by Linda Ford
“I don’t live here.” He looked toward the house. Susanne peered out the window, her face wreathed in worry. “It’s okay,” he called. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, her eyes far too wide. Even through the wavy glass, the tension around her mouth was evident.
He left Charlie clutching his head and walked to the door. When he turned the handle he met resistance. She’d barred the door. Had Charlie tried to enter the house? Had he succeeded? Every breath contained a thousand knives.
“Susanne, open the door.” He had to assure himself she and the children were all right.
He barely waited for her to do so before he pushed the door open and stepped inside. She faced him, wearing a man’s heavy coat that almost smothered her. Sticking out from a too-long sleeve, one hand held a rifle. His eyes sought hers and he saw her colorless face, her trembling lips. She looked ready to collapse and without another moment’s hesitation he reached for her.
She crumpled against him, sobbing softly.
“Are you okay? Are the children okay?”
The children burst from their rooms and crowded around him. He held the quivering Susanne with one arm. With the other, he drew the kids close.
They all talked at once so he could not make out what any of them said. “One at a time. What happened?”
Frank stood back, the official spokesman. “When we got up Auntie Susanne was guarding the door with Pa’s rifle. She told us someone was out there and we should stay in our rooms and be quiet.”
“The man is Charlie, a cousin of mine. You can go out now. He won’t harm you. But to be on the safe side, stay away from him. I need to talk to your aunt.”
Four fearful children edged past Tanner. They left the door open so he could watch Charlie, who sat in a miserable heap where Tanner had found him. The children slipped by him and raced to the barn. They hurried inside, where Tanner could see them hovering in the shadows, watching and waiting.
He helped Susanne to a chair and pulled a second chair close and held her hands and rubbed her back. After some moments, her breathing steadied and he felt he could ask the questions burning in his head.
“Did he come in? Did he hurt you?”
She lifted her gaze to his. Slowly she shook her head. “He scared me.” She shuddered. “I don’t even know how to use a gun. What if he’d come in and tried to hurt one of the children?”
Or you? “I don’t think he would.” Not when he was sober, at least, but who could foretell what a drunk Charlie would do? “How long was he there?”
“I don’t know.” She crumpled into a sobbing heap.
Tanner wanted nothing more than to hold her and comfort her, but she cradled her arms about her and seemed lost in her own turmoil. He continued to rub her back.
“I’ll send him on his way, then I’ll show you how to load and fire the rifle.” Hitting a target did not matter as much as being able to persuade an intruder that she meant business.
She sucked back a sob, wiped her eyes and nodded. “Thank you. Again.” She sat up straight. “I’m really quite all right.” She pulled the sleeves of the big coat over her hands and gave a chuckle that caught in her throat. “I’m not even decent.”
He didn’t want to leave her; nor did he want to make her uncomfortable by sitting in her kitchen while she was still in her nightclothes, though they were well covered by the coat.
He patted her back one last time and pushed to his feet. “I’ll take care of Charlie.” He strode from the house, grabbed Charlie by the back of his shirt and heaved him to his feet. “Where’s your horse?” He’d not seen any sign of the animal.
Charlie jerked his head up the coulee. “Left ’im in the pen you built up in the coulee.”
“Then take yourself up there and ride on out. If you ever come back and bother this family again, I’ll be forced to deal most severely with you.” He would not say what he might do. Let Charlie fill in those details.
“But, Tanner, it’s a long walk.”
“You made it this way. I’m sure you can make it back.”
“But ain’t you and me friends? I thought we could throw in together. Go into the mountains and live like our ancestors did.”
There had been a time when the idea would have appealed to Tanner. It no longer did. He wasn’t sure where he belonged but he didn’t want it to be on some faraway mountain valley where he’d live like a recluse. “Which ancestors would you mean?” The question brought the man upright.
Charlie squinted at him, as if trying to see past the befuddlement in his brain. “You’re changed. You going white?”
“Can’t see how I can, do you?”
It was a question he knew many of his half-breed brothers shared. Can’t be white. Can’t be native. Who could they be? He meant to find out.
“Now go get your horse. If you want to visit me, come to the ranch. Not here. You understand?”
“Yeah.” Charlie made a crazy zigzag path up the coulee.
As Tanner turned to the house, the children stepped slowly from the barn.
“Is he going to leave?” Liz asked.
“He won’t come back.” Tanner understood how frightening the incident had been for them and wanted to reassure them. “Your aunt would have defended you. Now go have your breakfast.”
Frank stayed back as the others hurried to the house. “She didn’t have a shell in the rifle.”
“I know. I’ll show her what to do. First, I have to go get Scout.”
Frank nodded but his shoulders remained hunched. Frank was old enough to realize the danger Charlie posed and the inadequacy of an aunt who didn’t know how to use the rifle to protect them. Tanner meant to resolve that problem before the day was out.
He walked back to the trees to untie Scout and rode him to the farm. Then he got Pat ready to go to work, waiting and hoping Susanne would come out to speak to him. She didn’t. He delayed as long as he could, then went to the field. The crop still had to be planted.
