Authors: Ruth Logan Herne
“But that was David's problem, not yours,” she said. “I've said it before and I'll say it again. It wasn't right for your father to do that. Besides, we don't know if it was Alice's idea or your father's. Maybe she had something over him. Some reason he did what he did.”
Tanner's frown didn't bode well for the rest of the conversation but she had started this, she felt she had to carry on.
“You have to stop taking on what you've been carrying the past few years. David's death had less to do with you hiring a lawyer than it had to do with the kind of person he was and the kind of choices he liked to make. You said yourself that he'd been drinking. You didn't put those drinks in his hand and you didn't make him walk home. David had always been the kind of guy who did what he wanted and never cared aboutâ” She stopped herself there. She was getting too emotional. The swarm of memories in her head rose up. If she couldn't control them they would come flying out.
She took a breath and stilled the storm.
Tanner plowed a hand through his hair and he pushed out another sigh. “I know all that. I just don't think Alice does. I think, especially now, she feels like the ranch is her rightful heritage. I know I should have talked to her about it. Should have found out more. Seems too late now but maybe if I'd not been so proud, so angry, I would have confronted her.”
And they were back to Alice again but she shouldn't quibble. That was a safer topic than David.
Tanner picked up her one hand and pressed a gentle kiss to it. “I know we should have talked about this before. Should have told you how I felt. What was going through my head and how I was planning to work around the problem of not inheriting the ranch. We were engaged and I should have talked to you about all of that. I'm sorry. So much happened because of what I didn't say. Maybe everything between us would be different. Maybe David wouldn't have died and I wouldn't be tearing around the country, trying to balance rodeoing and running a business.” His sigh came from deep within him and showed her how weary he was.
“You sound exhausted,” she said quietly.
“I am. Part of me just wants to quit.” He brushed another kiss over her hand. “Especially now. I feel like I have another focus since we got back together.”
Tell him. Tell him. Maybe he won't go.
She felt the words beating in her chest. “Then quit. Stay home.”
The gentle shake of Tanner's head shot down the idea. “I'm so close. I would feel like all the sacrifices I made the past year would be worth nothing if I stopped now.” He smiled at her again. “And you, working on David's saddle, gave us time together. I feel like it kind of wove everything from our past into our present.”
The wings beat harder.
“Though I feel like quitting, it's just one more weekend,” Tanner continued. “And when it's done, I hope I can come back to the ranch and give Alice David's saddle and the trophy. Maybe I'm a dreamer but I'm hoping it will give her a reason to forgive me. And, I guess, I'm hoping it will give me some peace. Finish what he started and lay his memory to rest.”
Keira clung to his hands, looking down at them, tracing their familiar scars and marks. Hands that had held her, taught her how to hold the reins, carried her through swollen spring streams and held out a diamond ring to her when he had asked her to marry him.
Her heart plunged with a sudden pain.
“Do you think David would do the same for you?” she asked, deliberately leaching her voice of emotion. “If your situations were reversed?”
The sudden narrowing of his eyes showed her words hit a chord.
“Maybe not,” he admitted, tightening his grip on her hands. “And maybe that's another reason I need to win this title.”
“To show you're the better man?”
He slowly shook his head and then he released a hard laugh. “You always had that uncanny ability to get to the heart of a matter. To see stuff I couldn't.” He shrugged slowly as if letting the idea settle and take room. “Maybe that's been part of my reasoning. The part I never wanted to look at too closely.”
“You are the better man, you know,” Keira said quietly, squeezing his hands harder. Tighter, praying he would be convinced. “You always were.”
“Well, I guess we'll see if I am the better rider.”
She gave it one more shot, knowing that her reasons were selfish but also knowing she needed to try one more time.
“You don't need to prove that, either. Stay here after our dinner. Let go of the burden. Alice will think what she thinks.”
“This matters a lot to you. Why?”
Tell him. Tell him.
But she couldn't. Things were too fragile and she didn't want to risk rupturing their faint connection. They were just rebuilding the foundation of their relationship.
