The Cowboy's Ready-Made Family (5 page)

“What's next?” he asked.

“Just lettuce and small stuff. I'll finish up. I want to plant some flowers, too.” Her voice grew dreamy.

He stole a look at her. She looked at the garden, a slight smile on her lips as if she saw it in full bloom.

She held out her hands to draw the children close. “Let's thank God for the garden and ask Him to bless it.” She raised her eyebrows as she looked at Tanner.

He shook his head and backed up. “This is your garden.”

She seemed to understand and, with the children clustered about her, she bowed her head. The children followed her example.

He snatched his hat off, at the same time smiling at how Janie held her hands together in prayer.

“Dear Heavenly Father,” Susanne said in a reverent yet trusting tone. “Thank You that our garden is planted. Bless it with rain and sunshine. Provide us with food from the ground. Thank You that You hear our prayers and always, always meet our needs and take care of us. Amen.”

For a moment they remained huddled together, then the children ran to play.

He didn't put his hat back on, feeling as if he stood on holy ground.

She faced him, a gentle smile on her lips. “Thank you,” she said. “I've been worried about the garden since the snow melted. I know God will take care of me, provide for our needs, but it's easier to trust when I see things happening.”

He nodded, not knowing how to respond. Then words escaped him. “It's difficult to trust when you can't see God or know if He's listening.”

Her eyes widened. “He's always listening. He's always near. We have His promise and I have but to look about to see His presence in all that He's created.”

Tanner needed proof in this aspect of his life as he did in every aspect. When he didn't respond she smiled though her eyes remained guarded.

“Anyway, thanks again for your help. You made it fun for the children.”

“It's the way I was raised. Maisie always says there's no point in looking at work as drudgery when it can as easily be joyful.” He had to clear up something that lingered at the back of his mind. “I hope you weren't upset because the children all wanted to be on my team.” He had no desire to earn her disfavor. On the heels of that thought came another so foreign it was surely a mistake. He'd enjoyed working with her and had allowed himself to believe she didn't mind working with him. He knew it couldn't be so. He'd known most of his life both on the ranch and off that he was neither white nor Indian. Some of the cowboys called him
injun
and tormented him. Or at least they had until Tanner got strong enough they feared crossing him.

In town—well, he wasn't going to dwell on the many times he'd been shunned at a social event or young ladies refused to sit by him or even crossed the street to avoid him.

It was enough to enjoy one sunny afternoon when he didn't feel that disapproval. He wasn't in a hurry to end it, but he must before she did.

He moved away six feet, paused to speak his piece. “Tomorrow I'll return to take care of plowing the field for the crop. I won't bother you again.”

* * *

Susanne stared after him as he rode from the yard. It seemed he couldn't wait to get away. Her cheeks warmed. Had she said too much? Given him reason to think she expected him to be ready and willing to take care of chores other than the crop? But she wanted nothing from him other than the fulfillment of their agreement.

She returned to the garden, planted a patch of lettuce and then marked out several round areas for flowers next to the fence so she could enjoy them from the kitchen window.

Maybe Tanner had a young lady he was interested in. That would explain his eagerness to let Susanne know he would be avoiding her. The young lady should consider herself fortunate. Tanner would certainly make a good husband and father if the way he'd acted this afternoon was any indication.

She'd enjoyed the afternoon, perhaps more than she had a right to. But the lessons learned from Aunt Ada had not been in vain. Every pleasant moment ended poorly, so she wasn't surprised that Tanner had suddenly withdrawn and made it clear he wanted to avoid her in the future. However, she would not let it ruin her day. Another Aunt Ada lesson.

She finished her planting, put away the tools and supplies then went out to the pasture to get the cow.

The walk gave her time to settle her thoughts and bring them back to where they belonged.
God, I'm trying to be grateful that Tanner seems to be the answer to my prayer for help, but in truth, I'm perhaps not as grateful as I should be. I'm sure You understand how cautious I am about this. You are the only one I can count on. You love me unconditionally. You will never leave me or forsake me.

