Authors: Ruth Logan Herne
He was equally determined to win. Maybe then he could lay his guilt over David's death to rest.
“Wow, it certainly got a working over,” she said, examining the saddle carefully.
Her throaty voice was even. Well modulated. If anyone were listening, they would think she was talking to a complete stranger.
Not her former fiancée.
“The horse I drew was a bad spinner,” Tanner said. “Should have known when he looked back at me with those beady brown eyes. I thought I had him from the mark out but then he set me up. When he rolled back, everything went south. Landed on the saddle and fought for a while. Worst of it all, I was riding slack. Wasn't even a performance.” Tanner caught himself midexplanation, aware that he was talking too much. It was a problem he had when he was nervous. He shut his mouth, then caught Keira's puzzled look.
“You hurt your shoulder?” she asked.
Tanner hadn't even realized he'd rolled his injured shoulder till she pointed it out. “It's nothing.” It was more than nothing, but he didn't want her sympathy. If she cared enough to give it.
Keira gave him a curt nod as she continued her inspection.
Tanner cleared his throat, wishing he felt less self-conscious in Keira's presence. He'd struggled for the past six years to forget her. To forget how she had chosen to walk away from him without a word, without a response to his request to reconcile their broken engagement. An engagement she had called off. It had been a long, hard-won victory over his emotions and his past, and even in spite of losing David, he felt as if he had come to a better place in his life. A place where he could look ahead instead of always thinking about the “could-have-beens.”
Coming back here was a test for him. Keira's continued hold on his heart had been preventing him from building new relationships.
He had hoped that by seeing Keira again he might finally be able to put her place in his life in perspective. Maybe even rid himself of her ever-present shadow.
Trouble was, now that he saw her again, he wasn't sure if that was even possible.
* * *
Keira wished she could keep her hands from trembling as she handled the saddle under Tanner's watchful gaze. What was wrong with her? She was prepared for Tanner's arrival. Alice, Tanner's stepmother, had mentioned it a couple of days ago. Had even given a date.
Yet, seeing him now, his brown eyes edged with sooty lashes and framed by the slash of dark brows, the hard planes of his face emphasized by the stubble shadowing his jaw and cheeks, brought back painful memories Keira thought she had put aside.
He looked the same and yet different. Harder. Leaner. He wore his sandy brown hair longer; brushing the collar of his shirt, giving him a reckless look at odds with the Tanner she had once known.
And loved.
She sucked in a rapid breath as she turned over the saddle, the wooden stirrups thumping dully on the table. Tanner seemed to fill the cramped shop, and Keira sensed his every movement.
Keep your focus on your work,
she reminded herself, pulling her attention back to the broken saddle she was examining.
“So? What's the verdict, Latigo Kid?” Tanner asked.
His casual use of the old nickname he always used for her caught her off guard. And when her startled gaze caught his surprised one, she guessed the name had fallen out unintentionally.
She dragged her attention back to the saddle. “I don't know if it's worth fixing this,” she said quietly, examining the bottom, then the stirrup leathers. “Back billet is broken. The swell cover is ripped and it looks pretty rough. You've worked it over pretty good with that wire brush.”
“Resin stays on better that way.”
Keira acknowledged his comment with a quick nod. Saddle bronc riders often sprinkled resin on their saddles to help them stay seated. The wire brush roughed up the leather so the resin stuck better.
“The stirrup leathers should be replaced,” she said, continuing her litany of repairs. “You'll need new latigos, and the D rings need to be reattached if not replaced. It'll be a lot of work.”
Tanner sighed as he tugged his gloves off and shoved them in the pocket of his worn plaid jacket. “But can you fix it?”
“I'd need to take it apart to see. It might need a whole new tree. If that's the case, two weeks?” She was pleased at how even her voice sounded. At how businesslike she could be. As if he was simply another customer.
“That's cutting it close,” Tanner said, scratching his cheek with his index finger. “I know you've got other projects going on, but is it possible to get it done quicker?”
