"I won't be—"
"Now don't go worrying about time, Miz Quinn. You'll likely find the boss saddling up that bay of his. He usually heads out to the back country for a spell after his brother leaves."
Kate ran all the way to the barn. Between the awful feeling building in her chest and the downhill sprint, she was out of breath and flushed by the time she reached the open door. Tanner was standing with his back to her, his blue chambray shirt pulled taut across it, his horse already saddled and bridled.
The stirrup was hooked on the horn, and Tanner was making some final adjustments to the cinch. Kate gave herself a moment to catch her breath and for her pulse to settle. She couldn't even guess what was going through his mind, and she didn't know what to say, but she knew that if she didn't say something, she would have failed not only him, but herself, as well. Bracing herself with a deep breath, she stepped from the brightness into the shadowed interior, her voice not quite steady when she spoke. "Tanner?"
He stuck the end of the latigo into a slit in the saddle, then dropped the stirrup. "What?"
She folded her arms and looked at him. "I think we should talk."
He straightened the brow band of the bridle and pulled the horse's forelock free. "It has nothing to do with you."
Kate felt something slip inside her, and she started to tremble. She clutched her arms tighter and looked at him. "Who, exactly, does it have to do with?"
Tanner finally looked at her, the muscles in his jaw flexing and his eyes stony. "Just what is it you want to know, Kate?" It was as if she'd experienced an internal avalanche – cold, fast, leveling. She hadn't known anything could hurt like that remote, icy look in his eyes. She dropped her arms and nearly turned away, but then she turned back to him, deciding to put everything on the line. "You won't give me a chance, Tanner. You know everything about me, about my family, about my marriage. I've kept nothing from you. But you hold everything back. I know bits and pieces, but I don't know the most important part – and that's how those things affected you. I don't know what it was like for you after your mother died, and I don't know how you felt when you found out about Chase. You don't even trust me enough to tell me why you left the Bar M – or how you ended up here."
She paused for a moment, then tightly folded her arms, her whole body trembling. "This is about trust, Tanner. About trusting me with all the really awful stuff that's happened to you." Suddenly unable to see, she roughly wiped at her face, desperate to make him understand. Swallowing hard, she went on, her voice trembling with emotion. "Don't you know I'd never betray anything you shared with me? Don't you know that?"
The back door of the barn slid open, and Ross entered, leading a saddled horse and two others with just halters on. He looked at Tanner. "You riding out?"
"Yeah, I am." Without looking at Kate, Tanner flipped the reins over the gelding's neck, then swung into the saddle, turning the horse toward Ross. Realizing she'd lost whatever advantage she had, Kate turned and walked quickly out the front door, struggling with the anger and the terrible hurt. What was she doing here? She already had one mess in her own life that she couldn't manage. And now she was in another one – only, this one hurt like hell.
* * *
Kate sat on the back step, watching the vibrant sunset colors change, the last rays painting the clouds caught against the mountains with hues of purple and flame and gold. She braced her elbow on her knee and propped her head on her hand, a knot of desolation catching in her throat. God, she felt miserable. And dishonest.
She'd been so wrong, so damned wrong. She'd been pretty self-righteous saying what she had to Tanner. It had taken her all afternoon to work through it, but she'd finally figured it out. His unwillingness to talk about his past was his way of surviving. And who was she to make judgments on how he dealt with his life? She hardly had an unblemished track record herself. She'd said some truly stupid, stupid things – about his trusting her with the awful stuff. That was her own insecurity talking. Trust had nothing to do with sharing pain; trust was about unconditional acceptance. He had unconditionally accepted her – and then she'd let him down. God, how she'd let him down.
The colors in the sky blurred together, and Kate hooked her heels on the edge of the step and drew up her legs, locking her arms around them. Lord, she had screwed things up. All because she'd wanted to play mother when he needed to go back into the hills and lick his wounds.
