by Linda Ford
He mounted Scout and paused to wave at the family. “See you tomorrow.” He galloped from the yard and didn’t slow down until he was almost home.
* * *
A cool wind the next morning made Tanner study the sky. Clouds hung over the mountaintops in the west, but they were white and puffy, harmless looking. Still, it would be a good idea to keep an eye on the weather. He hitched the horses to the buggy and left for the Collins farm. The day promised enjoyment.
The children heard him coming and waited outside as he approached the house. They allowed him to set the brake before they climbed aboard.
Then Susanne came to the door looking fine in her blue dress. The first time he saw her in it he’d thought she looked like a flower. He didn’t change his mind now.
“Do you need help?” he asked, and she indicated a large basket and a gallon jar of water, which he picked up. She lifted another box that held dishes.
He stowed them all in the back, then put his hands on her waist to help her aboard. Not content to let her climb up on her own, he lifted her to the seat.
She laughed as her feet left the ground.
He jumped up beside her, his heart overflowing with anticipation. A whole day to enjoy Susanne and the children. A warning bell sounded in his brain. Going to town hadn’t always been enjoyable for him. There were those who still harbored resentment toward the Indians and funneled it in his direction even more so than at his brothers because he looked the most Indian of the three. But he pushed the worry aside. Today was for pleasure. Besides, hadn’t Susanne said he made her life easy? He couldn’t ask for more.
The children bounced up and down, constantly asking questions. “How far?”
“Are we almost there?”
“Is that an antelope?”
He welcomed their questions as it provided him something to talk about, something to occupy his thoughts apart from the awareness of Susanne at his side.
The trail followed the trickling creek that bordered the south side of the farm. Two miles later, it ran into Granite Creek, the little river that gave the town its name. They followed it several miles until they had to cross the river to head toward town. He slowed as they drove into the water and followed the rocky crossing to the other side.
“Robbie, don’t lean out so far.” Frank held the boy by the back of his trousers to keep him from tumbling into the river.
Susanne reached back and pulled him safely to the seat. “What were you doing?”
“Did you see those rocks? They shineded like gold.”
Tanner knew the boy had not seen actual gold. “There have been lots of people looking for gold here and none have found any.”
“It was gold,” Robbie insisted. “Someday I’m going to find gold.”
“That would be nice.” Susanne sounded soothing, then to divert the boy, she pointed to a gopher watching them.
The trip took more than three hours and as they neared the town an expectant hush fell over them all. He suspected the children were both curious and excited. As for himself, he felt his muscles twitch. Could he hope to spend a few hours in town without encountering any difficulties? He had to try, for Susanne.
“Where to first?” he asked.
“The general store, please.” She pulled out a piece of paper and stub of pencil and added something to her list.
He parked the wagon in front of the store and helped them down. Susanne took Robbie’s hand and hurried up the steps with the other children close behind. He hesitated, not sure that following them into the store was a good idea. Maybe he’d wait out here. He lounged against the hitching post and watched the comings and goings of the little town.
A man and woman came toward him, saw him, paused, then clung to the far side of the sidewalk as they passed.
He sighed. He’d worn jeans and a plain shirt rather than leather trousers and a fringed shirt in the hopes people would ignore him. Maybe he should have taken the feather out of his hat, too, but it had been given to him by an old Indian chief who had known his ma. It stayed no matter what others might think.
Maybe he’d be less conspicuous inside. He straightened just as three ladies sidled past him and into the store.
Now what?
He stopped himself. He was a Harding and had every right to go freely in and out of any place of business. He crossed the threshold and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior.
“Oh good,” Susanne said. “Would you mind carrying these parcels out for me?” He noticed a sack of flour, others of beans and coffee, numerous boxes and packages. She must have been very low on supplies.
He filled his arms. “I’ll be back for the rest.” He took the purchases to the buggy then returned just as the three ladies clustered about Susanne. The children were on the other side of the store looking at a display of men’s wear. Tanner stopped. He’d wait until the ladies moved off before he’d get the rest of Susanne’s things. No one had noticed his entrance and he withdrew into the corner.
“You’re Jim Collins’s sister, aren’t you?” The speaker fussed with her gloves as she spoke.
“Yes. Did I meet you at his funeral?”
“My husband and I were there. A fine man, your brother was.”
“Thank you.”
A lady with a black bonnet edged forward. “How are you managing out on that farm so far from town and with four children to take care of? Why, it’s simply astonishing that you stay there.”
Susanne widened her eyes, though Tanner knew it was not in surprise. She objected to the suggestion she should leave the farm. “I’m managing quite fine, thank you. The Hardings have helped put the crop in.”
The three ladies tilted their noses upward. “Do you mean that half-breed I saw outside? You should not be associating with the likes of him.”
