The Cowboy's Ready-Made Family (7 page)

She stripped the two beds and hauled the mattresses outside to air in the sun.

Liz followed, holding a broom. “I'll beat the dirt out of them.”

Leaving her to the task, Susanne returned to the bedroom. She gathered up the clothes scattered about, sorting the ones that needed laundering from those that didn't, readying them for Monday's chore.

Squeals and giggles came from outside the window. She looked out and saw Janie and Robbie jumping on the mattresses. Aunt Ada would have bawled Susanne out for such foolishness, probably had her whipped. Susanne watched for a moment, couldn't see they were hurting anything and left them to enjoy themselves.

A glance at the clock revealed she had lots of time before she would slip the biscuits into the oven.

She scrubbed the walls, washed the windows, cleaned out the drawers and finally drew a deep breath. The house smelled so much better. She stepped outside. “Who wants to help me carry the mattresses back in?” She stood the mattress on edge and Liz swept both sides, then, with Liz and the two little ones at one end and Susanne the other, they carried each mattress in and back to the beds.

Liz looked about. “It's so nice and clean. Can I do our bedroom now?”

“I'll help you after dinner.” She put the biscuits in the oven and while they baked, she made the beds with clean linens—thankfully. Alice had a spare set of bedding for each of the beds. She smoothed the quilts then stood back and admired her work.

“Here he comes,” Robbie yelled, and raced out the door.

Janie followed on his heels.

“Stay back from the horse,” Susanne called. She watched out the window to make certain the children were safe, but once she saw they stood a respectful distance away her gaze went to Tanner. He wore a thin layer of dirt, which did nothing to mar his looks.

His looks? What did they matter? All she cared about was getting the crop in. But, despite her mental scolding, she couldn't tear her gaze from him. He moved with fluid grace, perhaps inherited from his Indian forebears. His dark skin gave him a more masculine appeal than the fair-skinned men she usually saw. He was a strong, kind man. She'd seen that evidenced many times in the past few days.

He let Pat drink his fill and turned him into the barn for feed.

He and Frank came out together. What had kept Frank occupied in there all morning? She should have checked on him, but he was so responsible she never considered the need.

Tanner stopped at the pump. He poured the bucket of water over his head and came up dripping. He shook his head sending a spray of water about him that caught the sun.

Liz saw it, too, and gasped. “He's wearing a rainbow.”

The water dropped to the ground before she finished speaking.

“It's gone.”

Gone.
The word drilled a hole through Susanne's thoughts. She stared at the clock, the second hand ticking the passing of time. Why had she suddenly been hammered by one word? Gone. Yes, her parents were gone. Her brother was gone. She'd learned to live with the emptiness of her parents' death and would eventually accept Jim's as a part of her life, too.

Her concern wasn't about people leaving. It was about being under obligation. But the word
gone
echoed through her insides. She shook it away, focused on her need to keep the books balanced with Tanner. Taking him biscuits and cookies could be added to her side of the ledger.

She prepared a plate. For two ticks of the second hand of the clock, she thought of sending Liz out with the food but, no, she would take it herself. She wasn't going to let the fear instilled in her by Aunt Ada control her.

“Come along, Liz, let's take this to him.”

Liz walked sedately at Susanne's side.

Tanner had sunk to the ground in the shade of the barn but scrambled to his feet at her approach.

“Brought you something to eat.” She handed him the plate. Their fingers brushed as he took it and her heart fluttered like a trapped butterfly. Only because she was too hot. Nothing more.

“How did your morning go?” she asked.

At the same time, he asked, “Did you have a good morning?”

“You go first,” he said.

“I cleaned the boys' bedroom and made cookies.” She indicated the half dozen on the plate. “I hope you like raisin cookies.”

“Love 'em. I could smell them halfway across the field and hoped I might get to taste them.”

“How did the plowing go?”

“Good. Old Pat is no problem to handle.”

“He's so big.”

Tanner grinned. “I already figured out you were scared of him.”

She knew there was no point in denying it, but did he have to look so pleased with himself? “I'm not a farm girl, you know.”

“Really?” He seemed genuinely surprised, or else he teased her. She kind of liked the idea of the latter.

