by Linda Ford
Tanner reached him first and scooped him up.
Susanne rushed to Tanner’s side. “Robbie, what were you doing?” She patted him all over to be certain he was okay.
“I wasn’t going to get hurt. I just want that shiny rock.” He pointed to the one he meant.
She took him from Tanner, gripped his arms and gave him a little shake. “You must never go into a river, you hear?”
He nodded.
“Now go back to the buggy and wait.” Her limbs shook, as did her voice, revealing just how frightened she’d been.
The other children gathered round.
“Take your brother to the buggy,” Tanner said, though his eyes never wavered from Susanne.
When they were back at the picnic area and she began to put things away, he stepped in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders to still her.
“Susanne, are you okay?”
Her eyes felt too wide. She couldn’t blink. Couldn’t form a rational thought. “What if he drowned?”
“He didn’t. He’s okay.”
She rocked her head back and forth. “He could have. Just like my parents.” A shudder shook her from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, then settled into the pit of her stomach. “I hate water.”
He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “I can see why. But Robbie is okay and there is no water near the farm so you don’t need to fret.”
She hugged her arms about her. “I know but that fact doesn’t make me any less fearful.” She tried to laugh, the sound coming out as more of a wail.
He pulled her closer, his hands firm on her arms. If he would wrap her close, press her to his heart, her fear might subside. But they were not alone. She glanced past him to the children by the buggy and beyond them to the houses and businesses of Granite Creek. Not that she cared what the good folk of the town might think, but she did care how her actions would affect him and the children.
“I’m okay,” she managed, but she could not force herself to move away from his touch.
But he’d seen her look toward town and dropped his hand. “We need to start back.”
They packed up and were soon on their way back home. She breathed deeply and prayed silently for the gripping fear to end.
A flash of lightning jerked her from her thoughts. Dark clouds rolled and twisted overhead. Thunder echoed down the hills and pounded inside her heart. “We’re getting a storm.” Her voice squeaked from her tight throat.
“I’m hoping we beat it home.” Tanner sounded calm but perhaps only because he sensed her fear.
She shivered in the wind that had turned suddenly and drastically colder.
He pulled to a stop. “Put this around you.” He wrapped a woolen blanket about her shoulders, then covered the children with a fur robe.
“Are we going to drown?” Janie asked.
“Of course not,” said Liz, trying to sound brave.
Tanner faced the children. “A little rain never hurt anyone. The worst that can happen is we get wet.”
Susanne clamped her teeth tight and still they chattered, though not from cold. Tanner was wrong. Rain could hurt people. It could cause flash floods and people could drown.
Chapter Fifteen
Tanner darted a glance to the west where the rain came down in sheets. If only he could get them home before the storm reached them. Susanne still shuddered every few minutes from the fright Robbie had given her playing so close to the river.
He kept the horses to a steady pace knowing they could not gallop the entire distance.
Lightning slashed across the sky. He counted the seconds before the thunder clapped. Ten. The storm was still a long ways off. But every flash, every rumble caused Susanne to jolt.
They reached the ford across the creek.
Susanne stared at the dark waters. “It’s higher than when we came.”
It was but only marginally. It wouldn’t be long, though, before the waters from up the mountain rushed down and made the creek rise. He kept his thoughts to himself as he guided the horses across the rocky ford.
Susanne sat white-knuckled.
“Robbie!” Liz’s voice jerked his attention from the rocky path to the children.
Robbie had slipped from the shelter of the fur robe and leaned dangerously far out looking at the water.
He grabbed the boy and set him back in the seat.
Frank wrapped the robe around him.
Robbie jammed his arms over his chest and glowered at them all. “I only want to see the gold. It’s there, you know.”
The buggy tilted to one side. Tanner grabbed the reins and pulled the horses back to the rocky roadbed.
Susanne keened softly. He pulled her to his side and pressed her close. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” He held her until the horses pulled the buggy to shore. “We’re across. We’ll soon be home.”
They followed the trail for several miles and she kept her eyes on the creek beside them even though the sight of the water obviously frightened her.
The wind increased in velocity. Lightning flashed and the time until the thunder echoed grew shorter. Moisture filled the air. He flicked the reins to hurry the horses along. If only they could make it home before the rain came.
He cupped his hand to Susanne’s head and pressed her face to the hollow of his shoulder so she couldn’t look at the water. “Liz, Frank, what was that hymn you sang the Sunday I was there when you were having church? Why don’t you sing it for us?”
The children sang loudly, but the wind carried their voices away.
Finally they left the creek and turned toward the farm and Susanne began to relax.
When Tanner pulled up to the house, Frank unwrapped the children and he and Liz helped the little ones down and then carried in the things Susanne had purchased. The wild horses whinnied and raced about the enclosure, frightened by the storm. He could do little about it at the moment and hoped they would not injure themselves.
