скачать книгу бесплатно
Home-cooked. Tanner studied the bag in his hand.
Doughnuts again? In his head he heard the other church ushers’ laughter. Is that all you ever eat, Tanner?
An idea sprang to life. He whirled around and saw Sophie, er, Mrs. Armstrong getting into her van. “Wait.”
She frowned at him but waited for his approach. “Is something wrong?”
“No, yes—” He pointed at the writing on her vehicle. “You make food? For people to eat?”
“That’s usually what they do with it.” Amusement laced her voice.
“Do you ever make desserts? Or treats for coffee time?” Tanner felt ridiculous. But the thought of serving the same old store-bought doughnuts he always provided, the thought of overhearing the same snarky comments made him wait, albeit impatiently, for her response.
“Cakes, tarts, that kind of thing? Sure.” She noticed Beth licking her lips and winked. Eyes dancing, Sophie looked young and carefree, not at all motherly.
What would it be like to be loved by a mom like her?
She frowned. “Look, I’m in a hurry—”
Tanner took a leap of faith. “I’ll take the rabbits and make a home for them on the ranch in exchange for something.”
“What?” Suspicion darkened her brown eyes.
“You making me some kind of dessert for tonight.” Sophie’s face said she wasn’t sold on the trade. Hoping to sweeten the deal, Tanner glanced at Beth. “You could bring your kids to see the rabbits in their new home if you want, to make sure they’re okay.”
Sophie’s eyebrows drew together. “What kind of dessert?”
“I don’t care.” He glanced down at the bag he still clutched. “As long as it’s not doughnuts.” He knew from the furrow on her forehead that she was considering his offer.
“You haven’t given me much notice,” she complained.
“Can’t help it. That’s the deal.” Tanner tipped back on the heels of his boots, Stetson in hand, and waited while she deliberated. “There will be twelve of us.”
“All men?” Sophie asked.
“Yes. Does that matter?” She nodded. “Why?” he asked curiously.
“Well, for one thing, women often appreciate different desserts from men, say something like cheesecake over pie,” Sophie explained.
“Pie?” Tanner’s stomach tap-danced in anticipation. “You could make pies for twelve people for tonight?”
“You’d only need three, maybe four.” She tapped her chin. “That’s not the problem.”
“What is?” Could she see he was almost salivating at the mere thought of cinnamon-scented apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream dripping down its sides?
“I have a catering job tonight, which means I couldn’t possibly bake and deliver your pies today.” When she shook her head, strands of shiny chocolate-toned hair flew through the air in an arc then fell back perfectly into place.
Tanner loved chocolate. Even more so now.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do it.”
“But you don’t even know where I live.” He wasn’t giving up so easily.
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t have time to bake and deliver,” she said. “If it could be tomorrow—?”
“It has to be today. Maybe I could pick them up. Where do you live?” He noted her hesitation. Why not? She had a couple of kids to think of. “Or perhaps your husband could meet me somewhere with them?”
“I’m a widow.” The note of defiance buried in her comment intrigued Tanner.
“Well, I could pick them up,” he offered. She wrinkled her nose. “Would it make a difference to you if my pastor vouched for me?” Even as Tanner said it, he wondered what his life had come to that he was willing to ask someone to vouch for him in order to get pie.
“I don’t know.” She hesitated.
“The meeting tonight is for our church ushers’ group. I’m head usher so it’s at my place and I’m supplying the food,” he explained before she could say no. “We get together every three months or so to organize the schedule of who’s covering which services when at Tanque Verde First Community Church.”
“Hey, that’s where we go,” Davy said from the backseat.
“I thought you seemed familiar.” The furrow of worry disappeared from Sophie’s forehead. “You’re Burt Green’s successor at Wranglers Ranch.”
She knew Burt? Well, of course she did. Tanner figured pretty well everyone at First Community Church must know about the burly rancher and the transient kids he’d often brought to church.
