“Thank you,” he said, unsure what else to talk about.
Levi leaned forward and grabbed for another piece of sausage.
“Levi, what do you say?” Frank admonished.
“Sausage?”
“Sausage, please.”
Frank scooted the platter closer to the boy. “The brace works well. No rubbing.”
Tanner nodded and forked another bite of hotcakes. Syrup coated his tongue. He wanted nothing more than to capture that moment forever. The taste of the food, the warmth of the fire, the presence of people he had come to care for made it feel more like home.
“Tanner, I go, too.”
The little boy’s insistence dragged out a smile. “You can ride a horse, little cowpuncher?”
Levi nodded.
“Lee-vi,” came Maira’s voice, heavy with warning. “Do you think that’s the truth?”
He nodded, unconcerned. “Frank made me one.”
Frank guffawed. “A stick with a rope,” he enlightened everyone.
“Treeflower!” Levi offered. “He’s fast!”
“You need to stay here with your mother this time,” Tanner told the boy in as firm a voice as he could muster. “What if someone comes to the house and she needs your help?”
Levi stuffed a piece of sausage into his mouth, his brow bunched into a knot. He nodded at his mother.
“I’d be lonely without you,” Maira said.
“Treeflower and me’ll carry water.”
Frank rose from the table first and held out his hand to the boy. “Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll show you what needs done in the barn while I’m out with Tanner.”
Levi stabbed a forkful of hotcake, ran it through some syrup, and popped it into his mouth, his body sliding to the floor as he chewed and followed Frank out the door.
“He’s a good boy, Maira. Your husband would be proud.” It wasn’t what he wanted to say. He knew it. She knew it.
“I don’t know where it came from, Tanner,” she blurted. “He’s never said anything like that before.”
“Guess he misses his pa.” It came to him that Levi probably didn’t see many other men, isolated as he was on the ranch. Tanner let the minutes pass as he stared down at his almost- empty plate. He knew nothing of children and their ways. He scraped a piece of sausage around his plate to sop up syrup. “Looks like children are easier to say what’s in their hearts and heads than we are.”
Maira licked her lips and pressed a napkin there. “With you here he must realize something is missing.”
He tilted his head up to look at her. “I’m not meaning to cause trouble.”
She smiled, and it was the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. Despite the neatness of her hair, he thought he preferred the way it had looked earlier. He buttoned his lip on the subject. Judging from her reaction to his presence then, he knew he’d not only startled her but embarrassed her as well.
“Trouble? No, Mr. Young.” She turned, her face in profile, hand at her throat.
“I just want to help, and then I’ll move on and be out of your way.”
She gasped and flinched, eyes wide with something akin to panic, probing his. She stood as if the chair seat had a spring. “You can’t tell me that you just ride around looking for people to help. Rescuing widows and finding lost little boys, repairing things, and. . .and. . .then you just leave?”
Words failed. He stood, too, unsure how to answer her questions. Or was it an accusation? She averted her face, and he saw her swallow.
“Maira?”
“I don’t need your help.” She shot him a look filled with desperation. He thought of a little girl sitting in an orphanage, waiting to be loved.
“Probably not, but you’ve got it, and I’m here.”
“I appreciate what you’ve done.”
But the words sounded brittle.
It beat at Tanner’s mind to walk away. Fulfill her request to be out of her life. The Rocking J was not his mess. He clenched his fists and stared at his boots. But it was. Riding away this time was turning his back on more than a woman in need. It was his duty to stay and help.
Her eyes were wide with expectation, but he had no answers to give as everything became a jumble in his mind. Only one thing was clear to him. She needed help. Despite her words, she needed him. And he couldn’t leave her to Walt Price or his men. And something else. . .
He crossed the room until he stood in front of her. Her gaze was pleading. He could feel the fear within her because it mirrored his own. He raised his hand to her hair, touched the taut strands pulled back so hard, wanting nothing more than to take the fear away, to give voice to the tumble of emotion she stirred in him. “I prefer it loose, with a few curls to remind a man what softness looks like.”
❧
Maira wanted to plead with him, to suck back the words she’d already released. When he drew close, she went still. There was no threat in his eyes, no anger. She felt the draw of being close to Tanner Young as much as she felt love for Levi. When Tanner lifted his hand, she held her breath, afraid of what this moment might mean, even as the blood pounded through her veins with the discovery of something fresh, yet fragile. He touched her hair, his eyes searching hers. She didn’t know what he was looking for. Permission? Rebuke? She could bring herself to offer neither. She searched his face, concentrated on the cleft in his chin and the lips that formed words that didn’t quite penetrate. And then he stepped away.
“I had no right to. . .” His thought drifted away.
Her heart slowed, and she drew a breath, his admonition finally penetrating. She should find every reason to be offended, but the emotion did not flare and burn. With effort, she turned away from him, collecting her plate, fighting for something to say to bring equilibrium to the situation. “Please keep Frank safe.”
He said nothing, the mark of his path only the sound of his receding footsteps and the latch on the front door catching. Maira held the plate tight and closed her eyes. What was she doing? She hardly knew this man. He was attractive, yes, she could admit that, but Levi needed more than a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants cowboy. He needed a father.
