“Do 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.”
“Have you forgiven her? For not wanting to let you work the ranch?” Keira took a side trip to another topic, trying to find her way through this conversation.
Tanner’s heavy sigh said more than his words ever could. “I guess I had to come to the point that it wasn’t her I had to forgive. It was my father. He was the one who made up the will. He was the one who cut me out.”
“At one time you talked about hiring a lawyer. Did you ever go through with that?” Keira had left before she could find out the outcome of that situation.
“I did hire someone and he told me I had a good case, but then David died and I dropped it.” Tanner shifted his stance, his eyes holding hers. “Besides, I had no reason to go after it anymore.”
Keira guessed she had been that reason.
“Alice is a complex person,” Tanner continued. “I can’t begin to understand her, but right now she’s the only relative I have left, other than a couple of aunts and uncles, who I know even less than I know Alice. So I’m actually kind of glad she’s staying here at the ranch right now. Taking care of your mom. It gives me a chance to spend more time with her.”
“And I’m thankful she’s taking care of my mom, don’t get me wrong,” Keira admitted. “She’s capable and helpful. Though it’s been hard to have her around 24/7.”
“Why is that?”
Keira felt as if she had to drag the answer from deep inside her. But she knew he wasn’t going to leave it alone. “I guess... I know she’s your stepmother but I’ve always thought she could be nicer to you. I’m sorry, but it’s hard to listen to her going on about David like he’s everything and you’re nothing. David always will be her favorite.”
“He’s her natural child. I was the kid she had to take into her life.”
“She knew that going into the marriage. And she’s known you since you were a little boy. I always hated the way she favored David over you again and again.” Her words came out harder than she had intended. “And the whole deal with your dad willing the ranch completely to her? I mean, how did that happen? How did she manage to have such a hold on him that he completely bypassed you?”
“Maybe he thought she would be fair. Maybe he wanted to make sure that she was well taken care of.”
“And we all know how that turned out. She made it abundantly clear David would be getting the ranch. Hardly fair.” She stopped herself there, remembering Tanner’s pain this afternoon when they had talked about his reasons for taking on all the extra work he did after his father died. All so that he could afford, in his mind, to set them up in a style to which he assumed she was accustomed because he couldn’t tell her that his original plan of living on the ranch had fallen through.
Once again regret curled through her. If she had known earlier about the will. If he had told her right away...
She looked into his face, his eyes holding hers, she wondered if she could tell him the rest.
“Anyway, that’s why I don’t like her. She’s so obviously favoring David, making him out to be such a fun, loving person. And we both know he wasn’t.”
Tanner frowned at her comment. “What do you mean?”
Keira closed her eyes a moment, the chill from the shack slowly seeping into her bones. She had started this, she had to finish it.
“I’m sure you remember that summer we broke up? When you were gone and David was injured?”
“How could I forget? Worst summer of my life.”
The pain in his voice made her, once again, bitterly regret their fights. How she had pushed him to stay home more without knowing why he was working so hard. Would she have broken up with him had she known all his reasons?
They would never know.
She hesitated a moment, then plunged ahead. “It was a lousy summer for me, too. I...regretted breaking up with you.”
She caught a flash of frustration on his features, knowing that he was probably thinking back to his texts and emails asking her to get back together.
She pushed on. “Anyhow, David was injured, and I was lonely and David was antsy and we spent a lot of time together. We even went out a couple of times.”
Tanner’s sudden frown made her wish she hadn’t said anything, but he deserved to know this much.
“Out as in coffee like we used to do all together?”
“No. Out as in a date. We went to a few movies. And some parties.” Her voice broke and she wondered if she could actually say the words she needed to.
“Was he the reason you broke up with me?” Tanner’s eyes narrowed, his voice colder than the storm outside.
“No. Not at all.” She pressed her hands together and forced herself to carry on. “This was after we broke up. I realized I made—made a mistake. I know I shouldn’t have broken up with you after your father died. I know that now, that you were grieving, but we were fighting all the time. Just like your parents. I didn’t want that for us.”
She stopped there, knowing she had no right to expect understanding, but they hadn’t had a chance to talk this all through.
“But I knew that it would be hard to get back together with you...” She let the sentence drift off, feeling Tanner’s anger coming off him in waves.
“So only a couple of weeks after we break up, you’re dating my brother?”
Keira pressed her lips together; his eyes glittered like ice chips in his pinched features.
She forced herself to hold his gaze and not back down. “We had broken up.”
“So you could go out with David? Who would probably be taking over the ranch?”
She sucked in her breath at the suppressed anger in his voice. “You think I went out with him because you were a less appealing prospect?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s how it looks from my side.”
“Well, you’re wrong. I don’t know how I can convince you otherwise. And there was no way I broke up with you to date David. That just...just happened. It was just a...a temporary stupidity on my part. It meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
Don’t raise your voice. Keep control of your emotions.
Tanner looked up at her, the anger now replaced by a sadness that bothered her even more. “You said yourself you didn’t like the way my mother favored David. Don’t you think I knew that, too? And now I find out that you dated my brother?”
Keira wrapped her arms around her midsection, hugging herself from the chill that came not only from the outside but also from deep in her soul.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Not one of my better decisions. I realized...realized he wasn’t my type.”
“Is that why you left Saddlebank?”
She shivered in the chill of the shack, nodding. “I was ashamed of myself and knew I had made a dumb mistake. Even though we weren’t a couple anymore, I didn’t think you would appreciate us being together.”
“I don’t like it now. I can’t imagine how I would have felt then.” His admission released some of the tension that had been gripping her up till now. “I know I had—have,” he corrected, “a bad temper. I guess I can’t blame you for not telling me back then.”
She relaxed. “I’m sorry. So sorry. Like I said, I wasn’t proud of myself. It was one of my dumber decisions, along with breaking up with you. But after...after David, I needed to get away from Saddlebank for a while. I felt like there was nothing here for me. I wanted a new start in a new place.”
Tanner gave her a careful smile. “And that’s why you never came to David’s funeral?”
Keira knew this was a sticking point for Tanner. “I had other things going in my life at the time,” she said quietly. “David and I didn’t part on the best of terms. And that’s why I didn’t return your texts or your phone calls. I felt stupid for going out with David and I knew you’d be upset.”
He held her gaze, his eyes piercing into her soul.
“I would have been,” he admitted. “So, that’s why I never heard from you?”
She nodded, pulling in a heavy breath. “I’m sorry,” she ventured. “I should have let you know.”
“No. I get it.” He smiled at her, which she returned.
Then he pushed himself away from the wall, tugged his gloves out of his pocket and pulled them on. “Let’s see if we can get this generator going.”
She was thankful for his quiet acceptance.
He turned his attention back to the generator. Then gave the starting cord a pull. Nothing. Then again. Nothing. Finally, on the third pull it roared to life, drowning out anything else they might have to say to each other. The regular lights inside the shack blazed to life. Everything seemed to be working all right.
Tanner stood back a moment, waiting to make sure it was still going, then nodded toward the door. Time to go back to the house. Before she stepped out the door she looked back at him, trying to get a read on his mood.
He was smiling again.
And for the first time in a long while a small ray of hope winked to life.
She knew they would probably never be a couple again. But if they could find a way to be friends, that could be enough.
Couldn’t it?