The Cowboy's Ready-Made Family (6 page)

“Here he comes,” Janie called as they cleaned up after the meal.

“Stay here.” Susanne caught the girl before she could run out the door. “He has to take care of Pat.”

She stopped Frank and Robbie from leaving, too.

“I could help,” Frank protested.

“Maybe you can.” Because it would be good for him to watch or just enjoy the company of a man, she allowed him to go.

Janie dragged a chair to the window so she could see. Robbie climbed up and shared the chair.

Susanne had no need to look out the window to know Tanner's every move, because Janie kept her informed.

“Pat is drinking lots. Tanner is taking that thing off his neck.” Janie leaned her elbows on the window ledge. “He went into the barn. Frank did, too.”

Robbie jumped down and began rolling a marble back and forth across the table.

“I can't see them now.” Janie's voice wobbled. “What are they doing?”

“They'll be brushing Pat and feeding him,” Susanne explained.

“How long it's gonna take?”

“Sweetie, I don't know.” She imagined Tanner brushing Pat, perhaps giving Frank a brush and the two of them working together. Maybe they'd talk. Frank would talk about his pa. They'd give Pat oats and put away the harness.

Then what? Seems that should be done by now, but they didn't come out.

“Are they still there?” Janie fretted. “Maybe they left.”

“You would have seen them.”

“Can I go look?”

“You can wait a bit longer.”

A soft keening sound came from the child and Susanne clenched her muscles. It was the same sound the child had made after her mama died. She'd barely stopped making it when Jim died and it started again. Susanne well remembered the lost feeling causing her niece's distress.

How often had she asked how her parents could die and leave her, and why Jim didn't take her with him? But he was married with two children at the time and looking for a place where he could start farming.

Susanne went to Janie and wrapped her arms about the child. “I'll stay here and help you watch. I'll make sure he says goodbye like he promised.”

Janie pressed her head to Susanne's shoulder, but her eyes never left the window. Liz and Robbie joined them at the window, both seeming as anxious and tense as Janie. Susanne wanted to warn them that Tanner was not going to become a permanent part of their lives. She was about to reassure them of God's continuing presence when Frank stepped out of the barn.

Janie jerked away from Susanne and pressed to the window glass.

Tanner came out, leading his saddled horse.

“He's gonna leave,” Janie wailed.

“He's only leading his horse.”
Please, please, please don't forget one uncertain little girl.

Tanner and Frank crossed the yard. Tanner handed Frank the reins and continued alone toward the house.

Janie was off the chair and running out to meet him while he was still five feet away.

He squatted to the child's level. “I've come to say goodbye.”

She flung herself at him, almost unbalancing him. “I thought you'd forget.”

His eyes found Susanne's over the little girl's head. She knew she wasn't mistaken in seeing a world of sorrow in them and recalled his words about life being unfair. His own ma had died, so he understood the loss of a parent. But his loss was in the distant past while Janie's was recent and raw.
Please remember how insecure she is right now.

He held Janie. She held him. After a bit he said, “I thought this was goodbye.”

“You coming back tomorrow?” Janie asked.

“Got to. Got horses to tend to. Got a crop to plant and got a little girl to say hi to.”

Janie released him. “Me?”

“You're the only little girl around here.” He patted her head. “I'll be back.”

The child almost glowed with pleasure at his promise.

He pushed upright, adjusted his askew hat. “Goodbye to you all.” His gaze touched Robbie, then Liz, and both said goodbye.

Then his gaze hit her.

She suddenly felt like Janie and wanted to prevent him from leaving. What a foolish thought. But to a lesser degree she shared Janie's knowledge and fear of people departing from her life.

“Goodbye,” he said.

“Goodbye.” She forced the word from her mouth.

He touched the brim of his hat, stepped outside and took the reins from Frank. “Goodbye,” he said to the boy. Then he swung into his saddle and rode away.

Silence descended. Lonely, empty silence.

The children stared after him until he disappeared from view. Still they stood staring at the place where they'd last seen him.

Not just the children remained rooted to the moment. Susanne did, as well.

