Her Cowboy Hero

Another nudge. It was as though her friend was poking a stick around in a bear’s den, determined to get a reaction from Tanner. Brooke knew as much about the history of Tanner and his stepmother as Keira did. Why was she pushing?

“It is what it is,” Tanner said quietly. “I can’t spend too much time looking back over my shoulder. I have to look ahead.”

Keira heard an underlying tone in his voice and knew that in some oblique way he was referring to their old relationship.

“Are Monty and John still leaving today?” Tanner asked, glancing at Keira. “I offered to help load the heifers but they said they would be okay.”

“I think that’s the plan,” Keira said. “Though Dad said he wanted to get some more work done on the saddle this morning before he left, which is why he didn’t come to church.”

“When will Monty be back?”

She knew he was thinking about his saddle. “They’re staying at Giesbrooks’ tonight and coming back tomorrow.”

He nodded. “So will he get the saddle done on time, you think?”

“If he gets at it as soon as he comes back. How long can you stay?”

“I wanted to head back before Thursday.”

That meant he would be gone for Thanksgiving. She felt a touch of relief. It was hard enough that Lee and Heather weren’t coming for Thanksgiving, having Tanner around would make the celebration that much harder.

“Hey, Tanner. What ill wind blew your restless self into town today?” George Bamford joined them, wiping his hands on a towel, his dark brown eyes flicking over the group. George was tall, lanky and favored plaid shirts, khaki pants and sneakers. He’d moved to Saddlebank ten years ago, bought the Grill and Chill and had been cooking up hamburgers and fries ever since.

“Nor’wester,” Tanner quipped.

“Nasty one. Though I hear there’s a storm coming in from the north. Another one of those Canuck clippers that never bring anything good.”

“There’s always a storm brewing in Montana in the winter,” Tanner returned. “So, you find a place for me to stay?”

George’s eyes slid to Keira, the faintest question in them as if wondering if it was her fault that Tanner didn’t want to stay at Refuge Ranch.

Keira picked up her mug and took another sip of the coffee that had lost any hint of warmth just to avoid George’s gaze, Brooke’s questions and Tanner’s presence.

“I did. Buddy of mine has a place you can crash,” George said, flipping the towel over his shoulder, his hands resting on his hips. “He’s gone now but he’ll be back tomorrow for a couple hours. Come to his place at seven in the morning and he can give you the keys. Show you what’s what.”

“Sounds good.”

“You girls need anything more?” George asked, turning his attention back to Keira and Brooke. “You want me to get you a hot cup of coffee, Keira?”

Keira caught her friend’s eager look upward but George wasn’t paying attention to her.

Her heart broke for her friend. She wished she could tell her that guys will always disappoint you. That it wasn’t worth it, but now was not the time or place.

“I’m okay,” Keira replied. “I should get going anyhow.” She reached over to get her purse but before she could open it, Tanner had dropped a handful of bills on the table.

“On me,” he said, slipping his wallet in his back pocket.

“No. That’s okay,” Keira protested. “I can pay for this.”

“So can I,” Tanner said, laying his hand on hers to stop her.

She recognized his usual response to her oft-spoken protest. And for the same slow second she felt the warmth of his hand on hers. The old rhythms of their old relationship.

Her thoughts slipped, unwanted, back to that moment last night when he had helped her bandage her hand. The feel of his hand so familiar it created an ache deep in her soul. A yearning for what could never be.

Then he snatched his hand back and Keira felt her chest crumple.

It was a good thing he wasn’t staying at the ranch anymore. Seeing him every day was too much a reminder of what she had lost.

Chapter Four (#ulink_4647eb59-be1c-5fce-9b11-29e55d26a6f7)

The sound of a blustering wind howling around the cabin pulled Tanner out of a troubled dream. He groaned, the fresh injury aching as he rolled over onto his back, sleep getting slowly pulled away.

He lazily rolled his head to the side to check the time. The clock radio beside the bed blinked eight-thirty. As the numbers registered, he sat up and tossed the tangled sheets aside.

Too late. He was supposed to have been out of here before seven o’clock to meet George’s buddy in town.

He jumped out of bed, shivering as the chill of the bedroom hit him. The woodstove must have gone out last night. Snow ticked at the window as the wind gusted. Sounded like a bad storm out there.

He rotated his shoulder, massaging the pain away, then tugged on his clothes and boots, the cold in the room and the late hour urging him on.

Tanner shivered again as he stripped the bed and folded up the bedding to bring to the house. He’d get some clean sheets, bring them back, make the bed, pack up his stuff and leave.

Again.

He should have known that coming back here had been a mistake. Expecting that Keira would open up to him now, in spite of years of silence, was dumb optimism drowning out his common sense. If it weren’t for the fact that Monty had already taken apart David’s saddle yesterday and started working on it, Tanner would turn his back on Refuge Ranch for good.

He put his coat on, turned up the collar, dropped his hat on his head and stepped out onto the deck.

Snow slapped his face and he hunched his shoulders against the howling wind, plowing his way through knee-high snow gathering on the sidewalk. He tried to look down the driveway but the driving snow decreased visibility.

By the time he got to the house, ice stuck to his eyebrows and slipped down his neck. He opened the door to the house and a gust of wind almost tore it from his hand.

As he stepped inside the porch, the door fell shut behind him and he was immediately enveloped in warmth. He set his bedding on a bench, pulled his hat off and slapped it against his thigh. He brushed what snow he could off his jacket, hung it up, toed off his boots and walked toward the murmur of voices from the dining room.

Ellen and his stepmother sat at the table, a little girl between them.

She was shoving pieces of toast in her mouth, smearing half of it over her chubby cheeks and into the golden curls that framed her round face.

Ellen looked up and smiled at him when he came into the room. “Good morning, Tanner.”

She caught the direction of his gaze and smoothed her hand over the little girl’s head. “This is Adana, John’s little girl. Would you like to join us for breakfast?”

Tanner smiled at the little girl, who was engrossed in her food. “No. Thanks. I should have been gone an hour ago.” His gaze ticked over his stepmother, whose attention seemed taken up by buttering some more toast for Adana.

“Pwease. More,” Adana asked, now distracted by the egg his mother was mashing up for her.

“Where are you going in this horrible weather?” Ellen asked.