Tanner (Bachelors and Babies Book 14)

by St. John, Cheryl

“Meriday showed me how.” She pulled the fabric away and showed him the baby sleeping peacefully against the warmth of her breast.

  It had never occurred to him that women had to figure out how to care for children and do their daily chores at the same time. He was thankful these two had found this solution, rather than leaving Lillian alone inside.

  “Here she is.” He pointed to the cart behind his gray.

  Tanner led the goat down a board ramp from the cart by a rope halter. He’d deliberately selected a female completely different in color from the last. This one had longer hair, tan in color, and a white face with pale amber eyes. He stroked her neck. “She’s friendly.”

  Meriday approached the goat and knelt, her skirt pooling around her, to hold her head between her hands and look at it. She ran her fingers through the hair around her throat and along its neck. “She likes to be petted.”

  “The family I got her from has children who help raise the goats. She’s used to people.”

  The women accompanied him to the pen. In his absence, it had been thoroughly cleaned, even the dirt raked, no evidence of the presence of Lula Mae remained.

  “As long as she provides adequate milk, she’ll do.” Raylene headed back to the clothesline.

  Tanner and Meriday exchanged a brief look.

  “I’ll help you get her settled.” Meriday took the rope.

  “Let’s tether her where we can keep an eye on her. That coyote dug under the back of the shed. Today I’m moving the pen to surround it and I’m reinforcing those boards,” he told her. “Nothing is getting to this animal.”

  “I can help.” She tied the rope to a hook on the side of the shed, then plucked several fistfuls of weeds and piled them where the animal could reach.

  “I don’t want you digging or stringing wire,” he told her.

  “I’m perfectly capable, Mr. Bell.” Her dark eyes showed her sincere desire to help.

  “John Jay is working at the mill, but he’ll come afterward. I’m going to dig post holes and a trench around the outside of the fence. I have a pile of tin roofing scraps I plan to bury against the foot of the new fence and cover with dirt. That should discourage animals from digging underneath. We’ll check the perimeter every day.”

  His words hadn’t deterred her. She tugged on gloves and picked up a shovel. There was no stopping her, so he didn’t try.

  An hour later, they had the holes dug and the posts set and buried. She helped him string the wire and start on the trench.

  The sun grew warm, and at noon Raylene brought them water and sandwiches. She sat in the shade with them, unwrapped the sleeping baby and placed her atop the fabric on the grass. The front of her dress was wrinkled and appeared damp. She arched her back in a stretch.

  “What shall we name the new goat?” Meriday asked.

  “It doesn’t need a name,” she replied. “I’ll bring Lillian’s basket and she can lie here while I take down the wash.”

  “I’m too dirty to help,” Meriday said.

  Raylene gestured for her to stay seated. “No, you rest.”

  Once he’d finished eating, Tanner got up to dig, but Meriday lay flat on her back in the shade and closed her eyes. Raylene finished taking in the sheets and clothing and returned for the baby, who had awakened. She carried the empty milk pail, but stood several feet away, looking at the goat.

  Tanner laid down his shovel and took the container from her. “I’ll do it.”

  She carried the basket under one arm and the pail in the other back to the house.

  Meriday had resumed digging, though she was slower than before. After four, John Jay showed up and took the shovel from her.

  “Mr. Bell, can we start placing the metal in the trench?” she asked.

  He joined Meriday, and together they figured out an angle that would deter a predator when it attempted to dig. He left her to arrange the metal barrier and took a water break while John Jay dug.

  They were putting dirt back in the trench to cover the tin when Raylene carried out three plates. She went back for a jug of cold lemonade and poured them jars full.

  She’d made a glazed pork loaf, squash and a creamy corn and lima bean dish he’d never had.

  “It’s succotash,” Meriday explained. “It’s made with cream and salt pork.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” John Jay said to Raylene as she took their empty plates.