Keira would have preferred not to work on it at all. It would mean that, instead of him dropping in to say hello to his mother and then leaving, Tanner would be around more often so she could fit the saddle and make the necessary adjustments.
So far she was doing okay with seeing him. It had taken her years to relegate Tanner to the shadowy recesses of her mind. She didn't know if she could maintain any semblance of the hard-won peace she now experienced if she had to see him more often. Tanner was too ingrained in her past and too connected to memories she had spent hours in prayer trying to bury.
“I'm gonna need it for the National Finals in Vegas in a couple of weeks,” Tanner continued. “I was hoping to practice on it before that.”
“Your mother said you had qualified. That's quite a feat.” Keira knew this from terse comments Alice dropped here and there, but overall Alice kept most news of Tanner to herself, and Keira didn't press for more. She knew she had no right to know what was going on in Tanner's life. Not after she'd left him the way she had.
“I placed third overall in the regular season,” Tanner said. “Missed a few rodeos cause of injuries, so I'm hoping to do better in Vegas.”
Tanner and his brother, David, had ridden the rodeo together since they first qualified as novices. They had both rode saddle broncs and competed in the same rodeos, often working their way up the ranks together.
In fact, it was Tanner's involvement in rodeo that had been one of the points of contention between them when she and Tanner were dating. She hated watching him risk his life each time he mounted a saddle bronc. She also hated the fact that after his father died, instead of working on the Circle C Ranch, he had taken a job working as a mechanic's apprentice. Between his work and rodeoing, they'd hardly seen each other. She had always thought he would take over his father's ranch. He'd been working on it since he was a boy, but after Cyrus Fortier died, Tanner went to work full-time as a mechanic. He couldn't get work in Saddlebank or Bozeman, and ended up working for a mechanic in Sheridan, Wyoming, a five-hour drive from the ranch. They had fought bitterly about that, and Tanner wouldn't tell her why he had taken on the work. She'd finally found out after their worst fight, when she'd ended their engagement, that Tanner's stepmother had inherited the ranch and all the holdings. But by the time she'd found out, it was too late to talk about it. She had already given him his ring back and had moved on.
“I heard you're still doing mechanic work, as well?”
“Still pulling wrenches except last year I bought out the owner. Now I'm the boss, which means I can take off when I want. I took over the shop in Sheridan after a good rodeo run. The same one I started working on beforeâ” He cut himself off there, but didn't need to finish. Keira knew exactly what he meant.
Before that summer when she left Tanner and Saddlebank, without allowing him the second chance he so desperately wanted. Before that summer when everything changed.
A heavy silence dropped between them as solid as a wall. Keira turned away, pushing the memories down again. Burying them deep where they couldn't taunt her.
But Tanner's very presence teased them to the surface.
Dear Lord, help me through this situation. I don't have enough strength on my own.
She looked up at him to tell him she couldn't work on the saddle, but as she did she felt a jolt of awareness. In his eyes she saw puzzlement and hurt. She tried to tear her gaze away but it was as if the old bond that had once connected them still bound them to each other.
Her resolve weakened and against her better judgment she took another look at the saddle, weighing, judging. “I don't know....” Her voice trailed off. She wasn't sure she wanted to have anything more to do with Tanner than she could possibly avoid. Fixing his saddle would put them in each other's paths far too often.
“I'd appreciate it if you could fix it. It means a lot to me.” His conciliatory tone, so at odds with the faint mockery that had laced his words previously, caught her off guard.
She sighed, wondering again if she was letting sentiment dictate her actions. She turned the saddle over again, looking at it more closely. Then she frowned.
“This saddle has some initials stamped on it,” she said quietly, turning the leather of the skirt over to show him. “I can't make it out.”
“
D.F.
David Fortier. It was my brother's saddle.”
David's saddle. Keira's heart, already overworked, kicked up another notch. “Why are you using it?” She pulled her hands away.
