BEYOND ALL REASON

by Judith Duncan

  Closing her eyes in a rush of relief, she tried to conquer the wild flutter in her midriff, then threw back the bedclothes. Fumbling to do up the buttons that had come loose on her nightshirt, she slipped from the room, closing the door silently behind her; then, just as soundlessly, she went down the stairs.

  Her heart hammering with dread and her insides in hots, she entered the kitchen.

  He was at the fridge, drinking straight from a container of juice, the fluorescent light on the back of the stove and the light inside the fridge the only illumination. Worrying the top button of her nightshirt, she watched him, not knowing what to say.

  Tanner turned slightly and put the carton back in the fridge, his expression altering when he saw her. He stared at her for a moment, then shut the door. The rectangle of brightness gone, Kate could no longer see his face clearly, but the way he was holding his body told her more than she wanted to know. She rubbed her thumb over the surface of the button, then folded her arms, feeling alone and vulnerable. She didn't know what to say to bridge the silence. And the last thing she wanted to do was betray Chase's confidence. Feeling as if her heart were stuck in her throat, she took a shaky breath and spoke. "I missed you last night."

  Tanner held her gaze for a split second, then stared at the floor. There was something about the set of his shoulders, about the tight lines around his mouth, that made her want to cry, and she looked up at the ceiling and swallowed hard.

  The ache finally eased, and she looked at him. "Please, Tanner," she pleaded softly. "Talk to me."

  His face contorting in a fury of pent-up feelings, he hit the fridge with the side of his fist, then abruptly turned away. He raised his hand for a second blow, but Kate was across the kitchen before he could act. Shaken by his uncharacteristic display of anger, she seized him by the wrist, then slid her free arm around his rigid shoulders. Grasping him by the back of the neck, she used all her strength to hold him against her. "Don't," she whispered brokenly. "Please, don't." He tried to pull away, but she refused to let him go. Closing her eyes against the feelings that washed through her, she tried to soothe him with the sound of her voice. "Shh, shh," she crooned softly. "It's okay. It's okay."

  He shuddered and turned his face against her neck, then dragged in a deep, ragged breath and caught her in a crushing embrace. Cradling the back of his head, Kate pressed her whole body tight against him, trying to physically give comfort, trying to wordlessly let him know that it was okay. His hand tangled in her hair as he shifted his hold, locking her flush against him. He inhaled raggedly and turned his face against her neck. "I feel like such a bastard. But I don't know how to be around kids, Kate. I never have. And I didn't realize what was happening with Mark."

  Letting go of his head, Kate quickly wiped her eyes, then hugged him hard. She didn't want Tanner to know that she and Chase had talked, but she could do something he would understand. "Yes, you do," she said, her voice softly chastising. "They're just little people, that's all. You treat them how you would've liked to be treated when you were that age." She brushed back his hair, then rubbed the back of his neck. "That's all you have to do." She continued to caress him, giving him time to think about it.

  After a while he released a heavy sigh, and Kate raised her head and looked at him. His expression drawn and sober, he touched her cheek. "I don't know how good I'll be at this," he said, his voice strained.

  She rubbed a trace of juice from the corner of his mouth and gave him a soft, reassuring smile. "You don't have to change, Tanner. They don't want you to be anyone else."

  "God, I hope you're right."

  She hesitated, then spoke, her tone quiet. "Have you talked to Chase yet?"

  Tanner dropped his gaze. "Yeah," he said gruffly. "I talked to him tonight."

  "Good," she whispered.

  Tanner caressed her hip, then cased his hold. "Why don't you go check on Burt, and I'll take a shower."

  Kate placed her hands along his jaw and began stroking his mouth with her thumbs, rising up on tiptoe. "Burt doesn't need to be checked."

  Tanner's pulse leapt beneath her touch, and his breath caught sharply. "Katie, I—"

  Tightening her hold on his face, Kate closed her eyes and brushed her mouth against his. "Shut up, Tanner," she murmured against his lips.

