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He saw no Auntie Susanne as he rode onward, Robbie’s arms tight about his waist.
“Auntie Susanne is going to be awfully angry,” the boy mumbled. “Maybe you could say it was your fault.”
Tanner stopped the horse and turned to Robbie. “I won’t lie for you. You have to face the consequences of your actions.” How would this woman react to the boy’s wandering? “What do you think your aunt might do?”
“I dunno. But she won’t be happy.” He drew in a deep breath. “I promised I wouldn’t disappear again but I forgot my promise when I heard your horses.”
The boy would have already been a distance from the farm in order to hear them, but Tanner didn’t point that out.
Robbie perked up. “Not sorry I saw them, either. They’re fine-looking animals.”
Tanner chuckled. “Thanks. I happen to agree.” He prodded the horse onward until he entered the yard.
A woman dashed from the barn, dusty skirts flying, blond hair blowing in the wind. She skidded to a halt as she heard the hoofbeats of Tanner’s mount and spun about to face him.
From twenty feet away, he could discern this was not an old aunt but a beautiful young woman with blue eyes fringed by dark lashes.
She stared at him, then blinked as if unable to believe her eyes.
He could almost hear her thoughts. What’s this wild Indian doing in my yard?
If she’d had a man about, he’d most likely come after Tanner with a weapon like Jenny Rosneau’s pa had. The man had taken objection to a half-breed wanting to court his daughter.
“Go join the rest of your kin on the reservation,” he’d said. Mr. Rosneau obviously did not think being a Harding mattered at all.
Big Sam might have objected had he heard. But Tanner did not tell him. All that mattered was that Jenny shared her pa’s opinion. Nothing his pa said would change how people looked at Tanner or how the young ladies ducked into doorways to avoid him.
At least the woman before him appeared unarmed, so he wouldn’t have to defend himself.
He reached back for Robbie, lifted him from the horse and lowered him to the ground. “He belong to you?”
* * *
Susanne’s mind whirled. What was a stranger doing in her yard? Even more, what was he doing with Robbie? She grabbed Robbie and pulled him to her side. “Did this man hurt you?”
The man in question studied her with ebony eyes. He wore a black hat with a feather in the band and a fringed leather shirt. Leather trousers and dusty cowboy boots completed his outfit except for a large knife at his waist. She glanced about but saw no weapon she could grab. She was defenseless, but if he meant to attack she would fight tooth and nail.
His appearance was the icing on the cake for an already dreadful morning. First, the milk cow was missing. Frank had gone looking for her. He was a responsible boy but, still, he was only eleven. He shouldn’t be doing her job. She needed to get the fences fixed so the cow wouldn’t get out. But she simply couldn’t keep up with all the things that needed doing.
Then Liz went to get the eggs. She was ten but had gathered eggs for her mother even before Susanne had come out to help. But six-year-old Janie had followed her and left the gate open. Now all the chickens were out racing around. If Susanne didn’t get them in before dark, some predator would enjoy a chicken dinner.
She thought that was as bad as the morning could get. Then on top of that Robbie had disappeared again. The boy wandered about at will. She had been searching for him when Alfred Morris had shown up with a renewed offer.
“You can’t run the farm on your own,” Alfred had said, as he did every time he crossed her path—which he made certain occurred with alarming regularity. “That’s obvious to anyone who cares to look. Sell it or abandon it. Swallow your pride and accept my offer of marriage. You’d have a much better life as my wife.”
“Mr. Morris, I’m flattered. Truly I am. But I don’t want to sell my brother’s farm. Someday it will belong to his sons.”
Alfred lived in town where he ran a successful mercantile business. She was sure he’d make someone a very good husband. Just not her. No, marriage was simply not in her plans. Hadn’t been even before she became the sole guardian of four children.
Her own parents had died, drowned in a flash flood, when she was twelve. Her brother, Jim, was fifteen years older and had already moved west. He’d come for the funeral and made arrangements for Susanne to live with Aunt Ada. But living with her relative was less than ideal. Aunt Ada treated her like a slave. Never had she let Susanne forget how much she owed her aunt for a roof over her head and a bed. Well, more like a cot in the back of the storeroom but, regardless, according to Aunt Ada Susanne should be grateful for small mercies.
When Jim’s wife grew ill, he’d sent for Susanne to help care for her and the children. Weeks after her arrival, Alice died. And now Jim was gone, too, dead from pneumonia right after Christmas.
The farm had gone downhill since then. Now it was time to plant the crop, but Susanne wondered how she’d be able to get it in the ground.