Releasing a heavy sigh, she resisted the urge to look at her watch again. It had been quarter to ten the last time she'd looked, and that had been only moments ago. He had been gone hours and hours – twelve, to be exact – and there wasn't that much light left. He hadn't had any lunch or any supper, and for all she knew, he didn't even have any water with him.
Anxiety twisting her insides into knots, she got up and entered the house, careful not to let the screen door slam behind her. The house was dark, except for the fading light coming in through the kitchen windows, and she went to the stove and turned on the fluorescent light, then went into Burt's room. She could tell by the angle of his head that he'd fallen asleep watching the sunset, and that made her feel even worse.
She pulled the covers up, careful not to disturb him, knowing how cold his hands got if they weren't covered. He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Is he home yet?"
She shook her head.
Burt continued to watch her, and Kate sat down on the edge of the bed. "What is it?" she queried softly.
She saw him fumble beneath the quilt, and she pushed the blanket down and took his hand. He made a gruff sound, then looked up at her. "Were you pulling my leg about that rehabilitation thing, or were you speaking fact?"
Kate rubbed her thumb across his knuckles, her expression sober. "So much depends on you, Burt. But if you make up your mind you're going to give it your best shot and really work with the therapist instead of against her, I think you can improve your situation a lot. You might need a cane or a walker to get around, but that's better than this. And the longer you lie here, the harder it's going to be to recover that lost ground."
He tightened his bony fingers around hers and closed his eyes. After a moment, he spoke. "So you don't think I'm on my last legs here?"
The thought of Burt dying was almost too much for Kate to cope with right then, but she somehow managed to keep her voice steady. "I don't know the answer to that. But I do know you're strong, and you have a stubborn streak a mile wide, and I also know if you make up your mind to do something, nothing on earth is going to stop you."
He looked at her, his eyes suspiciously wet as he scowled. "I ain't afraid of dying, if that's what you're drying at." He closed his eyes, and Kate heard him try to swallow as moisture seeped out from beneath his lids. "It's just that I don't want to die and leave that boy alone," he said gruffly, his mouth trembling. "I just can't abide the thought."
Her own eyes suddenly stinging, Kate swallowed and tightened her hold on his hand. He drew his good hand from beneath the blanket and awkwardly patted her arm. "You're a good woman, Kate Quinn."
"And you're a good man, Burt Shaw," she whispered unevenly.
He tightened his fingers around her hand, his tone cross. "And I can't abide tears, either."
Kate gave a shaky smile and squeezed his hand, then wiped her face with the inside of her wrist. Tucking the blanket up around him, she sat beside him until he went back to sleep, wishing her grandfather could have met him. They would have been cronies right from the start.
* * *
It was going on eleven when Kate finally went up to bed. She had planned on finding a book to keep her mind off Tanner's absence, but she couldn't focus on anything. She kept checking to see if there were any lights on in the barn, but it finally hit her that he was probably avoiding her. Dispirited beyond words, she checked Burt one last time, turned out all the lights except the control panel one on the stove, then went upstairs. She collected her nightshirt and the mobile monitor for Burt, then went into the bathroom and started
running the tub. Maybe a hot bath would help.
When she came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, there was a light on in Tanner's room. Her heart lurching, she stood there in the darkened hallway, hugging her clothes to her chest, trying to decide what to do.
Almost too ashamed to face him, she collected every bit of courage she had and approached his open door. He was standing by the dresser, the light from the bathroom the only illumination, and she realized he'd just come in. She wondered why she hadn't heard him – unless, of course, he hadn't wanted to be heard. Depressed by that thought, she pushed the door open wider, trying to ignore the frenzy in her chest. "I owe you an apology, Tanner," she said, her voice quavering. "I said some really stupid things. And you have every right to be ticked off with me."
He tossed his pocketknife on the dresser, then reached for the buttons of his shirt. The way he was standing, Kate couldn't see his face, but she could see the rigid set of his shoulders, and her stomach plummeted. There was no leniency there. Yet she couldn't blame him if he didn't want to talk to her; she'd said some pretty thoughtless things. Experiencing an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach, she tightened her grip on her clothes. Her pulse thick with dread, she spoke, her voice just above a whisper. "I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. I was way out of line." She hesitated, hoping for some response, but when she got none, she turned and started back to her room.