“Nope. Never lived on a farm until I came out here.”

“Last summer when I saw you get off the stagecoach—that was your first visit?”

She nodded.

“You've been through a lot of changes.” The children were a distance away, watching the horses, but he lowered his voice so they couldn't hear. “So have they. Are they okay?”

“For the most part. It's hard, of course. But not as bad as at first.”

“Hard for you, too.”

She'd never acknowledged it before. The pain and helplessness and uncertainties of those early days hit her. Tears rushed to her eyes before she could stop them. She turned away and sniffed.

He lifted his hand as if he meant to reach out and comfort her but dropped it without doing so. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause you pain.”

She sniffed again and swiped at her eyes. “Sometimes the emotions swell unexpectedly.”

He nodded. “I have only to see the yoke from Ma's two-hide dress to feel like a lost seven-year-old again.” He got a distant, sad look in his eyes.

“Two-hide dress? What's that?”

She breathed easier when he smiled.

“It's a dress my mother's people made from two hides. The yoke contrasts the rest of the dress and is decorated in some way. My mother's has some beads on it. She was wearing it when Pa found her. Most of the dress was torn and ruined, but she saved the yoke. I have it now.”

“Tell me about your mother. How did your pa meet her?” He'd said his pa had found her. She wanted to know more.

“My ma was with the Lakota Indians at the Battle of the Little Bighorn.” The children had clustered about to hear his story. “She ran from the soldiers, but one chased after her and shot her. She fell and pretended to be dead, and as soon as he left, she crept away. She was seriously injured. A bullet through her side.” He touched the spot on his own body. “She survived three days and nights by eating berries and roots and drinking from little streams. Always she kept to the streams, following them north and west. She said she knew it was the only way of escape. She packed the wound with moss, but it continued to bleed.”

He paused, a faraway look in his eyes.

The children sat quietly beside Susanne on the ground. Tanner crossed his legs and lowered himself to the ground in one smooth motion. He continued his story.

“Finally she was too weak to go on and found a place by the river where she could die in comfort.”

Liz gasped.

Tanner smiled at her. “Don't worry, it turns out fine. You see, my pa was out riding, hunting game and enjoying the country when he came upon her. She was so frightened. White men meant death in her mind, and she tried to fight him off, but she had no strength left. He made soft sounds to try and reassure her. She was too weak to resist him, and he carried her back to his camp and tended her until she healed. They fell in love and married and he moved to the farthest corner of the territory in hopes she could live in peace.”

“Did she?” Liz asked.

“For the most part, yes. Until she got sick and died.”

Liz nodded. She understood about illness and death far better than a child her age should.

“Is Sundown Ranch where he brought her?” Frank asked.

“It is. And they were both very happy there. My brothers and I were born there.”

“It's both a sad and happy story,” Liz decided.

“Mostly happy, I'd say,” Tanner assured her. “Ma and Pa were very happy together. Then Pa married Maisie and they're very happy.”

“Are you happy?” Liz asked.

It was an inappropriate question but the same one Susanne wanted to ask so she didn't scold the girl.

“You want to know a secret?” He leaned closer to the children and they all tipped their heads to hear. Susanne made sure to lean close enough so she'd hear, too.

“It's this.” He spoke very quietly so they all had to strain to hear. “A person is about as happy as they make up their mind to be. And I've decided to be happy.” His voice returned to normal. “So yes, Liz, I am happy. Are you?”

She nodded. “Except sometimes I miss my mama and papa and that makes me sad.”

Janie started her keening again.

Susanne pulled her to her lap, but Janie wouldn't sit there. She went to Tanner. He understood her need and pulled her to his lap. His sorrow-filled eyes met Susanne's and something wrenched inside her...a sensation of both fear and freedom.

She wondered if she would ever breathe again.

Robbie looked thoughtful. “I guess a person can be sad and happy almost at the same time.”

Tanner chuckled. “How did you get to be so wise at such a young age?”

Robbie shrugged. “Just am.”

Tanner laughed and the tension eased.

The plate of food remained untouched by Tanner's side. “Oh, my. We've kept you from your dinner and I have to feed the children.” She scrambled to her feet.