“Will he really come back?” Robbie asked. All the children turned to Susanne for reassurance.

“His horses are here, so I expect he'll return.”

Their little heads nodded. It wasn't the answer they needed. They wanted to know he'd come back because of them.

She ached inside. How was she to make them understand that people you cared for could be snatched away in an instant? But they already knew that and yet clung to the hope that this time it would be different. Had she made a huge mistake in agreeing to this arrangement with Tanner?

Her nerves twitched. The children were going to be seriously heartbroken when he left them. What could she do to prevent it?

Chapter Six

T
anner did not slow down or turn around until he was well out of sight of the ranch. Then he pulled up and stared in the direction he'd just come from.

Poor little Janie. Wanting to keep everyone close. He understood the feeling.

His thoughts shifted to Susanne and what she'd told him about life with her aunt Ada. He shook his head. One thing he would never understand in this life was how people could treat others with such disregard. No wonder Susanne didn't want to accept any charity, or even neighborly help. To her it meant providing the giver a reason to demand repayment.

He thought of her prayer over the garden and her calm assurance of God's care. How could she be so certain of it after the way her life had gone?

Envy stung his heart. He longed for the same kind of assurance. Instead, he had such doubts. Seemed to him that God must look at him the way most people did. As a misfit.

How many times had he expected Susanne to say something to indicate how she viewed his half-breed status? He'd waited for a warning, some sign of her negative opinion of him.

He'd not seen it. Not once. Not even a hint.

Dare he hope she didn't see him as a misfit? No. He was being foolish. Yet a smile straight from a lonely place in his heart remained on his face as he rode home to join the others for supper. They ate late this time of year, getting as much done in the daylight hours as possible.

As he approached the ranch, he tried to think what he'd say when Maisie asked about his day.

No one was in the barn as he unsaddled Scout and took care of his horse's needs. He appreciated the time alone as he struggled to sort out his thoughts.

The dinner bell rang and he stepped into the evening air, still warm but with a cooling breeze that would make sleep more comfortable. This afternoon had been hot. He smiled as he recalled Susanne bringing him water. Why hadn't he gone to the well and gotten a drink when thirst first came? Because he wanted to see if she'd take pity on him. He was testing her. And testing himself to see if his wishes held a whiff of possibility. He shoved aside the foolish thought. He did not expect anything from her but neighborly politeness.

He'd watched her working around the house. She'd kept up a steady pace, never taking a break until the job was done. Perhaps she'd learned that at the hands of Aunt Ada.

Levi fell in at his side. “What are you grinning about?”

Johnny joined them. “If I didn't know him better I'd say he looks like he's in love.” He drawled out the last word.

“What? You think it's impossible for me to fall in love?” He favored his brother with a fierce frown. “Or do you mean you think it's impossible someone would fall in love with me?” It was an echo of his own doubts and reverberated through his brain. He looked the most native of the three so heard the most unfavorable comments.

“Didn't mean either. Fact is, you stay as far away from young ladies as humanly possible. And wearing that chip on your shoulder is gonna give you permanently poor posture.”

Johnny's words were accurate, but Tanner would not give him the benefit of acknowledging it. Besides, a man had to preserve a little dignity before his younger brothers. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

They reached the house, preventing further words on the subject, but Johnny's words clung. Yes, he avoided people. He had no desire to hear their assessment of him. But a chip on his shoulder? Uh-uh.

Tanner was still musing over the idea when Maisie said to him, “How was your day?”

“Started plowing today.” What he'd planned to say was,
The horses are settling down.

Levi shook his head sadly. “Never thought to see my big brother become a farmer.”

“Little enough to do in exchange for using the corrals,” Tanner said. “You saw them. They're ideal.”

Levi gave a crooked grin. “Wasn't the only thing I saw.” He directed his words at Maisie. “Miss Collins is a fine-looking young woman. She's—” He jerked his gaze back to Tanner. “How old would you say she is?”

“She's twenty.”

Levi's eyes widened. “She told you that or you asked?”

“I just figured it. She said her parents died when she was twelve and that was eight years ago.”

“Huh.”

Not often he saw Levi at a loss for words and he grinned his pleasure.