Since God could read her thoughts there was no point in being less than honest, so she admitted it had been fun working alongside Tanner. She even admitted she sometimes had yearnings for something more in her life. Those yearnings would not be given a name. They must be denied. Her job was to raise the children and do it in a way that they would never feel they were a burden to her. She'd never put them in a position of obligation.

She'd tell Tanner she meant to end their agreement but then how could she get the crop in on her own? Besides, he already had his horses there.

She couldn't tell him not to come. But she'd make certain to accept nothing more from him.

She put the cow in the barn, then as she headed for the house she noticed the children peering through the bars of the corrals watching the horses. “Please stay away from the horses.”

Frank faced her. “We're only looking. No harm in that, is there? We're safe on the outside of the corrals. After all, Pa built them solid as a rock.”

To suggest otherwise would be too close to inviting all-out rebellion. “So long as you stay outside the fence.”

“Of course, we will.” Frank's look accused her of foolishness.

“Liz, do you want to help make soup?”

Liz followed her. Several yards behind, Janie trudged after her sister, her bottom lip quivering.

Susanne knelt to hug her little niece. “What's wrong?”

“He left without saying goodbye.”

Susanne knew she meant Tanner. She also understood how difficult it was for Janie to watch people leave. She'd lost her mother and father and it had created a need to hold on to people. She hugged the child tighter. “Sweetie, he's only coming to put in the crop.”

“And work with his horses,” Liz added, as if that made a world of difference.

How could she make them understand it was a temporary arrangement? Already the child had grown to see Tanner as part of her life. Anything she said would likely bring a fresh onslaught of tears. “Janie, I'm not going anywhere, nor are your brothers and sister.”

The child clung to Susanne, silent sobs shaking her. Tears pooled in Susanne's eyes, and she again vowed that she would provide a permanent home for these children and protect them from hurt. How was she to do that if Tanner hung about? Already they expected more from him than they should.

After a bit, Janie shuddered and tipped her head back to look at Susanne. “I love you, Auntie.”

Susanne kissed the soft cheeks. “I love you, too.” She reached for Liz's hand. “You, too.”

“What about Robbie and Frank?” Janie asked.

“I love them, too.”

Satisfied, Janie allowed Susanne to get to her feet and, holding the girls' hands, she continued to the house. As she worked with them preparing the soup and biscuits, she often glanced out the window to the garden and smiled to see it planted. Soon they would have fresh vegetables and she'd enjoy the flowers she'd planted.

And she owed Tanner nothing. He had the use of the corrals in exchange for his help.

Her smile deepened. Once the crop was in the ground, she could manage on her own.

* * *

When they heard Tanner ride into the yard the next day, Frank and Robbie slipped out the door before she could stop them.

“I want to go, too,” Janie said, tears pooling in her eyes when Susanne halted her.

“Sweetie, he's working with a big horse. We need to stay out of his way.”

Tears trickled silently down the child's cheeks.

Susanne's heart bled a little. “Why don't I put a chair by the window and you can watch from there?”

Janie nodded and waited for Susanne to position a chair in place, then stood on it, her nose pressed to the window.

Susanne returned to cleaning the kitchen. She'd promised herself she would do more than wash the dishes and wipe the table. As she worked, she stole glances out the window as Tanner hitched Pat to the plow and headed for the field. Not once did he look in her direction. Not that she expected him to. He'd been abundantly clear that he would be avoiding her. Which was exactly what she wanted.

She sighed, then, realizing Liz watched her, she stretched as if needing a change of position.

What she needed was—

She didn't know. Wouldn't say. Because God would provide what she needed. And she must not expect to get everything she wanted.

“Why don't you clean the lamp chimneys?” she suggested to the older girl.

Liz nodded.

Susanne prepared a basin of warm soapy water and gathered all the chimneys and put them on a cloth in the middle of the table.

She left Liz with the task, filled a bucket with hot water and got down on her hands and knees to scrub the floor. She rose halfway through to change the water. How could she have let the floor get so dirty?

Liz polished a glass chimney, but the chair where Janie had stood was now empty. Susanne glanced about. “Did Janie go to her bedroom?”