“I was sorry to hear of Burt’s passing.” Sophie glanced at the van’s clock, hesitated a moment then nodded. “Okay. It’s a deal. You can pick up your dessert at my place in exchange for taking the rabbits. But I’m not promising pie.”
“Oh.” His balloon of hope burst.
“I’ll make you something delicious, though, don’t worry.” Sophie tilted her head toward the rabbits. “I really appreciate this. It’s a great relief to find a home for those guys but—I have to go. My roast is due to come out of the oven.”
“Wait here.” Tanner drove his truck next to her van, loaded the rabbits and promised Beth she could come see them anytime. With Sophie’s address tucked into his shirt pocket, he handed her one of Burt’s cards with the phone number at Wranglers Ranch.
“So you can let me know when I should come and pick up the desserts,” he said. Sophie nodded, fluttered a hand, then quickly drove away.
Chuckling at the goofy sunflower stuck on the van’s rear bumper, Tanner started his engine. Thanks to Sophie, his usher friends were going to get a surprise when they arrived at Wranglers Ranch tonight.
That’s when it occurred to Tanner that he didn’t even know if she was a good cook. For some reason that worry immediately dissipated. Strangely he felt utterly confident that whatever Sophie Armstrong made would be delicious. Tonight was going to be a good meeting.
Tanner gave the doughnut bag on his seat a glare, but he couldn’t bring himself to throw it out. Living on the street in his teens, he’d felt that painful gnawing ache of hunger once too often to ever waste food. Spying a solution, he pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it, the doughnuts and a business card to a disheveled man sitting in the parking lot by a light standard, exactly what Tanner would probably be doing if not for Burt Green.
“Hello. Buy yourself a meal to go with these doughnuts. If you need a job come see me at Wranglers Ranch,” he said.
Tanner drove to the exit and left the city limits, marveling at the simplicity of the interaction. Maybe Burt’s teaching wasn’t totally wasted on him.
But that optimism faltered the closer Tanner got to Wranglers Ranch. Whom was he kidding? He didn’t have the first clue how to carry out Burt’s ideas for Wranglers even though the ranch had been his home for the past ten of his almost twenty-six years. Tanner had been thrilled to work alongside Burt, to share in helping the street kids he mentored, kids who wouldn’t or couldn’t fit into the institutions of Tucson. Foster parent Burt, with Social Services’ permission, gladly nurtured each one, feeding, clothing and teaching life skills on his working ranch.
Ten years ago Tanner had been one of those kids. Other kids eventually found their families who’d missed them, wanted them back. Tanner was the only one who’d stayed. Nobody had ever come for him.
“Tanner, God’s given me a new goal,” Burt had announced last June. “I believe He wants us to make Wranglers Ranch into a kind of camp retreat for kids.” The surprise of his words hadn’t diminished even six months later.
Tanner might have been stunned by Burt’s new goal but he’d never doubted his mentor would do it. He’d only been curious about how. Unfortunately a fatal heart attack had kept Burt from turning his goal into reality. Tanner had mourned his mentor, assuming Wranglers Ranch, which had been his home for so long, would be sold. He’d been stunned to learn that Burt had entrusted Tanner with his ranch and the fortune that went with it. Burt’s will had just one condition: Tanner had two years to turn the ranch into a kids’ camp. If he failed, then the ranch would be sold.
Tanner desperately wanted to live up to Burt’s trust in him but he couldn’t figure out how to make the dream happen. He had no difficulty running the ranch. That was easy. But the scope of creating a refuge for kids like the ones Burt had described overwhelmed and intimidated him. In six months he hadn’t made even a tiny dent because he had no idea how to start. Shame over his failure left him feeling unworthy of Burt’s trust. Failure meant he could never repay the enormous debt he owed the man who’d coaxed him off the streets and into a life in which faith in God now filled his world.
Fan into flame the gift of God that is within you, Tanner. In his mind he could hear Burt’s voice repeating the verse from Timothy. Yet even now, after living at Wranglers so long, the meaning of that biblical quote still wasn’t clear to Tanner.
What is the gift that’s within me, Burt? Same old question. Still no answer.