Tanner clenched his fists. Bad enough he had to deal with such animosity—they had no right to involve Susanne in their dislike of him. He straightened, intending to intervene, but then waited, wanting to know how Susanne would deal with the situation.
She gave each of the ladies a look that should have curled their hair, but they remained oblivious, stuck in their own self-righteousness. “Have you ever considered that he comes from noble people on both sides of his lineage? Or have you ever taken time to notice his strengths?”
“His mother was an Indian.”
“From what I’ve heard she was very strong. She survived being injured and lost for days. I wonder if any of you could handle such a challenge.”
The lady in the black bonnet looked down her fine nose. “Why would we have to?”
“Let me make one thing clear.” Susanne’s voice rang out. “I judge a person not by things they have no control over but by things they do control. Like how they treat others and whether they are kind and generous.” Her voice softened. “I wonder how you ladies would fare under such an evaluation.”
They were undaunted. “You must think of the children and how your association with such a man will affect them,” one of them said.
Susanne’s determined look never faltered. “It’s been very beneficial for them.”
“Humph. I can see you have no sense,” said the woman in the black bonnet. “There will come a day you regret your foolishness.” She and the other two women stormed out of the store without looking to the right or the left.
The storekeeper clapped. “That was a mighty fine speech, miss. I agree with what you said, but I fear you have turned those ladies into enemies.”
Susanne shrugged. “I don’t consider it a loss.”
Tanner remained in the corner, not wanting Susanne to know he’d overheard her.
The door slapped as a boy of about fourteen rushed in. Tanner followed on his heels as if he’d entered at the same time. He hoisted the bag of flour and grab
bed a handful of other things and returned to the buggy. As soon as he loaded the supplies he leaned against the wheel and gathered his thoughts.
She had defended him. Stood up to three highfalutin ladies to do so. Did she really mean what she said? He knew she did and it left him struggling to think what it meant.
The door creaked open and the children rushed out. “We’re going to the post office,” Robbie yelled. He skidded to a stop. “What’s the post office?”
Tanner laughed. It was hard to get lost in thought with the children around, and he welcomed the diversion.
Susanne stood framed by the closed door. “It’s where we get letters.” She seemed to be waiting for something.
He was about to ask what when she tipped her head.
“Are you coming? There might be mail for the ranch.”
He sprang to her side. “I need to check.” Pa had ordered him to do so. They passed the lawyer’s office and the hotel and stopped in front of a small wooden structure where the Stars and Stripes billowed in the wind.
The children were ahead of them and stopped at the sign to wait.
He and Susanne led the way in. Frank and Liz waited by the wicket as Susanne requested the mail. Janie clung to Susanne’s side. Robbie found a chair that swiveled and spun around in it.
Mr. Wigley, the postmaster, cleared his throat.
Tanner joined Susanne at the wicket. “Mail for the ranch, please.”
Mr. Wigley didn’t reach for any but scowled in Robbie’s general direction.
Susanne realized what he meant and pulled Robbie from the chair.
Only then did Tanner receive the handful of letters—three addressed to hired cowboys, the rest to Pa and Maisie. Susanne received a few magazines. He couldn’t tell if she got any letters.
When they left the building, Liz confronted Robbie. “That man did not like you spinning his chair. You shouldn’t have done that.”
“It was fun.”
“Mr. Wigley objected,” Tanner added.
“Mr. Wigley?” Robbie stared at Tanner in disbelief.
“That’s his name.”
“A wiggly man.” Robbie laughed so hard he set the other children laughing.
Tanner looked at Susanne and shook his head. “What are we to do with them?”
The children tried to stop but failed.
She grinned. “Maybe if we feed them?”
“To whom shall we feed them?” he asked.
That set the children off into more helpless giggles.
Janie suddenly grew serious. “Would you feed us to someone?”
He scooped her up. “Not a chance, though you are about sweet enough to eat.” He tickled her as they made their way back to the wagon.
He helped Susanne aboard though he did not swing her into the air for fear someone would see and misjudge his action. He had no wish to bring any more criticism down around her head. “Wait a minute. I’ve got something to do.” He trotted into the store and made his purchase, then took his place beside Susanne. He glanced back to the children. “Who would like to go on a picnic?”
His question was answered with cheers.
He knew the perfect place. The creek, a river at this point, curled around and passed the town on one side. It was a pleasant spot where they’d be alone to enjoy a picnic.
Right now he glanced over his shoulder at the buildings. He couldn’t help it. He was eager to get out of town, away from people who could be watching and, more importantly, judging.
* * *
Susanne tried to think when she’d ever enjoyed a day more. Not, she decided, since her parents had died and she was but an innocent child. The drive to town had been fun and relaxing—no demands, no expectations that she should be doing something else.
