The Cowboy's Ready-Made Family. Linda Ford
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of how displeased Aunt Ada would be.
As she made the simple meal she realized how often she thought of Aunt Ada as she worked. Would there ever come a day when she didn’t measure every decision, every activity, against her aunt’s reaction?
The children came at her call and gathered round the table. She prayed and then the children dug in.
“I’m going to watch and learn everything I can,” Frank said. “Maybe someday I can be like my pa.”
Susanne’s chest muscles clenched. She must make it clear that the children had to stay away from the horses, but first, she had to reassure Frank. She squeezed his shoulder. “You remind me of him already. He’d be very proud.”
Frank looked pleased.
If only she didn’t have to tell him the rest. “Children, I want you to listen to me.” She leaned forward, waited until she had the attention of all four. “Those horses are wild and unpredictable. Dangerous, even. I want you to stay away from them. I have only allowed them here because Tanner said he would put in the crop in exchange for using the corrals.”
Frank’s jaw tightened. “Pa said I could help with the horses.”
“These aren’t your pa’s animals. Tanner isn’t used to watching out for children. Frank, I’m sorry, but I must insist you stay away from them.”
Frank looked straight into her eyes. He didn’t speak a word but he didn’t need to. She knew he did not agree with her decision.
Would he disobey her?
Liz leaned forward. “Auntie Susanne, maybe we can invite them to share a meal with us. It would be the neighborly thing to do. I could help you make something.”
Susanne’s shoulders sank. She could warn Frank about the horses, but how did she warn Liz about the dangers of giving too much of her heart to those men?
“I really like that vegetable barley soup you make,” Liz continued. “Maybe we could make that for them.”
Susanne tried to redirect her. “Why don’t we make some for supper?”
Janie got a faraway look in her eyes, not unusual for the child. “Mr. Tanner is the best-looking one of his brothers, isn’t he?”
It felt as if someone had kicked Susanne in the middle of her chest. She struggled to get in enough air to speak. She’d seen the adoration in Janie’s eyes and been concerned she’d develop a fondness for Tanner. But she hadn’t expected it to occur so soon. How was she to nip this in the bud without hurting the child?
She reached for Janie’s hand. “Honey, it doesn’t matter if he’s good-looking or not. What matters about a man is whether he is honorable and trustworthy. We don’t know if that is the case with Mr. Tanner. Please keep that in mind.”
Janie’s mouth pressed into a defiant line. She blinked twice then sucked in air. “He is so. Why don’t you believe it?”
Susanne knew the futility of trying to reason with a stubborn six-year-old. “Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t. Only time will tell.”
Janie crossed her arms over her chest. “I know it already.”
Susanne sighed. Her agreement with Tanner might become a bigger problem than she could have anticipated.
Robbie pushed away his fork with a clatter. “I’m going to ask him if I can ride his horse.”
Alarm bells clanged in Susanne’s brain. Had he not listened to a word she’d said? “Robbie, you’ll do no such thing. Those horses are wild and dangerous. You stay away from them, you hear?”
Robbie gave her a look of surprise. “Auntie Susanne, I only meant Scout, the horse he rides all the time.”
Her breath whooshed out. “Still, you shouldn’t bother the man.” Not that he was around to bother. He’d been quick enough to take advantage of his side of their agreement, but then he’d left once his horses were in the corrals. When did he plan to plow her field?
They finished the meal and as they cleaned up, she heard a horse ride into the yard. The children crowded to the window.
“It’s Mr. Tanner. He brought Pa’s horse in.”
Susanne joined them at the window. He had indeed brought in old Pat, the plow horse. She had been trying for days to drum up the nerve to bring the big animal in from the field. Frank insisted the horse was as gentle as a kitten, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it. He was far too big to be compared to a kitten.
Tanner waved at them and she ducked back. She didn’t want him to think she watched him. If he’d noticed her, she hoped he’d thought she was eager to see her side of the agreement fulfilled. Indeed, it was the truth.
“He’s coming to the door,” Janie said, and rushed to open it for him.
“Janie, wait.” The child ran headlong into danger. She trusted strangers, expected nothing but kindness. Not that Susanne could fault Jim for teaching the children to think the best of everyone. Too bad life would teach them otherwise.
Janie opened the door. “Hello, Mr. Tanner.”
“Hello, little miss. What a nice smile.”
Janie about melted at his feet.
Susanne hurried to the door to rescue Janie. She needed to warn the man to be careful of the child’s tender heart.
“Ma’am, before I start on the crop planting, I figure to plow a vegetable garden for you today. I see the fences for a spot, but do you want to show me your preferences? Maybe tell me how big you want it, and what direction you want the rows?”
She couldn’t keep up with his questions. Plow the vegetable garden? This was not part of their agreement.
A war raged within her. The voices of Aunt Ada, Mr. Befus, Alfred Morris and even her own battled against the necessity of feeding four hungry mouths.
She looked at the children clustered around her.
“If you don’t mind?” His voice carried a note of caution.
Necessity won. “Not at all.”
He held the door open and she stepped out to stand at his side. Then she realized she’d forgotten the children. “Come along.”
They followed eagerly. Every step took her further into her fears.
He led the way to the garden, measuring his steps so she walked at his side. The children ran ahead, scrambled over the garden fence and began chasing each other through the dry, dusty weeds. Their laughter and screams filled the air and made her smile despite the tension crackling along her spine.
Tanner chuckled. “Nice to see them enjoying themselves. Reminds me of me and my brothers when we were young.”
They reached the garden gate and paused.
A hundred old memories flooded her mind. “I remember helping my mama plant her garden.” She sucked in air. “Before she died.”
“Your mother is dead? I’m sorry.”
She kept her attention on the crop of weeds before her. “Both my parents drowned when I was twelve. A flash flood.” She hoped her voice remained flat and emotionless though her insides ached with the memory. She couldn’t stop the shudder that rocked her shoulders.
“I was seven when my ma died. Her name was Seena. I still miss her.” His voice deepened and she understood he fought the same pain she did.
“I guess the missing never goes away.” She looked at him.
He looked at her, sharing—at least, in her mind—a common bond of loss. His dark eyes held a world of sorrow and sympathy that called to her lonely heart. The idea made her insides feel they could break into a thousand pieces with the slightest jar.
“Auntie