by Linda Ford
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?
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.