But she couldn't leave so abruptly and she let the children run ahead. “Tanner, thank you for telling us about your family. And for reminding us all we could be happy if we choose to be.”

He'd risen, too, and she looked into his eyes. His dark, bottomless eyes. She could lose herself in his gaze, forget every hard lesson she'd learned and all her good intentions. Why did she get the feeling he invited her to do so?

She struggled to pull her thoughts back under control.

She had no intention of repeating any of her hard lessons or forgetting what mattered in her life, though, at the moment, she couldn't say what those things were. Then Tanner shifted his gaze, freeing her from its power. Being independent. Depending on no one. Taking care of the children. That's what mattered. That's all that mattered. She'd best remember that.

Chapter Seven

T
anner ate his dinner, then returned to plowing in the hot sun. The work required little thinking, which left him lots of time to watch the goings-on in the yard and hope Susanne and the children might bring him a drink and some more of those cookies.

He figured out how many passes up and down the field he must make before he could expect their visit. At any other time he would have kicked his horse into a gallop and raced to his destination, but there was no hurrying a big horse pulling a plow. A man who meant to be a farmer had to have the patience of Job.

Finally Susanne and the children crossed toward the field. He smiled clear through. Janie carried a plate gingerly and Susanne hovered at the child's side in case the plate tipped. Frank carried a bucket, water splashing on his boots. Robbie held the dipper aloft. Liz walked at Frank's side and the two chatted quietly. Robbie, though, wasn't quiet. His voice carried to Tanner.

Tanner reached the end of the row and he eagerly joined the family.

“I brung cookies,” Janie said, holding out the plate.

“I've been thinking of how good they tasted for about two hours now. But first let me get a drink.” His smile encompassed the five of them but lingered on Susanne. She wore a blue bonnet that made her eyes even bluer. Her hair was pulled back in a tidy knot, but strands drifted across her cheek, tugged free in the breeze. She smiled.

Maisie's words plagued him. He must be careful of her reputation, though he wondered who would know or care. Except he'd grown up in this area and understood things had a way of getting around. The town of Granite Creek was a good distance off, but that didn't mean the occupants wouldn't delight in a little gossip about those who lived out in the hills.

He washed and drank his fill of water, then savored the cookies. As he chewed, he studied the field. Seemed the safest place to look. “Smells good, doesn't it?”

Susanne drew in a deep breath. “Sure does. Smells like a promise of life and abundance.”

He'd never thought of it that way. “I kind of prefer the untamed spaces, but a family needs to eat.”

She shifted her attention to him. “I guess you feel torn between the two worlds of your parents.”

Her words jolted through him and his eyes met hers. “I suppose I do.”

She looked away. “Change is hard but it seems necessary.”

“Do you mean about the white man driving out the Indians?” He doubted he kept the bitterness from his voice.

“Of course not. I simply meant a person must adapt to change. It's as you said about being happy. We choose how happy we are. I meant the same about change. We choose to adapt or be miserable.”

He considered her words. “Do you know how many times I've considered joining the few Indians roaming free?”

“What keeps you from doing so?”

“Lots of things. My pa and stepmother. My brothers. The ranch. I love it. And maybe, deep down, I know I could never undo the past and re-create the life that had once been.” He realized at some point he'd made a choice to deal with the facts of his life. “Besides, I don't belong in the native world.”

“No, you belong right where you are.”

He'd never believed that and wasn't sure he did even now, but her words made him want to.

He ate the half dozen cookies they'd brought and had another drink of water before he returned to work. He mulled over her words as he spent the rest of the afternoon following the horse up and down the field. By suppertime he wondered if Susanne meant what she'd said, because he had half begun to believe her.

When he took Pat into the barn, Frank was still sorting and cleaning the tack room. The harnesses hung from nails, the wood was stacked against one wall and brushes filled a little shelf. The tools were lined up neatly in one corner and garbage swept into a pile. “Wow. You've done a lot of work,” Tanner said. “It's looking so much better. Did your aunt see it?”

“Not yet. She hasn't brought the cow in. Won't she be surprised?”

“I'd love to see her face when she sees what you've done.”

“Maybe you will. She's gone with the others to bring Daisy home.”