Susanne clung to Tanner. He hated to let her go, but as soon as his feet hit the ground he lifted her down and carried her inside.
He barely made it through the door when the skies opened.
He set Susanne on her feet. She clung to him, her eyes much too wide.
“It’s raining.”
He nodded. “Yes, it is, and that’s good news for your garden and crop.”
She barely acknowledged his words. “What if we’d gotten caught in it and had to cross the creek?” Her thin voice quavered.
“We didn’t but even if we were still out there, we’d get wet. That’s all.”
Her gaze clung to him, full of disbelief.
“Auntie, are you scared?” Robbie asked.
The boy’s words made her draw in a shuddering breath and Tanner could see her shoulders relax. “I’m okay now. Why don’t you children change?”
The sound of the frightened horses carried on the wind.
“Will you be okay if I go check on the animals?” Tanner asked.
She scrubbed her lips together. “It’s just rain.” As if to prove her wrong, lightning turned the world outside to silvery white. A few seconds later, thunder shook the house. She shuddered.
“I’ll stay.” He’d turn the whole herd loose if it would erase the fear from her face.
She closed her eyes, perhaps in prayer, then sucked in a deep breath. “We’re safe and dry inside. You do what you need to do.”
“I’ll be back in a minute.” He pulled his hat low and ran into the rain to the corrals. The horses milled about, the whites of their eyes showing large. If only he’d spent more time with them since he brought them in, perhaps they’d be comforted by his presence. Nevertheless, he swung over the top plank and sat down. Not knowing what else to do, and awar
e it was the method many cowboys used to calm a herd of cows, he began to sing an old trail song. “‘Whoopie ti yi yo, get along little dogies.’” He raised his voice as loud as he could.
It worked. The horses slowly settled down. The lightning moved down the hills away from them and the thunder grew more distant. The rain settled into a gentle patter.
He stopped singing and waited to see if the horses would grow agitated again. They didn’t. He slipped to the ground and dashed across the muddy yard to the house.
Susanne stood in the same spot where he’d left her, facing the door. She exhaled loudly when he came in. “Is everything okay?”
“Right as—” He was about to say rain, which would have been the normal word to use. “Sunshine.”
Recognizing the change in his word choice, she smiled. “You’re soaked.” She handed him a towel.
“I’ll dry. But I’m dripping all over the floor.”
“It’s just water.” She tipped her head and considered him. “Did I hear someone singing?”
“I don’t know. Did you?” No one had ever suggested he had a musical voice and he was somewhat embarrassed that she’d heard him.
“Ti yi yi,” Robbie shouted. “You was singing to the horses.”
He turned and saw the children sitting at the table. “They seemed to like it.”
“Me, too.” Robbie ran around the kitchen, half singing, half shouting “Ti yi yi” over and over.
Susanne uncrossed her arms and threw back her head as she laughed at Robbie.
For the first time since the storm had approached, the tension eased from Tanner’s nerves.
They watched Robbie for a few moments. But Tanner’s jeans were heavy with water and every time he moved his head, water dripped from his hat. “The storm has moved off and I better move off, as well.”
She met his gaze. “Thank you for everything.”
His eyebrows went up. “Everything?”
A smile teased her worried eyes. “The trip to town, getting us home safely and all that.”
“My pleasure.” More so than she would ever guess. “Goodbye.”
The children clustered about him to say goodbye. Susanne stood in the open doorway as he returned to the buggy. “Goodbye,” she called as he grabbed the reins. Reluctantly, he turned the buggy toward the ranch. He paused once to turn and wave and once more just before he rode out of sight.
She remained in the doorway watching.
That simple little fact warmed him all the way home.
* * *
Finally. Tanner was heading to the farm to work with his horses. He greeted the children, who ran toward him as he approached the house, but his eyes sought Susanne. He saw no sign of her. Was she ill? Had the storm yesterday given her a chill? “Where’s your aunt?”
“In the barn.” Frank pointed. “Trying to put a handle on a hoe. She’s been trying for a long time but the hoe keeps falling off. She told us to go away because she was getting frustrated.”
Tanner chuckled. “I’ll go see how she’s faring.”
The children began to follow.
“Maybe you should stay back just in case.”
Janie’s lips trembled. “Is she going to get into trouble?”
He scooped up the child. “No, you little sweetheart, she isn’t in trouble. But like Frank said, she might be a little frustrated.”
Liz leaned close and whispered in his ear, “She was really, really frustrated. Said she might take the sledgehammer to the whole works. Then she said she couldn’t because it was the only hoe she could find.”
The grin that widened Tanner’s mouth came from a place deep in his heart. “I’ll see what I can do.” What had happened to the other hoe they’d used when planting the garden? He knew the answer. One of the children had used it for something and not returned it. He’d look for it later.
He put Janie on her feet and strode into the barn. In the tack room that Frank had organized Susanne was bent over an anvil, a hammer in her hand. Strands of hair fell over her face as she tapped the sleeve of the hoe around the wooden handle. He stood back and watched her, enjoying the scene far more than he should.