“In honor of him. We were getting to the end of the season when he died. He had qualified for the NFR. I promised myself to finish what he started. It took me two years, but here I am.”
Keira turned the saddle over again with trembling hands, then set it carefully aside. “I'm sorry, Tanner. I can't fix the saddle for you.”
“What? Why not?” Tanner shot her a frustrated scowl. “I thought you said it would take two weeks.”
She shook her head. “I don't think I can find two weeks to work on it. I'll get you the card of someone who might be able to help you,” she said, turning her back to him as she rummaged through the old wooden desk, her hands trembling again as she pulled a business card out of one of the drawers. Sugar, startled out of his sleep, stood and looked up at her, his head tilted to one side as if wondering what she was doing.
Keira took a deep breath, sent up another prayer then handed the card to Tanner.
He took it then frowned. “Landolt?”
“He does good work.”
“Not as good as Monty. And you.”
Keira's hand lowered as she looked from the card Tanner held to the saddle laying on the table. It was as if that inanimate object encapsulated so much of what lay between her and Tanner. And what could never be changed.
“There's another guy in Idaho who dad refers people to,” she said, turning back to her desk. “I'll see if I have his information.”
Just then the door of the shop opened, bringing in the chill of the outdoors and a flash of sunlight. Sugar jumped up and ran to the door.
“Well, well. If it isn't Tanner Fortier.” Her father's voice boomed into the silence as he shut the door behind him, closing off the cold and the light.
Keira turned in time to see Tanner enveloped in a bear hug by her tall, lean father. Monty was easily six feet tall but Tanner topped him by a couple of inches. Monty pulled back, shaking his head as he looked Tanner over. “You look like some castaway cowboy,” he teased, clapping a hand on Tanner's worn jacket.
“I feel like one,” Tanner retorted as a truly genuine smile softened his harsh features, put a sparkle in his dark eyes and disturbed Keira's equilibrium. “Been a busy season.”
“You did well, I understand. Enough to qualify for the NFR. Good stuff. Proud of you, son.” Monty beamed his approval. He had always liked Tanner. Solid, dependable. Hardworking.
An overall great guy. Someone Monty easily called son as he had while he and Keira were dating. When they got engaged, her parents were thrilled. Part of that happiness was because Monty and Ellen needed some good news in their lives. Their oldest son, Lee, had just been sent to prison, and Keira's older sister, Heather, had just moved to New York against their wishes. The engagement of a Fortier to a Tanner had been the one bright spot in that horrible year.
Keira's heart stuttered again.
“So what do we have here?” Monty was saying as he picked up the saddle. “Not this saddle's first rodeo.”
“I brought it here hoping you could fix it.”
Monty turned the saddle over and smiled. “I made this one,” he said. “For your brother, David.”
“I was just telling Tanner that we don't have time to work on it,” Keira said, praying again as she caught Tanner's confused gaze in her peripheral vision.
“Of course we have time,” he said, his frown showing her he didn't get her unspoken message. “For Tanner, we make time.”
“We've got an exhibition to get stuff ready for and that order from that store in Seattle,” Keira replied, wishing she could keep the pleading tone out of her voice. She had no concrete reason not to do the job, nor was she about to get into specifics.
“Get Allison to come in and help you,” Monty said. “Or I can pitch in.”
“The doctor said you had to slow down. I don't want you working too much.”
Monty waved off her concerns then turned to Tanner. “Just leave it here, son. We'll get it fixed up for you one way or the other.”
Keira maintained a veneer of tense restraint but she felt it slipping. She wasn't going to look at Tanner, but as if her eyes had their own will, they turned to him.
It wasn't hard to see the hurt and puzzlement on his face, and for a moment she prayed for a return to the muted anger he had shown when he'd first come in.
That would be easier to deal with.
God had been her refuge and strength the past few years. Her strong fortress. And from the way events were moving now, she would need His strength more than ever in the next few weeks.
