Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Her Holiday Family\Sugar Plum Season\Her Cowboy Hero\Small-Town Fireman (44 page)

“Let me help you.” And before she could protest, he straightened it, then wound it carefully around her neck.

He stood so close she could smell the scent of soap and his aftershave, a smell so familiar it created a dull ache in her chest. She had to fight the impulse to drift toward him. Lean into him like she did so often when she was younger. Like she had on the home movie.

She pulled away, concentrating on tucking the ends of her scarf in her coat, determined not to let him get to her. Then her gaze drifted up and caught him watching her, a question lingering in his eyes.

She was about to push past him when he caught her by the arm.

“I want to ask you a question,” he said.

Which was exactly what she was trying to avoid.

“Why did that movie make you so upset?” he continued.

Her first reaction was anger, but behind that came the usual guilt.

“It reminded me of happier times,” was all she managed to squeak out.

He was quiet a moment, then narrowed his eyes. “Why would that bother you so much?
You
were the one who broke up with me.
You
were the one who took off without answering my calls.”

He had to raise his voice above the wind howling around the building to make himself heard and it put her on the defensive.

“You knew exactly why I took off,” she returned. “We fought enough about it. You were gone all the time with your work and the rodeo.”

“That's old ground. When I came back from the rodeo, after we broke up, I tried to call you. I wanted to try again. To figure out how we could make it work. But you didn't return any of my calls. Don't you think I at least deserved a second chance? You took off without even acknowledging that. Didn't I at least deserve a reason?” His voice deepened and grew harsher as he took a step toward her.

Keira couldn't help herself. She moved back, holding up one hand to stop him.

He seemed confounded by her reaction.

“See, we're fighting again,” she said, trying to maintain a physical and emotional distance between them. “And we're fighting about exactly the same things we fought about then. It was pointless for us to try again because we would have been doing this. Going in circles around the same old stuff.” She stopped there, her voice choking off. Her explanation sounded lame, even to her own ears, but it was all she could give him right now.

She could tell he didn't believe her, but thankfully he didn't seem to press the point.

“You're right. I'm sorry.” He drew in a deep breath, then gave her a cautious smile. “I don't want to fight. I just...I just want some explanation. Some resolution.”

It was the hurt in his voice that made her realize she had to give him more than the vague comments she always had. She hadn't just walked away from a boyfriend wanting to make up. She had walked away from a fiancée. They had made a commitment to each other. Trouble was, the fact that he had wanted to try again after she had broken up with him had come as too little too late.

“I'm sorry I didn't at least return your calls. I...I overreacted to a situation.”

“What situation? Me being gone?”

“That was a large part of it.” She could tell by the frustration on his face that she had given him precisely zero. “There's more....” Her voice trailed off as she tried to weigh what to tell him.

He nodded his head slowly, as if absorbing this information. “Am I going to get that ‘more' now?”

“I don't know.”

Tanner looked up at the roof as a particularly strong gust of wind rattled the tin, then back at her. “From the sounds of the storm I'm not going anywhere soon.”

Keira wasn't comforted by the quiet persistence in his voice. She knew from their past that she had given him enough leeway that he would push until he got what he thought he needed.

“Before we go feed cows, I need to tell you something, too.” He held her gaze, his eyes piercing hers. “Like you said, we fought a lot, but I want you to know why I was working so much back then.”

Her mind slipped back to those horrible days when it seemed like every time she and Tanner got together he was tired or cranky. “You said you wanted to have enough set by.”

He had said it so often, she had thought it was an excuse. Which was another reason they fought.

“There was another reason.”

“Your father's will?”

“Yes.”

His single word response gave her the courage to carry on this much safer line of conversation.

“Why didn't you tell me that was why you were working so hard? I had to find out from David what Alice told you.” The fact that Tanner hadn't told her himself hurt almost as much as their fighting had.

So much could have been so different had he only told her right away.

“I didn't tell you because I was too proud,” he said, his voice holding an edge that showed her how much it still bothered him and how hard it was for him to say this. “I didn't want anyone to know that my dad hadn't tried to protect my interests. That Alice thought so little of me that she thought her son should run the ranch and not me hurt more than I wanted to admit.”

Keira could only stare at him, regret and sorrow spiraling through her.

“So I figured I had to find another way to give you what you wanted.”

“And what was that?”

Tanner set his hands on his hips, his head skewed to one side. “You're a Bannister. Your family has held this ranch for almost a hundred and fifty years. An unbroken legacy of land ownership and expansion. Your parents had never had to watch their expenses.”