Tanner knew that. He'd purposely quit when she went out. His noble intention was to be ready to leave as soon as he said goodbye, but his selfish intention had him taking his time caring for Pat, brushing him longer than necessary, then spending time cleaning the harness.

His nerves jangled as he heard them approach.

Frank stood by the tack-room door, his arms crossed, a pleased expectation on his face.

Robbie ran in first. He saw Tanner and yelled, “He's still here.”

Janie was right on his heels. “I told you he wouldn't go without saying goodbye.”

Liz followed her sister and gave Tanner a shy smile.

Behind them, Susanne led the cow in. She paused to let her eyes adjust, and then found him in the shadows and smiled. “You waited.”

He nodded. “Promised Miss Janie I would always say hello and goodbye.” He swung Janie up and perched her on one hip, then seeing the longing in Robbie's eyes, he lifted him to the other.

Susanne watched him. For a heartbeat he wondered if he should put the children down. Then she smiled.

“You two are quite a load for Mr. Tanner.”

“Not at all,” he said. He liked the way they clung to him. Almost as much as he liked the fact she didn't tell them to get down.

She looked about, saw the neatened barn and gasped. “Is this what you've been doing, Frank?”

“Do you like it?” He waited anxiously for her reply.

She smiled and nodded. “It looks wonderful.” She went to Frank and draped an arm about his shoulders. “You've done a fine job. Your ma and pa would be mighty proud.”

The boy's chest swelled enough to strain his shirt buttons. As Frank showed Susanne every detail of what he'd done, Susanne praised his efforts. She touched Frank's shoulder often, patted his back, chuckled at something he said.

Tanner stood rooted to the spot, the children in his arms. Though it was time to leave, he enjoyed watching Susanne and Frank too much to rob himself of the pleasure.

When they returned to the others, Susanne noticed the cow waiting in the doorway.

“Oh, Daisy. I forgot all about you.” She grabbed the rope and led the cow to the stall.

Tanner set the children down. “I have to go home.”

Janie clung to one side, Robbie to the other.

He squatted down and took a chin in each hand. “I can't say hello if I don't say goodbye.”

“You'll come back tomorrow?” Janie asked.

The barn had grown quiet. Frank and Liz stood to one side, watching and waiting for his answer.

Susanne stood beside Daisy, also watching. Likely she just wanted to protect the children.

He returned his gaze to Janie. “Tomorrow is Sunday.”

Susanne gasped. “I plumb lost track of the days. Good thing I didn't miss it altogether. Sunday is my favorite day. Janie, people don't work on Sunday.”

Janie's lip quivered. “You're not—” she sniffed “—coming back?”

He slowly pushed to his feet. “I'd like to see to my horses if that's all right.”

“It's all right,” Janie said, and the other children nodded approval.

“It has to be all right with your aunt.”

The two youngest rushed to Susanne's side and pulled on her arms. “It's okay, isn't it?”

She laughed. “Of course, he can come tend his horses.”

He hoped the look of welcome on her face was for him and not just for the benefit of the children.

He saddled Scout and, as he led him from the barn, he glanced over his shoulder. Susanne stood in the doorway with the children. He sketched a goodbye salute to her, then said goodbye to each of the children.

He rode away, pausing just before he could no longer see the farm. He turned. The children stood where he had left them and Susanne remained in the doorway. He waved and they all waved back. Even Susanne.

A feeling of satisfaction such as he seldom felt filled him as he rode home.

* * *

Tanner drank his morning coffee in a leisurely fashion though his insides were taut with a desire to rush away. “Guess I'll ride over and check on the horses.”

Big Sam didn't allow unnecessary work on Sunday; however, the animals must be tended so he simply nodded. “Are they settling down?”

“Having the kids around is teaching them not to be so skittish. They're getting used to Robbie's yells.”

“Maybe we can all go over,” Levi said, his voice twice as innocent as his intention. “She might invite us to join them for a meal.”

“Maybe you should give Miss Collins warning before you show up expecting to be fed,” Tanner said, his voice as deceptively innocent as his brother's.

Maisie watched them closely. “Wouldn't be fair to drop in on her without warning,” she said after studying them both for a moment.

“Guess not.” Levi shrugged.