Johnny held his fork in one hand and pointed it at Tanner. “Sounds like a lot of talking going on.”

“What? One sentence?”

Maisie intervened. “She's lost both parents and her brother and sister-in-law. That poor child.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say Susanne was no child, but he kept the thought to himself.

“And now with four children to raise.” Maisie shook her head and turned to Big Sam. “I need to go visit her.”

Sam nodded. “I'll take you myself as soon as I can.”

“Or I might go on my own. It's been a long time since I had an outing,” Maisie murmured, and the three boys grinned at each other. Maisie would manage to get her way.

Maisie turned again to Tanner. “I had no idea she was so young. Maybe it isn't a good idea for you to be over there.”

Tanner stared at his stepmother. “Why on earth not? She'll never get the crop in on her own. For one thing, she's afraid of the plow horse.”

“I understand. But what will people say?”

Heat stung Tanner's neck. “Because I'm a half-breed and she's a white gal?” His voice was low and emotionless while his insides rolled enough to make him dizzy.

“Of course not. I've said it before and I'll say it again. You'd be a good catch for any woman. You're kind and gentle and thoughtful.”

Levi and Johnny rolled their eyes.

“What I meant is she's a young woman alone. I'm concerned about her reputation. And you should be, as well.”

Tanner looked about the table. They all watched him to see what he'd do. “A good reputation won't feed four hungry children.” He drank his glass of water and hoped the conversation would end.

The others shifted their attention to other topics, though he often caught Maisie watching him and read the concern in her eyes.

Perhaps she was right. But what could he do about it? He'd made an agreement and he meant to keep it.

The best he could do was stay away from her.

* * *

The next morning, he discovered how difficult it was going to be to keep his distance.

First, he had to say hello to Janie. She came running as soon as she saw him.

“Hello, little miss.” He swung her into the air, bringing happy giggles from the child.

He greeted each of the children.

“Hello, Liz. Your hair looks nice this morning.” She returned the greeting but ducked her head, perhaps a little embarrassed at the attention.

“Hello, Frank. How are the horses?”

“Morning. The horses are fine. Getting more and more used to us. 'Course I only watched them from the fence.”

“Good to hear. Hello, Robbie. How are you?” He ruffled the boy's hair.

“I gots a marble.” He pulled out a cat's-eye aggie from his pocket.

Tanner inspected it. “Why, that's a dandy.”

“Pa gave it to me.”

“Then you take real good care of it.”

Susanne had the cow by the lead rope, taking it out to tether for the day.

“Hello,” he said. “Let me do that.”

“I can do it.”

He understood her message. She didn't want him to do one thing more than their agreement stipulated. Rather than argue, he fell into step beside her. So much for staying as far away from her as possible, he thought. But he knew the cow could put up a struggle.

She stopped and gave him a challenging look. “I can do this on my own.”

Maisie's words echoed in the back of his mind, as did his decision to stay away from Susanne, but even louder was the desire to help. To test and judge her reaction to him.

Perhaps she objected to him, not his help. How could he get an answer to the question? He could come right out and ask, but he sensed she would say the right words. Only way to judge if she had the right feelings was to spend time with her and see if she objected, either outright or subtly. He shut the door on Maisie's concerns, even knowing they would return to accuse him. Maisie's words had a way of doing that.

“Pat's still eating his oats,” he told Susanne by way of explanation. “I got nothing else do to at the moment.”

“Our understanding was you were going to work with your horses.”

Ah, yes. He'd almost forgotten. “They need a few days to settle in and feel comfortable. I intend to break them gently.”

“I see.” She continued onward. He saw her destination. A big old tree in the middle of the pasture. The water trough was already there and water glistened in it.

The cow ambled along between them. They reached the spot and he stood back as she tied the rope around the tree.

“There,” she said with obvious satisfaction.

He jerked the rope and it came free. “Don't think Daisy is going to stay here long.” Already the cow eyed the far fence, no doubt thinking of greener, more distant pastures.

Susanne spared Tanner an annoyed look and again tied the rope.

He jerked it and this time it stuck.

She laughed.