“I wasn't spoiled,” she protested, slapping her mittens against her thigh in disapproval.

“Maybe not, but you could have had anything you wanted. And though I wasn't raised poor, either, I counted on inheriting some of the ranch. When I didn't, I had to find another way to support you. That's why I took on the mechanic job. I would have loved to work in Saddlebank or somewhere closer, but Sheridan was the only place I could get work. And that's why I started rodeoing as much as I did. I was trying to save up to give us a good future. So I could give you what I thought you should have.”

“All I ever wanted was you.”

The words burst out of her before she could stop them. They hung in the air between them, and Keira knew she had taken a step down a road she couldn't easily retreat from.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “You didn't return any of my calls when I tried to contact you that summer. You couldn't even send me a text message.” His accusations battered at her, wearing her down.

“Anything I could have said, we covered in every fight we had after you started working off the ranch,” she muttered. “I didn't talk to you after you left because...I didn't...didn't want to fight anymore. We had nothing more to say to each other and you weren't around to talk to.”

Tanner rocked back and forth on his heels. “So we're back to that.” His words came out in a staccato burst. Like he didn't believe her entirely.

“I guess,” was her lame response.

“We're not done with this,” Tanner said, his tone quiet. Ominous. “I know there's more to say. I've never been a patient man, but I've learned a lot over the past few years. And right now, I've got time to find out what you're not telling me. I'm not going anywhere until the plow trucks come.”

Then he walked away, leaving Keira feeling as if she had woken a sleeping cougar.

Chapter Six

“D
o you think the storm will be over soon?” Alice asked when she came back into the living room after putting Ellen to bed. “Thanksgiving is only two days away.”

Tanner heard the anxiety in her voice. Had she thought he would stay around for the holiday?

“I don't know,” he said, looking up from the book he'd been pretending to read the past half hour. Keira, sitting on the floor just a few feet away, sorted through a basket of wool. “Unless the storm stops now, I doubt it.”

“So what should we do?” Alice asked. “I don't want to have Thanksgiving without Monty around. Would you mind if we put it off?” she asked, looking at Keira. “Celebrate it next week? Maybe Heather and Lee could come if we did that?”

“That'd be fine with me,” Keira said. “I don't want to have Thanksgiving without Dad, either.”

The fire crackled and snapped in the stove, a warm buffer to the storm that had picked up again as the sun set. Tanner tried to keep his attention on his book but he kept looking over at Keira, thinking of the frustrating conversation they'd had this afternoon.

He knew there was more going on but he also knew when to push and when to back off. He'd worked with enough skittish horses to recognize the signs. Keira had been right about one thing. They had fought often and always about the same thing. Maybe she did feel as if there was nothing more to say. Maybe she did feel he wouldn't have listened if she explained to him why she wasn't ready to give him a second chance that summer. He knew he should have told her earlier about his problems with Alice and his inheritance, but turns out she knew before he tried to connect with her again.

Something else was going on with her. Something she wasn't telling him. The storm that still blustered outside told him that he might have time to find out what it was.

“And did you get more work done on David's saddle?” Alice asked, glancing expectantly from Tanner to Keira.

“I got the swell cover replaced and I hope to finish that tomorrow,” Keira replied as she sorted through the bright colors of yarn in the basket in front of her. Apparently she was going to knit a scarf for Adana.

“Will it be done on time?” Alice pressed.

Keira's only response was a tight nod as she set a couple of balls of wool aside.

“The saddle doesn't seem as badly damaged as Keira initially thought,” Tanner put in, helping Keira out, wishing his mother would stop pressuring her. “We should be able to get it fixed up soon.”

“I think it's so wonderful that you're using David's saddle,” Alice said to Tanner. “I know he was proud of it. Did you two notice the marks in the saddle? David said he put a cross on the back of the seat for every ride he completed.”

“Trust David to do that,” Keira muttered.

“What do you mean?” Tanner asked, puzzled at her comment.

“Just a joke,” she said, tugging on a particularly snarly bit of wool that was caught on the edge of the basket.

Only she didn't look like she was joking.

“He had a lot of crosses on that saddle,” Alice continued, seemingly unaware of Keira's comment. “Did you notice them, Tanner?”

“David had told me about them.” Tanner aimlessly flipped through another page of the book. He knew they were there but hadn't pointed them out to Keira. She had been reluctant enough to work on the saddle; he doubted seeing David's self-indulgence would have helped.