As he worked, he watched the yard for a glimpse of Susanne, but she stayed in the house. The children stayed close by, too, except for the little while it took Frank to tether the cow and Liz to gather the eggs.
Tanner glanced up the draw. No sign of Charlie returning.
By noon, his nerves were so taut he could hear them strumming as he inhaled.
He fed and watered Pat, but Susanne did not come out with a plate of food and cup of water for him. Was she more frightened than he realized? Or did she blame him because Charlie was someone he knew?
Minutes later Frank came over carrying a plate of food. “Auntie Susanne is busy with some baking so she sent me.”
“Thanks.” Tanner sank down by the barn to eat. The food was like sawdust in his mouth. Was it really because she was too busy? Or was she so badly offended she wouldn’t speak to him again?
He finished his tasteless meal and handed the plate back to Frank. “Tell her thanks.”
“I will.” Frank didn’t move. He looked as if he was about to say something, then gave a little shrug and left.
Tanner returned to seeding. It was a good thing Pat knew what to do because Tanner’s mind was only half on his task. He was preoccupied with Susanne and his eyes sought a glimpse of her at every pass. Finally he saw her. She came out to dump dishwater on the plants by the house, then bent to pull an errant weed, but she hurried back inside without so much as a glance in his direction. Once he thought he saw her watching him out the side window. He blinked and the image was gone. Likely his imagination. It seemed a thick, invisible wall had been erected around her.
By midafternoon, he could hardly breathe. Somehow he had to make things right between them again. If only she would bring out the snack. His hopes died when Liz headed his way with a plate and Frank followed with a bucket of water. Weren’t
the little ones coming, too? Were they forbidden to speak to him?
He stopped at the end of the field and waited for the pair to reach him. “Where’s Robbie and Janie?”
Liz handed him cookies. “Auntie Susanne is cutting Robbie’s hair and Janie has been confined to the house for the afternoon.”
“Oh?” Though he wouldn’t pry, he’d sure like to know why.
“Yeah.” Frank’s voice carried either disgust or discouragement and Tanner wasn’t sure which. “She had a temper tantrum, threw a plate on the floor and broke it.”
“Doesn’t sound like Janie.”
Liz and Frank exchanged glances, then Liz said, “She’s upset ’cause she thinks Auntie Susanne is mad at you.”
“Is she?” Tanner hoped he appeared relaxed and only mildly interested when he was aching to know the answer.
“I don’t know,” Frank said. “But she’s awfully quiet. I said you wanted to teach her to shoot and she said to tell you no thanks. That sounds kind of mad to me.”
“I guess all we can do is give her time to get over it.” Secretly he wondered if she would. He knew why she was angry at him. Charlie was his cousin, a half-breed just like Tanner. No doubt she blamed him. Just as she was likely having second thoughts about being associated with a half-breed if Charlie’s behavior was an indication of what they were like.
He’d give her time. Surely she would realize that he and Charlie were not alike, aside from their mixed heritage. That was something they couldn’t help. Their choices and behavior were things they could control, and Tanner had done nothing except help her.
By the end of the day, she’d not made any sign of having changed her mind.
He stopped by the house to say goodbye, but she hung back. “Goodbye, Susanne. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Goodbye, and thank you again.”
Did pink flood her cheeks? Why would she blush?
He asked himself the same questions the next day when he encountered more of the same. She avoided him and when he spoke to her—good morning and goodbye—her cheeks blossomed like a wild rose.
He pondered the reason day and night. He tossed and turned until his brothers said they could hear him in their rooms and threatened to make him sleep in the barn.
It was on the ride over on the third day that it hit him. She blushed because she was embarrassed for clinging to him both when he found Janie and when he rescued her from Charlie, even though there was really no rescuing. Of course, she did not know that. She’d clung to him in trust.
Perhaps her reaction had frightened her. After all, she tried so hard not to need anyone.
Or...a new thought surfaced...maybe she thought he’d be offended by her actions.
He grinned from ear to ear. He liked the way she’d clung to him. Liked having her lean on him in times of trouble. If he could, he would always be there for her to run to.
How was he to make her understand that without coming right out and saying it? For a moment, he considered doing exactly that—telling her how glad he was to hold her and comfort her. But he wasn’t ready to risk being misunderstood. There remained a very real doubt that she saw him as another Charlie.
He must do something to open the door to better feelings between them.
* * *
Robbie perched at the window, waiting for Tanner to appear. “He isn’t coming. What if he never comes again?”
Susanne wanted to assure Robbie that Tanner would come. He’d said he would seed the crop. His horses were here. But she was beyond trying to convince them when she couldn’t convince herself.
Janie kicked the chair and wailed when it hurt her foot.
The children had been difficult the past few days.
“He’s not going to come,” Janie yelled. “’Cause you don’t like him anymore.”
Susanne felt four pairs of eyes on her. “Is that what you think?” She meant all of them.