Tanner knew he lacked Burt’s easy ability to reach into a street kid’s heart and help him gain a new perspective. He’d taken a foster parenting course and tons of psychology classes but they hadn’t helped. He had the head knowledge. The problem was, Tanner Johns was a loner, plagued by his past mistakes.
The old insecurities returned as they always did when Tanner thought about his past. Once more he became a painfully shy seven-year-old foster kid, utterly devastated when he’d overheard a social worker say Tanner’s mom abandoned him before he was a day old. In the years that followed he’d learned exactly what it meant when nobody wanted you, not even your own mother. From then on, a family was all Tanner had ever wanted. He’d finally found that family in Burt. But now he was gone and Tanner was alone.
Ignoring the rush of loss that bulged inside, Tanner pushed away the past and refocused. Even if he could somehow coax kids to come to the ranch, Burt’s vision had been to turn Wranglers into a place where kids would find God was the answer to their problems. But how? Tanner had repeatedly asked God to send someone to show him. Then, as Burt had taught, he waited for God’s leading. So far Tanner’s prayers remained unanswered.
Show me how to do this, God, his heart cried once more.
With a sigh, Tanner turned his truck into the winding road that led to Wranglers, his spirit lifting at the beauty of the place. Burt had claimed the ranch showed its best in March and April when the desert bloomed with life. But January was Tanner’s favorite month because it was a time of new birth, beginnings and hope.
The swaying leaves of the massive eucalyptus trees brought powerful memories of Burt and his unending life lessons. The only thing that wily man hadn’t been able to teach Tanner was how to let go of his shameful past. Of course Burt hadn’t known that by accepting his invitation to come to Wranglers, Tanner had abandoned the girlfriend who was going to have his child. In fact, it was only much later that Tanner himself understood that though he’d gained Burt and a home, he’d done exactly as his mother had—he’d thrown away his chance to be a father, to have the family he’d always craved. How could he possibly be forgiven for that?
With a sigh of regret Tanner pushed away the past and decided he’d focus on recruiting kids tomorrow. Right now he needed to relocate these rabbits so if a cute little girl, her grumpy brother and her pretty mom came to visit, he could allay their fears about their pets.
Moses Featherbed sat on the porch swing at Wranglers, watching as Tanner hefted the cage out of the truck. The elderly Native American had called Wranglers his home long before Tanner’s arrival and thanks to a stipend from Burt’s estate, Moses remained, refusing to retire, let alone stop rehabilitating the abused horses Burt had always welcomed on his spread.
“You raising rabbits now?” Moses, never short for a comment, lifted one bushy eyebrow.
“Not intentionally.” Conscious of the old man following, Tanner carried the cage to a fenced area he’d built last November to house a pair of injured Canadian geese that had since flown away. “I made an exchange.” He set the cage inside and opened the wire door.
“Rabbits for...?” Moses eased his arthritic hip onto a nearby bale and watched the animals hop out of the cage to explore their new home.
“Rabbits for pie or something like it for my ushers’ meeting tonight.” Tanner couldn’t hide his smile of anticipation.
“Good deal, especially if a pretty lady comes with it,” Moses approved with a chuckle.
“She’s pretty all right,” Tanner assured him. Then he frowned. “But that has nothing to do with the pie. I mean—uh—”
“Right.” Moses’s amused chuckle echoed through the feathery mesquites, over the spiky barrel cactus and tumbled down to the bubbling brook three hundred feet away. “The Lord’s ways surely are mysterious.”
Mysterious or not, the Lord wasn’t in the matchmaking business for Tanner Johns, because pretty as Sophie Armstrong was, God knew perfectly well that Tanner didn’t get involved with women. Never again.
* * *
“I sure hope your cowboy likes these kinds of pie.” Sophie studied the fluted golden crusts with a critical eye.
“He will.” Beth smiled dreamily, her mind obviously elsewhere. “Do you think the rabbits are happy, Mama?”
“On a ranch? I think they’re ecstatic. That means very happy,” she clarified when Beth frowned.
