his feet in the dirt and sent up a small cloud of dew-damp dust. Frank chose that moment to come out of the barn, milk pail in hand. Frank handed the bucket over to Levi and clamped a hand to the boy’s shoulder. She sank away from the open door, aware that Levi’s chores would be done soon and she didn’t have the first biscuit whipped up.

  “Good morning.”

  She started; her heart slammed hard. Tanner Young stood at the front door, eyes bright with ill-concealed amusement. She sank back against the cookstove. Fire fanned her cheeks. Even though she was fully covered, a man seeing her in her nightclothes was unforgivable.

  “I was just coming to see if you had any more of those biscuits and bacon.”

  “I’m not ready quite yet.” She forced lightness into her voice. “I’ll be sure to call you when everything is done.” She stared at the cracks in the flooring, wishing he would bleed into a lump and drip through those cracks, taking every thought of having seen her with him. Her hair! She raised a hand to touch the mass of tangles. She must look terrible, like someone who had spent the night in the throes of a nightmare.

  “I’ll wait for your call then.”

  As soon as the front door shut, she raced back to her room, glanced in the mirror, and gasped. Having slept on her right side had caused a part there and pushed the hair into a hump against the side of her head. Bedbug hair, Jon had called it, because it looked like the bedbugs had congregated then had an all-out war within the strands. Crease lines from her pillow still displayed on her skin.

  Aggravated, Maira determined to be tidy when the men came in for breakfast. She scrubbed her face and neck until the skin shone as much from the cold water as from the friction. Her hair was tamed with a liberal douse of water and several hard strokes of the brush. She checked over her skirt from the previous day and rejected the article when she found a stain. Another skirt was quickly donned, along with the blouse she reserved for trips to town and had last worn at Jon’s graveside. Her last clean blouse. She would have to do laundry as soon as possible.

  By the time she’d dressed, the coffee had come to a boil, releasing a rich scent that beckoned with invisible fingers for her to pour herself a cup. A splash of the hot brew was all she allowed herself as she considered breakfast food options. Opting for hotcakes and venison sausage, Maira whisked up the batter and had a stack ready within fifteen minutes. When she glanced out the front door, Frank was nowhere in sight. Neither was Tanner or Levi, so she used the bell Jon had fashioned for such purposes.

  As she slid the tray of sausage onto the table, Frank and Levi shoved through the doorway. Already, Levi had mud along his knees.

  “Let me see your hands.”

  He held them up for her inspection. “Frank made me wash ’em.”

  She hid her smile. “Water isn’t a rattler, Levi.”

  The boy tossed her a mischievous grin that choked her with its familiarity. Jon had grinned at her like that when up to something. Frank bent over the boy, sliding a small box beneath Levi’s rump so he could reach the table better.

  “Smells mighty good,” Frank said.

  She flipped the last hotcake and waited for a few seconds before sliding it from the cast-iron skillet to the stack, taking the whole plate to the table.

  “Tan-wer will be here later. He was showvring.”

  She lifted an eyebrow to Frank. “Shoveling the stalls,” he explained.

  “Oh.” She accepted the platter of sausage from Frank.

  “He’s my papa.”

  The words yanked a gasp from her. She could only stare at Levi.

  “What makes you say that, Levi?” Frank asked. “You know your papa went to be with the angels.”

  Levi’s lip pooched, and tears built in his eyes.

  Moving from her place, Maira sat beside him and gathered him close. He was so still, his face buried hard against her shoulder. Only the sound of sniffs let her know he was crying. She didn’t know what to say or where he’d gotten such a notion. “He’s a good friend to you, isn’t he, Levi? But Tan—Mr. Young is only staying here for a while.”

  “I can ’tend,” came his muffled reply.

  “ ’Tend?” She tried to catch what he might mean, finally realizing. “Pretend?”

  His head nodded against her shoulder. Maira drew a deep breath, glancing at Frank for help, but the hand’s expression held only pinched sorrow.

  twelve


  Tanner walked into silence. His gaze went from a distressed-looking Frank to Maira’s sober expression and Levi’s head cradled against her shoulder. He shut the door behind him, but his boots against the wood floor brought Levi’s head up. The boy wiggled from Maira’s embrace. He barreled into Tanner’s legs, his arms tight around his knees.

  “Hey there, little cowpuncher.”

  Levi’s grip grew tighter. Tanner lowered his hand to the boy’s head, unsure what to do or what he’d walked in to. In desperation, he looked to Frank and Maira for explanation. Maira would not meet his gaze, and Frank’s mouth was a grim line. Tanner leaned over and tried to remove Levi’s arms. He knelt, and as soon as he came eye level with the boy, Levi clamped his arms around his neck. Tanner’s heart warmed with the show of affection, but worry plucked at him, too.

  “Sure smells good in here. Why don’t we go eat?”

  Levi pulled back at that, his hands raising to pat Tanner’s cheeks. “I’m ’tending you’re Papa.”

  Tanner chuckled at the earnest stare of brown eyes. Warmth flowed through him at the words and the feel of the boy’s hands against his face. He swallowed and glanced over Levi’s shoulder at Maira. She averted her face, blocking his ability to see her expressions. Frank nodded toward them, as if encouraging him. Tanner licked his lips. “Well, little cowpuncher, cowboys need to eat, and I’m hungry.”

  Levi nodded and dashed back to the bench. Maira helped him onto the box, rose, and went to her own place at the head of the table. Frank said a prayer, and though the food had lost most of its heat, it tasted good to Tanner.

  He licked his lips and forked a piece of hotcake into his mouth. Still no one spoke. He let the silence go for another bite then caught Frank’s eye. “My guess is we’ll use the first few days to wrangle those closest, returning here at night.” He nodded toward Maira.

  Her head bobbed. “I’ll make sure to have something hot.”