It was too soon.
Chapter Eleven
T
anner pulled up beside Monty's truck, turned off the engine and gave himself a moment to gather his thoughts. Enjoy the utter quiet of the ranch after the steady drone of his truck engine.
His ears buzzed and his head ached and too many thoughts paraded through his brain, each demanding attention. He was excited to see Keira, but that was now tempered by the events of the past few days.
He got out of the truck, placed his hands in the small of his back and stretched out the kinks gathered from four hours of tense driving. Then shivered as a winter breeze tugged at his hair. He reached into the truck and pulled his hat out, dropped it on his head, then grabbed his overnight bag from behind the seat of his truck. He was going to repack it, put it back in the truck so he could leave first thing tomorrow morning for Vegas.
Apprehension shivered through him at the thought. Tomorrow already.
He looked back at the ranch house, a cap of snow on its roof catching the rays of the setting sun. Keira was there, waiting. They had called each other every night, just to talk. He missed her. How would he be able to leave tomorrow?
“How was your trip back to the office?”
Monty's voice behind him gave Tanner a start. He turned to Monty and grinned.
“Aren't you cold?” he returned.
The older man wore a down-filled jacket but it was open, his gloves stuffed in the pocket, his head bare.
“It's a balmy day today compared to yesterday's wind and drifting snow,” Monty said with a grin. “Is everything running smoothly at the shop?”
Tanner picked up his bag and shook his head, frustration and worry gripping him again. “Not really. I knew I was pushing my luck being gone as long as I had. It's not going well.”
That was an understatement.
Though he'd stayed in constant touch with his shop foreman and had received good reports from him, his visit showed that quality control had slipped in the week and a half he'd been gone. The tools were in disarray. A couple of disgruntled customers had called him while he was on the road to tell him how unhappy they were with the work. Tanner had to promise that the work would be redone free of charge. The balance sheet had been precarious this year because he'd been gone too much, but the past week had created a tipping point. “I've been neglecting the business too much the past six months. I need to spend more time there.”
“But you came back here, anyway?”
“I got things sorted out for now. Once the NFR is done...” He let the sentence trail off as the questions that had haunted him the past week revisited.
“What happens after that?”
Tanner knew that Monty was thinking of Keira. As was he.
He looked past Monty to the mountains, now pristine white against a bright blue sky. Sharp, brilliant colors and silent open spaces. His heart ached to be back here.
“I used to think I would go back to Sheridan and get back to work. But I'm not sure anymore.”
Monty sighed, then zipped up his coat and slipped on his gloves. “You belong here, you know.”
“In more ways than one,” Tanner said quietly, thinking of Keira. His heart ached to be with her even more than it did to be back in the valley. “But I need to make a living and I couldn't figure out how to do it after Dad died. Running that garage is the only thing I've got going for me now.”
“You're a good mechanic, Tanner, but you're a rancher from your boots up.”
“A rancher without a ranch.” Tanner couldn't help the bitter note. He had struggled for so long with what his father had done. In fact, at times, he thought he had made his peace with it. But now all the old emotions came back.
Monty hunched his shoulders against a chill that was slowly making itself felt through the thin layers of the jacket Tanner had worn while driving. It seemed Monty wasn't in any hurry to get to the house. Tanner sensed he had more to say.
Monty blew out a sigh, his breath a cloud of white vapor in the chilly air. “I don't want to be nosy, but I sense things are building between you and Keira.” He held up his hand as if to forestall anything Tanner might have to say to that. “And I don't want to make all kinds of assumptions, but I think you need to talk to Alice. About the ranch. Not for Keira's sake, but for your own.”
His words fell between them, bringing another harsh reality into the moment. The future and Keira and how that would look.
“I guess I had hoped to do that after the NFR,” Tanner said, shifting his bag to his other hand. “I had hoped to come to her with David's saddle and some kind of trophy. Then see where the conversation takes us.”
“You'd only have a trophy if you won.”