“She went outside.”

Susanne's heart thudded against her chest. Surely she wouldn't—

She dashed outside. “Janie, where are you?”

There was no reply, though Robbie and Frank leaned back from watching the horses through the fence and looked about.

Susanne scanned the yard, looking up into the tree branches where Janie often went, but there was no sign of the child. She went into the yard where she could see farther afield. Her gaze went reluctantly, fearfully to the field where Tanner worked and she screamed. “Janie.”

Tanner would never hear or see the little girl sitting on the ground just feet ahead of the horse.

Chapter Five

“G
iddyap,” Tanner called, but old Pat shook his head and refused to move. Odd. The horse had been placid and cooperative until now. Tanner hollered again and flicked the reins.

Old Pat dug in his hooves and stood immobile.

Thinking perhaps his harness rubbed wrong, Tanner dropped the reins and walked to Pat's head. In two strides, his heart hit the roof of his mouth and he ground to an abrupt halt.

“Janie, what are you doing?” How had she gotten there without him seeing? She must have slipped past while his attention had been on driving the horse.

His knees wobbled at the thought of what might have happened if Pat wasn't so wise. He patted the horse. “Good boy.” Then Tanner squatted in front of Janie. Her face was streaked with tears and dust. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped her cheeks dry and somewhat clean.

“What's the problem, little one?”

“You...you...you never said hello. Or goodbye. Don't you like me?” A tear spilled from each eye.

“I like you fine.” It hurt clear through to think his desire to avoid the family had been misinterpreted by this child. “I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. From now on I'll remember to say hello and goodbye. Okay?”

She nodded.

He held out his arms and she came to him and hugged him about the neck, practically choking him, not that he'd complain. It felt too good.

“Janie!” Susanne raced across the field.

Tanner caught his breath, expecting her to trip and fall any moment. At the same time, he set Janie aside. He shouldn't have hugged her, but he didn't regret it. The little girl needed his reassurance and he was prepared to give it, even if it would lead to being reminded of his place.

Susanne reached them, dropped to her knees in the dirt and pulled the child into her arms, rocking back and forth. “Shh, shh, shh,” she said over and over though no one made any other sound.

After several minutes, she held Janie at arm's length. “You scared me out of ten years. I thought—” She swallowed loudly and hugged the child again then pushed to her feet. “Off you go to your brothers.”

The boys stood at the end of the field, their eyes wide.

Janie plodded to them and the three returned to the yard.

Now Susanne would speak her mind. Tanner prepared for the dressing-down he expected.

She shuddered then faced him. “I can't thank you enough.”

Did he hear her wrong?

“For what?” He could think of nothing.

“For stopping in time.”

“Don't thank me. I didn't see her. Thank the horse.”

She went to Pat, hesitated a good eighteen inches from the animal and wrung her hands.

Tanner's thoughts stuttered. She was afraid of the horse. How had she hoped to ever get the crop seeded on her own?

She remained an arm's length from Pat and patted his neck gingerly. “Thank you. You're a good old horse.”

Tanner grinned. “I'm not sure he knows what all the fuss is about.”

“Sure he does.” She studied Tanner.

Now she'd scold him for hugging the little girl. The little white girl.

“I don't know how to say this,” she began.

He stiffened, preparing for the words that he shouldn't care about anymore, but even after all these years they would sting. They always did.

“Janie adores you. She was heartbroken when you left last night. I don't care to see her hurt.”

Those were the words she found difficult to speak? They were like honey to him. “I don't care to see her hurt, either. I promised her I would say hello and goodbye from now on. If it's okay with you?”

“I think she would like that.”

In the awkward silence that ensued, their eyes darted to the half-worked field. Then to the mountains to the west and the clouds scuttling across the sky.

When he finally brought his gaze to hers, his heart gave a peculiar leap at what he saw...or rather, what he thought he saw. Or perhaps wished he saw. She looked at him as if he was a man and she a woman. Nothing less. Nothing more.

He wiped his handkerchief across his face and pulled his thoughts back into order.