She was halfway across the hall when there was a movement behind her and Tanner spoke, his voice strained. "I think we need to talk, Kate."
A sudden sweep of dread made her whole body tense, and she closed her eyes, feeling sick and shaky. Lord, but that subdued tone scared her to death. Bracing herself, she turned. Tanner was standing framed in the doorway, the faint light from his bathroom casting him in silhouette, his face obscured by shadows. Kate stared at him for a moment, then retraced her steps. He stood aside, and she entered the room, her heart skipping a beat when he closed the door behind her. Unnerved by the silence, she placed her clothes on the old trunk, then stuck her hands up the wide sleeves of her night-shirt, suddenly cold. Deep in thought, Tanner stood at the end of the bed, absently tracing the grain on the bedpost, his face unreadable. Finally he dropped his hand and turned, going over to the windows. Bracing his hand on the frame, he stood staring out at the lighted yard, and Kate experienced a disquieting chill.
Rubbing her arms against it, she watched him, not knowing what to say, or if she should say anything at all. She had done so much damage already.
His hand on his hip, Tanner continued to stare out the window. After a long pause, he spoke, his voice strained. "What do you know about me, Kate?"
Her knees suddenly unsteady, she sat down on the bed, the flutter in her chest expanding. "I know that your mother died when you were six, and I know you spent the next six years in a foster home, and I know that you went to live with Cyrus and his wife on your father's ranch when you were twelve." Feeling as if she'd betrayed him in the most unforgivable way, Kate made a helpless gesture with her hand. "Tanner, please," she whispered. "You don't have to do this. I was wrong."
Tanner remained motionless at the window, not saying anything for a long time. Finally he spoke, his voice strained. "You asked me today why I left the Bar M."
Kate stared at him, her heart suddenly hammering, a sense of foreboding settling heavily in her. And she knew – just knew by the tightness in his voice, by the rigidity of his body – that this was not going to be about neglect or abuse. This was going to be about stripping away a person's pride and dignity. And she wasn't sure she wanted to hear about it. She hugged herself, her insides shaky. "You don't have to do this, Tanner," she repeated, her voice wobbling. "It's not important."
He straightened, touching the hardware on the window. "You're wrong, Kate," he answered roughly. "I do have to do this." He bent his head and rubbed his eyes, then stuck his hand in his back pocket and stared out the window. "I was not quite twelve when Cyrus and his wife took me back to the Bar M to live with him. He was the ranch foreman at the time, and probably the only person in the entire county who wasn't intimidated by my father. I guess there was hell to pay when Chase's mother found out I was living with them. She tried to get my father to fire Cyrus, but Millie squared off with her – told her that trouble could go both ways, and if Ellie decided to kick up a stink, she and Cyrus would go to the child welfare authorities about me. My old man was being considered for a senate appointment, and Ellie was shrewd enough to know what publicity like that would do to his chances. So Ellie backed off." Tanner paused, his voice soft with recollection as he added quietly, "Those were two of the best years of my life."
Kate watched him, feeling as if he had gone somewhere she couldn't follow. Unsettled, she shivered against a sudden chill and used the sound of her voice to draw him back. "What changed it?"
Tanner gave another little shrug. "Millie died of a cerebral hemorrhage. Cyrus started drinking. I hit high school." He drew his hand out of his pocket and stilled the blind pull that was swinging in the breeze coming through the open window. He fingered the weight, then stuck his hand back in his pocket. "It was my first year of high school, and I got mixed up with a girl who was two years older. Her father had a long-standing feud with the McCalls, and he raised holy hell when he found out she was hanging around with me. Not only was I Bruce McCall's bastard, I was a half-breed to boot. Needless to say, it didn't go down well."