Only one thing mattered—the children. Keeping them together and caring for them. She would never see them taken in by others, parceled out to relatives or neighbors and treated poorly as she’d been. Somehow she’d take care of them herself.
But she hadn’t counted on having to face an Indian. Didn’t he look familiar? Where had she seen him before?
“Auntie Susanne, he gots some of the wild horses.”
At Robbie’s words, she tore her gaze from the man before her. “Is that where you were?” Her voice came out higher than normal. “You stay away from wild horses. You could get hurt.”
“Mr. Harding brought me back.”
She jerked back to the man on horseback. So that’s why he looked familiar. He was a Harding. The family owned a big ranch—the Sundown Ranch—to the east of Jim’s little farm. She hadn’t recognized him right away because he’d always worn jeans and a shirt when she’d seen him in town. Why did he dress like an Indian now? “Thank you for seeing him home safely.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Don’t guess we’ve been properly introduced. I’m your neighbor Tanner Harding.”
The girls left off chasing the chickens and stared at Mr. Harding.
Frank trotted up. “Aunt Susanne, I can’t find the cow.” He turned his attention to their visitor. “You an Indian?”
“Frank,” Susanne scolded. “You shouldn’t ask such a question.”
Mr. Harding chuckled. “It’s okay. I’m half Indian, half white.”
“He gots wild horses in a pen,” Robbie said with some importance.
“I’m Frank.” The boy held his hand out for a proper introduction.
Mr. Harding swung out of his saddle with more ease than most men. Certainly with more ease than Alfred Morris, who struggled to get in and out of the saddle.
Mr. Harding took Frank’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, neighbor.”
Frank’s chest swelled at the greeting. “You, too, Mr. Harding.”
“Prefer you call me Tanner. Mr. Harding is my pa.” He let his gaze touch each of them.
That left Susanne little option but to introduce herself and the others. “I’m Susanne Collins. You’ve met my nephews. These are my nieces, Liz and Janie.”
He doffed his hat at the girls and they giggled.
“Ma’am.” He brought his dark eyes back to Susanne. “I know where your milk cow is. I can bring her in if you like.”
She hesitated. She didn’t like to be owing to anyone. She’d learned that lesson, all right.
“I looked everywhere and couldn’t find her,” Frank said, half-apologetic.
“She’s way on the other side of the trees.” Tanner continued to look at Susanne, awaiting her answer.
She wanted to say no but how long would it take to tramp out and persuade Daisy to return to the pasture next to the barn? She wouldn’t be comfortable leaving the children while she went, and it would take all day if she took them with her. Which left her with only one option.
Relying on this man—any man—made her shudder. She remembered when she’d learned that lesson firsthand. Four years ago, when Susanne was sixteen, Mr. Befus had offered to take Susanne off Aunt Ada’s hands. Had even offered a nice sum of money. Susanne still got angry thinking her aunt had been prepared to sell her like so much merchandise. When Susanne had protested, Aunt Ada had reminded her she had no right to say no. “You are totally dependent on the goodwill of others and if Mr. Befus sees fit to offer you a home, you best accept.” Reasoning a home with someone who wanted her would be better than staying with Aunt Ada who clearly didn’t, Susanne had agreed to the arrangement.
Aunt Ada had left him alone with Susanne at his request. “I need to know what I’m getting in this bargain,” he’d said. As soon as the door closed behind Aunt Ada, he’d grabbed Susanne and started to paw her. Her skin crawled at the memory.
“I’ll not marry you until I know you’ll be able to pay me back properly.”
She’d fought him.
“You owe me, you little wildcat.”
She’d broken free and locked herself in the bedroom, refusing to come out until Aunt Ada promised she wouldn’t have to go with the man.
The next day she’d sent Jim a letter. It had taken two more years for him to invite her to join him. He’d said he always meant to get back to her, but he got busy with his family and working on the farm. She would have left Aunt Ada’s but without Jim’s help and without a penny to her name, she would simply be throwing herself from one situation to another. Better the one she knew and understood.
Ever since then she’d been leery of men offering any form of help, and vowed she would never marry and owe a man the right to do to her as he wished.
But at this moment she had no other recourse.
“If you don’t mind bringing her back.” She hoped his offer was only a neighborly gesture and he wouldn’t demand repayment.
“Not at all.” He swung back onto the saddle without using the stirrups and reined about to trot from the yard.
She stared after him, at a loss to know what to think. She couldn’t owe him for fear he’d demand repayment, but what could she do in return? Still, first things first. She turned to the children. “Let’s get the chickens back in.” And then she absolutely must figure out how to get the field plowed.