“I thank you for being so gentle and understanding with Janie.” Susanne smiled and it went clear to the far, cold corners of his heart and warmed them.

This had to end. He could not let his thoughts run wild, like unbroken horses. If he hoped to be able to control those untamed animals, he must first learn to control his thoughts. She was smiling only because she was grateful Janie was unhurt. There was nothing more to it.

“I would never intentionally hurt her,” he said. “Or any of the children.”
Or you.

“I hope not. Now I'll leave you to finish my field. I know you're anxious to get it done so you can work with your horses.”

She walked back across the field and into the house. He grabbed the reins and returned to plowing—a job that left him far too much time to think.

Susanne had said nothing about Tanner touching Janie. Quite the opposite. She seemed grateful for his kindness to the child.

He looked at the back of his hand. Looked at the skin on his arms where the sleeves were rolled up. He didn't have a mirror but he didn't need one. He was dark skinned with black hair and black eyes. Ma had always called him a handsome little man. Maisie had often patted his back and told him he was handsome. But apart from those two—and they were supposed to think he was a decent fellow—the only comments he ever got were quite different.

How would Susanne respond if he told her the things he'd been called, the things he'd overheard? He wasn't about to say anything, so he'd never know. Besides, he had no intention of inviting frank comments from her. Yes, she'd said it was his actions that mattered, not his skin color. Did she really mean it? Had sparing Janie been action enough?

He scoffed. If anyone deserved credit for that, it was Pat.

He rolled his shoulders back and forth and forced his thoughts to dwell on the horses in the corrals. He'd get the crop planted as quickly as possible, then he'd devote his time to working with the animals. He measured how much he had accomplished against how much remained. It would take him most of a week to finish plowing and most of another to plant the crop. Whoever had suggested that farming was for weaklings? It was downright hard work.

It would be some time before he could get at the horses, though giving them a spell to settle down wasn't a bad idea.

Judging the time by the position of the sun in the clear blue sky, he stopped at noon and took Pat in for water and a rest. Tanner ducked his head under the stream of cold water from the pump and shook his head. He straightened, opened his eyes and stared into a pair of blue eyes.

Susanne stood before him.

“Hot and dusty,” he said, as if she couldn't figure that out for herself.

“It's dinner time. I made you a meal.” She handed him a plate with biscuits and a bowl of soup. The smell brought a flood of saliva to his mouth. Maisie had sent him with a package of food but he was hungry enough to eat both, and a third if someone offered it.

“Thanks.” He backed into the shade of the barn.

She didn't move.

He tried to think if he'd forgotten something. But nothing came to mind. He wished she'd either speak her mind or leave, because he was about hungry enough to eat his own arm.

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Shook her head. “Enjoy your meal.” She fled to the house.

He downed three biscuits with butter and jam as he watched her go. He ate every crumb and spoonful of what she'd brought and all four sandwiches Maisie had sent, then leaned his head back against the barn wall.

What had she wanted to say and didn't? Perhaps he didn't want to know and should be grateful she hadn't spoken.

Except he wasn't. Some demanding part of him wanted to know what she really thought of him even though he knew it might tear his heart to shreds.

What did Maisie say on occasion? Better to know the truth than believe a lie.

The only lie he had ever believed was to think Jenny saw past his mixed blood. He drank another dipper full of cold water and stared toward the field.

Seems he knew the truth but didn't quite accept it. In the deepest pit of his stomach there lay a faint hope that someone outside his family would see him for who he was.

Who was he? He tried to shake off the question. Who he was in his thoughts and who other people judged him to be were separated by a bottomless gully.

It would be as easy to stop the earth from turning as to cross that chasm.

* * *

“Auntie Susanne, are you done?” Liz's words jerked Susanne from her thoughts.

“Just about.” She washed the last pot and handed it to Liz to dry, but she couldn't stop the question that echoed in her mind. Why had she taken a meal out to Tanner? Certainly it was the hospitable thing to do, but hadn't she intended to ignore him as he worked on the farm?