Chapter Two
“Y
ou better come up to the house,” Monty said as Keira moved the saddle over to the workbench.
Tanner shot another look at Keira, still baffled at her hesitation, but then turned his attention back to Monty. “Yes. I'd like to see how Ellen's doing,” he said.
“And your mother,” Monty added. “She's been looking forward to your visit.”
Tanner doubted that. He and his stepmother had never been close and less so since David's death. She had never come out and said it, but he knew she blamed him for the accident. And why not? Tanner blamed himself, as well. If he had been more insistent, he would have been driving his stepbrother back to the hotel. And both he and David would have made it safely to Cheyenne.
“Are you coming, Keira?” Monty asked as he dropped his worn cowboy hat on his head.
“Maybe later. I've got to cut out some wallets before I quit for the day.”
“Can't that wait?” Monty asked.
“No. Not if we have to work on Tanner's saddle, too.” Keira's unexpectedly sharp tone grated on Tanner. But he shook off his frustration.
He'd gotten his first visit with Keira out of the way. Though he'd hoped his heart wouldn't race at the sight of her, at least that was done. Maybe next time he saw her he would feel more even-keeled.
Help me, Lord,
he prayed as he clapped his hat on his head.
Help me get through this emotional tangle.
He turned up the collar of his jacket and followed Monty out of the shop and over the snow-covered yard to the house, shivering as he stepped from the warmth of the shop into the chill of the outside air.
Help me get through the next couple of days. Help me stay focused on what I set out to do.
He felt guilty praying to God right now. Living the life of a rodeo cowboy wasn't always conducive to a robust spiritual life. Too many late nights. Too many weekends taken up with riding and work and getting over injuries. Then back to work, only to repeat the same weekend cycle.
But he knew God was real, and right now he needed all the help he could get.
The snow squeaked under their feet, showing him how cold it was outside. Thanksgiving was just around the corner, and there were still months of winter ahead. Tanner looked out over the hills blanketed with snow undulating to mountains sharply etched against a sky so blue it hurt his eyes. Gray clouds were piling up on the horizon, hinting at potential winter storms.
But for now the sun shone on Refuge Ranch, sparkling off the snow-covered hills.
“The house won't be as noisy as usual,” Monty explained as they walked toward the it. “Ellen usually takes care of John's little girl, but he's got her today. He's doing some bookwork in his house.”
“I heard that he came back here with his daughter after his wife died. That's a sad story.”
“It is. But Adana's a little treasure and we're all pretty crazy about her. Taking care of her is a small price to pay to have John back. His father was the best hand a rancher could ask for, and John has the same cattle smarts his father did.”
“John was always a good, solid guy,” Tanner said. “I always thought he and Heather were a better match than her and Mitch.”
“Didn't we all,” Monty said, shooting Tanner a look, as if he was thinking the same thing about him and Keira.
Tanner kept his comments to himself. No sense in digging up the past.
They walked up the steps, and Tanner pulled open the door to the porch.
“Got company,” Monty boomed as the porch door fell shut behind them.
Warmth from the adjoining kitchen slowly penetrated the many layers of clothing Tanner had on. He stripped off his coat and hung it and his hat on an empty hanger in the porch. Then he toed off his boots, set them aside and followed Monty into the familiar coziness of the ranch house.
“We fixed up the kitchen since you been here,” Monty said as he led Tanner through the room as familiar to him as the kitchen on his parents' ranch. “Ellen had a notion she wanted some fancy new stove and fridge and granite countertops. Place looks like a dairy barn with all these shiny appliances far as I'm concerned,” he said, waving a dismissive hand at the stainless-steel stove, refrigerator and dishwasher. “At least she kept the table in the nook.”
A large bay window with French doors opening to a snow-covered deck was home to a small wooden table with mismatched chairs that, Tanner knew, were part of Monty's father and grandfather's ranch house that this house had replaced.