She cleaned up the dishes and left them to dry, absorbing the silence of the house, hating it. More than anything she wanted to ride with the men. She could cook for them out there, but there was Levi to consider. He needed her, and a roundup would be no place for a boy—a smile crept up her face—even if he did possess a trusty steed. Three years of being alone. Was it so wrong for her to be attracted to a handsome man? She knew it was not; it was what she did with that attraction. Where she would allow it to lead her. She had a son and a ranch. Tanner was offering his help. She would continue to take him up on his offer. But she would be careful. She had known of women who married out of loneliness. She wanted to marry for all the right reasons.
God needs to be our center. Jon’s words. Spoken long ago. At a time when she thought the Bible was a book of rules and Jon’s faith would protect her.
Levi shuffled in an hour later, looking defeated and tired, and she knew the men were mounting up to leave. He knelt at the kitchen window, where they were visible. Tanner had Queen tied behind his horse as an extra.
“Tan-wer’s horse is big.”
“Do you know his name?”
Levi looked up at her matter-of-factly. “Tan-wer.”
She chucked him under the chin. “No. His horse’s name.”
“Cue-pid, cause he’s got a heart. See?” His little finger stabbed at the horse. The black heart was visible for all to see. “He calls him Cue.”
They were getting a late start. Levi waved to them as they pulled out, but neither of the men saw the boy. Though he fought the idea, she put him down for a nap, arguing that he would be up later that night if he wanted to see Tanner and Frank when they got back. He needed no further prompting. Her eyes fell on the Bible next to their bed. Jon’s side of the bed. She grazed its cover with her fingers. Her eyes fell on the blood-soaked blouse. She
would have to read the Bible later.
She used the time to soak a smoked venison roast and set it to simmering for stew. As she waited for the water to heat for laundry, she sat down with the ranch’s books and tried to figure out the notations Jon had made, then Frank, and most recently, Walt Price’s men. At a glance things seemed fine, but Tanner’s warnings stuck in her head and stirred fear. If she lost the ranch, it would be her fault for leaving the oversight to men she did not know. Jon would never have done that. Maira shut the books and shoved them to the center of the table. When Tanner and Frank returned, she would have them look over the figures.
thirteen
Thirty head. Tanner felt tired in every muscle as they led the cattle into the front pasture, closest to the house. He stayed back as Frank drove the cows past the gate. Tanner dismounted and swung the gate shut. Frank wheeled his horse and cantered back and out of the pasture.
“A good day’s work,” Frank said as he knuckled his hat back on his head.
“Tomorrow will be tougher. You holding up?”
“Right as rain.”
“Getting down will be the test.”
“You fuss more than a mother.”
Tanner let loose a laugh. “Just reminding you to go easy.”
“I’m old,” Frank sniped. “Thanks for the reminder.”
Whether Frank realized it or not, his face showed the effort it took for him to lift and work his leg over the saddle to dismount. Tanner pretended not to notice when the man leaned against the horse for several long minutes to get his feet under him. Tanner stripped the saddle from Cue and hung it on the top rail, turning the gelding loose into the corral.
The old man still leaned against his horse, and Tanner threw off all pretense. “Best get yourself horizontal and check for swelling. I can bring you a plate from the kitchen.”
“I don’t need coddling.” But the words were more a groan.
Tanner went to Frank and yanked up his right arm, settling it across his shoulders. “If you won’t listen, you won’t be able to work with me.” With careful steps Frank moved back from the horse. At first Tanner knew the man was determined to bear his own weight, but he could feel the will leaving as every step siphoned blood from his face, and he leaned a little harder. He shouldered open the bunkhouse door, and Frank sat down with a long, low groan.
“I used to be able to do this.”
“It’s been a long time. You’ll toughen up.”
He leaned over to work the leather buckles and tugged away both brace and boot. Yanking up Frank’s pant leg, he saw raw marks along the man’s leg but no signs of swelling. “You rest. I’ll get something to put on those patches and bring you some supper.”
“What? Now you’re a doctor?”
Tanner frowned at Frank. “If that’s what I need to be, then yes.”
Frank angled his face away. “I hate getting old.”
“It’ll happen to us all. The greatest gift is in knowing someone will help care for you.”
“Fuss, you mean.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” He pulled the pant leg back down. “I’d think it better than being alone.”
When the man didn’t answer, Tanner left. Let Frank stew; he’d certainly done more than his share for a day. But deep down Tanner worried. If it came down to Frank being unable to help, he would be forced to get help from somewhere.
After taking care of Frank’s horse, Tanner rested against the top rail, weary to the bone and dreading having to do it all again the next day. He pulled in a cleansing breath and stared up at the heavy gray blanket of night rolling toward the west as the sun tucked in for the night.
“Tanner?”
The voice was soft, and the sound of it put an immediate snap into his spine. Maira stood on the porch. When she knew she’d gained his attention, she waved him over. He did his best not to appear too eager, but truth be told, the prospect of the hot meal meant less to him than seeing her. She waited for him at the top of the steps, backing up when he gained the porch. A welcoming smile curved her lips and lit her eyes.