Liz shrugged. “Why are you still mad at him?”
“Mad? What makes you think I am?”
Frank spoke up. “That’s what he thinks. He said we had to give you time to get over it.”
“I’m not angry at him. I never was.”
“Then why don’t you talk to him?” Liz asked.
Why, indeed? To avoid embarrassing him? To prevent further humiliation if she should run to him for support and he not give it? To punish herself for wanting so much?
Whatever the reason, she knew what she had to do.
“I’ll talk to him,” she promised, much to the delight of the children, who sighed and smiled.
Robbie returned to his perch at the window.
Susanne knew she wasn’t the only one who held her breath waiting for his announcement. And it came almost at once.
“Here he comes.”
The children rushed outside to wait for him.
Susanne remained inside. She pressed her hand to her breastbone in a futile attempt to ease away the tightness that gripped her chest. Dear Father in heaven, help me find a way to ease the strain between us without throwing myself into his arms.
She listened to him greet the children, then heard the sound of his footsteps thud toward the door. She opened it and her eyes filled with an unexpected sight. A huge bouquet of wildflowers—white daisies and bear grass, blue harebells, pink paintbrush and elephant head.
“For you.” He handed it to her.
She buried her face in the blossoms. It must have taken him an hour or more to pick all these. No wonder he was later than usual. “Thank you.” He’d done this for her and she was touched.
She’d practiced what she would say to him to explain she wasn’t angry, but now she could think of nothing.
She glanced up and saw the uncertainty in his face and her heart went out to him. He feared rejection almost more than anything. How else would he interpret her withdrawal but as rejection? And yet he risked incurring more by bringing her this offering. Her tight throat made it impossible to say anything, but she must find a way to let him know she’d never hurt him.
“Thank you,” she said again. “They’re lovely.”
“I wanted you to know—” He stopped.
“Yes? What did you want me to know?”
“About the other day. You know, about Janie and Charlie. I understand how upset you were. How upset we both were. But be assured I have no intention of reading more into things than that.”
She’d hugged him, leaned into his arms, gone to him for courage, strength and comfort. She’d found them all in his arms, and her heart had ached for more.
Tanner, though, had seen it as simply her being upset.
She should have been relieved at his words—she was not.
If there had been a physical wall between them he had just slammed shut the only door she could hope to go through.
To hide her disappointment, she again pressed her nose to the flowers. A bee escaped the confines of the bouquet, buzzing angrily. She squealed and tried to bat the insect away.
When it landed on her neck she turned toward Tanner. “Get it off.” Her voice was thin. “Ow. He stung me.”
Tanner grabbed the bee and squashed it in his palm, then wiped his hand on his trousers. “Let me have a look at that.”
The children rushed in. “We heard Auntie Susanne scream. What’s wrong?”
“I’ll take the flowers and put them in water,” Liz said, bending to gather up the dropped bouquet.
“Leave them.” Tanner scooped up the flowers and tossed them out the door. “There might be another bee in them. Your aunt got stung.” He returned to Susanne’s side and gently lifted her hand from the spot where the bee had stung her. “Let me look at that.”
She tipped her head and exposed her neck. He trailed gentle fingers ov
er the area. “No stinger. That’s good. Liz, can you find me the baking soda?”
While Liz went to the cupboard for it, Tanner guided Susanne to a chair. She sat, her thoughts alternately frozen to a standstill at his touch and then a whirlwind of confusion at her reaction. A thousand wishes and dreams sprang to life. When had she stopped longing for love and belonging? When, and more importantly, why, had she decided neither were within her reach?
Liz brought the baking soda and with a little water he made a paste and applied it, his fingers massaging her neck, sending delightful tremors up and down her skin. How would it be to be touched in such a way for no reason—not because of a bee sting, not because of a fearful reaction—but simply because he wanted to touch her? She closed her eyes against the rush of emotion that left her shaken to the core.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded even as she forced back the overwhelming tide of longing and opened her eyes. “I’m just—” She couldn’t finish. She cleared her throat before she started again. “I’m fine. It’s just a little bee sting.”
The two youngest ones stared at her, their eyes wide, their mouths pursed in worry. She pulled them both to her.
“I don’t like bees,” Janie said, a sob catching her final word.
Robbie clung to her. “Are you going to die?”
“Oh, sweet child. I’m not going to die from a bee sting.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and another to Janie’s, then turned to the older children. They tried to hide their concern and failed.
Liz looked about ready to cry. “Are you mad at Tanner for bringing you flowers with a bee in them?” The question hung in the air, deadening every other thought, stealing the breath from everyone in the room.
Susanne looked into each child’s worried gaze. She could speak to each of them or she could ease everyone’s mind by speaking to Tanner. She faced him. “Tanner, I appreciate the flowers and your effort to ease things between us. I assure you I am not angry at you. I never was. I only—” She took a deep breath and forced herself to say the words. “I feared I had taken advantage of our friendship.”