Another burst of wind and snow told him that the storm had picked up again. He hoped the cows wouldn't bunch up and push the fences. The wires were sound, but hundreds of cows all trying to head away from a storm could push over even the tightest fence.

He glanced over at Keira again, surprised to see her looking at him. But as soon as they made eye contact she looked away. Just as she had all night.

“David had such stories about his trips away from home,” Alice murmured, her voice holding a note of sorrow. “I miss listening to them. I remember one he told me about a rodeo clown who used to play practical jokes on him. Did he ever tell you about that, Tanner?”

Tanner looked up from his book. “Can't remember,” he said.

“This clown was a girl, which is unusual in the rodeo. Anyhow, she used to play these practical jokes on him. Pepper in his boots and grease in his gloves. That kind of thing. Apparently David was the only one she used to target, which seems somewhat unkind,” Alice said.

Tanner wasn't too surprised. David could be a pest and didn't always know when to quit.

“Apparently this clown had a broom that she used all the time. It was a main prop of hers,” Alice continued, smiling as she remembered. “She would lean on it all the time while she was telling jokes to the crowd. Well, David had cut the broom somehow and put it back together so the clown couldn't see. The first time that clown leaned on it she fell facedown in the dirt. Of course, everyone else thought it was part of her act, but the clown knew better. After that David and that girl were always finding ways to get back at each other. Got to be a thing with them.” Alice chuckled. “I can't believe he didn't tell you that story.”

“Actually I do remember now,” Tanner said as he set the book aside, folding his hands over his stomach, a gentle smile teasing his lips. “I remember that he couldn't get her to notice him, which is why, I suspect, he kept playing jokes on her.”

“Well, she didn't know what she was missing,” Alice said. “David was the most charming young man.”

Keira released a faint snort, which made him look her way, but she was looking down at the wool she was still untangling. He wondered what that was about.

“I always hoped he would settle down someday,” Alice said. “But I also know that he wanted to experience as much as he could before he did. I know you both saw a lot of country in your travels.”

“That we did. Made lots of memories.” Tanner released a gentle sigh, sorrow filling the moment.

And once again he felt that all-too-familiar crush of guilt followed by its ever-present companion, regret. If only he hadn't let David go out on his own.

He glanced over at Alice, only to see her watching him. The sorrow in her eyes made him assume she was thinking the same thing he was.

“He was a good son.” Alice sighed lightly then turned to Keira. “What about you, Keira? You and Tanner and David used to hang around. Do you have any memories to share?”

Keira kept her head down, tugging on a particularly stubborn knot. “None that Tanner doesn't know already.”

“But you went to school with him. And there was that summer that you and him—”

“That was a long time ago,” Keira said, abruptly interrupting Alice midsentence.

That made Tanner wonder. Did it have some connection to her evasiveness in the shop this afternoon? He was about to ask what was going on when, suddenly, the house was plunged into darkness.

“Just stay put,” Tanner said, getting up, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden darkness. After a few moments, he could slowly make out the glow from the woodstove and the outlines of the furniture. “Keira, where are the flashlights?”

“I'll get them,” she said, rising slowly to her feet, an indistinct silhouette.

“Just tell me where they are,” he insisted.

“No. It's easier for me to find them,” she snapped, fear edging her voice.

Her angry response surprised him. She had never been afraid of the dark before.

His eyes slowly adjusted and he could see Keira bending over the side table by the couch. She yanked open the drawer and rummaged through it, as if she wasn't sure what she was looking for.

“Here we are,” she said, her voice breathless, relieved.

Tanner heard the click of a button and a beam of light flashed into the darkness, wavering as it illuminated the living room and kitchen.

“Do you have another one?” Tanner asked.

“Take this one. I'll get the other one out of the kitchen drawer.”

Her hand was ice-cold and it trembled when she handed him the flashlight.

“Are you okay?” Tanner asked quietly, her face a white mask in the glow of the light, her eyes wide with what looked like fear.

“Yeah. I'm fine,” she said with a forced smile.

“Where are your candles?” Alice asked. “I can light them if you have them.”

“I'll get you the battery-powered lantern from the kitchen,” Keira said, turning around. Tanner followed her, shining the flashlight onto the floor where she walked. She retrieved the lantern and another flashlight. They turned on the lantern, sending deep shadows into the room.

“I'll go check on Ellen,” Alice said, flicking on her flashlight and leaving.