“Was it a good day?” She stared out into the night. “Is Frank coming in?”
“He’s resting. The brace rubbed his leg raw.”
Worry clouded her eyes. “I’ve got some salve.”
“I told him to stay put, that I’d bring him something to eat.”
They weren’t moving. She was watching him with those wide, intriguing green-gray eyes. He couldn’t help but notice how her hair cascaded over her shoulders in a dark mass of soft waves. His mouth went dry with the sight of her.
❧
“I’ll take him a plate,” Maira said.
Tanner didn’t move, and neither did she. It was a beautiful, clear night. She’d been sitting on the porch when they rode in and had seen Frank’s weakness. It had scared her to see him rest for so long against his horse’s side. When Tanner had helped the man into the bunkhouse, Maira’s heart had been touched by the show of kindness.
“It’s a beautiful night,” she whispered, her words pitched low. Stubble darkened Tanner’s skin now and, for a heartbeat, she wondered what it would feel like against her palm, or his lips against hers. Shamed by the dip of her thoughts, she retreated a step, breaking the reverie and leading him inside. “I’m sorry.” She motioned him to the table. “I’m sure you’re hungry.” She reached for a bowl and ladled a helping of stew into it. Three biscuits and a tin of water completed the meal. She turned, almost colliding with him. He put a hand to her arm and pulled the stew from her grasp as it sloshed in the bowl.
“I’ll run it out to Frank.”
She nodded and handed him the water and napkin full of biscuits. He balanced it all, and she swept past him to open the front door, leaning against the plank when she closed it behind him. What in the world was wrong with her? She pressed her hands to her cheeks. She was acting like a tumbleweed in a high wind. As fast as she could, she ladled out another bowl of the stew and filled a plate with biscuits for Tanner. She set his place at the table and poured a cup of coffee. She would head out to the porch as soon as he sat down. After such a long day, he would probably like some quiet time, and she could at least give him that. Besides, tangling herself up over him wasn’t in her plans.
Tanner did return, but when he sat down and she picked up her coffee and headed toward the door, his words stopped her. “You’re not going to join me?”
She turned, feeling like a startled deer. “I thought you would want some quiet.”
His hand scratched at his ear. “Had enough of that to last a lifetime.”
Chocolate-drop eyes pleaded, and she found herself slipping into her regular place. He picked up his spoon and sunk it deep into the broth. After a few bites, he took a biscuit and crumbled it into the stew, a sheepish grin slanting his lips. “Always liked it best this way.”
“Jon used to eat his like that, too.”
“He was a good man.”
Something about the way he said it. . . He stared down into his bowl, working the chunks of biscuit into the broth. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what he meant when Tanner spotted the ranch logbooks.
“You’ve been studying the records?”
She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to let his statement go unquestioned. “I found them today.” She shrugged. “I don’t know much about such things. It was hard for me to make out what the marks meant.”
“Tally marks show the number of head total then separate them into male, female, yearlings. . .” he began explaining, then hesitated.
He reached across the table and pulled the book closer, raising his face to her, eyebrows arched in silent question.
“Please, go ahead.”
Tanner’s long fingers opened the cover. She could tell by the way his eyes darted across the pages that he skimmed at first, but as he leafed, his pace slowed, and his finger began to trace the entries, brow creased in concentration. His stew grew cold, and still he kept reading, flipping the page
s forward, then back. Her nerves stretched taut.
At last he closed the book and slid it back across the table. He picked up another biscuit and took a huge bite, chewed slowly, swallowed, took another bite. She thought she might just scream with the tension. Instead, she picked up her coffee and filled her mouth. Its cold bite made her want to gag. She gulped quickly then coughed.
Tanner passed her his napkin. She pressed it over her mouth and coughed until her eyes watered. He set water in front of her, and she drank deeply of the liquid.
“No more coffee for you.”
She gasped a breath. “It went down wrong.”
“I noticed.”
“What do you think about the books?”
Tanner sat on the edge of the bench closest to her. He leaned forward, his nearness invading her space and stealing her thoughts. His face was serious though. “We got thirty head today. I’d like to wait until we’re done before drawing a conclusion. The cows look good so far.” He tilted his face toward her. “Does that help ease your mind for now?”
She couldn’t find her voice to form an answer.
Tanner leaned away and stretched to his feet. “Could use another cup of coffee if you don’t mind.”
Glad for something to do, she sprang upward. Tanner collected his plate and bowl and stacked them for her, polishing off the last biscuit as he went back to stare out the front window. “I might have a problem of another sort.” He took the coffee she offered and jerked his head toward the outside. “I hear it’s a beautiful night.”
She took her place in the rocker, and Tanner resumed his position of the previous evening, foot braced against the bottom rail of the porch, elbows on the top, the coffee held between his hands. “A problem?” she prompted.
“Frank. He won’t say it, but I’m not sure he can ride tomorrow. It might be good to give his leg a day to adjust before he tries again.”
“I can take his place.”
Tanner turned his head toward her and chuckled low in his throat. “I think we went down this road once before.” He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea—”
Valley of the Heart Page 8