Fifteen minutes later and a generous amount of oats thrown into the pen, the chickens were in and the gate closed.
Two minutes afterward, three were out again, having found a hole in the fence. Susanne closed her eyes and prayed for a healthy dose of patience. “Frank, you stand at the hole and keep any more from getting out. I’ll find something to fix it with. You others, see if you can catch those hens.”
She was knee-deep in the bits and pieces of Jim’s supplies in the corner room of the barn when the gentle moo of the cow jerked her about. “So you decided to come home, did you? You’re more bother than you’re worth.”
Tanner rode in behind the cow, ducking through the open door just in time to catch her talking to the cow.
For a moment, her embarrassment made it impossible to speak.
“She got out through a big hole in the pasture fence,” he said, without any sign of amusement or censure, which eased her fractured feelings.
“I know. The fences all need repairing. I’m getting it done as fast as I can.” If she wrote down everything that needed doing around here it would require several pieces of paper. She was drowning in repairs. “Thanks for bringing the cow back.”
He nodded. “You’re welcome. Ma’am, I could fix that fence for you. Wouldn’t take but a minute.”
Her insides twisted with protest. It wasn’t as if she didn’t need help. As Alfred Morris pointed out regularly, anyone could see she wasn’t keeping up with the workload, but help came with a price. The lesson had been drilled into her day after day by Aunt Ada. “No, thank you. I have no wish to be under obligation to you.”
His expression hardened. “Ma’am, you aren’t the first, nor will you be the last, to want me off their place because I’m half-Indian.” He backed his horse out of the barn.
She climbed over the pieces of wood and wire at her feet as fast as she could and ran after him. “It has nothing to do with your heritage,” she called.
But he rode away without a backward glance.
She pressed her hand to her forehead. The last thing she wanted was to offend him.
* * *
Tanner only offered to help Miss Collins out of neighborly concern. She had her hands more than full with looking after four children, the house and the chores. How was she going to get the crop in? And if she failed to do so, what would she feed the animals through the winter and how would she buy supplies for herself and the children?
He shouldn’t be surprised that she objected to having an Indian on her property. He’d come to expect such a reaction. He should just ride away, but something his ma used to say stopped him. “Son, if we see someone in need and walk away, we are guilty of harming them.”
He did not want to be responsible for harming a pretty young gal and four orphaned children, but what could he do when Susanne had chased him off the place?
What would his ma do?
He knew the answer. She’d find a way to help. But she wasn’t alive to help him find a way.
As he rode past the barn, he eyed the corrals. Susanne’s brother had certainly built them strong, though the wire fences around the pasture showed signs of neglect.
He rode past the farm, then stopped to look again at the corrals behind him. They were sturdy enough to hold wild horses...and he desperately needed such a corral... A thought began to form, but he squelched it. He couldn’t work here. Not with a woman with so many needs and so much resistance. Not with four white kids. Every man, woman and child in the area would protest about him associating with such fine white folk.
He shifted his gaze past the corrals to the overgrown garden spot and beyond to the field where a crop had been harvested last fall and stood waiting to be reseeded. He thought of the disorderly tack room. His gaze rested on the idle plow.
This family needed help. He needed corrals. Was it really that simple?
Only one way to find out. He rode back to the farm and dismounted to face a startled Miss Susanne. “Ma’am, I know you don’t want to accept help...”
Her lips pursed.
“But you have something I need so maybe we can help each other.”
Her eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms across her chest. “I don’t see how.”
He half smiled at the challenging tone of her voice. “Let me explain. I have wild horses to train and no place to train them.”
“How can that be? You live on a great big ranch.”
“My pa doesn’t want me bringing wild horses in.” He continued on without giving her a chance to ask any more questions. “But you have a set of corrals that’s ideal.”
For a moment she offered no comment, no question, then she finally spoke. “I fail to see how that would help me.”
“Let me suggest a deal. If you let me bring my horses here to work with them and—”
She opened her mouth to protest, but given that she hadn’t yet heard how she’d benefit he didn’t give her a chance to voice her objections.
“In return, I will plow your field and plant your crop.” The offer humbled him. He’d made no secret of the fact he didn’t intend to be a farmer. Ever. He only hoped his brothers never found out or they’d tease him endlessly. Even before he finished the thought, he knew they would. He’d simply have to ignore their comments.
“I have no desire to have a bunch of wild horses here. Someone is likely to get hurt.”
“You got another way of getting that crop in?” He gave her a second to contemplate that, then added softly, “How will you feed the livestock and provide for the children if you don’t?”