She lifted the hoe, banged it on the floor. The handle and the head parted ways. “What is wrong with you?” she said in an exasperated tone. “Why don’t you stay together?”
“Maybe I can help?”
She squeaked and turned to him. “You frightened me. I didn’t know you were here.” Her eyes narrowed. “How long have you been standing there?”
He stepped into the little room and took the handle from her. “Long enough to see you need a lesson in putting a handle on a hoe.” He decided it best not to ask how it got loose in the first place.
“It looks easy enough.” She scooped up the head of the hoe and scowled at the offending tool.
“It’s not difficult once you know what to do.” He measured the shank on the head of the hoe, cut the tip of the handle so it would fit in properly, then jammed it into the hoe. “See these two holes? They’re for securing the handle.” He found two nails, pounded them through the holes and shook the hoe. “There. That’s good and firm. Now I’ll sharpen it for you.” He took it to the grinder and sharpened the edge. “There you go.”
She took it, jabbed at the floor and crowed with delight when it didn’t fall apart. “Thank you. And about yesterday...” She leaned on the hoe and looked at him with a regretful expression. “I’m sorry to have made such a fuss about nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing. You were frightened. I understand that.”
“I can’t seem to get over it even though I tell myself I’m being silly.”
He brushed his knuckles along her cheeks, reveling in the smoothness of them. He caught a strand of runaway hair and tucked it behind her ear. “You have every reason to be afraid of water.”
Her eyes clung to his with such hungry intensity that his hands grew still and he forgot to breathe. “I don’t want to pass my fear on to the children.”
What could he say? It wasn’t as if her fears were irrational. He spoke the only words that came to his mind. “What do you think of when you see the waters of a river?”
“I think of what the people said who came to inform me that my mama and papa had drowned. They said the dark, turbulent waters had sucked them under. And I feel myself being sucked under.”
“What would happen if you looked at something besides the waters?”
“Like what?”
“Well, the sun won’t be shining if it’s raining out.” He thought of his own life. “When I was younger I used to touch the yoke of my ma’s dress and it would drive away my fears. Do you have anything like that?”
“I have my mother’s brooch.”
“Would it work to think of that instead of the waters?”
“I don’t know. I could try. I’m willing to try anything.”
That settled and the hoe repaired, they headed for the door. The children still waited outside, each wearing an anxious expression. Liz studied her aunt, and when she saw the hoe in her hands, her face broke into a grin. “I guess it’s okay to talk to you now.”
Susanne hugged the child. “I’m sorry if I was short with you. Fixing a hoe handle is easy if you know how.”
“Are you going to work on the horses now?” Frank asked. He jiggled from one foot to the other as if he couldn’t wait for Tanner to get started.
“That’s my plan.”
“Can we watch?”
The horses were already used to the children so he couldn’t see it would be a problem. “Sure.”
He expected Susanne to object or to wander off with the repaired hoe, but she leaned it against the barn and joined the children at the fence. Unlike the children she watched him, not the horses, making the muscle i
n his legs move with awkward stiffness as he climbed into the pen. He tried not to be aware of her attention, knowing he needed to be completely focused on his task.
He meant to gentle-break the horses, teaching them to trust him and then obey him because of that trust. He’d work with them one-on-one, which meant guiding each one in turn into the smaller pen that Jim had built for that purpose. Pretty Lady was the most likely one to cooperate so he started with her, working her around and into the pen. She already associated him with food so he used it to get the horse to come to him.
All morning he worked at gentling and teaching the horse.
At noon, Susanne brought out some dinner even though he didn’t expect it now that he was not working for her. But he sure did appreciate it. Almost as much as he enjoyed her company while he ate.
He worked all afternoon, pausing only to gratefully accept a drink of cold water and a handful of cookies, then resuming work until he knew he must leave or worry Maisie about being late.
When he went to the house to say goodbye, all he could think about was saying hello in the morning.
After a restless night he returned to continue working with Pretty Lady. Already she ate from his hand and let him pet her.
At noon, when Susanne brought him food, he climbed over the fence and sat against the barn with her at his side. “I saw you out in the garden. How’s it looking?” He’d watched there, knew when she stopped to go inside to make dinner and waited eagerly for her to bring something out to him. He counted the seconds, which had mysteriously grown long and plodding.
“Little seedlings are popping through everywhere. And weeds, too, of course. I’m making good use of the hoe. I think of you every time I chop out a weed.” She slanted him a look so full of teasing and something more that he choked.
She patted his back. “You okay?”
He downed water and nodded. “That sounds rather ominous.” He threw his arms up as if to protect himself from her hoe.
She laughed and rubbed his arm. “Not those kinds of thoughts.”
The world stood still. The seconds ceased to pass. His heart slowed. “Oh? What sort of thoughts, then?”