At the store, she’d liked having the freedom to purchase the supplies she needed without Aunt Ada pinching every penny. Seeing the children laugh so freely outside the post office was the icing on her cake of joy.
Only one thing marred the day ever so slightly. The three women’s cruel comments about Tanner. It eased her mind some that he hadn’t overheard them. She’d tried to respond graciously and politely when she wanted nothing more than to put them in their place. Tanner was a noble, good man.
How often had the likes of those women said things to make him think otherwise?
Well, he needn’t believe them. Their opinion mattered not at all.
Tanner stopped the wagon at a place he’d declared perfect. She had to agree. The nearby river gurgled in the background, and thick trees sheltered them from the town. As the children ran off to explore and release some of their energy, she spread a quilt on the grassy spot and looked about. “It’s very nice here.”
She wanted to look into Tanner’s eyes but feared doing so would make her forget the children, the picnic and anything else she should be thinking of.
Tanner brought the boxes from the buggy and set them by the quilt. “Did you get everything you needed at the store?”
“Yes, thank you.” Her words felt stilted as she tried to keep from looking at him.
“Good.” She could feel his waiting silence.
“Is something wrong?”
“Not at all.” She concentrated on taking out the sandwiches and cookies.
“Are you concerned about what those ladies said?”
His question brought her to her feet to face him.
“I was there,” he said. “I heard every word.”
The tips of her ears burned. Not with embarrassment but with regret that he’d heard the conversation. She grabbed his arms. “Then you heard what I said.”
He nodded. “Thank you for defending me.”
She studied his eyes, saw the caution there just as she heard the flatness of his words. “Did you think I defended you out of duty or obligation? I thought we were past that.”
“They were right about one thing. Associating with me will mark you in an unpleasant way.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I live so far from town. Even if I didn’t, their opinion is of no importance to me.”
He held her gaze though doubts lingered in his eyes. She had to convince him she was sincere. “My aunt Ada was a proper lady who had her rightful place in society and look how she treated me. If that is what it means to have the approval of ladies such as those, then no thanks. One thing I learned from her was that people need to be treated fairly and kindly. If you can’t believe that of me, then—”
She stepped away, her heart burning that he would think her the least bit like those three women or even Aunt Ada.
He touched her arm, stopped her flight. “I don’t believe you are the least bit like those women, but I’m not sure you should have defended me.”
“I would be remiss not to.”
She spun around and their gazes collided. She meant what she said and she could tell he believed her. For now. How many more times would this come up and make him wonder? It didn’t matter. She wasn’t about to change her mind; nor would she stand by while someone said cruel things about him.
The children raced back. “I’m hungry,” Robbie yelled. Someday she meant to teach him to talk in a normal tone of voice but not yet. If yelling made him feel better then he could yell.
“First we pray.” She looked to Tanner to say grace.
He blinked. Why would he be surprised that she asked? Because he didn’t think God approved of him? Surely he was beginning to see that God had created him in love. And after visiting the trees that were like a cathedral he could not doubt God’s nearness.
Then he nodded. “Father God, the great provider. Thank You for blessing us with this food. Amen.”
She tucked a smile into her heart. For a man who claimed not to feel God cared, he certainly knew how
to talk to Him. Perhaps she could direct his thoughts to God’s love and care.
He sank to the ground at her side and she passed around the food.
The children ate hurriedly so they could return to the trees to play. Before they left, Tanner gave them each a piece of candy, which earned him four hugs.
When they were gone, she leaned back and looked at him. “I meant to tell you that I really enjoyed visiting the cathedral of the trees.”
“Me, too. And now it has a name.” He chuckled as if the idea pleased him.
“I can see why your mother considered it a special place. God seemed so close there. I needed the reminder that He is that close to me wherever I am.”
“Is He?”
“Pardon?”
“Is He that close wherever you are? For instance, when your aunt Ada was berating you, was He close then?”
She nodded. “There were times I forgot it was so but other times, when I remembered, I was comforted, even though my aunt was so cruel and cold.” She wanted to say more, to explain that God didn’t change despite changing circumstances.
He looked toward the river. “I’m learning to believe God doesn’t speak through the mouths of people like those women in the store.”
“I’m glad to hear that finally.” She touched his hand. “I know it must hurt, just like Aunt Ada’s actions and words hurt me. But God’s love for us never changes.”
Before she could gauge his reaction to her words, he bolted to his feet.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Robbie’s by the river and I don’t see any of the other children.” He was halfway to the water before he finished speaking and she scrambled after him, her heart thick as winter molasses. She had a healthy fear of water since her parents drowned.
“Robbie, stay away from the water,” he yelled.
Robbie looked over his shoulder. “I am.” But his feet told a different story. He’d been about to step on a rock sticking out of the water.