  He hesitated, then he whispered her name and gathered her up against him. Holding her fast, he shifted against her, and Kate gave a soft cry and opened her mouth against his. It was like touching fire to tinder, and a fury of want, a frenzy of need ignited between them, and Kate made a helpless sound against his mouth. Angling his arm across her back, he lifted her higher and caught her behind one knee, dragging her leg around him. Then he continued, sliding his hand up her thigh, his breathing fracturing when he encountered nothing but bare skin. Securing both legs around him, Kate tipped her head back and rolled her pelvis against his groin, and Tanner grasped her by the hips and held her still. "Katie – not here. I—" As if unable to control himself, he thrust up against her, then locked her against him in a savage hold. "Kate, I don't have anything with me."

  Forcing her head down against his shoulder, he tightened his arms around her, his breathing harsh and labored. "Just hold on." He hauled in a deep, jagged breath, then turned toward the doorway. "And for God's sake, don't move."

  * * *

  Kate woke up in Tanner's bed the next morning – naked, boneless, weighted with a delicious heaviness. God, but she felt wonderful. And happy. And light – as if she could almost float. Stretching out on her stomach, she rested her head on her folded arms, listening to the sounds from outside. She wished she could stay in bed all day.

  She heard the back door slam, and she sighed. Rolling over onto her back, she looked at the digital readout on the clock by the bed. Six-thirty. She sighed again. If she was going to be up before the boys, she had to get moving.

  It wasn't until Kate got out of the shower in Tanner's bathroom that it hit her; she had nothing to wear. Putting he nightshirt back on, she slipped out into the hallway, her stomach dropping when she saw that her bedroom door was shut – which meant Chase had returned late last night, or Tanner had closed it when he'd gotten up. And the boys' door was still shut, as well – which meant at least one of them was still asleep. Feeling like a fool and praying that the room was empty, she eased open the door to her room, closing her eyes in relief when she saw the empty bed. The empty unslept-in bed. She grinned to herself. Somehow she didn't think Chase had spend another night on the bunkhouse floor.

  By the time Kate finished dressing and was ready to go downstairs, there was a different set of sounds outside, and in the clear morning air she heard the cook house door slam. When she passed the window on the way out of the room, she heard Mark talking to someone outside. Holding back the curtain, she looked out. Mark was talking to himself. She'd seen him put the rotted rope in the truck yesterday, after he returned Chase's rope to him. Now he was out in the side yard, the end knotted in a loop, trying to rope a fence post. Experiencing a familiar tightness in her chest, she watched her small son, wishing things could be different for him.

  She was about to turn away when a movement along the fence caught her eye, and she lifted the curtain farther away from the window. The ache in her chest was abruptly replaced by a different sensation. Tanner, dressed in new blue jeans, a gray suede, Western-cut sports jacket and his best gray Stetson, opened the gate and came through. He was obviously dressed for town, and he was obviously about to leave. But her heart nearly stopped altogether when she saw the coiled rope he had in his hand.

  At the sound of the gate, Mark turned, and Kate could see the color drain from his face. As if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't, he stuck the rope behind his back.

  Resting his hand on his hip, Tanner looked down and worked a clod of dirt with the side of his boot. Finally he looked at the boy and spoke, his tone quiet. "I was watching you rope yesterday, Mark. I found this rope in the tack room, and I thought you might like
to have it."

  Mark looked from Tanner to the rope, then back to Tanner. Then Kate saw him let go of the rope behind his back. "Wow," he said, his voice quavery. "Thank you."

  Kate could tell by the way Tanner looked down that he hadn't missed the little subterfuge that had taken place behind her son's back. His guilty conscience obviously getting the best of him, Mark rubbed his hands against his jeans, then bent over and picked up the rope he'd been using. "I was practicing with this," he said, shamefaced.

  Tanner crouched down in front of the boy, laying down the coil of rope he'd brought and taking the frayed piece. He fingered the knot, then handed the makeshift lariat back to the boy. "Maybe we could fix this for Scott instead. You need to practice with something longer."

  Mark looked up, meeting Tanner's solemn gaze. He stared into the man's eyes with the unwavering intentness of a child, then managed a wobbly smile. "Okay. We'll give it to Scott."