He jerked it again, harder. The end flew around the tree and plopped at her feet. He said nothing, revealed nothing in his face, even though he enjoyed this immensely.

She picked up the rope and stared at the end. “You're going to make me ask, aren't you?”

He shrugged.

She sighed. “Mr. Harding, would you please be so kind as to show me how to tie the rope so it will stay?”

“Don't mind a bit.” He showed her how to knot the rope so Daisy couldn't escape but so Susanne could grab the end and free Daisy when the time came to take her home. Then he undid it. “Your turn.”

She tried, and failed. “Oh, bother,” she muttered, and tried again. This time she got it right. She faced him. “Thank you. It's a lesson I won't forget.”

“My ma was right. You learn best by doing it yourself.” He grinned, wanting nothing more than to pat her on the back and congratulate her, but Maisie's words shouted through his head. Even without his stepmother's warning, he would not touch her. He had no desire to see her flinch. But he had to cross his arms to keep the urge under control.

He looked toward the yard. “Pat will be done by now.” He would have stridden away and left her standing there, but it would be rude so he again walked at her side back to the barn.

The four children waited for them and watched as he harnessed Pat. They followed him as far as the edge of the field and observed him back Pat to the plow. Finished, he called, “Goodbye. Go help your aunt.”

He watched them return to the yard. Frank went to the barn. Yesterday, Tanner had suggested that the boy sort through the stuff scattered about and given him a few directions.

Robbie and Janie wandered off together and Liz went to the house, probably to help her aunt.

Tanner turned to plow the field but he kept an errant eye on the children, watching them come and go.

Susanne didn't appear. Was she avoiding him so completely that she wouldn't even leave the house while he was there?

He glanced at the sun. Would noon never arrive so he could go to the yard?

Maisie's words sounded in his head. She was right. Tanner needed to be concerned about Susanne's reputation. He would not look toward the house again.

* * *

The heat inside the house intensified even though the doors and windows were all open. Susanne wiped her apron across her brow and pulled the last tray of cookies from the oven. She might have waited for a cooler day to bake but she'd convinced herself she must do it today, her excuse being there were no cookies in the house and the children especially loved the boiled raisin ones.

Her desire to bake had nothing to do with Tanner, she insisted. Certainly she would take him some at dinnertime. It would be inhospitable to do otherwise.

She transferred the cookies to a cooling rack. Whom did she think she was fooling? Not herself. The desire to have something to feed Tanner had been the main impetus for baking today. Tomorrow she'd make bread, never mind the temperature inside or out.

“You think Tanner will like these?” Liz asked.

Had Susanne's thoughts communicated themselves to Liz? Of course not. Liz and all the children simply enjoyed having a change in their boring routine.

“If he doesn't, it will mean all the more for us to enjoy.”

She glanced at the clock. The morning usually flew by, but today the hands on the clock seemed to have stopped. Had she remembered to wind it? The second hand moved, but was it slower than normal? She found the key and wound it even though she knew she had done it the previous evening. It was one of the last things she did every night before she went to bed.

Every other morning she had felt overwhelmed with the work that awaited her but not today. The garden was in, the crop would soon be in, and the cow was tethered so she couldn't wander. Now she would turn her attention to the household needs that had been neglected for many weeks.

She'd wait until Monday to do the laundry, but the children's two bedrooms needed to be cleaned today. She entered the boys' room and gasped. How had it gotten so dirty?

She provided her own answer. Neglect.

She added to that answer. Perhaps she'd been a little rebellious, as well. At first, Aunt Ada's orders were a constant reminder of all Susanne needed to do, and she had worked as hard as Aunt Ada would have required. Then one day she realized she didn't have to do what her aunt said any longer, and she'd quit.

Now she realized both ways were controlled by Aunt Ada. It was time to end that control. She would do what needed to be done and clean the rooms for her sake, as well as the children's. They deserved to be better taken care of than this. The chore would keep her mind occupied so she wasn't constantly thinking of Tanner, of what he was doing and how his help might incite him to make other demands. She sighed. Would she ever truly be able to put Aunt Ada's harsh lessons behind her?