“Still looks cozy,” Tanner said, stopping by the table. He remembered drinking many a cup of hot chocolate in the winter or root beer in the summer at this table when he and Keira were dating. Refuge Ranch had truly lived up to its name when his own home had been a place of discord and conflict. Tanner's father, Cyrus, had married Alice less than a year after his wife's death, when Tanner was only three. David was born within the first year of that marriage. While David and Tanner always got along, Tanner remembered many fights between Cyrus and Alice, though he never knew the cause.
Yet in spite of their antagonism, Alice had inherited the entire ranch when Cyrus died. Tanner had suspected that his father had neglected to change his will as he had always promised Tanner he would. To be fair, his father hadn't planned on having a heart attack when he was still in his prime, but still...
Then, shortly after the funeral, Alice had made it crystal clear that her son David would be the one to run the ranch. Not Tanner.
He had kept the shame and pain of it to himself after his father's death, unable to tell Keira.
All throughout their courtship she talked about moving to the Fortier ranch and how they would fix it up. Tanner knew how much she loved the wide-open spaces of the ranch and the valley. He knew how hard it would be for her to move into town. Too proud to tell her exactly why, he started working as a mechanic, trying to to scrape enough money together to find a small place outside town and still find a way for him to make a living. Weekends were spent rodeoing. Things had slowly been coming together and he'd weathered their fights, hoping to present it to her once he had a place to buy. Only then did he mean to tell her about his father's will and the repercussions for them.
He'd obviously waited too long. After one particularly bad fight about why he was gone so much and working so hard, she had given him back his ring. After a long spell of work and rodeoing, he realized he had to tell her about Cyrus's will. He called her, saying that he had important news. Nothing.
Then he texted her. Again, nothing.
He came back to Saddlebank to talk to her in person, but she was gone. She couldn't or wouldn't give him that second chance or any explanation why.
He hadn't heard from her since.
“Hey, ladies, look who I brought,” Monty announced as they stepped into the large, exposed-beamed living room. A fire crackled in the woodstove, generating a welcome heat.
His stepmother sat on a leather easy chair, facing him, her blond hair cut in a serviceable page boy, dark framed glasses emphasizing her green eyes. She wore a white shirt, black chinos and sensible white shoes, all of which combined to make her look precisely like the nurse she was.
Ellen sat with her back to him, her long brown hair, tinged with gray, pulled back in a ponytail hanging over the large brace that held her neck and upper chest immobilized. She sat upright in a chair and as she slowly got to her feet Tanner winced at the sight of the brace.
“I know, I know, I look like an alien,” Ellen said, her voice sounding restricted and strained. “I hope I don't scare you too much. I'd still like a hug.”
“Be careful,” Monty whispered, detaining Tanner a moment. “She's still in a lot of pain.”
Tanner nodded and slowly approached Ellen and, bending over, brushed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Sorry, Ellen, that's all you get from me for now.”
She smiled up at him and reached up to touch his face, then blanched in pain. “I keep thinking I can do what I used to. But it's great to see you again. Though you look tired.”
“Been a long drive,” was all he said, glancing over at his stepmother. “Hello, Alice,” he said.
Alice set her cup aside, brushed her hands over her pants and slowly rose to greet him, as well. That Ellen, in spite of her disability, was quicker to greet him than his stepmother rankled.
Alice walked over and managed a perfunctory hug then pulled back, folding her arms over her chest. “Hello, Tanner. Good to see you. How have you been?”
“Good.” He struggled to think of what else to say. Since that horrible conversation when she'd accused him of causing David's death, every exchange with her was stilted and strained.
The problem was, her accusationsâspoken and unspokenâonly underlined what he had always thought himself.
If he hadn't let David stay behind to spend time with that girl, David would still be alive.
Monty walked over to his wife and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “How are you feeling, my dear?” Concern laced his voice and Ellen gave him a faint smile.
“Exactly the same as I did when you left two hours ago to go coffee drinking,” she said, a note of humor in her voice. “Would you like some coffee, Tanner?”