  Tanner handed him the new rope, then got to his feet. "I have an appointment in town this morning, but maybe we can work on it later. Okay?"

  Mark hugged the gift to his chest and looked up at Tanner, his eyes wide with awe, as if he'd just been handed the world. All he could do was nod and hold his rope. Tanner stared at him for a moment, then gave him a little flip on the end of his nose. "Tell your mom I'll be back later, okay?"

  Mark nodded again, so much wonder on his face that he seemed to vibrate with it. "Thank you, Tanner," he said fervently, looking up at the man who stood before him. "I'll take good care of it."

  Tanner stared down at him, then responded, his voice gruff. "I know you will." Squeezing the boy's shoulder, he turned and walked away.

  Clutching her hands against her breastbone, Kate watched him disappear from sight, her vision blurred, so many emotions breaking loose inside her that she couldn't distinguish one from another. She wondered if Mark would ever know the significance of that gift. Or its ties to the past.

  Realization dawning on her, she bolted for the door and out into the hallway, flying down the stairs two at a time. She had to catch him before he left. She just had to.

  Mark was coming into the kitchen just as she was making for the door. His face still awash with wonder, he held up the rope and started to speak, but she brushed past. "Just hold on a minute, sweetheart. I've got to catch Tanner before he leaves."

  She stumbled and nearly lost her balance on the last step, then caught herself on the rail. Realizing that he was about to climb into the truck, she called to him, and he turned, one hand on the open door, the other resting on his hip, the brim of his hat shading his face. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts as she went toward him. She was caught, she knew. What she had overheard was between Mark and Tanner, and she couldn't interfere in that, but there was no way she could let him leave with disquieting memories from the past foremost in his mind. Not after what he had just done for her small son.

  Reaching him, she held her wind-whipped hair back from her face and squinted up at him, the sun directly in her eyes. Nearly overwhelmed by feelings too great to express, she gazed up at him, her smile not quite steady, her voice catching when she spoke. Lied, actually. "Mark said you were going to town."

  The solemn expression in his eyes altered, changing to a heart-stopping look that made Kate's heart roll over. "Yeah. To Pincher," he answered, his tone husky. "Did you want me to pick up something?"

  Something sweet and wonderful washed through Kate, something that made her feel light and happy. She shook her head and smiled into his eyes. "I just wanted to say good-bye."

  He pulled back a wisp of hair, his touch soft and sensual, but the glint in his eyes was mostly amusement. "Saying goodbye to you is not good for my health, Kate," he responded dryly. "I tend to suffer a lot afterward."

  Loving his lopsided smile, delighted that he had made such a remark and happy that the shadows were gone from his eyes, she braced her hand on his chest and kissed him.

  Without touching her anywhere else, he opened his mouth and kissed her in return, his lips pliant and moist and tasting of coffee. Then, on an uneven intake of air, he broke off the kiss, his heart pounding beneath her hand. He stared down at her, one hand still slung on his hip, then he bent his head, drew his hand across his eyes and exhaled sharply. Kate, feeling unaccountably pleased with herself, straightened the lapel of his jacket. He caught her hand and held it tight, then lifted his head and looked at her, a gleam of rebuke in his eyes, amusement lurking around his mouth. "I knew you were trouble the minute I laid eyes on you in Rita's café," he said, rubbing his thumb across her palm, the very male glint in his eyes making her knees want to buckle. "And you're trouble this morning. I should have locked you in the closet." He gave her one final amused look, then climbed into the truck.

  Kate remained rooted to the ground long after he had disappeared, feeling as if all her insides might disintegrate, not sure who had distracted whom.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  «^»

  Kate finally had to forbid the boys from bringing their lariats in the house. At first it amused her when they both insisted on eating with them, sleeping with them, even going to the bathroom with them. Tanner had fixed the short, softer rope for Scotty – the ends properly taped, the frayed parts singed off – and he had shortened the one he'd brought for Mark. She thought it cute, the way they lugged those ropes around. That lasted two days. By the third day, nothing was safe. Anything that moved, and anything that didn't, was a fair target, and she was getting damned tired of being ambushed at every turn, cooking supper, hanging clothes outside, ironing, coming out of the bathroom – it didn't matter.