When he'd rescued Janie, she'd been so overcome with gratitude she almost hugged him. Now, wouldn't that have given him the wrong idea of what to expect in the way of gratitude? Taking him biscuits and soup seemed far safer.

But seeing him lift his head from the water trough, droplets shimmering on his black hair, muddy streaks brushing the sides of his face, had unsettled her. What was there about him that affected her so?

She silently scoffed. She was only feeling gratitude at his rescue of Janie and at the promise of getting the crop in.

Shaking off thoughts of Tanner, she focused on her chores. With instructions to stay away from the horse pen, she sent the children to play. Then she turned her attention to the flower beds along the front of the house. Last year they had been a riot of color and she hoped for the same this year, but it wouldn't happen if the weeds choked out the flowers.

The afternoon passed, the heat intensified. She finished weeding and went to the well to wash and get a cold drink. Her gaze sought Tanner in the field. He must be parched by now.

“Come on, children. We're going to take Tanner some water.” They needed no second invitation and left the fence, heading immediately for the field. “Wait for me,” she said, filling a bucket with water and taking along a dipper.

They went to the field and waited for him to reach the end.

He dropped the reins and joined them. “Water. I've been dreaming of a cold drink for half an hour.”

“You could always stop and get one.” Or she could take him water. That seemed an even better idea. It would get the crop in more quickly. She'd bake cookies and tomorrow bring him a snack as well as a drink. It was the least she could do.

“I'll stop soon. Pat's put in a long day. He needs to rest.”

“The day's been just as long for you.” She wanted to say so much more. The children played a ways off so she felt she could talk freely. “I appreciate your help but I don't want you to do more than is fair. This seems like a lot of work in return for using the corrals.” She sought words to explain herself better. “I don't want to take advantage of your offer.”

He drank another dipper of water and lifted his hat to pour water over his hair. He shook his head, sending a shower over them both.

She wiped a drop from her eye, her gaze following the droplets of water on his cheeks even though she warned herself to look elsewhere.

He adjusted his hat on his head, the feather in the hatband a cocky flag.

“Susanne, I suggested this arrangement and I am happy with it if you are.” He crossed his arms and waited for her reply.

She fluttered her hands as she tried to find a way to explain her reservations. Why not tell him the real reason?

“Eight years ago, after my parents died, I went to live with my aunt Ada. She never let me forget that I was under obligation to her, and because of that I had to jump to her every order. I felt I meant nothing to her but someone to work. And she worked me hard. I promised myself I would never again be in that position. I'd never be obligated to someone and thus give them the right to own me as though I was some horse they'd purchased.” She waved a nervous hand at Pat. “Truth is, most people treat their horses better. It was only my faith in God and His goodness that saw me through those days.”

“I'm sorry you had that experience. I understand how unfair life can be at times.” He clamped his lips shut as if he regretted his words, then hurried on before she could respond. “But I'm not putting you under any obligation. I'm benefiting from this agreement as much as you are.”

She nodded. She liked what he said, but no words had the power to erase her fears. Nor her caution. There seemed nothing more to say except one thing. “I'm sorry to unburden myself to you.”

“I'm glad you told me.” He touched the brim of his hat and returned to work.

She called to the children to join her as she turned her steps toward the house. They scampered after her except for Janie, who stood looking after Tanner.

Susanne went back, took her hand and led her gently away.

“He promised he'd say goodbye,” Janie said.

“I know.” She hoped he wouldn't forget.

The afternoon passed and Susanne went to get the milk cow. The rope no longer secured her to the tree but had caught under the water trough, so she hadn't wandered. She had yet to figure out how to tie her in such a way she wouldn't get free.

She brought in the milk cow, milked her and then left her in the stall with some oats. She strained the milk.
Thank You, God, that there's milk for the children.

She started to prepare a meal for the children. Again, only potatoes and eggs, but it filled their stomachs.
Thank You, God, for the eggs and potatoes. And for the promise of more garden produce.

Throughout dinner, another silent prayer hovered in the background. She didn't want to give it words but God knew her thoughts.
Thank You for Tanner's help. And help me to keep the books between us balanced.