  By evening, their project was completed. Tanner and John Jay had reinforced all the boards in the shed. The enclosure entirely surrounded the structure, and was still positioned for shade in the afternoon. The new goat munched mouthfuls of fresh hay from the wood trough and blinked at them through the wire.

  John Jay took his leave, with Meriday walking him to the street. Raylene pumped water and filled the tub so Meriday could bathe in the small room off the kitchen. Next, she prepared a bath for Tanner, and the warm water felt good. He washed his hair, scrubbed away sweat and dirt and dressed in clean clothing.

  Raylene had cared for Lillian alone all day, so he fed her and talked to her until she fell asleep, then tucked her into her cradle. She was sound asleep, so he went to put the goat inside the shed. Finding Raylene sitting on the back-porch steps, he stepped around her and stopped. “Usually, if you’re outdoors enjoying the evening, you’re on the front porch.”

  She only nodded.

  He glanced over his shoulder, noting she was facing the goat enclosure. “I’m sorry the new pen was a lot more work for both of you today.”

  “No one minded the work.”

  He gestured to the stair beside her. “May I?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  The scents of line-dried cotton and a wisp of lavender reached him. He wanted to lean in and smell her hair, but he focused on a conversation. “This enclosure will be safe.”

  “What happened wasn’t your fault,” she told him. “None of us knew that an animal could find its way in. You did the best anyone could have done.”

  He glanced at the darkened sky where a few stars now blinked. “It feels as though you’re angry with me.”

  “I’m not. I’m not angry with anyone.”

  “All right.” He sat a minute longer. She obviously didn’t want to talk to him, and he wasn’t going to pressure her. He might as well lock up the goat and go upstairs. He started to rise.

  “It’s unfair,” she said.

  He stayed seated. “What’s unfair?”

  “Lula Mae was an innocent animal, no threat to anyone or anything. She provided well for us. I know that coyote was only doing what was in its nature to do, but she didn’t deserve a death like that.”

  He’d never heard her speak with such emotion or vulnerability. She portrayed a cool calm exterior at all times. They’d all known loss, and each person dealt with it their own way. “You’re right. It’s an unfair loss, like all the other losses.”

  “If we dwell on them, we’ll only make ourselves miserable,” she said softly.

  This wasn’t about Lula Mae. Raylene was grieving over the loss of her family and friends, over her entire way of life. He understood and empathized. “We have to acknowledge death,” he said. “We still have to live in this reality without those we’ve lost.”

  She looked over; her face lifted to his. “Did you ever think living didn’t feel like living without that person?”

  “I’ve felt like the world was changed without them in it.”

  “You’ve lost your sister, and I’m not helping you.”

  “You’ve helped all along. You kept me thinking forward.”

  “No. You naturally think forward. You plan for the future. You know what you want.”

  He did know what he wanted. He always had. “And you? Is this boarding house and your independence what you want?”

  “I wanted to survive.” She spread her hands in front of her. “This is survival.”

  Her self-analysis seemed bleak, and he wasn’t accustomed to hearing her speak this way. “You’re doing much more
than surviving. You provide a home for people who need physical comfort and that of friends. You’re helping to better the lives of the students at the Willow Creek School. You’re making a difference for them—for this community—for our country.”

  She gave a shake of her head. “Nothing as grand as that.”

  Had her dream for the future been lost with her husband? He wanted to ask, but the subject was too personal, too painful. She’d undoubtedly wanted a home and children—a family. Feeling angry about that loss was human. ‘Did you ever think living didn’t feel like living without that person?’

  Losing her young husband had undoubtedly brought her dreams crashing down.

  Taking a deep breath, she placed her hands on her knees. “There’s tomorrow.”

  “There’s always tomorrow,” he agreed.

  She looked over at him and smiled. “When left on my own, I make succotash. Tomorrow’s menu will be better.”

  “It was good.”

  “It’s quick and easy,” she replied.

  He chuckled.

  Her smile faded. The moon highlighted her smooth forehead, fine straight nose, the curve of her brow. Tresses of hair had fallen from the knot at her neck and trailed her neck. Even in her simple dress and apron, she was lovely.