“And I'll have to start up the generator,” Tanner said. They couldn't leave the power off too long. The cattle needed their heated waterers, and lines would freeze if they didn't get auxiliary power up and running.

“Okay. Let's do it, then,” Keira said.

“You don't need to come,” Tanner protested. “Your dad said it was ready to go.” He couldn't understand why she would willingly go out into the storm with him when she had made it fairly clear she preferred to avoid him.

“The generator is fiddly.” Keira walked slowly toward the porch, flashlight bobbing. “It'll take two people to get it going.”

“Okay. I know I can't stop you if you've got your mind set on something.”

Even in the feeble light of the flashlights he caught the annoyance in her face. She was a puzzle these days, that much he knew. A woman with layers of unanswered questions. It was starting to get to him. Keira had always been a straightforward girl. She always said she left the mystery and drama to Heather, her sister.

“Do you have any rope?” he asked as he pulled on his gloves and picked up his flashlight, the beam of light dancing around the porch as gusts of wind buffeted the house.

“In the blanket box,” Keira said, pointing her own flashlight toward a large box in one corner of the porch.

“Don't know why your family always called this the blanket box,” Tanner muttered as he walked over and opened it. “Far as I remember I've never seen blankets in here.”

Keira chuckled at his comment. “I think it was my grandmother's, though I'm not so sure she had blankets in it, either. Heather and I used to hide in it when we played hide-and-seek.”

Tanner pulled out a coil of rope, checking it for length. “I remember that. Could never figure out why you girls would want to shut yourselves up in such a cramped spot.”

“I stopped hiding there after that time that David sat on the lid.”

“He did that?”

“Oh, yeah. Seemed forever before he let me out of there. I'll never forget how he was laughing at me. He could be such a jerk.” Keira stopped, then released a light laugh, as if it was all in fun. “Sorry. I shouldn't say that about him when he's not here to defend himself.”

Jerk
was a strong word for Keira, who seemed to get along with everyone.

“It wasn't that bad, was it?” Tanner asked as he coiled up the rope. “We had some fun times together, the three of us.”

“Let's get going.” Keira clamped her hand on the flashlight, obviously not wanting to talk about David anymore.

“I'm tying this rope to the door handle of the house,” Tanner said before he opened the door. “And we're hanging on to it no matter what.” Even with their flashlights, the snow and darkness would completely disorient them.

She nodded as she pulled her hood up and over her stocking cap. Tanner tied up one end of the rope with quick, sure movements.

Then, together, clinging to the rope, they headed out into the blinding storm.

* * *

“I think it's this screw that needs to be tightened,” Tanner muttered, bending closer to the generator.

“Phillips, Robertson or flathead?” Keira pulled open her dad's toolbox that was sitting on a small bench inside the generator shed. Thankfully they didn't need their flashlights in here. A battery-powered light, which was triggered to come on when the power went off, was plugged into an outlet inside the shed, giving off a watery glow.

The air inside the shack was bone-deep cold and the sooner they could get this generator going, the quicker they could get back to the warmth of the house.

“Philips, I'm guessing,” Tanner said. Keira guessed at the size, pulled a couple out and handed him the first one.

“Bingo,” he said, fitting it into the screw head and tightening it. He jiggled the starting motor. It looked tight, but now Tanner had to rewind the rope that had come loose when he tried to start it the first time.

“It's not getting any warmer in here, is it?” Keira asked, rubbing her hands together.

“Nope. It isn't.” Tanner tugged his gloves off, tucked them inside his coat and slid his bare hands inside as well to warm them up. He looked over at her, and the expression on his face told her that he wasn't done with the conversation they'd had this afternoon in the shop.

“So, Keira, why are you so uncomfortable around my stepmother?”

She hadn't expected this. “What do you mean?”

Tanner hunched his shoulders forward, still holding her gaze with his steady, piercing one. “I know you're not crazy about her, but it's not like you to be so short with her.”

Keira rubbed her hands again then tucked them inside her coat, as well, leaning against the wall behind her. “This is hardly the ideal place for a heart-to-heart,” she said quietly, her breath making fragile clouds of fog in the pallid light.

“I know.”

“And if you recall, you didn't always get along with her, either,” Keira countered.

“I know that, too. But since she found out that I'm using David's saddle she seems to have softened toward me. And I don't mind being on her good side for a change. I've spent a lot of my life trying to find that side of her. I'm enjoying it for now.”