“I'm confident I'll at least place. I just heard that Cole Butler, my strongest competitor, just bowed out. He busted his ankle this past weekend.”
“Rodeoing?”
“No. Snowboarding. What self-respecting cowboy snowboards anyhow?” he asked with a laugh. “So I'm reasonably confident. Have to be.”
Monty held his gaze, his eyes piercing. “What your father did wasn't right,” he said, echoing what Keira had told him again and again. “Your grandfather started that ranch and worked it to where it is now. Now just so you know, I got nothing against Alice personally. She's a good friend to Ellen and has taken excellent care of her the past few weeks, but what Alice is doing isn't right, either. That ranch belongs as much to you and any kids you might have. I know she had hoped that David would take it over but we both know that even if he were still alive, he wouldn't have stayed on the ranch. It wasn't in his blood like it's in yours. Ranching is your identity.”
And Tanner's thoughts immediately bounced back to Keira and the feelings growing between them.
“Now, like I said, I don't know what exactly is going on between you and my daughter,” Monty continued, as if reading Tanner's mind, his tone growing serious, “but I know she's had some hard times.”
“It was Keira who broke off the engagement,” Tanner reminded Monty. “Not me.”
Monty laid his hand on Tanner's shoulder, his expression holding a hint of sorrow. “I know, son. I'm not blaming you. I just know that after she broke up with you it was as if she lost a part of herself. Something vital. She was an anxious and uptight girl when she came back from Seattle, but she's found peace here. She belongs here, too.” He was quiet a moment, as if letting his comment settle and take root, then slapped his gloved hands together. “But enough of that. I don't want to throw anything more on your shoulders. And I better get inside, though I'll probably get roped into doing some kind of decorating thing. Girls have been busy like crazy the past couple days getting ready for this belated Thanksgiving meal.”
He took a step away, then turned back to Tanner. “And talk to Alice. Before or after the NFR, your choice. But you need to find a way to make this right.”
Monty's words rang in Tanner's head as he walked back to the bunkhouse. Tanner wasn't sure what the outcome would be of any discussion he could have with Alice or why it should fall on his shoulders to do so, but at the same time he felt as if circumstances were pushing him toward that conversation.
He dropped his bag off in the bunkhouse, stopped in the bathroom a moment to freshen up. He sorted through the clothes he had taken back with him from Sheridan. Got his chaps ready and quickly repacked his bag and set out the case that held his rigging. When he had gone to Sheridan he'd picked up his old saddle as a backup. Just in case something happened to David's. He hoped he didn't need it but it didn't hurt to have an extra.
All he needed was David's saddle and he was ready to go.
Should have taken the time to practice, he thought, but pushed the idea away. He was as ready as he could be. From here on in everything else was out of his control.
Ten minutes later his truck was packed up and he was striding across the yard, heading to the ranch house, his heart quickening with each step closer to Keira.
An old cream can sat just inside the porch of the house stuffed with cattails and branches, pumpkins surrounding the base. They looked out of place with the snow piling against the window behind it, but it was a cheery touch.
Tanner took off his boots, his heart lifting at the sound of Keira's voice, of footsteps hurrying to the door.
And then there she was. Her hair hanging loose around her shoulders, her eyes bright, her smile wide as the Montana sky.
“Hey, there,” she said, stopping in the doorway, as if unsure of what to do next.
Tanner shook off his coat, swept off his hat, closed the distance between them in two large strides and pulled her into his arms. He held her tight, breathing in the smell of her perfume, feeling, for the first time since he'd pulled onto the ranch, that he had come home.
He pulled away from her and brushed her hair back from her face.
“Hey, you,” he said quietly. “I missed you.”
Keira bracketed his face with her hands, her smile growing incandescent. “I missed you, too.”
He kissed her once, then again. He truly felt as if he had come home as he looked deep into her eyes. Though questions remained, he believed that they didn't matter as long as they had each other.
Then as he slipped his arm around her they turned to walk into the kitchen.