  Tanner didn’t think about it or plan it, but he leaned to press his lips against hers. She did a quick intake of breath, and turned her upper body toward him, one arm going around his shoulder as he folded her into his arms.

  She was warm and soft, and she smelled wonderful. Beneath his kiss, her lips were soft and questioning. The kiss was one of surprise and discovery, but she was an equal participant. She laid her other hand against his cheek, feathered it over his freshly-shaven skin until a tingle ran down his neck and across his shoulders.

  The soft rushing sound might have been the breeze in the nearby pines, but he suspected it was his blood coursing through his veins. Faintly, he wondered if she had any idea of the affect she had on him. He was having trouble thinking clearly, but he had the sense to know this wasn’t a good idea. She was vulnerable right now, and still a grieving widow.

  Gently, he released her and straightened where he sat. “I’m sorry. That was a mistake. Completely improper. Please forgive me.”

  Raylene got to her feet and stood with her back against the railing. She raised her fingertips to her lips.

  Chapter Nine

  “It’s all right,” she said, hoping the darkness covered her embarrassment and confusion.

  He got to his feet. “I’m going to lock the goat in her shed.”

  She nodded, let herself in and ran as silently as possible up the rear stairs and to her room. She stood inside with her back against the door, her heart pounding.

  Nothing in her life experience had prepared her for that kiss, for the feelings coursing through her right now. ‘Improper.’ Undoubtedly. ‘A mistake.’ A blunder. Bad judgement. On whose part—his?

  She felt as though she’d discovered something beautiful and exciting that had been missing her entire life. She was quite obviously the most improper woman he’d ever encountered, because she’d thought what happened had been quite wonderful.

  Enlightening. Breathtaking.

  Her behavior embarrassed her. Her thoughts simultaneously intrigued and shamed her. She’d read about kisses. She’d experienced a few. All along she’d considered Marianne’s feelings for John Willoughby pure fiction, created to titillate the imagination of the reader in the book mysteriously written ‘by a lady.’ Marianne had been so enamored, she’d thought everything John did was right, everything he said was clever. Fiction.

  Kissing Tanner had turned the tide, and her reaction frightened her. Kissing him had been a thoughtless thing to do. She barely knew the man, and he was planning to buy a ranch and go raise horses. Kissing him had turned her reasoning upside down.

  Kissing him had awakened a part of her that had never dared hope or want.

  Kissing him had indeed been a mistake.

  Much later when she fell asleep, she had disjointed dreams in which she lost her way and was traveling across country, wearing a voluminous skirt that snagged on everything and held her back. She lost Mother’s hat in a stream, and a coyote trailed her, ready to move in when she wore out and fell.

  Raylene woke exhausted. She sat on the bed’s edge. The morning was already uncomfortably warm. Meriday’s and Tanner’s legs and arms must hurt this morning. After dressing and arranging her hair, the enticing aromas of coffee and bacon met her on her way down the back stairs.

  To her surprise, Meriday and Almira were in the kitchen, the older woman turning over strips of bacon in the cast iron skillet. Meriday whipped a bowl of eggs and poured the pale-yellow mixture into a skillet sizzling with grease.

  Raylene gave them a broad smile. “This is a pleasant surprise. Mrs. Hobbs, I didn’t know you were a cook.”

  “Oh, I’m not dear, but I can put together breakfast. I fed my husband every morning for forty years.”

  “That’s a lot of breakfasts,” Raylene said with a tilt of her head.

  The back door opened and Tanner entered with the milk pail. He’d apparently already seen the other women this morning, so their presence didn’t surprise him, but his eyes met hers, and he looked away. “Good morning, Mrs. Cranford.”

  “Mr. Bell.” She tied on an apron and carried plates and forks to the dining room.

  A few minutes later, the other boarders arrived, and they ate. It was her scheduled teaching day, so she and Meriday briefly discussed when she would return.

  “How are your classes progressing?” Emerald asked.

