new goal but he’d never doubted his mentor would do it. He’d only been curious about how. Unfortunately a fatal heart attack had kept Burt from turning his goal into reality. Tanner had mourned his mentor, assuming Wranglers Ranch, which had been his home for so long, would be sold. He’d been stunned to learn that Burt had entrusted Tanner with his ranch and the fortune that went with it. Burt’s will had just one condition: Tanner had two years to turn the ranch into a kids’ camp. If he failed, then the ranch would be sold.
Tanner desperately wanted to live up to Burt’s trust in him but he couldn’t figure out how to make the dream happen. He had no difficulty running the ranch. That was easy. But the scope of creating a refuge for kids like the ones Burt had described overwhelmed and intimidated him. In six months he hadn’t made even a tiny dent because he had no idea how to start. Shame over his failure left him feeling unworthy of Burt’s trust. Failure meant he could never repay the enormous debt he owed the man who’d coaxed him off the streets and into a life in which faith in God now filled his world.
Fan into flame the gift of God that is within you, Tanner. In his mind he could hear Burt’s voice repeating the verse from Timothy. Yet even now, after living at Wranglers so long, the meaning of that biblical quote still wasn’t clear to Tanner.
What is the gift that’s within me, Burt? Same old question. Still no answer.
Tanner knew he lacked Burt’s easy ability to reach into a street kid’s heart and help him gain a new perspective. He’d taken a foster parenting course and tons of psychology classes but they hadn’t helped. He had the head knowledge. The problem was, Tanner Johns was a loner, plagued by his past mistakes.
The old insecurities returned as they always did when Tanner thought about his past. Once more he became a painfully shy seven-year-old foster kid, utterly devastated when he’d overheard a social worker say Tanner’s mom abandoned him before he was a day old. In the years that followed he’d learned exactly what it meant when nobody wanted you, not even your own mother. From then on, a family was all Tanner had ever wanted. He’d finally found that family in Burt. But now he was gone and Tanner was alone.
Ignoring the rush of loss that bulged inside, Tanner pushed away the past and refocused. Even if he could somehow coax kids to come to the ranch, Burt’s vision had been to turn Wranglers into a place where kids would find God was the answer to their problems. But how? Tanner had repeatedly asked God to send someone to show him. Then, as Burt had taught, he waited for God’s leading. So far Tanner’s prayers remained unanswered.
Show me how to do this, God, his heart cried once more.
With a sigh, Tanner turned his truck into the winding road that led to Wranglers, his spirit lifting at the beauty of the place. Burt had claimed the ranch showed its best in March and April when the desert bloomed with life. But January was Tanner’s favorite month because it was a time of new birth, beginnings and hope.
The swaying leaves of the massive eucalyptus trees brought powerful memories of Burt and his unending life lessons. The only thing that wily man hadn’t been able to teach Tanner was how to let go of his shameful past. Of course Burt hadn’t known that by accepting his invitation to come to Wranglers, Tanner had abandoned the girlfriend who was going to have his child. In fact, it was only much later that Tanner himself understood that though he’d gained Burt and a home, he’d done exactly as his mother had—he’d thrown away his chance to be a father, to have the family he’d always craved. How could he possibly be forgiven for that?
With a sigh of regret Tanner pushed away the past and decided he’d focus on recruiting kids tomorrow. Right now he needed to relocate these rabbits so if a cute little girl, her grumpy brother and her pretty mom came to visit, he could allay their fears about their pets.
Moses Featherbed sat on the porch swing at Wranglers, watching as Tanner hefted the cage out of the truck. The elderly Native American had called Wranglers his home long before Tanner’s arrival and thanks to a stipend from Burt’s estate, Moses remained, refusing to retire, let alone stop rehabilitating the abused horses Burt had always welcomed on his spread.
“You raising rabbits now?” Moses, never short for a comment, lifted one bushy eyebrow.
“Not intentionally.” Conscious of the old man following, Tanner carried the cage to a fenced area he’d built last November to house a pair of injured Canadian geese that had since flown away. “I made an exchange.” He set the cage inside and opened the wire door.
“Rabbits for...?” Moses eased his arthritic hip onto a nearby bale and watched the animals hop out of the cage to explore their new home.
“Rabbits for pie or something like it for my ushers’ meeting tonight.” Tanner couldn’t hide his smile of anticipation.
“Good deal, especially if a pretty lady comes with it,” Moses approved with a chuckle.
“She’s pretty all right,” Tanner assured him. Then he frowned. “But that has nothing to do with the pie. I mean—uh—”
“Right.” Moses’s amused chuckle echoed through the feathery mesquites, over the spiky barrel cactus and tumbled down to the bubbling brook three hundred feet away. “The Lord’s ways surely are mysterious.”
Mysterious or not, the Lord wasn’t in the matchmaking business for Tanner Johns, because pretty as Sophie Armstrong was, God knew perfectly well that Tanner didn’t get involved with women. Never again.
* * *
“I sure hope your cowboy likes these kinds of pie.” Sophie studied the fluted golden crusts with a critical eye.
“He will.” Beth smiled dreamily, her mind obviously elsewhere. “Do you think the rabbits are happy, Mama?”
“On a ranch? I think they’re ecstatic. That means very happy,” she clarified when Beth frowned.
“Mr. Cowboy will be really nice to them.” Beth went back to coloring her oversize rabbit-picture-thank-you card for the rancher.
“How do you know that?” Curious to hear the response, Sophie listened before completing a last-minute mental check on her catered meal.
“’Cause he was really nice to me. Only he’s got sad eyes. I think he hurts inside. I don’t think he has anybody to love him.” Beth added a few blue lines to her drawing before she murmured, “I love him.”
I could almost love him for taking those rabbits. Immediately Sophie quashed the errant thought. Never falling into that trap again, she reminded herself. Independence is too precious.
“I love Mr. Cowboy lots.” Beth sounded the way Sophie had felt when she was fifteen and Marty Armstrong, the coolest guy in school, had first shown an interest in her.
“That’s nice to say, sweetie, but Mr. Johns is a stranger. You can’t love a stranger.” It was the wrong thing to say to her very literal daughter, and Sophie knew it the moment Beth’s blue eyes darkened to storm clouds.
“The Bible says to love everybody.” She glared at her mother, her voice accusing.
“That’s right. Thank you for reminding me, Bethy.” Sophie pressed a placating kiss against her daughter’s head, then checked the kitchen clock. Where was the man? She had to leave for her gig in less than five minutes. “Maybe that’s him,” she said when the phone rang a second later.
It wasn’t Tanner Johns