Tanner grinned. His brother had only been teasing, but Maisie had reined him in. Still, Tanner made sure he didn't hurry to leave the ranch. No point in doing something to invite more teasing from Levi and Johnny.

He took his time wandering to the barn as if he had nothing particular in mind.

Levi and Johnny followed, nudging each other and grinning.

Tanner pretended to get sidetracked by one of the other horses. Then he spent several minutes in the tack room, rearranging things and fussing with a tangled set of reins.

Levi and Johnny stood in the doorway, lounging on either side of the doorjamb.

“Thought you were going to check on your horses,” Johnny said.

“Aren't you afraid they might be out of water?” Levi said in his most innocent voice.

“Seems he isn't all that concerned about them,” Johnny added.

Levi shook his head. “Appears to me he's lost interest.”

Tanner continued to ignore them.

“Don't suppose he's found something he's more interested in, do you?” Johnny scratched his head as if puzzled.

Tanner grunted. “Ain't you two got something to do today?”

They shook their heads.

“Well then, why don't you try and find something?”

Johnny shrugged. “Don't mind doing what we're doing.”

“So long as you're having fun.” He grabbed his saddle and pushed past them.

They followed him to Scout's stall and watched his every move.

“You'd think the two of you had never seen a horse saddled before.”

Levi leaned against the stall and grinned. “Seen it lots of times.”

“What we ain't seen,” Johnny said, pointing a blade of grass at Tanner, “is our big brother going to visit a lady friend.”

The two of them grinned at him.

He'd known all morning it was coming. He'd decided he wouldn't respond but denial burst from his lips. “I am going to see ten mares. I'd hardly call them ‘lady friends.'”

Neither of his brothers responded nor did they stop grinning.

He led Scout from the barn, Levi and Johnny crowding after him. He swung into the saddle.

“Give our greetings to Miss Collins,” Levi said.

“Surprised you can talk around that grin on your face,” Tanner muttered. Louder, he added, “Don't plan to see Miss Collins today.” He rode away before either of them could say another word.

He didn't
plan
to see Susanne, despite hoping she'd be around.

He leaned forward as he neared the Collins farm, even as he told himself he wasn't anxious to see them. His eyes scanned the property and lit on them. They were knotted together under a tree. The girls wore gray bonnets and dark blue dresses and the boys held their hats against their chests. But it was Susanne who drew his attention. Her blue dress fluttered about her legs.

Janie and Robbie took a step toward him before Susanne could restrain them.

He could feel their anxious waiting as he swung off Scout and draped the reins over the saddle horn. Scout would not leave so long as Tanner remained.

Five pairs of eyes watched him cross the yard toward them.

Susanne released the younger two and they ran to him whooping loud enough to cause the wild horses to race to the far side of the enclosure.

“Hello, you two.” He squatted down and let them fling themselves into his outstretched arms. It sure felt good to be so welcome.

Susanne and the two older children waited under the tree. If he wasn't mistaken they looked as eager for his greeting. At least Frank and Liz did. Susanne's expression revealed less.

He let the younger ones ride his legs as he closed the distance to the others. “Good morning.” He squeezed Frank's shoulder and tugged a lock of Liz's hair. It hit him then. How would they manage to grow older without a father to guide and protect them? He couldn't imagine how he would have turned out as capable and self-sufficient as he was without Big Sam's guidance. Who would guide these little ones? Susanne for certain, but who would exert the male influence? And why was he so concerned? It wasn't like there weren't a dozen eligible men in the area who would almost certainly welcome a ready-made family.

Like Alfred Morris. He'd figured he was the man he saw visiting the first day he came to the farm.

He wondered at the pain behind his ribs.

Finally, he let himself look fully at Susanne. He managed a fairly normal sounding “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she said, her blue eyes filling with sunshine. “We were about to have church.”

He looked around. Had he missed something? He sure could have, his attention focused on the children and Susanne, but he saw no church, no benches, no gathering of people. “Church?”

She laughed softly as if pleased with his reaction. “Every Sunday we have our own little service. We sing a couple of hymns and read from the Bible. You're welcome to join us.” Her eyes flashed with warmth and welcome, or was it just what he wanted to believe?