“Mr. Cowboy will be really nice to them.” Beth went back to coloring her oversize rabbit-picture-thank-you card for the rancher.
“How do you know that?” Curious to hear the response, Sophie listened before completing a last-minute mental check on her catered meal.
“’Cause he was really nice to me. Only he’s got sad eyes. I think he hurts inside. I don’t think he has anybody to love him.” Beth added a few blue lines to her drawing before she murmured, “I love him.”
I could almost love him for taking those rabbits. Immediately Sophie quashed the errant thought. Never falling into that trap again, she reminded herself. Independence is too precious.
“I love Mr. Cowboy lots.” Beth sounded the way Sophie had felt when she was fifteen and Marty Armstrong, the coolest guy in school, had first shown an interest in her.
“That’s nice to say, sweetie, but Mr. Johns is a stranger. You can’t love a stranger.” It was the wrong thing to say to her very literal daughter, and Sophie knew it the moment Beth’s blue eyes darkened to storm clouds.
“The Bible says to love everybody.” She glared at her mother, her voice accusing.
“That’s right. Thank you for reminding me, Bethy.” Sophie pressed a placating kiss against her daughter’s head, then checked the kitchen clock. Where was the man? She had to leave for her gig in less than five minutes. “Maybe that’s him,” she said when the phone rang a second later.
It wasn’t Tanner Johns calling.
“I can’t babysit, Sophie. I’m so sorry.” Edna Parker’s breathy voice sounded horribly weak.
“What’s wrong, Edna? Where are you?” Sophie asked worriedly.
“At the hospital. My son brought me. I fell and broke my hip while you were out trying to get rid of the rabbits. They’re going to do surgery soon.” That weepy tone told Sophie her elderly neighbor was very frightened.
“You stop fussing now,” she said gently. “The doctors will make everything better.”
“But I can’t babysit for you tonight,” the woman wailed in a feeble voice.
“I’ll get someone else to watch the kids. Don’t worry about us. And I’ll run over later and look after your cats. I have your key, remember? Everything’s going to be fine.” She heard a sigh of relief. “The kids and I will come see you as soon as we can. Don’t worry, Edna.”
“Thank you, dear.” Somewhat calmer, Edna chatted for a moment before saying, “I’m so glad God sent you into my life.” Then she hung up.
“I wish God would send me someone into my life. Where am I going to get a sitter at this time on a Friday night?” Sophie couldn’t mess up this catering job. She needed it to pay next month’s rent. “I need help, God.”
A loud rap on the front door startled her out of her silent prayer.
“It’s Mr. Cowboy,” Beth yelled, having raced to answer the door. Then to Sophie’s utter dismay, her daughter said to Tanner, “Houston, we have a problem.”
Tanner’s startled gaze moved from Beth to Sophie. One corner of his mouth kicked up. Dark green eyes, which earlier had been hidden behind sunglasses, were startling in his tanned face. Sophie gulped. Tall, lanky and lean, with wide denim-clad shoulders that looked perfect for leaning on, Tanner Johns was every woman’s fantasy cowboy.
Not her fantasy cowboy, of course, but—
“What’s the problem, er, Houston?” His gaze rested on Sophie while his fingers gripped the black Stetson he’d removed when he stepped over their threshold.
Sophie couldn’t explain because there was something wrong with her breathing. As in, she couldn’t. Then Davy came racing down the stairs, tripped on the perpetually loose runner at the bottom tread and tumbled headlong into the cowboy’s arms. Tanner grunted as he caught her son and held on just long enough to make sure Davy could stand on his own.
“Something I said?” he joked, winking at her.
The man winked at her! The control Sophie had almost recovered vanished. She figured she probably looked like a beached fish, gulping for air. Stupidly, she wished she’d had time to fix her hair.
Where’s your independence now?
“Our babysitter can’t come,” Beth explained. “Mama’s gonna lose this job and we need it to pay our bills.” The words were an exact repeat of her mother’s earlier meant-to-be-silent mutterings.
