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At supper, he sat at the long plank table with his family—Clint; Ruth, who’d given birth to a healthy boy; and the four towheaded youngsters—two older boys and two girls—arranged like steps along one side of the table. They bowed their heads while Clint said grace, then passed around bowls of beef stew with potatoes and carrots. It was a simple meal, but as always there was plenty of food for everybody.
“Are the new calves doing all right? Any trouble nursing?” Clint was four years older than Tanner, a half-inch taller, raw-boned, and unsmiling, his dark hair already streaked with gray.
“I checked them all,” Tanner said. “They’re doing fine, and the cows have plenty of hay and water. Anything else?”
“That paint mare’s been favoring her left forefoot. I think she might have a loose shoe,” Clint said.
“I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning.” With no farrier available, Tanner had become an expert at keeping their horses well shod. Over time, with no professional help available, the brothers had also become expert plumbers, electricians, and mechanics. Given the parts, or even having to improvise, they could fix almost anything.
“Have some more stew, Tanner.” Ruth was the perfect ranch wife. Four days after giving birth she was already on her feet, taking care of her family. Despite the ravages of time, hard work, and bearing five children, she was still an attractive woman with cornflower blue eyes and short blond hair. She’d had a stressful confinement, but now that her baby boy had arrived safely, Ruth had regained her cheerful nature.
How would Rose fit in with this big, outgoing family? But why even ask such a question? His time with Rose had been a sweet, healing interlude. But he’d walked away and put her behind him. She had her own life to live. So did he.
After supper, he stood on the front porch, watching clouds drift past the moon. In two more days he’d be leaving this place. In a way he found himself looking forward to being back in Texas again. He enjoyed his new job and was anxious to prove his worth on some serious cases. But Texas was not his home. He felt like even more of an outsider there than he did here, on the ranch where he’d grown up.
Only in Rose’s arms had he felt he was where he belonged.
Clint had come out to stand beside him. “You don’t have to leave,” he said. “You could call your boss in Texas and quit your job. That’s all it would take.”
Tanner shook his head. “I understand that you could use me here, but I’m not ready. When I leave Texas, I want it to be with a job well done behind me. Otherwise I’ll feel like a quitter.”
“Is that all?” Clint asked. “I know you had a hard time here, after losing Annie and Ethan. But you can’t mourn them forever. You can’t let the memories and the guilt keep you from coming home where you belong.”
“I can tell myself that. But I’m just not ready. Yesterday I went to the hill where we buried them. It was peaceful there, with wild violets blooming on the graves. I stood there and waited, as if I were hoping for some sign of forgiveness, or at least a feeling that all was well with them. But nothing came. I only felt sadness, barely dulled by time. They’re gone. Just gone. And I’m to blame. Some things will never change.”
“I never questioned the rightness of choosing this life,” Clint said. “You were always the restless one. Even when you were married, I could tell you were dreaming of something more exciting—maybe that’s why you took that deputy job.”
“We needed the money,” Tanner said. But Clint was right. He’d taken the job because he wanted a change—and that change had cost him everything.
He didn’t have all the answers. He only knew that, much as he loved Wyoming’s wild beauty, he wasn’t ready to come back here for good.
Two days later he finished packing his truck, said good-bye to his brother’s family, and took the highway south. Clive was expecting him first thing in the morning. He would be there, ready to go wherever he was assigned.
Would he see Rose again? But he couldn’t think about that now. To go back to her, love her, and then say good-bye again wouldn’t be fair. It would only leave her hurt and bitter.
Turning the radio volume all the way up, he focused on the road ahead and the job that awaited him in Texas.
* * *
Rose had set up the lamb pen in a grassy clearing, on the far side of the new chicken coop. She’d covered the open area with netting to discourage the big hawks and golden eagles that were known to prey on young animals. So far, after a few days, the four lambs were thriving. She was still bottle-feeding them twice a day, but they were beginning to nibble the grass and hay in their pen. Over the next few weeks she would wean them. Then they would be ready to venture out of their pen and explore their new home.
On the morning of the fourth day, Jasper showed up to help her finish the chicken coop. Rose was weeding her vegetable garden when his truck stopped outside the fence. He climbed out of the truck, came into the yard through the gate, and stopped as if he’d just walked into a brick wall.
“Lord save us, girl!” His face had gone slightly pale. “What do you think you’re doing with those?”
Rose sighed. She’d hoped Jasper, at least, would understand. But she should have known better. “I’m raising them to sell in the fall—hopefully for enough profit to help me through the winter. I got a great deal on these animals, including the pen. If I can make good money, I plan to raise more sheep next year.”
He stared at the lambs, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t mind them myself. My Sally raised some lambs on her farm in the hill country. But Bull hates sheep. He’ll have a stroke when he hears about this!”
“Bull doesn’t have any say in this. The agreement we signed gives me the right to use my land any way I want. That includes raising sheep. When they’re bigger, I can graze them on that open range to the north. He won’t have any say in that, either.”
“But why spit in his face, Rose? Bull’s been good to you. You could buy a calf from him, raise it, and sell it for about as much as you’ll be getting for these lambs.”
“Maybe,” Rose said. “But I know about sheep. The Ortegas raised them in Mexico. I’ve herded them, birthed them, fed them, nursed them when they were sick. I can handle sheep. And I like them!”
Jasper walked over to the pen and stuck a finger through the steel mesh. A lamb latched onto it, sucking with its little pink mouth. He chuckled as he pulled his finger away. “They’re cute little critters, all right. But that won’t make any difference to Bull.”
“Do you have to tell him? He doesn’t come around much.”