The heaviness in Kate's chest increased as dread settled in, and she felt as if she were at the edge of a dark, deep hole. He hadn't brought her in here to tell her about some adolescent involvement with a sixteen-year-old girl. Something much worse had happened – much, much worse. Her stomach suddenly churning, she watched him, knowing he was going to tell her, knowing he was going to be forced to relive it all over again. All because of the stupid, thoughtless things she'd said.
Tanner straightened the blind pull again, then tapped the weight, sending it swinging. He watched it for a moment, then stopped the movement. Kate could sense the avoidance in him from all the way across the room. When he finally continued, his voice was barely audible. "Every fall, a group of Bruce's political back-room buddies would come out to the ranch, supposedly to plan party strategy and get in a little hunting. A couple of them always brought women along, and things usually got pretty rowdy. I'd gotten to know the back country pretty well, so if anyone wanted to go hunting, Bruce had me go along as a guide. Cyrus dealt with them, mostly, but one night he got into a bottle, and I had to go into the house to find out what was planned for the next day. I could tell some heavy partying had been going on, and everyone was pretty drunk."
As if getting too close to the edge of a precipice, he fell silent. Tension filled the room, and Kate's insides shrank into a hard, cold knot. Experiencing the almost strangling sensation of dread unfolding in her, she clenched her arms around her knees and watched him, every muscle in her body braced for a blow.
It felt like drowning, that awful silence, then he spoke, not a trace of inflection in his voice. "Bruce started telling them about the trouble I'd landed myself in with the girl. He went on about how I was definitely his son, saying that he'd seen stallions who weren't as well-hung as his young buck. Everybody laughed, and he staggered off somewhere. One of the women said she wondered if it was true what they said about Indians, and she'd sure like to have a look at Bruce's young stud." Tanner's voice was so strained, so raw with the shame of remembering, that it was an agony to hear him, and Kate had to swallow to keep from getting sick. She let the words wash over her, not wanting to absorb their full meaning, knowing there was no way she could avoid it.
Tanner shifted, bracing his forearm on the jutting corner of the alcove, his hand resting across his mouth as he stared out into the night. Kate could see part of his face – the hard, drawn angles speaking of his pain.
He remained immobile for a moment; then he made a small, abrupt gesture with his hand. "One of the men decided that she deserve
d a bonus, and the next thing I knew, they had me pinned to the floor. The men held me down, and the women stripped off my clothes, deciding they were entitled to a little fun."
For an instant Kate thought she was going to lose her supper, and she had to close her eyes and rest her head against her knees so the churning sensation would pass, a different kind of sickness washing through her. If she could have gotten her hands on Bruce McCall right then, she would have drawn and quartered him. Without a second thought.
Feeling as if every bit of warmth had been sucked out of her, Kate lifted her head and looked at him, her stomach in knots. He was standing as he was before, his arm on the corner, his hand resting across his mouth, but now his face was like stone. But what wrenched at her heart was that beneath that rigidly controlled surface, she saw the absolute humiliation of that fourteen-year-old boy. Experiencing such a rush of feeling for that youth, and for the man he had become, Kate slipped from the bed and crossed to him. Her throat so full she didn't dare unlock her jaws, she put he arms around him, pulling his head against her shoulder, easing in a careful, constricted breath so he wouldn't know she was crying.
For an instant he simply stood there in her arms, then he let his breath go and put his arms around her. Kate closed he eyes and cradled his head against her, tears slipping relentlessly down her face.
Sensing how raw and stripped he felt, knowing without a doubt that he'd never told another living soul about what had happened, she hung on to him, finally, finally understanding the source of his reserve, his wariness, his aloofness from people. She wished she could take him right inside her and keep him safe.
Surreptitiously wiping her face with the heel of he hand, Kate swallowed hard, struggling to achieve a degree of self-control, an outward calm. It wasn't finished. Somehow she had to find the resources, the composure, to see this through to the end.
Stroking his head, she closed her eyes and forced herself to speak. "Tell me the rest, Tanner," she whispered, he voice breaking. "Finish it."
BEYOND ALL REASON Page 21