“Sorry, but I'd like to get back to the ranch and catch up on some phone calls and paperwork.” He caught a frown from Alice. “If that's okay?” he added.
His stepmother shook her head with an expression of regret. “I'm sorry, but you can't. I thought while I was here taking care of Ellen, I would get some renovations done on the house,” she said. “So it isn't livable right now. In fact, I've been staying here at the ranch the past couple of nights.”
“So you're saying I should stay somewhere else?”
“Might be a good idea.”
Her voice held a bite that he was too tired to interpret.
“You can stay here,” Monty said, slapping Tanner on the back. “Give you a chance to spend time with your mother, catch up with us. Keep tabs on your saddle's repair.”
His stepmother didn't seem pleased with the idea and he guessed that Keira would feel much the same.
“I don't think so,” Tanner said. “I'll try to find a place in town instead.”
“Don't know if you'll be able to,” Monty said. “There's some hockey tournament going on this weekend in Saddlebank. Fairly sure the few hotels we got are full. So I guess you're stuck here.”
Tanner stifled a sigh, feeling as if he was slowly getting pushed into a tight corner. Never a good place to be. “I'm not sureâ”
“Not sure about what? We got plenty of room. John is staying in the house his parents used to live in, and our last hired hand quit on us so the bunkhouse is empty. You can stay there. It's all ready to go. Trust me, its no problem.”
Tanner was about to object again but felt that doing so would make him look ungrateful and un-neighborly. He eased out a smile. “Sure. I guess I can stay. I'm only here for a couple of days.”
“It will take longer than that to fix David's saddle,” Monty said. “Besides, you can help. You know a few things about saddle repair. You and Keira used to hang out at the shop all the time.”
“David's saddle?” Alice glanced from Tanner to Monty, looking confused. “Why does Monty need to fix David's saddle?”
“I've been using it all season and it needs some work,” Tanner said, glancing over at his stepmother. “It got a real working over the last time I competed.”
“You've been using it this year?” Alice asked.
“All year,” Tanner replied. “It's been a busy run.”
“When are you ever going to quit the rodeo?” Ellen asked, a note of disappointment lacing her voice. “Surely your mechanic work keeps you busy enough?”
“It does. But I've got some good workers who are running it for me. Just hired a foreman last year so I could do this one last circuit.”
“Will this really be the last?” Monty asked. “I know you cowboys. You don't quit until you're dragged from the arena on a backboard. Surely you need to decide when the time comes...” He let the sentence fade away but Tanner finished it for him.
“To hang up my rigging and my spurs,” Tanner said. “Yeah. I know. Hopefully this year will be that year.”
“Why are you using David's saddle?” Alice asked. “Don't you have your own?”
Tanner was silent a moment, trying to find the right way to answer her.
“I do. But I wanted to finish what David started before...before he died.” It had been two years since David's death, and those words could still cut like a knife. “So I thought I would use his saddle and dedicate the season to him. I want to take the saddle all the way to the NFR. But it got busted up at the last rodeo. Monty said he would fix it for me so I could finish with it at Las Vegas.”
He hadn't told Alice what he'd been doing. He had hoped to surprise her after the season was over and give her David's saddle as a memento. Tell her face-to-face why he did what he did. Hope that, by some miracle, she would grant him some measure of absolution.
Their eyes held and for a moment, her smile softened and he recognized it for what it was. A small movement toward forgiveness. Then she gave a curt nod and her mouth shifted into the polite smile he knew only too well.
“I think that's admirable,” she said, her tone impersonal. “I'll guess we'll have to see how you do in the end.”
The end. For a brief moment Tanner wondered if there would be an end to his quest. To his desire for some type of reconciliation with the only person he could legitimately call family. His father and stepbrother were gone. He and Alice only had each other. All his life he'd hoped for some kind of relationship with her. While she may not have given birth to him, in truth, she had been the only mother he'd ever know.