Linda Ford - The Cowboy's Ready-Made Family

Fifteen minutes later and a generous amount of oats thrown into the pen, the chickens were in and the gate closed.

Two minutes afterward, three were out again, having found a hole in the fence. Susanne closed her eyes and prayed for a healthy dose of patience. “Frank, you stand at the hole and keep any more from getting out. I’ll find something to fix it with. You others, see if you can catch those hens.”

She was knee-deep in the bits and pieces of Jim’s supplies in the corner room of the barn when the gentle moo of the cow jerked her about. “So you decided to come home, did you? You’re more bother than you’re worth.”

Tanner rode in behind the cow, ducking through the open door just in time to catch her talking to the cow.

For a moment, her embarrassment made it impossible to speak.

“She got out through a big hole in the pasture fence,” he said, without any sign of amusement or censure, which eased her fractured feelings.

“I know. The fences all need repairing. I’m getting it done as fast as I can.” If she wrote down everything that needed doing around here it would require several pieces of paper. She was drowning in repairs. “Thanks for bringing the cow back.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome. Ma’am, I could fix that fence for you. Wouldn’t take but a minute.”

Her insides twisted with protest. It wasn’t as if she didn’t need help. As Alfred Morris pointed out regularly, anyone could see she wasn’t keeping up with the workload, but help came with a price. The lesson had been drilled into her day after day by Aunt Ada. “No, thank you. I have no wish to be under obligation to you.”

His expression hardened. “Ma’am, you aren’t the first, nor will you be the last, to want me off their place because I’m half-Indian.” He backed his horse out of the barn.

She climbed over the pieces of wood and wire at her feet as fast as she could and ran after him. “It has nothing to do with your heritage,” she called.

But he rode away without a backward glance.

She pressed her hand to her forehead. The last thing she wanted was to offend him.

* * *

Tanner only offered to help Miss Collins out of neighborly concern. She had her hands more than full with looking after four children, the house and the chores. How was she going to get the crop in? And if she failed to do so, what would she feed the animals through the winter and how would she buy supplies for herself and the children?

He shouldn’t be surprised that she objected to having an Indian on her property. He’d come to expect such a reaction. He should just ride away, but something his ma used to say stopped him. “Son, if we see someone in need and walk away, we are guilty of harming them.”

He did not want to be responsible for harming a pretty young gal and four orphaned children, but what could he do when Susanne had chased him off the place?

What would his ma do?

He knew the answer. She’d find a way to help. But she wasn’t alive to help him find a way.

As he rode past the barn, he eyed the corrals. Susanne’s brother had certainly built them strong, though the wire fences around the pasture showed signs of neglect.

He rode past the farm, then stopped to look again at the corrals behind him. They were sturdy enough to hold wild horses...and he desperately needed such a corral... A thought began to form, but he squelched it. He couldn’t work here. Not with a woman with so many needs and so much resistance. Not with four white kids. Every man, woman and child in the area would protest about him associating with such fine white folk.

He shifted his gaze past the corrals to the overgrown garden spot and beyond to the field where a crop had been harvested last fall and stood waiting to be reseeded. He thought of the disorderly tack room. His gaze rested on the idle plow.

This family needed help. He needed corrals. Was it really that simple?

Only one way to find out. He rode back to the farm and dismounted to face a startled Miss Susanne. “Ma’am, I know you don’t want to accept help...”

Her lips pursed.

“But you have something I need so maybe we can help each other.”

Her eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms across her chest. “I don’t see how.”

He half smiled at the challenging tone of her voice. “Let me explain. I have wild horses to train and no place to train them.”

“How can that be? You live on a great big ranch.”

“My pa doesn’t want me bringing wild horses in.” He continued on without giving her a chance to ask any more questions. “But you have a set of corrals that’s ideal.”

For a moment she offered no comment, no question, then she finally spoke. “I fail to see how that would help me.”

“Let me suggest a deal. If you let me bring my horses here to work with them and—”

She opened her mouth to protest, but given that she hadn’t yet heard how she’d benefit he didn’t give her a chance to voice her objections.

“In return, I will plow your field and plant your crop.” The offer humbled him. He’d made no secret of the fact he didn’t intend to be a farmer. Ever. He only hoped his brothers never found out or they’d tease him endlessly. Even before he finished the thought, he knew they would. He’d simply have to ignore their comments.

“I have no desire to have a bunch of wild horses here. Someone is likely to get hurt.”

“You got another way of getting that crop in?” He gave her a second to contemplate that, then added softly, “How will you feed the livestock and provide for the children if you don’t?”

She turned away so he couldn’t see her face, but he didn’t need to in order to understand that she fought a war between her stubborn pride and her necessity.

Her shoulders sagged and she bowed her head. Slowly she came about to face him. “This morning I prayed that God would provide a way for me to get the crop in. Seems this must be an answer to my prayer.”

He was an answer to someone’s prayer? He kind of liked that. Maybe he should pray that God would make Himself plain to him. He’d sure like the answer to that prayer, as well.

“So I agree to your plan.” Her eyes flashed a warning. “With a few conditions.”

He stiffened, guarding his heart against the words he expected. Stay away from the children. Don’t think you can make yourself at home. Don’t forget you’re a half-breed. She might not use those exact words but the message would be the same.

“The children must be treated kindly at all times. And I don’t want them getting hurt because of the horses.”

His mouth fell slack. He was lost for words. Nothing about his heritage? Nothing at all?

“Ma’am, there is no need for such conditions. I would never be unkind to a child. Or an adult. Or an animal. Everyone deserves to be treated with respect. And I would never put anyone in danger. For any reason.”

She studied him for several heartbeats. She seemed to be searching beyond the obvious, but for what?

He met her look.

His mouth grew dry. He blinked and shifted away. He saw depths of need and a breadth of longings that left him both hungry to learn more and wishing he saw less.

“Then we have a deal.” She held her hand out.

He took it before she remembered he was a half-breed, and marveled at her firm grip despite the smallness of her hand.

Inside his heart, buried deep, pressed down hard beneath a world of caution, there bubbled to the surface a desire to protect.

The one thing he meant to protect was his heart. No one, especially a fragile blonde woman, would be allowed near it.

“We have a deal,” he said.

Their agreement would certainly solve two problems. But he wondered if it would create a whole lot more to take their place.