The Cowboy's Ready-Made Family

She leaned on the garden fence. If only she could enjoy watching the land being prepared for planting, but it was impossible. Her gaze drifted again and again to the man doing the work. His muscles bulged beneath the fabric of his shirt, emphasizing his strength. He stopped, wiped his brow with a handkerchief and rolled his sleeves to his elbows, exposing bronze skin the color of an old penny. Jim had told her the Harding boys’ mother had been a full-blooded Indian. She knew only fragments of the story. Just enough to know the woman had been injured and rescued by Tanner’s father. It seemed very romantic and caring.

Which meant nothing in the scheme of things. All that mattered to her was providing for and protecting these children. And her own heart.

Tanner turned the horse and harrows around and faced her. Their gazes caught. She couldn’t pull from his look. Couldn’t draw breath. Couldn’t make her brain work. The children played, their happy sounds but a melody in the background.

He tipped his head slightly and drove the horse from the garden.

She breathed again and sagged against the fence, feeling as if her protective walls had been threatened.

His footsteps thudded across the yard and she jerked to attention and gathered up the twine, but before she could pick up the stakes, he did. He reached for the twine and she relinquished it without a thought.

Sucking in a deep breath, she told herself to refuse his help. But, while she gathered her thoughts, he trotted to the garden and drove the stake in on one end, affixed the twine and hurried down the length to drive in the second stake, pulling the line taut.

He returned and picked up the hoe.

He meant to help plant the garden.

“You don’t have to do this. I can manage.”

He stopped. The air stilled and the children grew quiet. “Do you object?” Something in his voice made her pause and consider her answer. It wasn’t exactly fear she heard; she was quite certain Tanner would never admit fear. Did he think she objected on the basis of his mixed heritage? She’d already informed him it was the least of her concerns.

As she’d often said, actions proved one’s words.

She had to prove her words by her actions, as well.

“I have no objection.” She tried unsuccessfully to quell the turmoil in her heart.

She prayed she wouldn’t live to regret this arrangement.

Chapter Four (#ulink_6cbafd8d-854e-5dff-a03f-5192944d7702)

Tanner’s muscles had turned to stone. He’d waited for her response, and when she said she had no objection he relaxed so suddenly he welcomed the hoe to lean on. He’d sensed her apprehension all day. Part of him wanted to assure her she had nothing to fear from him. A larger part knew he should walk away from this family before anyone could take exception to his presence on the farm of an unmarried white woman. Two things kept him from leaving. First, the desperate need of this family. And, to a lesser degree, his plan to tame the horses.

Ma would have approved of him helping this family.

What would Seena Harding have said if she’d seen the way he stared at Susanne as he paused at the end of the garden with Pat’s reins slack in his hands? Maybe she could have explained to him why the whole world had ground to a halt as their looks went on and on.

He gave a little snort that he hoped sounded like he might be dislodging something caught in the back of his throat. Like maybe dust or fluff off the weeds. Who’d have thought plowing a garden could confuse a man so thoroughly? Then he finally spoke.

“What are you going to plant?”

“I’m going to plant peas and beans and potatoes and carrots over here. And over there lettuce and radishes and chard. And turnips.” She laughed as if the idea pleased her immensely. The look she gave him about turned him to mush.

What was wrong with him? He’d never felt this way before in his entire life. Well, except for the time that Rosneau girl had batted her eyes at him when they were both about fifteen. Right before her father had grabbed his daughter, pushing her behind him and saying, “You stay away from the likes of him.” Tanner should have understood how unwelcome he was at that point, but he’d persisted until both Jenny and Mr. Rosneau had made it abundantly clear with more than words.

At the reminder of that humiliation, he pulled his senses back where they belonged—in his head. “No beets?”

“Oh, yeah. Beets, too.”

“Sounds fine. What are you starting with?”

“Peas. Lots of peas.”

He dug a trench along the taut cord and she followed, bent over at the waist as she dropped pea seeds in the trench.

“Can we help?” Liz asked. Her brothers and sister stood behind her waiting for his answer.

“You certainly can.” He moved the twine and dug another trench. He got pea seeds and gave some to each of the children, set them at various places along the row and showed them how to carefully drop in the seeds. They all bent over, intent on the task.

He lifted his eyes to see Susanne watching him.

Her gaze shifted to the children and her expression hardened.

He tried to think what it meant, but he could only find confusion in his thoughts. She’d agreed to let him help, but he sensed a reluctance in her. Because of who he was? Or rather what he was?

Seeing she had almost reached the end of her row, he moved the string and dug another trench. The whole time he avoided looking directly at her, trying to keep his thoughts in order.

He quickly filled in her row, checked the children’s row and covered it, as well.

Susanne straightened to look at what she’d completed, but when she took a step backward, she stumbled on a lump of dirt and fell on her rump. Her breath whooshed from her.

He dropped his hoe, prepared to run to her rescue, but he forced his feet to remain where they were. Not everyone would welcome a hand up from a half-breed.

Her burst of laughter froze him to the spot.

She jumped to her feet, dusted her skirts and laughed again. “That will teach me to watch where I’m going.”

The children clustered about her.

“Are you okay?” Liz asked, her voice full of concern.

She gathered them in a group hug. “I’m fine.

Robbie broke free. “Aunt Susanne, show us how to watch where you’re going when you go backward.”

She laughed again. “I can’t show you ’cause I can’t do it.” Her gaze hit Tanner. Her eyes danced with happiness and pleasure in these children, and perhaps in life in general.

He thought he was frozen in place before. Now it threatened to become a permanent state. What would it be like to be part of such joy and acceptance? Then he stopped himself. His family accepted him. It was all he needed.

Susanne looked away, shifting her attention back to the children. “I see you’re done with your row. What shall we plant next?” She led them to the stack of seeds and offered them their choice.

His body remembered how to work and he covered in the rows and moved the stakes.

“They decided on beets,” she declared.

“I like beets,” he said. “You ever make beet pickles? Maisie, that’s my stepmother, makes great beet pickles. They taste mighty fine in the middle of winter. So spicy sweet.” He rattled on like a loose wagon wheel, but he couldn’t seem to stop. It beat staring at her as if he’d lost his senses.

“Auntie Susanne, you ever make beet pickles?” Janie asked. “They sound good.”