better myself.”
“You needn’t patronize me, Mr. Tanner. There’s not that much to catching a horse that I’ve trained.” Clara turned the colt back toward the last open section of fence. “Why not build a gate here? We come this way all the time to visit my grandmother. If we can’t get through, we’ll have to go by way of the road. It’s three times the distance.”
“Not a bad suggestion. But I’ll need to get the boss’s approval and see what’s in the shed that I can use.” He pulled his horse alongside hers. “Meanwhile, as long as we’re going the same way, I hope you won’t mind my company.”
Clara bit back a caustic retort. Tanner’s high-handed manner made her bristle. But she’d made up her mind to learn more about the stranger. Here was her chance. She slowed the colt to a walk.
“You seem to know plenty about me,” she said. “But I don’t know anything about you. Where did you come from?”
Tanner’s narrowed eyes swept the grassy pastureland, looking everywhere but at her. In the silence, a meadowlark called from its perch atop a fence post.
“I grew up in Missouri,” he said at last. “But whatever kept me there is long gone. Drifting’s become a way of life for me. Can’t say as I mind it.”
“No family?”
He shook his head. “None that I’ve kept track of. My parents died years ago. The rest moved on.”
What about your sister? The one you said lent you the stallion?
The question burned on the tip of Clara’s tongue. She bit it back. Confronting Tanner would only put him on guard. Let him go on feeding her lies. He’d already confirmed her suspicions that he was holding something back. Give him enough rope and he was bound to hang himself.
All she needed was a little patience.
But he wasn’t making it easy for her.
Why did the man have to be so tall and broad-shouldered? Why did he have to have a chiseled face and eyes like twin blue flames? Right now those eyes looked as if they could burn right through her clothes. Any town boy who looked at her like that would be asking to get his face slapped.
The man was dangerous, she reminded herself. He could be a fugitive, even a murderer. She’d be a fool to let him get too close.
“You don’t sound like a trail bum, Mr. Tanner,” she said. “You speak like a man who’s had some education.”
“Any man who can read has the means to educate himself. And it’s just Tanner, not Mr. Tanner.”
“But do you have a profession? A trade?”
“If I did, would I be out here mending fences?” He gave her a sharp glance. “Would you care to tell me why you’re being so nosy?”
Clara met his blazing eyes, resisting the impulse to look away. “I’m very protective of my grandmother,” she said. “She’s an old woman, and she’s much too trusting.”
“But I take it you’re not so … trusting.” He was playing with her now, brazenly confident that he could twist her around his finger. Damn his lying hide! He’d probably charmed her grandmother the same way.
If it weren’t for the stallion, she’d run him off the property with a bullwhip!
“Let’s just say I’m not a fool,” she snapped.
“I can see you’re not. And neither is your grandmother. She doesn’t keep that loaded shotgun by the door for nothing. If she thought I had any intention of harming her, I’d be picking buckshot out of my rear.”
“We’ll see about that!” Out of patience, she kneed the colt to a gallop. Tanner didn’t try to follow her, but as she shot across the pasture, Clara became aware of a sound behind her. Even without looking back, she knew what it was.
The wretched man was laughing at her!
Jace watched her ride away, her delicious little rump bouncing in the saddle. Miss Clara Seavers was one sweet little spitfire. He’d enjoyed teasing her, but now it was time to back off and leave her alone. The last thing he needed was that bundle of trouble poking into his past.
Mrs. Mary Gustavson was a fine woman. He would miss her conversation and her cooking. But as soon as he finished the work she needed done it would be time to move on. There would be other towns, other farms, other pretty girls to tease. As long as there was a price on his head, nothing was forever. Not for him. It was keep moving or face his death at the end of a rope.
At least his sister Ruby and her two little girls would be all right.
Hollis Rumford had been considered a fine catch when she’d married him ten years ago. Heir to a farm equipment company, he’d been as charming as he was handsome. But his infidelity, drunkenness and abuse had made Ruby’s life a living hell. Jace had seen the ugly bruises. He had dried his sister’s tears. Lord help him, he wasn’t the least bit sorry Hollis was dead. But he would always be sorry he hadn’t acted sooner. Maybe if he’d taken Ruby and her daughters away from that monster, he’d still have his old life—his friends, his fine apartment in Springfield, his work as a field geologist and engineer and a future in politics that might have taken him all the way to the Missouri Statehouse or the U.S. Congress. Marriage to Eileen Summers, the governor’s niece, would have opened many doors. Now those doors were closed to him forever.
But he hadn’t acted in vain, Jace reminded himself.
Now Ruby would be a respectable widow with a fine house and plenty of money. After a proper mourning period, she’d be free to find a new husband—a decent man, God willing, who’d treat her well and be a good father to her girls.
That had to be worth something, didn’t it?
Clara found her grandmother seated on the porch in her old cane rocker, her hands busy peeling a bucket of potatoes from the root cellar.
“Hello, dear.” Mary Gustavson was tall and raw-boned, her thick white hair swept back from her wrinkled face. Blessed with strong features and cornflower-blue eyes, she looked like an older version of her daughter Hannah, Clara’s mother.
“Good morning, Grandma.” Clara swung off her horse, looped the reins over the hitching rail and bounded up the steps to give the old woman a hug. Mary had raised seven children, buried a husband and baby and worked the farm alone for the past nineteen years. Loss and hard times had burnished her spirit to a serene glow that radiated from her face. Clara and her younger siblings, Daniel and Katy, adored her.
“I was just thinking about you, and here you are.” Even after decades in America, Mary spoke with a lilting Norwegian accent. “Sit down and visit with me awhile.”
“Wait, I’ll help you with those potatoes.” Clara hurried into the house and returned with an extra paring knife. Sitting on the edge of the porch, she picked up a potato. As she sliced off thin strips of peel, she wondered how best to bring up the subject of her grandmother’s new hired man.
“So how is your family?” Mary asked. “Are they all well?”
Clara nodded. “Daniel’s got a girlfriend