  So she outlawed the throwing of ropes in the house. Burt said he would keep them in his room. Then she caught her sons taking turns trying to rope Burt's feet, with him giving instructions, so ropes were banned from the house. Period. Privately she had to admit that Mark was getting pretty good.

  It was Sunday morning, four days after branding, and Kate had made blueberry waffles and whipped cream for breakfast. Everyone was at the table, even Burt, and the others had just finished eating when Chase casually mentioned that he'd talked to his business partner early that morning. Kate knew his timing wasn't casual at all; she could tell by the tautness in his jaw and the way he avoided looking at anyone.

  There was a strained silence; then he told them that there were problems with supplying stock to a major rodeo, and he was going to have to roll out that morning. Kate, who hadn't finished eating yet because she'd been feeding Burt, laid her fork on her plate, then looked at Tanner. He was sitting with his forearms resting on the table, his gaze averted, rolling a fallen iris petal between his fingers. He had that same tight, impassive expression on his face that she'd seen when she'd first arrived, and it tore her apart.

  Burt fumbled with the paper napkin tucked in the front of his shirt, his mouth trembling. She wanted to comfort him, as if he were a small child, but instead she tried to bridge the silence. "We're going to miss you, Chase."

  He rubbed his thumbnail along the rim of his mug; then he looked up and met her gaze, his eyes stark. He started to say something, but instead he shook his head and shoved his chair back, getting to his feet. "I have to make a quick trip down to the bunkhouse before I go. I'll wheel up this way before I pull out." He left the kitchen, and Tanner shoved his chair back and got up, following his brother out of the room.

  Burt muttered and looked ferocious, wiping roughly at his eyes with the napkin. "Damn fool. He should come back here where he belongs. He don't belong on some ranch in Colorado. He belongs on the Bar M – like his granddaddy before him."

  Kate's own throat closed up, and she leaned over and gave the old man a tight hug, careful of his fragile old bones. "You did a fine job with the pair of them, Burt Shaw. You truly did."

  He didn't answer, so she took his cold, blue-veined hand between hers to stop the trembling, and he clutched at her fingers. He stuck out his chin at her and gave her a fierce, defiant look.
"I know prime stock when I see it." But then his eyes got all watery again, and he clawed at the napkin and blotted his eyes. "Damn it, woman. You must have burned something. I got smoke in my eyes."

  * * *

  Chase McCall knew a lot about saying goodbye. He made it quick. He made it short. But nothing he could have done would have made it painless. There were fresh tears in Burt's eyes when the black truck headed down the road, and Scott had refused to come out of his room. As soon as Chase pulled away, Mark ran along the path leading to a low hill overlooking the lane and stood there watching for the vehicle to turn onto the main road.

  Tanner didn't show any emotion at all. His expression completely closed down, he took Burt into the house and put him to bed, then turned around and strode out of the room. Before Kate could even get the guardrail up on Burt's bed, she heard the back door slam. Burt closed his eyes, his face sunken with exhaustion, and Kate glanced anxiously at the door, then turned back to her patient. He opened his eyes and looked at her, then closed his eyes again and let out a sigh. "Don't forget to put a light in the window," he said, his voice thick.

  Kate wasn't sure whether he meant it literally, or if the past and the present had gotten muddled in his mind. She gently wiped some moisture from the corner of his eye, then leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I won't," she said softly.

  Changing the angle of the venetian blinds, she quietly left the room, pulling the door partially closed behind her. Cyrus was standing at the kitchen window, his arms folded. He turned and looked at her. "I don't usually jest bust in, Miz Quinn. But I thought you might want me to stay with Burt and the sprouts. It ain't always good when Chase leaves. 'Course, I don't think Chase is over fond of it hisself. Too much water under the bridge."

  Grateful for his offer, she started for the door. "Mark's east of the house on—"

  "Well, no, ma'am, he ain't. He's gone upstairs to get his brother. Figured we might try a game of Snakes and Ladders."