  “Extremely well. The students are bright and eager to learn. Several have come from circumstances where they weren’t allowed to read or write, so they’ve only recently learned the basics. It’s a privilege to be one of their first teachers. I see the wonder on their faces when I read to them.”

  “I’ve wrapped extra bard-boiled eggs, cheese, and a loaf of bread for you to take,” Meriday said. She glanced at the others. “Mrs. Cranford said some of the children don’t bring a lunch.”

  “You’re only there two days a week,” Almira said. “What do they do the other three days?”

  “Go without, apparently,” Meriday replied.

  “I’ll speak with Mrs. Bailey,” Raylene said. “Perhaps she can help arrange something for the other days.”

  Emerald shook her head. “I’m already disappointed in the town council for excluding those children from the school, and since they refuse to include them, I’m disappointed in them for not paying a teacher at the very least.”

  “Let us know what Mrs. Bailey thinks about lunches,” Tanner said. “We can do better for those children.”

  He glanced at Raylene, but she looked down at her plate. “I agree. I’ll let you know.”

  Tanner picked up Lillian from her basket. She’d apparently been fed earlier and was still awake. She was holding her head up now, and she blinked wide-eyed at the others around the table, then up at her uncle.

  “I hope things are different by the time you go to school,” he said to her.

  She broke into a dimpled grin.

  The chorus of exclamations around the table startled the baby, and her smile faded.

  Tanner held her close and kissed her cheek.

  Raylene’s heart ached. She’d unwisely grown fond of them both.

  After Tanner laid the baby in her basket and took his leave, she picked her up and touched her nose to Lillian’s downy soft hair. For the briefest moment she allowed herself to wonder what might have happened if her husband had ever kissed her like Tanner had kissed her last night. If she’d experienced that same heart-melting, life-changing feeling in his arms. Might her life have been different? Might she have had a child of her own to hold and love?

  No. Those feelings would have been worse. Had she been enamored of her husband, she’d have yearned for him, truly mourned his death, instead of feeling guilty that sh
e wasn’t mourning. Had she borne a child, it couldn’t have survived the winter before the war ended, or the journey north.

  This was how her life was supposed to be. She had to make the best of it. She prayed for wisdom to know what was best.

  Love for this baby already consumed her. If this was her measure in time to love a child, she wasn’t going to miss a minute. She was here in this place and time to make a difference, she truly believed that.

  “When I get home after school, I’ll read you a story,” she told Lillian. “When I was little, I liked Peter Rabbit. I’m sure I can find the book in uncle’s library.” She’d noted her cousin’s childhood books were shelved among the others. “I have to go now.”

  She kissed Lillian’s cheek in the same soft spot where Tanner’s lips had been and let Meriday know she was leaving. Teaching would distract her from the dreams that had plagued her night and the disturbing thoughts that kissing Mr. Bell had stirred up.

  She’d liked it far too much.

  Each time she’d taught, one or two more students had shown up. This morning she checked off each name in the ledger, and asked the two first-time attendees to approach the makeshift desk—a board placed across two stacks of milk crates.

  “I’m pleased that you’ve come to school. I’m Mrs. Cranford. What are your names?”

  “Robert Edgefield, ma’am.”

  “Lucy Edgefield, ma’am.”

  “Have you attended school before?”

  Both shook their heads.

  “That’s fine. Knowing that helps us figure out how to teach you to read and write.”

  “I can read and write, ma’am,” Robert said. He was tall and lanky, his hair shorn short. Like most of the other boys, he wore a shirt and trousers made from coarse fabric.

  “I can read my letters, ma’am,” Lucy said. She was slender as well, and had two front teeth missing. Her hair had been worked into two short braids and tied with strips of red flannel.

  Raylene opened the nearest primer. “Can you read this to me?”

  “’The sun will set soon,’” Lucy read haltingly. “’The cows are on their way to the barn. One old cow has a bell on her neck. She sees our dog, but she will not run.’”