Alice stood by the counter, rolling out pie dough. She looked up when he came in; her eyes flicking from him to Keira then back to him again.
The moment of peace was edged away by the disapproval in her expression and the downward drift of her lips.
He thought of what Monty had encouraged him to do even as he clung to Keira beside him.
Keira was the reason he had to talk to Alice about his future.
He just prayed it would turn out well.
* * *
“Well, that's the best Week After Thanksgiving dinner I've ever had,” Monty exclaimed, wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin that Keira had so carefully folded only an hour ago. “Though I don't think I've ever sat down to such a fancy table since we moved here.” He gave Keira a benevolent smile, which she returned, thankful for his praise, but even more thankful for the man sitting beside her.
Because they had missed Thanksgiving last week, Keira was determined that they celebrate it in style. So she had laid out the linen tablecloth and matching napkins she had purchased on a trip to Bozeman she and Brooke had taken on Monday. The fancy china for special occasions had been taken out and laid on chargers that Keira had also purchased. Then Keira had made two centerpieces of orange, yellow and gold mums, peach alstroemeria and cattails. They were set out on the table interspersed with candles of varying heights creating a festive air. The lights had been lowered and a feeling of peace and tranquility had descended over the dining room.
The only “off” note was Alice. While they were working together on the meal Alice had been pleasant and helpful, though somewhat subdued. Then, when Tanner came, Alice withdrew into herself, became quiet and, Keira sensed, disapproving. All through the meal, Alice seemed to grow more uptight by the minute. Which surprised Keira. She thought that Tanner's devoting this year to David had eased away the tension between them.
But today she sensed it was back and stronger than ever.
“Another piece of pie, Keira?” Alice was asking, holding up the pie plate still half full of pumpkin pie.
“It was delicious, but no thanks,” Keira said, placing her hand on her full stomach. She knew she shouldn't have had that last piece but Alice had insisted. And for the sake of trying to maintain some kind of peace with Alice, she had given in.
Tanner, his arm draped over her shoulder, scoffed at her. “What?” he asked, squeezing her shoulder with his hand. “You only had two pieces. The Keira I know and love isn't such a lightweight.”
Know and love
was just a saying, she knew that, but she couldn't stop her heart from leaping at the words.
She slanted him a teasing grin. “Call me a lightweight again and you'll be facing me across a game of Scrabble.”
“Wonderful idea,” Ellen said, carefully wiping her mouth with a napkin. Though she still had to be careful what she ate, this meal she had managed to eat a bite of turkey and some stuffing. “This time, though, we'll play by my rules, not yours.”
“But our rules are more fun,” Tanner said.
Ellen gave them a benevolent smile and for Keira, Monty and Ellen's obvious happiness at what was growing between her and Tanner mitigated Alice's veiled hostility.
Though Keira knew even more than they did what was happening, she hardly dared take it in. Yesterday she had been unable to concentrate on her leather work, wondering if Tanner would come back for their postponed Thanksgiving dinner. It wasn't a holiday. Not anymore. Would he be able to take the time away from his business?
Last night he had called, telling her that he would probably be late. He'd had some trouble at the shop he'd had to clear up. She had tried not to worry at the tense tone in his voice, the frustration that he barely masked. After their terse phone call, she'd sat on her bed, delving into her Bible, praying, trying to keep herself centered on God, knowing that in all the difficulties of the past number of years, only God had been her true refuge.
And yet she fervently prayed that Tanner would come as soon as possible.
All of today she'd listened for the sound of his truck, her emotions veering between worry and hope. When he finally came, her restless, yearning heart settled; she felt suddenly complete.
“Hey, Latigo Kid,” he said quietly, the familiar goofy endearment making her heart give a little flip. She shifted so she could get closer to him, quietly thanking the Lord for this moment. For this man.
You have to tell him.
Ice slipped through her veins at the unexpected and unwelcome return of the pernicious voice. She pushed it back, willing it away, trying to bury it.